I look for stories that celebrate life’s more intimate moments. In doing so I’m questionably the same
person who knowingly wansts to be a visual storyteller.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

mexico



The international understanding that befalls Mexico is a country eclipsed by rival drug cartels. This ongoing armed conflict is now saturating regions south of the US/Mexican border. And Durango, located in Northwest Mexico, is not exempt from the violence and intimidation of these groups. Within the last year, police have been kidnapped, local government officials have been shot at and rivals have been slaughtered and dumped in and around the city. 


Last month I spent nearly two weeks in Durango while working on my illegal immigration story. I stayed with a loving family and was welcomed into their lives. They baked me a cake, administered an IV when I was stricken with a 102 temperature from Dysentery and invited me to a Quinceanera (sweet 15 party). I can't speak Spanish and they knew little English, but we made out okay through our creative gestures. While I didn't witness the drug producing "Golden Triangle" fist hand, I came to understand that organized crime consumes most of the time and resources of the government, leaving the majority of the hardworking countrymen to fend for themselves. No one is spared from these drug wars. The youth, who are denied adequate education and healthcare, have a lifelong fight in achieving a comfortable life. But this truth didn't seem to phase them much. Instead of being joyless, they expressed a kind of triumph of hope over experience as they imagined their futures. 



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