Los Lomas, Mexico: The Ballad of a Border Town (cont.)

I am beginning to learn that the criminals here have adjusted aptly to their circumstances.  Since it is virtually impossible to enter your iron-barred home even under cover of darkness, they have turned to a more sophisticated form of theft.  While my husband has ultimate faith in the veracity of the security guards’ proclaimed intentions, I remain skeptical.  I firmly believe that the pair of them do nothing more than canvass our neighborhood for ‘tips’.

Ultimately, vagabonds will appear at the gate from time to time; and if you ignore them, they will simply pass onto the next gate.  I’ve grown accustomed to the look of the con man, but sometimes I can be caught off guard.  One Saturday night a man came calling at the gate, he looked like any average guy.  His claim: he had just returned from the border where he had been abducted by State Troupers and deported.  All of his earthly possessions were across the border, and he was in dire need of funds to pay for fare back to Poza Rica.  My husband rewarded him for his imagination.

Another night a young man equipped with what appeared to be a first aid kit rang the bell.  My husband and I approached him and learned that he was allegedly from the Government’s health department and was making routine house calls to inspect household pets.  Naturally we had to admit to owning one first.  He was operating on instructions to satisfy himself that the animals were immunized against rabies.  I found it hard to believe that with all the difficulties facing the people of Mexico, the government actually found time and money to invest in the welfare of animals.  I wasn’t convinced of this man’s sincerity, but I went along with him anyway.  My husband produced our feline’s health certificate indicating that she had traveled a long way to Mexico and had successfully withstood the scrutiny of U.S. customs.  Since he did not have a ready reply to con us out of funds or a suggested bribe, I assumed he was authentic.  As he walked away, I still wondered if there was a Part B to his plan.  I haven’t seen him in a month.  I am beginning to believe that he was ‘for real’.

The con artists are everywhere.  To their credit, unlike in the larger cities in Mexico, the downtrodden do not languish by the roadside begging for alms.  Either they do not exist or they have joined the ranks of the con man.  In any parking lot, where parking spaces are many and there for the taking, you will find an elderly man, neatly dressed, at every turn, pretending to direct your vehicle to a vacancy.  After you return from your errand, the same man pretends to have watched over your car during your absence, having successfully warded off would-be vandals and robbers.  He eagerly walks you to your car and waits patiently for a tip.  After pocketing his change, he carries on with the gig.  He is now helping you escape the parking lot without incident.

The streets of Mexico can be dangerous.  Sensibly, many of the residential streets of Las Lomas are lined with paved sidewalks.  But getting across the street to the safety of the sidewalk can be a riveting experience, as you try to get there before a car runs into you.   Cars dash wildly in and out of our street, a street where children play soccer when the sun cools.  People, the young and the old alike, ride bicycles up and down the streets, and the neighbors’ dogs occasionally scamper across the street to frolic in the neighborhood’s barren park. 

Crafts are sold at every juncture in Reynosa at enticingly low prices.   Sidewalks in the center of town are lined with colorful piñatas.  The effigies attempt to duplicate everyone from Bin Laden to Sponge Bob Square pants.  Ceramic images of half and whole moons are popular items of sale in Reynosa as is elsewhere in Mexico.  According to Indian legend the moon is a symbol of good luck and should be prominently displayed at the front door of one’s home.

No matter where you wander off to in Reynosa, you will always be poignantly aware that America is only a stone’s throw away.  A 7-11 will pop up every block or so just in case you forget how close the United States is to this part of Mexico. Whataburger's and Applebee's line the streets, but even with all the American influence, Reynosa is still Mexican to the very core.

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