Pubdate: Sat, 22 Sep 2012
Source: Austin American-Statesman (TX)
Copyright: 2012 Austin American-Statesman
Website: http://www.statesman.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/32
Author: Jeremy Schwartz

A DIFFERENT LENS ON MEXICAN DRUG VIOLENCE

Back in 2005, when the drug war in Mexico was just beginning to
snowball into a frenzy of murder and extortion, I traveled to the
Jardines de Humaya Cemetery on the outskirts of Culiacan, Sinaloa, for
a story about the music and culture surrounding drug trafficking in
western Mexico.

I had been told that the cemetery was the final resting place for some
of the top soldiers and capos in the Sinaloan drug world, but that did
not prepare me for what I saw there: rows of magnificent tombs and
mausoleums made of polished marble and smoked glass, many in the
shapes of churches and castles. Inside were pictures of young men,
many holding their cuerno de chivo, or goat's horn, slang for the
AK-47s and other submachine guns popular among the narco armies.

Beyond the opulence, which stood in stark contrast to the scruffy
neighborhoods alongside the cemetery, what was so jarring was the
public nature of the tombs. In death, the drug lords don't hide
anymore. At Humaya, the narco world jutted into civilian world with no
attempt to shield identities or the illegal business that had made
these families so rich.

After about an hour of walking through the mausoleums and conducting
one rushed interview with a nervous construction worker, I saw a
convoy of darkly tinted SUVs and pickups enter the cemetery. My guide,
a university professor, quickly motioned that we should make our exit.
I was all too happy to leave. The cemetery felt exposed and
unprotected. It was public space, but it belonged to the narcos.

I lasted just an afternoon at Humaya. Mexican filmmaker Natalia Almada
lasted a year there. Starting in July 2009, Almada filmed from a back
corner of the cemetery, capturing the rhythms of daily life through
the eyes of its night watchman. Her camera rolled as narcos partied
late into the night, firing off their guns in raucous memorial; as
workers built tomb after tomb, helping create what through her lens
looks like an ornate European city; and as the families of the dead -
including an attractive young woman who drove her sparkling white Audi
to the cemetery every day - dutifully cleaned the marble floors.

The fruit of her labor is the hourlong documentary "El Velador" ("The
Night Watchman"), which premieres Thursday at 9 p.m. on KLRU as part
of PBS's acclaimed POV documentary series. It will also stream online
at pbs.org.pov from Friday through Dec. 20.

Almada said her film, which captures life at Humaya in a series of
lengthy and atmospheric takes and does not use narration or
interviews, was a new way to think about the bloodshed of the Mexican
drug war.

"I wanted to pause, and I wanted others to pause and be suspended in
that place and moment where violence has just occurred and where
violence is imminent," she said in a statement. "With my camera in the
back corner of that cemetery, I set out to answer the question of how
to look at violence."

While the movie is visually impactful, especially the contrasts
between the night watchman's humble home and the gaudy, over-the-top
mausoleums, some context would go a long way in helping viewers orient
themselves (the news of the drug war comes from the ever-present TV in
the watchman's shack, which gives graphic updates on the violence
raging outside the cemetery walls).

Sinaloa is no ordinary state. In many ways it is the Sicily of Mexico,
and its native sons have long dominated the drug trade throughout the
country. They have branched out from the poppy and marijuana-growing
fields of its mountains to lead cartels in places like Tijuana and
Juarez. Sinaloa has produced such infamous bosses as Miguel Angel
Felix Gallardo, the "Padrino" who revolutionized the cocaine trade
before he was arrested in 1989; his nephews, the Arrellano Felix
brothers of the Tijuana cartel; and Amado Carrillo Fuentes, the "Lord
of the Skies," who led the Juarez Cartel to prominence in the 1980s.

Today, Sinaloa is home to what is arguably Mexico's most powerful
cartel and to the most wanted drug lord in the country, Joaquin "El
Chapo" Guzman. It is also home to the notorious Beltran-Leyva group,
which split from Guzman several years ago, sparking a bloody war in
the process. (When Arturo Beltran Leyva was killed in December 2009
and buried in Humaya, someone left a decapitated head on his tomb).

But Almada's film prefers to keep its focus tightly centered on the
rhythm of daily life at the Jardines de Humaya. By staying there so
long, at considerable personal risk to herself, Almada brings us a
unique perspective into a drug war where shouting headlines and
graphic photos can numb the public to its horrors.
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