Adiós to the Valley - part two

Christmas and New Year in the Valley. The tree is in the 19th Century plaza of Roma, Texas, on the Rio Grande. It once was a thriving place with steamboats anchoring just below Nestor Saenz' store.

Nowadays, Roma's little more than a dusty border bus stop on the way to somewhere else. 

No shopping for travellers at the vacant, weedy Ramirez Variety Store ...

... and long since the Guerra apartments had tenants.

A heavily armed U.S. patrol boat passes a lone angler on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande. 

The cartel plagued Mexican town of Ciudad Miguel Alemán is on the far bank.

Mexican frontier towns - grimly anticipating the next, inevitable outrage - have been brutalized. Most casualties are from drug gangs fighting each other, but many have been those opposed to the gangs or who simply tell the truth about the gangs, and about the security forces and politicians. A recent report suggested more than 20,000 'disappeared' in the past six years. That's in addition to an estimated 70,000 deaths linked to drugs.

In shops along the border, statues of Santa Muerte ('Saint Death') - patron of the narcos and disavowed by the Catholic Church - stare grimly out. The cult figure is said to bless the most hideous crimes. 

Any sense of menace is not imaginary. This sun bleached street is a few blocks from the United States. 

The new president, Enrique Peña Nieto, campaigned on  changes in army and police tactics. Mexicans are desperate for anything that will reduce the toll.

For now, Peña Nieto's countrymen in the worst affected areas - or at least those who can afford it - Christmas shop on the U.S. side of the river. This car is from Tamaulipas, one of the most violent states.

Feliz Navidad.

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Tuesday, January 29, 2013

More than a month after the post above, but it seems appropriate to tack on an out-of-sequence entry on much the same subject.

The picture above shows the last hand pulled ferry in the States. It runs between the cactus patch Texas town of Los Ebanos and an equally unprepossessing border entry point on the Mexican side. Local flavour is suggested by a dog sunning himself on an empty Los Ebanos street.

The closest Mexican town - Gustavo Diaz Ordaz - is reputedly controlled by the Gulf drug cartel and few gringos go. However, my good friend, Don, and I venture across. I wonder how many times this old boy, the ferry fare collector, has made the couple of minutes crossing?

The Mexican frontier post is guarded by a small army detachment. This soldier is looking across the river into the States.

The sign - despite unintended humour - conveys something of the corruption so prevalent on both sides of the border.

Nearby is a young lady with a taco stand.

After an excellent breakfast, we decide not to push our luck and return to the States.

Before I came to the Valley, wintering Canadians and Americans regularly crossed into northern Mexico. Now, along the roughly 1,200 miles of border between Texas and Mexico, just one Mexican town is considered relatively safe for turistas. And even in Nuevo Progreso, this is what you see.

Little wonder the colourful stalls that once enticed tourists have been abandoned.