The Underside of Mexico
About a month ago the city installed small garbage bins along our callejon. Great! One way to reduce litter, a common problem in Guanajuato, where there's no garbage collection on the callejones since traffic isn't allowed. People walk their household garbage to a larger neighborhood depository. In our case, it's only a couple of minutes away, but if you live higher up the hill, it could be a longer walk.
The newly installed garbage containers were a welcome addition. After a few days, however, I noticed that the bin across the callejon from our front door was beginning to overflow. Another day or two later, predictably, the garbage was falling onto the pavement. My theory that litter attracts more litter proved true; before long, a puddle of litter had formed around the bin and soon dogs had successfully expanded the perimeter. I have no idea when the bins will be emptied, but they've been installed for about ten days, and I've seen no sign of removal.
Eventually I got so frustrated that I picked up the garbage on the pavement and took it to the large depository. But the area was still a mess.
This is one of those cultural gaps that is hard for me to breach. Don't people see it? I fume. Is all they care about their own private aesthetic? Don't they want our newly-paved, newly-beautified callejon, Tecolote, one of the most historic routes in Guanajuato, and arguably Mexico (the route where the fight for Mexican independence began) to look worthy of its history?
Rail on, Louisa. Other gringos have tried before me. One thing I have been told, and which I believe, is that although outsiders can support change here, it won't happen long-term and deeply unless it is driven by local demand.
My neighbor, N, had gone to the city authorities a couple of weeks ago, complaining that the workers redoing the lighting of our callejon had removed some of her outer house paint without repairing it. Somewhat to my surprise, the city had taken action on her complaint. So I was pleased, but not totally shocked, when she rang our doorbell a couple of days ago and told me she was furious. The trash bins were not only unsightly, they were unhygienic. She had talked to residents uphill who had seen rats near theirs. She was returning to the municipality to insist that they remove the bins, they were worse than useless. Would Barry and I be willing to sign our names if the city needed more proof? I assured her we would. Since then, Barry took photos of the bins for further documentation if she wants.
I told her I admired her citizen advocacy. "Una mujer fuerte!" I said ("a strong woman!"). Whatever you have read of protests overtaking the streets of Oaxaca and Mexico City, my experience of most Mexicans in Guanajuato is that of apathy and passivity. There's a Spanish verb used a lot in Mexico: "aguantar," meaning to tolerate and put up with. Mexicans tolerate and endure in a way that would be unthinkable to most Americans.
This experience is one of those shocks I get every so often, when I'm reminded of how radically different our cultures are. The litter, the graffiti on freshly painted walls, the absence of recycling. Every time I throw a glass bottle or aluminum can into the garbage, I wince. But, I remind myself, this is how much of the world lives. Only in the more prosperous countries does curbside recycling exist.
Meanwhile my neighbor is going to the municipality tomorrow. I've heard that Monday is "citizen complaint" day. Nothing has changed yet. But I'm heartened by her initiative.
The newly installed garbage containers were a welcome addition. After a few days, however, I noticed that the bin across the callejon from our front door was beginning to overflow. Another day or two later, predictably, the garbage was falling onto the pavement. My theory that litter attracts more litter proved true; before long, a puddle of litter had formed around the bin and soon dogs had successfully expanded the perimeter. I have no idea when the bins will be emptied, but they've been installed for about ten days, and I've seen no sign of removal.
Eventually I got so frustrated that I picked up the garbage on the pavement and took it to the large depository. But the area was still a mess.
This is one of those cultural gaps that is hard for me to breach. Don't people see it? I fume. Is all they care about their own private aesthetic? Don't they want our newly-paved, newly-beautified callejon, Tecolote, one of the most historic routes in Guanajuato, and arguably Mexico (the route where the fight for Mexican independence began) to look worthy of its history?
Rail on, Louisa. Other gringos have tried before me. One thing I have been told, and which I believe, is that although outsiders can support change here, it won't happen long-term and deeply unless it is driven by local demand.
My neighbor, N, had gone to the city authorities a couple of weeks ago, complaining that the workers redoing the lighting of our callejon had removed some of her outer house paint without repairing it. Somewhat to my surprise, the city had taken action on her complaint. So I was pleased, but not totally shocked, when she rang our doorbell a couple of days ago and told me she was furious. The trash bins were not only unsightly, they were unhygienic. She had talked to residents uphill who had seen rats near theirs. She was returning to the municipality to insist that they remove the bins, they were worse than useless. Would Barry and I be willing to sign our names if the city needed more proof? I assured her we would. Since then, Barry took photos of the bins for further documentation if she wants.
I told her I admired her citizen advocacy. "Una mujer fuerte!" I said ("a strong woman!"). Whatever you have read of protests overtaking the streets of Oaxaca and Mexico City, my experience of most Mexicans in Guanajuato is that of apathy and passivity. There's a Spanish verb used a lot in Mexico: "aguantar," meaning to tolerate and put up with. Mexicans tolerate and endure in a way that would be unthinkable to most Americans.
This experience is one of those shocks I get every so often, when I'm reminded of how radically different our cultures are. The litter, the graffiti on freshly painted walls, the absence of recycling. Every time I throw a glass bottle or aluminum can into the garbage, I wince. But, I remind myself, this is how much of the world lives. Only in the more prosperous countries does curbside recycling exist.
Meanwhile my neighbor is going to the municipality tomorrow. I've heard that Monday is "citizen complaint" day. Nothing has changed yet. But I'm heartened by her initiative.
posted by Louisa at 6:57 AM
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