I live in Puebla, a small city 100 miles south of Mexico City, where fortunately hurricanes don't really count as a believable threat. We have been through earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and corrupt politicians. Our last mayor stole the fountain that beautified the city square and installed it in his back yard. Puebla has its fair share of troubles, but unfortunately, so does the rest of Mexico.
I am writing this today because many people do not realize the extent of Hurricane Wilma. The storm - just as colossal in size and strength as the fearful Katrina - left a path of destruction and tragedy as it passed by the shore of the Riviera Maya and Cancun. Over 65,000 people were evacuated around the country and to other locations in Central America. Many of these individuals were evacuated to shelters with poor conditions - similar to the Astrodome in New Orleans.
Although media coverage has been relatively scarce, it is easy to imagine the situation of the aftermath of the storm. Just like New Orleans after Katrina, but multiply the chaos. The government of Quintana Roo (the state where Cancun is located) decided to evacuate the tourists first, taking them to more comfortable housing locations. Then the government started addressing the real issue: the people who live and make a living in and around the Yucatan Peninsula.
When tourists go to Cancun and the Riviera Maya, they tend to stay in their awesomely huge hotels. I can't blame them. Had it not been for my father's insistence to drive to Cancun from Puebla, I would have gladly hopped on a plane and then the shuttle taking me to my conveniently placed hotel. The 17 hour drive that seemed excruciatingly long and unnecessary at the time, today means a lot more.
We drove past small and seemingly insignificant towns that all looked the same. In between the major touristy towns of Merida, Tulum, Playa del Carmen and even Cancun, lay hundreds of forgotten villages of 20 to 30 people who live in fragile homes lined up in one street.
When my family and I drove past these places 3 years ago, it seemed these little secluded towns were one of the only vestiges of the true Mexico. When you stopped to buy fruit or whatever they were selling there, they all spoke native languages and sometimes wore their traditional dress. To me, that was quite impressive and made me kind of glad to be driving down to Cancun. I thought I was getting to see a lot more significant things than the average tourist in Cancun. What I did not think, however, is how fragile and exposed they were to storms.
I have looked through all sorts of newspapers - Mexican, American, and even European - and not one has reported on how these small towns are doing after the storm, or even if their citizens have been evacuated. Yes, they all go on about how the 2,000 American citizens are sound and well. They also make a point of saying that the hotel owners are safe and have been successfully relocated. But not one of them talks about the native people whose homes are probably gone by now.
My family has housed four misplaced people from the hurricane for the last week.
They have been told not to come back for at least a month, as there is no electricity or water where they live. The government hasn't helped them out, but luckily they have the resources to find alternatives. They found their escape in Puebla. Unfortunately, they are the lucky few. The people I saw while driving to Cancun probably didn't have the same luck.
I still wonder if those small towns even made it through the storm. Unfortunately, I won't be going down to Cancun any time soon. But if you do, just drive around for a while and take a look at the real Mexico. Not everything in Mexico involves Se?±? Frog's and wet T-shirt contests. Take my word for it.
Alejandro Pinero is a sophomore majoring in international relations and economics
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