Zacatecas ‘Tomato King’ plagued by scandal

 

Story by : David Agren

Andres Bermudez left Zacatecas state as an impoverished field hand in 1974. He and his pregnant wife sneaked across the border, hiding in the trunk of a car. After a short stint working in a suitcase factory, Bermudez began laboring in the fields of northern California. His luck changed after he invented a device for planting tomatoes. The new contraption quickly became popular among growers, earning Bermudez the nickname, "The Tomato King." It also earned him a small fortune. He returned to his hometown of Jerez, Zacatecas in 2001 as a celebrity, a migrant made good from a spot lacking opportunities — a place where much of the population survives on remittances sent home from the United States. He capitalized on his notoriety, capturing the popular vote in the 2001 mayor's race, but was subsequently denied office by election officials, who ruled that he failed to meet the state's residency requirements. After successfully lobbying for a change in the law, he won again in 2004, this time running under the banner of Zacatecas' least popular political party.

"I'm not the king of tomatoes here," Bermudez humbly said during an interview at his wood-paneled office in Jerez city hall on a chilly December morning. "I'm the king of tomatoes in the (United States); I live like a king in the (United States), but not here."

Bermudez's electoral feat and his incredible rags-to-riches story captured international headlines. Observers hailed his triumph as an example of migrants flexing their political muscles in the communities they have long propped up through remittances. The Tomato King promised to turn Jerez, a sleepy burg of 60,000 in the Central Mexican highlands, into a mini America, a well-governed place teeming with prosperity and most importantly jobs. And in a threat to the old guard, he vowed to "Get the rats out of city hall." Somewhat bizarrely, he also promised visas for young workers heading to the United States and tomato-planting devices for poor campesinos (peasant farmers), who have been abandoning the countryside in droves.

But with notoriety came controversy and enemies. Several journalists and opposition city councilors allege Bermudez has engaged in corruption, nepotism, and lewd behavior and governed in an authoritarian style — like a king — intimidating opponents and employing thugish tactics. Emotions about Bermudez —a polemic figure — run high. Many Jerez residents preferred not to make on-the-record comments about the mayor.

"He's not better or worse than any of his predecessors," said Alfredo Saldaña, owner of the Hotel Jardin in the Jerez centro. "But he has a lot more enemies."

Three members of Jerez's city council went on a hunger strike three weeks ago, demanding the state government take action against the mayor. Members of a Jerez citizens' group along with local residents opposed to Bermudez later barricaded the front doors to city hall for four days.

"A hunger strike is an extreme method," conceded Adriana Marquez Sanchez, a city councilor from the Workers' Party (PT), who went four days without food before falling ill. "It's a shout, saying, 'Enough.' It's a call for justice."

Marquez and her fellow hunger strikers allege the mayor spends municipal money recklessly on his own expenses, paying for a costly personal cellular phone, a junket to Las Vegas, flights between Zacatecas and California for his family members and a vehicle. Additionally, they accuse the mayor of turning the municipal police into "his own security force."

Bermudez supporters, accompanied by municipal police officers wearing riot gear, removed the protestors by force on December 5, later prying open the doors to city hall with a crowbar. Four protestors were detained; several suffered injuries. Public security officials stood idly by. Employees of Canal 27, a Jerez television station, identified many of the barricade busters as municipal employees. The state human rights office opted against investigating the ruckus.

"The Bermudez supporters were paid to strike and attack us," Marquez contended. "The majority of (them) are employees who work inside city hall.

A visibly shaken Bermudez reclaimed his city hall office shortly after the protestors were dislodged. Surrounded by screaming supporters and a clown posing as a television reporter, the mayor broke down in tears. He later complained, "They won't leave me in peace," pounding a fist on his desk to emphasize the point.

Jerez journalist Silvia Vanegas Reveles ironically feels much the same way, having angered the Tomato King with her intrepid reporting. She first confronted Bermudez over allegations he offered prostitutes to potential voters during his two election campaigns. She also wrote stories questioning the Tomato King's fortune, quoting people who said Bermudez owed them money.

Bermudez filed a denuncia (complaint to the local prosecutor) on Mexican press freedom day against Vanegas, who reports for Imagen, a Zacatecas daily newspaper. The complaint demanded she reveal the names of the women, who alleged the Tomato King was trading prostitutes for their husbands' votes.

"Since then, they haven't left me in peace," she said, adding she began receiving threats around the same time.

Shortly after Jerez city hall reopened, Vanegas said several men, who were brandishing knives, threatened her. After pleading for several hours with the local prosecutor's office, she was finally able to register a complaint.

Although rough around the edges — he's known to urinate in public and speaks passable English peppered with off-color words — the Tomato King at first encounter seems more uncouth than threatening. A burly and gregarious fellow with a junior-high-school education, who virtually always wears black cowboy clothing, dark glass and thick gold jewelry, Bermudez regularly welcomes foreign journalists. His celebrity, improbable story and Robin Hood-style rhetoric generate incredible curiosity. He employs a competent media relations staff — something rare in Mexican politics.

Shortly after being introduced, the Tomato King suggested this single reporter get acquainted with a young executive assistant after inquiring about my marital status. But upon being told a few minutes later of an upcoming city council meeting, Bermudez's mood changed; he slammed his water bottle lid on his desk and uttered a profanity in Spanish.

He mostly shuns local reporters, who have uncovered unseemly details from his campaigns and administration. According to opposition councilors, the mayor ignores his critics and refuses to engage in dialogue. The Tomato King says the same things about his critics. He frequently brands them as "The rich people."

As Bermudez tells it, he returned to Mexico out of a love for his hometown; a desire to give something back to his people, who the Tomato King said, "See hope in me."

Since taking office, he initiated a bus service for students pursuing university studies 50 kilometers away in Zacatecas. He also tripled the number of scholarships given to needy students. And in a well-worn political stunt common to virtually every Mexican municipality, he passed out 700 backpacks to children and roofing materials and cement to home and business owners.

"These [previous] people spending [the municipality's] money, they didn't spend the money. They took it home," Bermudez said. "All this, I give it back."

He also views himself as a sort of pioneer, a migrant returning to unseat the old corrupt guard, which has presided over the demise of Zacatecas and sent hundreds of thousands of residents fleeing the state.

"My project is unprecedented. My project opens the back door," he said. "I'm the first one, but behind me ... how many? Thirty, 50, 100? That's why the government is scared."

Percentage wise, Zacatecas loses more of its population to migration than virtually any other Mexican state. More Zacatecanos live in the Los Angeles area than the state capital. Although a drought recently ravaged the semi-arid state, local hotel owner Alfredo Saldaña figured most people rode it out by depending on the generosity of relatives living abroad. Mexican migrants sent home more than 15 billion dollars last year, according to the Bank of Mexico. More than 400 million dollars of those remittances flowed into Zacatecas, which has a population of 1.3 million.

The remittances from the United States often fund municipal projects, giving migrants an increasingly influential voice in Zacatecas politics. Through a program dubbed "Tres por Uno (Three for One)," the federal, state and municipal governments match funds sent by migrants through clubs formed in the United States.

"If you see a new church in Mexico, U.S. money makes it," Bermudez explained, adding remittances were "the only way Mexico survives."

Critics though, including Marquez, said Bermudez showed little interest in Jerez prior to 2001, when he first ran for mayor under the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD) banner. (He later won in 2004 as a National Action Party [PAN] candidate.) Additionally, she said fewer Tres por Uno projects have come to Jerez since he took over. According to Marquez, other than opening a cantina, Bermudez has never invested a dime in Jerez, one of the first towns where Tres por Uno was implemented.

And in the opinion of some of his critics, it's due to a lack of funds.

"Andres Bermudez is not rich," asserted Heriberto Caldeva Ruedes, a campesino and Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) councilor, pointing to the people who came forward during the last election, claiming the Tomato King owed them money, as proof.

Like Bermudez, Caldeva spent more than two decades in the United States before returning. Nowadays he farms beans, corn and chilies.

"The scam he pulled on the Jerezanos and the way he got their votes was by saying he was going to bring a machine for planting tomatoes all over Jerez," Caldeva explained, adding the young people voted for Bermudez expecting, "He was going to get them visas to go to the United States."

According to the Associated Press, Bermudez left debts of more than 800,000 dollars in the United States. Bermudez acknowledged owing money in California, including back taxes, but attributed his financial hardship to spending so much time seeking office in Jerez.

Bermudez insists he lives a simple life in Jerez, driving a relatively new Chevrolet pickup and living in a modest home on the outskirts of town. His three children still reside in California.

"I don't make money here," he said. "I lose money. Every day I'm here I lose money."

Contrary to some recent headlines, Bermudez has no plans to leave Jerez anytime soon. His term expires in September 2007. He used a farming metaphor to emphasize his commitment, saying, "I planted a seed in the ground and I want to see it grow."

From the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.

 

Tequila attracts academic study

BY DAVID AGREN/Special to The Herald Mexico
El Universal

During the week, Agustín Arce, 27, teaches administration to high school students in Tequila, Jalisco. On the weekends, he studies the fiery spirit that made his hometown famous.

Last month, Arce and 14 classmates began delving into topics as diverse as tequila’s origins, its role in rural development and its growing influence on art, music and popular culture through a new continuing education program a t the Un i v e r s i t y o f Guadalajara (U de G). The program takes an academic approach to the subject, which most people only learn about in a bar and truly appreciate the next day.

“We think that people should know more about tequila — not only as a drink, but its origins, the (agave) plant and the process,” said Marcela García Bátiz, publicity director for U de G Virtual.

While a diploma program in tequila perhaps looks frivolous at first glance, numerous universities have offered courses investigating other alcoholic beverages, including beer, wine and Scotch w h i s k y . A n d w i t h t e q u i l a reaching dizzying levels of popularity both at home and abroad, García Bátiz said it was a pertinent topic — especially in Jalisco, where residents take a special pride in the drink.

‘JALISCO IS MEXICO’

The state’s history in fomenting the popularity of tequila — along with mariachi music and charreria — makes Jalisco the most Mexican of the Republic’s states i n t h e ey e s o f l o c a l boosters. The state adorns its license plates with the image of an agave plant and its tourism secretariat coined the slogan “Jalisco is Mex i co . ”

The drink, which previously masqueraded under the names vino de tequila and mezcal de tequila , played an important part in Jalisco’s development. A special tequila tax funded the construction of the state legislature and the implementation of Guadalajara’s first public waterworks system. The nature of agave cultivation influenced the architecture of Jalisco’s haciendas. Since the passing of appellation of origin laws in the 1970s, only beverages made from blue agaves grown in Jalisco and designated regions of Guanajuato, M i c h o a c a n , Nay a r i t a n d Tamaulipas may use the tequila name.

“Tequila is a beverage that identifies Jalisco and Mexico in the entire world,” García Bátiz said.

A PLANT WITH MULTIPLE USES

It’s also “a very broad subject,” she said, which U de G researchers have studied for decades. Recent research has also focused on the agave plant, tequila’s principle ingredient.

Research points to some of the agave plant’s properties, which include insulin, possibly benefiting diabetics. Rural development officials are pitching miel de agave, or agave syrup, as a sweetener that is ideal for soft drinks. Increased miel de agave production could also provide another m a r k e t f o r a g ave growers, who in recent years have been receiving record low prices for their harvests.

The U de G course, officially titled “El Tequila, su cultura y su entorno,” enrolled an eclectic mix of teachers, foreign graduate students, tourism officials and journalists. All signed up for different reasons, but everyone expected to profit from the experience in some way.

“I live in Tequila, was born in Tequila, I’ve always worked in that community,” Arce explained, adding his knowledge of the beverage was previously somewhat limited. But as a teacher, he saw growing opportunities for his graduating students, equipped with an in depth knowledge of tequila, to find employment in his hometown’s burgeoning tourism industry. “I’m taking this course so I can pass on the information,” he said.

STUDYING COMMODITY CULTURE

Sarita Gaytan, a graduate student in sociology at the University of California, Santa Cruz, serendipitously found the course. She is spending several semesters in Jalisco researching her thesis, which explores tequila culture from a crossborder perspective. The course offered her the chance to gain a wealth of information, she said, as well as access experts from academia and the tequila industry.

“I’m interested in how commodity culture shapes ideas about national identity and citizenship,” she explained.

Along with teaching academic modules, the course organizers scheduled trips to a tequila distillery and a hacienda and also planned sessions with culinary experts.

The non-credit course runs until March, when García Bátiz said the university would decide whether or not to offer it again. It could eventually become part of a degree program, she added.

 

Presidential candidates hook up for first time

Illustration by : J Cortaza

 Story by : David Agren

The country's three top presidential contenders outlined their economic platforms for delegates attending the American Chamber's annual convention in Mexico City last Tuesday, but undoubtedly many in the business-minded audience came looking for information from only one of the men: Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador of the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD), the left-leaning frontrunner in the race for Los Pinos (the president's residence).

The American Chamber, an organization that represents more than 100 billion dollars of foreign investment in Mexico, organized the candidates' meeting to enlighten its members on the country's investment climate and future political landscape. The event marked the first time the three presidential aspirants spoke at the same event in the election campaign.

"We were excited to be the first to get all three [candidates] together," gushed Larry Rubin, CEO of the American Chamber, who is based in Mexico City. "It certainly wasn't easy."

And it certainly caught the attention of analysts. Jorge Fernandez Menendez grumbled in his Publico column that the leaders united for "Americans," instead of Mexicans, who will cast ballots next July. Rubin, however, pointed out that the American Chamber members make 85 percent of all foreign investments in Mexico. He added, "(The candidates) see foreign investment as important ... for their future governments."

With the country possibly lurching left, delegates pressed Lopez Obrador for answers. As the former Mexico City mayor led opinion polls throughout 2005, the Mexican stock market slumped and many companies, including Telmex, hedged their dollar-denominated debts.

Questions concerning energy sector reforms surfaced and staying consistent with his campaign rhetoric, Lopez Obrador ruled out the possibility of allowing private investment in both Pemex and the electricity market should he be elected.

"We're not going to ... privatize the electricity industry or the petroleum," he stated unequivocally, noting that the constitution forbids foreign involvement.

The PRD proposal calls for increased government investment in the petroleum industry and building new gasoline refineries. Pemex, though, funds much of the federal government's budget, leaving little money for exploration and maintenance. According to reports, Mexico could start importing petroleum within the next 10 years.

Felipe Calderon of the National Action Party (PAN) staked out the most liberal position, saying the country needed foreign expertise. He proposed forming "strategic alliances in the industry."

Former U.S. Ambassador to Mexico Jeffrey Davidow, the event moderator, observed in a question to Roberto Madrazo of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) that only Mexico and North Korea forbid private investment in the petroleum industry.
Madrazo, currently leading a struggling campaign, also proposed some liberalization in the energy sector. Both men advocated keeping government ownership of Pemex.

"There are so many opportunities in the energy sector," Rubin said, adding that Mexico is importing resources when much of the country's richness goes untapped.

"(Pemex) is in a vicious cycle that (it) can't correct."

On the whole, the PAN's Calderon called for the most ambitious structural reforms, which included a flat tax and a crackdown on piracy.

The PRI proposed some of the same things, but to a lesser degree.

Both parties signed business tycoon Carlos Slim's Chapultapec Pact, which advocates creating an optimal business climate and addressing health and security concerns. Lopez Obrador has balked at singing, though, saying the pact largely ignores the poor - the constituency his campaign champions.

Lopez Obrador, a political maverick whose exact policies were largely shrouded in mystery prior to the event, called for better tax collection, and opting out of some parts of NAFTA that dealt with agriculture.

But he acknowledged the need for continued foreign investment in Mexico, saying, "It can be a factor for the development of the country in other fields [other than petroleum and electricity]."

Other sectors needing reform include security, finance and labor, according to Rubin.

Most reform proposals have faltered during the first five years of President Vicente Fox's tenure; the president and congressional leaders have bickered frequently.

The American Chamber, a non-partisan organization, never endorses political candidates. Rubin said, "We can work with any candidate that is elected democratically."

The 88-year-old chamber represents approximately 2,000 companies in Mexico. Rubin estimated its Guadalajara branch, which turned 40 this year, serves 30 percent of the chamber's members.

From the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.

PRI campaign limps into Guadalajara

By David Agren

Some Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) members brandished white rubber bracelets with the slogan "¡Unidos Venceremos!" emblazoned around the circumference;  a fashion statement similar to the previously popular Livestrong bands promoted by cyclist Lance Armstrong and worn by virtually every fresa kid in Guadalajara.

The bracelets faded in popularity over the past few months, becoming yesterday's style – not unlike PRI presidential candidate Roberto Madrazo's designs on Mexico's top job.

The former PRI party president finished third in a recent poll conducted for Grupo Reforma, garnering 21 percent support – well behind the National Action Party's (PAN) Felipe Calderon and the Democratic Revolutionary Party's (PRD) Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador. Even worse, 47 percent of respondents suspect Madrazo would abuse his power if elected; 38 percent viewed him as incompetent.

Not every Priista accepted the results; the PRI leadership challenged Grupo Reforma's methodology. Mario Rosales Anaya, a Guadalajara PRI booster, dismissed the results, saying, "Madrazo's going to get the momentum and climb in the polls."

He declined to explain how, but pointed out, "The PRI has the best national organization.

"We have support from all sectors of society."

Hampered by a rash of bad news, bitter internal bickering and last Monday's unfavorable poll, the PRI presidential campaign limped into Guadalajara Wednesday night. The momentum clearly elsewhere. Madrazo's sordid reputation for hardball politics and less than ethical campaigning preceded him.

In Tabasco state, he allegedly spent more than 50 times the legal limit in the 1995 governor's race, besting Lopez Obrador. Madrazo lost the last PRI primary for the national contest, but later became party president, perhaps the next best thing. As the PRI boss he ousted potential rivals, always conducting party business with an eye towards capturing the party's presidential nomination. Most infamously, he back stabbed the teachers' union president and PRI vice president Elba Esther Gordillo, branding her a traitor after she proposed working cooperatively with President Vicente Fox. In the PRI primary campaign, rival Arturo Montiel – the choice of an anti-Madrazo faction – accused Madrazo of leaking information that suggested Montiel and his family profited handsomely during Montiel's tenure as State of Mexico governor.

None of the past unpleasantness surfaced during the Guadalajara rally; an event attended by an eclectic mix of PRI faithful: businessmen in crisp suits, union members wearing T-shirts identifying their affiliations and even Huichol Indians in traditional white and pink costumes. In short, a cross-section of society, the PRI's traditional constituency. And most importantly for Madrazo, virtually all were loyalists anxious to catch of glimpse of their gallo (go-to guy). So many people showed up, late arrivals stood in the aisles after pushing past an overwhelmed security team, which had tried to keep them out of the hotel ballroom.

Not surprisingly, with such a friendly crowd in attendance, Madrazo delivered a vague message short on policy proposals. For the most part, he stated the obvious – lines like: "The PRI is a party that 100 percent wants Mexico to grow."

Or the equally generic, "There's no long term plan for the campo (countryside)."

He never detailed what exactly the PRI would offer the campo.

Madrazo spoke calmly, invoking little emotion from the crowd. The odd group of women would periodically interrupt the 45-minute speech, chanting campy support slogans like, "Roberto, amigo, (insert town name) es contigo (is with you)."

The candidate, an awkward grin on his face throughout the entire event, responded with clumsy waves, clenching a fist after fully extending his arm.

Perhaps offering a brief glimpse into his governing style – and confirming the fears expressed in the Grupo Reforma poll – he stated: "The public doesn't want change. … They want a strong president."

The Guadalajara event steered clear of controversy. Madrazo never mentioned his rivals from other parties or the poll directly, but conceded, "It's the most competitive contest in the history of the Republic."

As for party unity, he insisted, "Along with [former PRI presidential aspirants] Arturo Montiel and Everardo Moreno, together, we're going to win in 2006."

Supporters mobbed Madrazo after his speech; a cheesy pop track – a specially-made campaign theme song – looped endlessly. The party looked united – and some rabid partisans sported white wristbands to prove it.

From the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.

Ochoa backs public course

BY DAVID AGREN/Special to The Herald Mexico
El Universal
November 14, 2005

In a city park filled with mechanical rides, a go-kart track and fading athletic facilities, Guadalajara golf star Lorena Ochoa and her management team envision their field of dreams. Theirs is a plan that would not only provide a place for aspiring golfers and weekend duffers to practice their chosen sport, but would also help pioneer a new concept in Mexico: the public golf course.

"Lorena Ochoa has as a goal … to make golf more popular," said Rodrigo Suárez Gilly, a partner in Ochoa Sports Management, an organization that represents the golfer's business interests. "The only way to make the sport of golf more popular is to invite people to play."

Golf, a game accessible to the masses north of the border, remains out of reach for the average Mexican. According to Ochoa Sports Management, fewer than 20,000 Mexicans play golf. Besides the high equipment costs, virtually no public courses exist. Some private clubs allow public access during certain hours, but the green fees are often steep. Additionally, potential players usually require an invitation to enter a club.

The Ochoa Sports Management proposal would "make the sport less expensive," Suárez said. "It's having public places so that people go play not necessarily as members."

STAR POWER

To achieve their objective, Ochoa Sports Management expects to leverage the popularity of Ochoa, one of the nation's best-known female athletes, whose sporting success has been making headlines in Guadalajara for more than a decade. She won five world junior titles before receiving a scholarship to the University of Arizona.

Ochoa dominated the college ranks, finishing atop the leader board 12 times in three years. Since turning professional, she has won more than US3 million in prize money. She currently ranks fourth on the LPGA money list.

"All the sports in this country have grown when they had a sports figure," Suárez explained, pointing to Chihuahua native and National Basketball Association journeyman Eduardo Najera as an athlete who enhanced his sport's stature here after achieving success abroad.

"If you don't have a figure, people are not interested."

As an initial target group, Ochoa Sports Management is targeting a younger, sportsminded demographic; people familiar with golf and Lorena Ochoa but who have never picked up a nine iron. And to make the game even more accessible, the group is eyeing Parque Ávila Camacho for their course, an easily-accessible tract of land near the Guadalajara-Zapopan municipal boundary, a chip shot away from the exclusive Guadalajara Country Club, where Ochoa learned to play.

Other plots of land surrounding the Jalisco capital piqued their curiosity, but a long journey to the suburbs would drive up the cost for potential golfers.

"The idea is that someone can play 18 holes for US20," Suárez said.

Guadalajara public officials, however, have so far been cool to the idea. Still, Ochoa Sports Management wants civic involvement.

"It's not a profitable investment for a private company to install a public golf course," Suárez explained. "It might be something profitable in the long term."

A PRIVATE AFFAIR

Private clubs have sprung up all across the country over the past 25 years. Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas have become popular golf destinations. Golf legend Jack Nicklaus has designed 12 courses in Mexico. Many of the new developments don't permit non-members to tee it up or freeze out potential players with high prices.

"Hardly anyone has the chance to play golf," said Gustavo Pérez García, an 18-year-old golfer, who plays at the Chapala Country Club in San Nicolas de Ibarra, Jalisco.

Pérez previously worked as a caddy at the club, which allowed him an opportunity to access the nine-hole course. Nowadays, a group of members sponsor him, providing Pérez the chance to practice and participate in tournaments when not working at the country club.

"It's a lack of money that keeps people from playing," he explained, adding that few of his neighborhood friends, who grew near the golf club, have ever tried the sport.

Published in the Miami Herald, Mexico Edition.

Wal-Mart eyes Patzcuaro (Mexico)

Story by : David Agren

Patzcuaro, Michoacan taxi driver Alfredo Molina Aranjo kicked his cab's tires and showed off the new floor mats he purchased at Wal-Mart for his impeccably-maintained vehicle. He drives 40 miles "every eight days" to Morelia to shop in the mega-chain's Supercenter, preferring the lower prices and wider selection.
"I always find things there that I can't get here," he said.

He naturally welcomed the prospect of Wal-Mart putting one of its Bodega Aurrera outlets in Patzcuaro, a municipality of 66,000, which maintains a colonial atmosphere, largely untouched by neon lights and tacky strip malls.

"It's a good idea to have a supermarket here," he stated, adding many of his fellow cab drivers - and the majority of the town's population - would like to see Wal-Mart set up shop.

"A lot of people like the idea - except for the shop owners."

In a move similar to last year's opening of a Bodega Aurrera outlet in the shadow of the massive Teotihuacan pyramids north of Mexico City in San Juan de Teotihuacan, State of Mexico, Wal-Mart is eyeing another landmark location, which has a unique history and impressive attractions, but lacks a large supermarket.

The proposed development, planned for a vacant lot on the road between the town center and the docks serving Lake Patzcuaro - site of Janitzio Island, a tourist magnet and hotbed of indigenous Purepecha culture - unsettles many local merchants, who fear the discount retailer could drive them out of business and spoil the municipality's character.

"They say they're going to create [150] jobs, but a lot of people are going to be laid off," said Hugo Reyes, who owns a hardware store on Patzcuaro's Plaza Chica.

Unemployment plagues Patzcuaro - and much of Michoacan, which has lost a large portion of its population to migration. Tourism drives the local economy; thousands of visitors descend on the town for Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festivities each fall. Mexico's tourism secretariat declared Patzcuaro a "Pueblo Magico" - mainly due to the town's remarkably preserved architecture and strong Purepecha influence. Cobblestone roads crisscross the town and most of its buildings sport red-tile roofs.

A large number of artisans also populate Patzcuaro.

"Small business, this is how we survive," Reyes explained.

"Patzcuaro has no industry; no big source of income."

But the lure of lower prices in nearby Morelia already pulls sales out of Patzcuaro. Many merchants interviewed - including some who oppose the new Bodega Aurrera outlet - acknowledged buying items at Wal-Mart.

"I sometimes go to Wal-Mart in Morelia," said Magdalena Monroy, a pharmacy owner, who supports the chain's expansion into Patzcuaro.

"Me, I want it, but other people don't because it's going to shrink their sales."

As for her pharmacy's future prospects, she boldly stated, "I'm not afraid of anything."

Guadalupe Alba, a vendor, who sells homemade shawls and traditional clothing in one of Patzcuaro's markets, expressed some trepidation of Wal-Mart's impending arrival.

"It's a foreign company that's taking Mexican money out of the country," she said, adding that she never shops in Wal-Mart's stores.

Arkansas-based Wal-Mart conquered the Mexican market in less than two decades, quickly becoming the nation's largest retailer with 747 outlets, which operate under seven brand names. It also employs more than 100,000 people, making it Mexico's largest private employer. It sold 13 billion dollars worth of merchandise in Mexico last year. According to a recent Publico article, the chain recently unveiled plans to open scaled-down stores, which would compete with abarroteras, small neighborhood mom-and-pop shops.

Wal-Mart counters some of the criticism leveled against it on its Web site, saying the chain buys from local suppliers. A Mural article published last week noted that Wal-Mart agreed to stock 90 products from small and medium-sized Michoacan businesses.

Attempts to obtain comments from a Wal-Mart spokesman in Mexico City were unsuccessful.

Although facing a leviathan-sized company, Alba predicted the proposed store would never open, saying, "We won't allow it," but according to reports, Wal-Mart has already put its plans into motion.

Jorge Molina Garcia, Patzcuaro's director of urban development, said Wal-Mart's plans are being reviewed at the legal level, but declined to offer an opinion on how the store would impact the town. He added that Wal-Mart's plans would have to conform to the Pueblo Magico's strict building regulations, which regulate the architectural style of new buildings.

Alfredo Molina Aranjo, peering through a gap in the wall surrounding the proposed Bodega Aurrera site, scoffed at the suggestion the store would ruin Patzcuaro's colonial charm.

"It would put in a nice building," he said.

"If anything, this would improve things."

Published in the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.

Halloween muscles in on Patzcuaro holiday tradition

BY DAVID AGREN/Special to The Herald Mexico
El Universal
October 31, 2005

PATZCUARO, Michoacan - Caesar López, 13, carved a jack-o'-lantern from a chilacayote gourd and brought it to Patzcuaro's Plaza Grande each night during the weeks preceding Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.

Once there, instead of accumulating candy by calling out "trick or treat" as his counterparts north of the border might do, he collected money by asking bystanders, "Give me something for my chilacayote."

And many did. On a good night, said Caesar, he made up to 20 pesos with his gourd jack-o'-lantern.

When asked to explain the difference between Halloween and Dia de los Muertos, he responded innocently, "It's the same thing."

Over the past 20 years, Halloween influences have crept into Patzcuaro, a colonial city where the indigenous Purepecha build impressive Dia de los Muertos altars and hold nighttime grave-site vigils to honor their deceased loved ones.

Although vestiges of Dia de los Muertos abound, many local stores now adorn their premises with images of pumpkins, black cats and bats. In Patzcuaro's seasonal Dia de los Muertos market, virtually every stall offered Halloween items for sale: pumpkin-shaped sweets and witches' hats occupied spots next to sugar skulls and pan de muerto, a popular holiday bread. A few stalls almost exclusively stocked Halloween merchandise something that irritated a few longtime vendors who sell only traditional Dia de los Muertos supplies.

"Probably 50 percent of the things here are for Halloween," said vendor Jesús García, who works alongside his grandmother, a 47-year veteran of the market.

He complained that the city government, which regulates the market, doesn't enforce the rules, which García said only allows vendors to sell traditional items.

Veronica Adame, a vendor in the market who sells chocolateshaped pumpkins along with chocolate popsicles featuring images of popular cartoon characters like Sponge Bob, Shrek and Mickey Mouse, defended her inventory selection, saying many customers come looking for nontraditional items.

"They're usually looking more for skulls, but many (customers) are also searching for pumpkins," she explained.

"The kids ask for it," added Juan Carlos García, another vendor selling Halloween items.

The advent of foreign television programming and the large number of migrants returning from time abroad in the United States are the most probable sources of Halloween's growing popularity in Mexico. The pagan holiday also has great appeal to Mexican children, who are usually left out of traditional Dia de los Muertos celebrations, said Shawn Haley, a Canadian anthropologist who has studied the Mexican holiday.

"Halloween in Mexico is becoming a way to involve the children," he explained in an interview from his office at Red Deer College, in Red Deer, Alberta.

"Up until this point, Dia de los Muertos festivities didn't involve children a whole lot."

In some towns where Haley researched, parents initiated Halloween activities in order to include their children in Dia de los Muertos.

Jorge Tapia, a pharmaceutical company representative from Morelia who was visiting Patzcuaro on business, planned to celebrate both holidays. He bought sugar skulls emblazoned with the names of his wife and infant son for an altar in his home, but he also planned to dress his son in a skeleton costume for a Halloween party.

"I like to take the best of both (events)," he explained.

Despite the arrival of Halloween, Dia de los Muertos still thrives in smaller towns, to the point of becoming an important part of their regional economies. Michoacan tourism officials estimate more than 100,000 tourists will visit the state for Dia de los Muertos festivities with the majority heading to Patzcuaro and nearby Janitzio Island. Approximately 30 percent of the tourists will come from foreign countries.

Looking into the future, Haley predicts "a heavy tourist influence" will keep many Dia de los Muertos traditions strong, but will also change the holiday.

"(Dia de los Muertos) going to become a bit more like our Christmas, with less solid beliefs," he said. "But I think everyone's going to still do it."

From the Miami Herald, Mexico Edition.