If you are someone concerned about not just environmental
but also social issues such as government corruption, injustice, failing
education systems, paltry job opportunities, drug violence, and struggling youth; then Mexico is a fascinating and frustrating place to work. Even if you
are a strict environmentalist, you will realize that none of your goals can be
accomplished without also figuring out a way to alleviate the social issues here.
Although your greatest love may be the perfection and intricacy of undisturbed,
nonhuman ecosystems, you can’t help but notice the social problems everywhere
you go. At times you even seriously consider that industrialization and
development might actually be what’s best for the overall well-being of Mexico’s
life. Then you come to a place like Las Coloradas and you’re completely at a
loss.
On the outside, Las Coloradas (LC) looked just like all the
other coastal villages I had seen so far; dusty roads lined with square cement
houses and simple convenience stores (tiendas).
But there is a business here that makes LC very different from the rest: salt
production. LC owes its entire existence to a sole salt company (called a salinera) that extracts white mountains
of salt from the coastal wetlands of Ría Lagartos Biosphere Reserve.
Essentially, LC is nothing more than a developed encampment for the salinera’s
workers and their families. In this village of about 1,150 people, there are
only two main professions: saltworker and fisherman, with a heavy bias towards
the former. One result of this is that kids here generally have no desire to
study beyond middle school. Even if a youth does have a desire to do something
more than shovel salt or catch fish for the rest of his life, other opportunities
are scarce in Yucatán and practically nonexistent in LC. I was also startled to
learn of the unchecked domination that the salinera has over LC. Not only do they rule
the job market, but they also own all the land in LC and determine who gets to
use it and how. In other villages, if a man wants to build a house to start a
family, he goes to the police station and they allot him a plot of land. In LC,
one must ask the salinera for permission. One resident commented to me that LC
is more like Cuba than Mexico. In a strange twist, capitalism has provoked socialism.
The salinera has also used its power to prevent all forms of tourism, probably
fearing that it may draw workers away from its currently unlimited supply. As a
result, LC is considerably less aesthetic than its neighbors Rio Lagartos, San Felipe,
and El Cuyo, all of which host relatively rich Mexican tourists from the cities
during the summer weekends. Additionally, LC doesn’t benefit at all from the
thousands of beautiful flamingos that can be seen practically from town. Instead,
guides from nearby Rio Lagartos bring tourists and take back their money to their
homes. Never before have I seen a community in such a stranglehold by a single
company.
American Flamingos near Las Coloradas |
This isn’t to say that the people of LC are wallowing in
impoverished misery. There is a saying that some use to describe themselves, “Jodido pero contento.” Broke but
content. Many have accepted their basic possessions and are content to live simply
in peace. From an outsider’s perspective, the best way I can summarize it is
that it’s possible to be content here if you don’t have great ambitions. People
here are poor, but no one is starving. There’s little to do, but there’s little
you’re expected to do. However, if someone had a passion for something other
than salt, fish, or housekeeping, I would recommend they take the next bus out
of LC.
So going back to birding, when I came into LC I wasn’t just
thinking about how to teach the kids about birds, I was also trying to figure
out what birding could do for them. Tourism is suppressed, so future careers as
bird guides would be unlikely (although it’s not impossible for them to move).
It seemed even more unlikely that their parents would send them to a university
to study biology should they become impassioned to do so. At first, it
seemed like there wasn’t much point in teaching them about birding, but then I
asked myself, why do the rest of us bird?
Because its fun. Because it’s fulfilling. And for me, observing nature gives me
an outside perspective on life that helps me find and focus on what’s really
important in the world. I can’t point to statistics that will suggest that
birding can help these kids, but I can tell you that a fun, meaningful activity
is sorely needed in a place where kids spend the majority of their time
watching TV and grow up to be low-paid and often alcoholic saltworkers.
From July 20-23 I stayed on my
own in LC to help start a bird club after the workshop Niños y Crías had just
given. In addition to teaching kids, I also spent time with Wilma, the young
woman in LC who organized the kids for the workshop, to help her lead a bird
club after I leave. Let me now recount an average day in LC, quirks and all…
A typical day for me would start with being awoken around
5:15am by the roosters next door, an experience which I found to be as
obnoxious as it was rustic. An hour or so later I would get up, have my
breakfast of bread and a juicebox, get dressed, put on sunscreen and bugspray
(let the greasiness begin) and don my binoculars and camera. I head out into
the rapidly disappearing cool air.
Birding outside Las Coloradas |
Outside I wait for the kids to come meet me for a bird walk,
usually arriving 15 minutes late, or 15 minutes early Mexican time. We have no
form of transportation other than our feet, but luckily there is a large
expanse of good coastal scrub habitat and salt ponds just half a sunburn down
the road. Here we usually find Tropical Mockingbirds, Tropical Kingbirds,
Mexican Sheartails, and American Flamingos quietly grunting and feeding in the
salt ponds. As the sun slowly starts to bake us, I help the kids work through
identifying their newly discovered neighbors: “Ok so if it has a gray body,
black wings, and a long black tail, then which species is it?” (I must have
said this a hundred times now). The kids are somewhat quiet and reserved the
first day, but continue to open up as time goes on.
Learning to use a field guide |
After the walk I return to my cabin to read, edit photos,
and rest for a couple of hours. Around noon I walk down the dirt road to
Wilma’s grandmother’s house, or rather, cluttered area enclosed by cement blocks.
I spend a while chatting with Wilma and her relatives and then get to work
helping Wilma in some way prepare for starting a kid birding club. One day we
went over identification of the common species in LC, on another we drafted a
request for 10 binoculars and a guide to the birds of Mexico from the American
Birding Association’s Birders’ Exchange.
Afterwards, I return to my cabin, which is nestled between one house that
sometime smells of burning excrement and another than perpetually reeks of something like burning vomit. Here awaits me the woman I have somehow managed to swoon…
Using the powers of peripheral vision, I discovered by the
second day that her gaze never left me any time I was within her sight. Every
afternoon and all afternoon she’s sitting at a table in the middle of the yard
that I must cross, and she stares at me eagerly and indiscreetly every time I
do. She’s tall and lanky like a flamingo, and has a voice strikingly similar to
one as well, which she uses to blurt beautifully intelligent things like, “He
just went swimming, hahahaha!” as I’m walking back to my cabin in a wet
swimsuit. Let’s just say that she looks and behaves nothing like I imagine my
next girlfriend will. So, on principle of course, I am obliged to resist her
not-so-seductive stare whenever I return to or emerge from my shelter. In
retrospect, it seems quite frivolous to write about now, but I believe her
persistence merits some recognition.
Next, I get lunch at the town’s only restaurant, my only
real meal of the day, consisting of grilled fish or chicken in corn tortillas.
There is little you can do in LC in the afternoon heat and humidity, so I go
back to my cabin and beat cool off for a couple hours more. At 4:30 I meet the
kids outside to go for another bird walk. Friday’s walk was a particularly good
one. This group of five loosened up more than usual and started joking around
during the walk. We
had great views of a perched Lesser Yellow-headed Vulture, a group of 20
Tropical Mockingbirds, and displaying Mexican Sheartails. I was thrilled to see
that one girl, Asís, was becoming very enthusiastic and skilled at birding.
Even after it rained on us as we ran back to town, Asís got the group to go
back out and bird a little more. To my surprise, it has been the two oldest
kids from the workshop who have shown the most enthusiasm towards birding. We
continued our walk towards the beach, spending about 20 minutes climbing a sea
grape tree like monkeys and eating the fruits. At the beach, the kids became
fixated on showing me the shells and spent the next 15 minutes tirelessly bringing
me every single type they could find. My hands overfilled with shells, the sun
set, and we walked back to town.
Photoshoot on our Friday bird walk |
Spending four nights in LC was one of the most wholesome
experiences I’ve had in Latin America. I lived more simply than I have in years. I shared as much of my knowledge as I could, but of course learned far
more. There is now a group of 10-15 kids in LC eager to keep birding. In a
place like LC, who knows what kind of impact this interest could have on their
community if they continue it? But as I have already mentioned, we will not get
to find out unless the bird club can find some binoculars to use. We
will be sending a request to the Birders’ Exchange soon, but I will conclude
this blog post by asking, sincerely, if anyone can help provide binoculars to
the kids in Las Coloradas. My email is emb326@cornell.edu.