THE VISIT

I went in search of fish and shrimp that I buy every Friday in one of the corners of my neighborhood, Coyoacan. Two characters, claiming to come from distant lands Sinaloenses provide us every week, these products already cooked, they become a delicious and nutritious ready to tasted delicacies, accompanied by a German white wine.
It was either a Friday morning, bright and hot sun. However, that Friday, I was committed with a friend to accompany her to visit her father's criminal Izucar of Matamoros. That, and to the difference in the everyday. I'm not very fond of embarrassing outings. But, my friend's father felt so loved and admired him. Besides, I wanted to see it, because by then, I had heard many things about his imprisonment that I lacked clarity. In truth, I felt awkward and uncomfortable, because my friend's father was a good man, intelligent and honest. I could not believe that he had imprisoned, they said that for theft and extortion.
They lifted the judicial officers, along with his wife in Colonia del Valle. Towards and eight days of that. The very rascals, in the record of facts that were reported to arrest his home by a warrant. Nothing is more false. As everything settled his accusers in the minutes that I grant the possibility that the father of my friend, he was moved, almost immediately, to the said prison, located in another entity far removed to Mexico, where very unhappy agents in great arrogance and power, installed it, without further ado, contravening all the existing legal framework in the criminal codes ... I've repeated countless times: "anything goes in Mexico, the law prevails unreasonably , human rights do not exist without doubt. "
Meti fish and shrimp fridge and immediately hear the rattle of the doorbell. On the intercom, I knew that it was my friend who had already arrived. Take my jacket, my credentials-without official identification, anything is possible in those dark and scary places-my hat and down quickly.
My friend came with her mother, who greet the kiss, and the three, along with a driver, we took to the road on route to Cuernavaca ...
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. In previous days rain had stopped falling, the sky everything fell apart. We know that September is the month of the waterspouts, hailstones and high humidity. But, at this particular Friday, the sky was clean with a warm and bright sun. The capital, we came from some dark days and even colder. The sun's rays on Friday, brought out the colors of the houses and a bright light was reflected from the glass windows, the green of the trees shone with great intensity and grass medians growing overflowed. Maybe that's why people in the street showed dynamic and one might even say, happy, not having the need to wear sweaters or jackets as in many previous days.
The economic situation was the toughest for many decades. But the sun king, without doubt, to miracles: their luminosity modified the face to those who were begging on corners, when by chance, we played the red traffic light.
We reached the toll booth toward Cuernavaca, the city of eternal spring, in minutes. There was not much traffic in the city. The time was good to start our odyssey.
Traveling is one of my predilections toward where no matter, the important thing for me is to leave the big city and leave behind, even a few hours, and in that Friday the pollution, the noise, the crowd, the smell, the bad shadows and the bad vibes that daily flood the heart of the capital.
The scenery was immensely beautiful. The rainy season, always raises the green everywhere. Green had all shades and varieties across the entire road. Met soon deviation toward Tepoztlan. Hence the mountains, those mountains mysterious, enigmatic, which shone with strength and gallantry all its splendor. Magic Mountains, majestic and beautiful as ever, eternally beautiful, that gave birth to our God Quetzalcoatl in Amatlan Valley
The houses that were seen in the distance, the passage of the car, it revealed the odd dog, donkeys, horses, cows and chickens everywhere ... I've always wondered: Who will live in these houses from the road? What will they think? What they will spend their time? They are idle questions, but I love playing with them when traveling. Maybe I should question me if I would like my life there or what kind of thoughts I would address if I had to live in one of those humble constructions that give me the apriencia of neglect and loneliness helpless ...
My friend was sitting on with the driver. Talked of things at work. Her mom was with me in the back had fallen asleep. He looked very tired and was hit hard emotionally appreciated. The color of his face was ashen. Her eyelids swollen appreciated perhaps crying so intense suffering. She was the one who narrated them all, as they proceeded to arrest: "We left the gym of the Del Valle. It was about eight o'clock. Your father was in a car and I in mine. We were going along. We had not gone three blocks even when the bend in a corner, some people in several vans shut me and made me stop me. Your dad was arrested and his car down. A tough-looking woman of evil facing jeans and revolver in hand descended from one of the vans and said in a firm voice and aggressive, not to move, we were arrested. That was not going to use the phone. Your dad began to take it and then asked her to allow me to accompany him. She agreed and that's how we moved immediately to the ministerial police cells, located in the colony of Drs. There we learned that your father was accused of theft and extortion in the city of Puebla and would be immediately transferred to there "... A tremendous third world illegal operation of incalculable consequences and irreparable loss!
The landscape, every time we moved was transformed in colors other than green. We entered warmer areas. Tepoztlan Mountains left behind and the scenery changed being flooded with colorful flowers everywhere. It was a great symphony quiet and emotional. The horizon is appreciated more clear, high in the sky the vultures sniffing inevitable death, rotting flesh, gliding in circles freely, numb, letting the brush and drive countless drafts. Birds from tree to tree, eating kills kills insects, fruits and pepper tree as colorful floaters, countless colorful butterflies happy and communicating with each other from flower to flower, surrounded by the indefatigable pollinating bees, working happily for his queen ...
I said: This is the true food of the soul. I wanted to eat everything enguirlo endlessly, beyond time and space, to infinity itself ...
In the blink of an eye, we went through the heroic city of Cuautla. I have always felt a deep admiration for the picturesque, and now big-city. I remember my history lessons: "Morelos, Matamoros, Los Galeana, Child Gunner, the brave and courageous resistance of that site Insurgent heroic" ... A beautiful place, a land of remarkable men and immortal and immense and unforgettable memories ... A beautiful place where I saw many weekends to enjoy, laugh and grow healthily to my beautiful children.
Far away, in the broad horizon. other hills, promontories, other strange mountains, sabedoras resguardadoras secrets and immemorial. Mountains that are embedded in its slopes prehispanic ruins I visited in a couple of occasions. They are a huge rocky masses, covered with green scum, very steep and high protruding from the landscape. They say that from these ruins, underground communication is established with the caves of Cacahuamilpa toward the state of Guerrero near the town of Taxco silver. The ruins that there is encuentan Preclassic date and represent a major attraction of the town. Even, it seems that these mountains were, in the past, cliffs emerging from the sea. Cuautla is the hot and found remains of crustaceans and shells. Surely at some remote time, was a kind of coast. There are palm trees and many birds native places of the sea.
Finally, we entered Izucar of Matamoros, Puebla. We had a very good time: two hours and a half away. Only slightly complicate the way in the stretch of the boundary curves announcing the state of Morelos with Puebla. The trip was very enjoyable. Into the socket of the population is a large statue of General Mariano Matamoros, Lt. place Morelos. The truth is that I prayed to Him to give me courage to look face to face my friend, very hurt psychologically and imprisoned in the jail of that town.
We were greeted by an employee of the office of my friend, who operated as a link in a small hotel there. There I had to change my clothes, because the shirt he wore was navy blue and was not permitted for entry into the prison.
The heat became increasingly felt. The climate of the car we had isolated from the environment all the way. But now we were installed in the hot. For such a small town car traffic on rebazaba any expectations and even in the streets had to stay focused to avoid an accident.
We moved to walk to the prison. We crossed all the Zocalo plaza. Around him were a couple of bank branches, some shops, the occasional coffee and small restaurants. In the classic tabac village center. The sun's rays fell full force hit us like sledgehammers and impacted on all that was in its path. Sweat and copious perspiration, made their appearance in our bodies. Local people who journeyed around us, not even budge with hot weather, were well used to such high temperatures ... Not wanting among us who perceived the comment that if he was doing ... caloron
The truth, is that apparently, the comment more than anything was to lessen the impact that we all had in mind and that was to approach our friends at any moment. The environment is perceived and felt something strange, the person designated by my friend to answer any question of his father there, had said on arrival, the day before the Lord had been beaten by some inmates of the prison. They had armed a big deal and that even his father had said that if he wanted to kill, as they did once, because I was not going to leave more. That person also told my friend that his dad did not want that they found out what he did to not mortificarlas but she us a little information ahead, so that we could find. The situation became tense and us to hear these comments, we also we tighten.
The prison authorities asked us IFE credentials and made us wait for about forty minutes. They decided that the wife and brother of the detainee, who arrived later on their own, would first. They could stay about four hours with him. For my part, after nearly an hour of waiting more, I was authorized, until inform me, to hold only a few minutes to talk with my friend. They said there would be a distance of one meter, while in between the two and also a fence would present several people who had also been authorized to talk in the same space with his arrest. That is: Nothing! Just a place of punishment, where the despots practice manhunt murderers and madmen produce all kinds of terror, where we no longer believe in anything or anyone, only the cunning of unreason and violence leads to indignificar to another at every turn.
The jail was, next to the city hall, the kind of runner and arches. It was a narrow door sheet painted light brown. On the outside a guard wearing black uniforms, boots, machine gun in hand, quietly observing all that we were there.
Opposite the town hall, the official esplanade and in the same area, at one end, food of poor lineage, fetid smell and refreshments escazo submerged in tubs with ice cooling medium.
A few meters from the door of the prison, the local police station along a church funeral painted gray, the front facing the Zócalo, where was the arrival hotel on arrival. A town where they move underground terrible and sinister characters, denizens of the afterlife provided to all in exchange for a few coins! ..
Finally shouted my name and I was transferred from my previous registration document in a book, to a room full of junk, to be reviewed by a custodian, trying to avoid the introduction of any prohibited item.
They opened a gate leaf and let me enter the area of ​​the conversation at a distance. He had been advised by my friend to make the effort to speak in code because then placed spies among the passersby while one. I try to install as close as possible to the gate, but a woman and a girl desperately pushed me to try to see his prisoner too. How to describe what I felt at that moment? Despair gripped me. Breathing raged. The stomach was moving intensely. My legs were failing. A rift began to emerge from my own disbelief, preventing me from returning to the ordinary world of everyday. We were like horses wanting to achieve a goal that no one promised prize: Pure desolation, bitterness, sorrow, tears, smell of dying ...
In the distance and through the bars of the gate, through small spaces, it revealed a backyard, no more than forty or sixty square meters. There were-well plastic tables seemed to me my-where several of the suspects, wearing beige uniform, shared their food with their families. At first glance, the place looked very narrow for such people. The murmurs were many, the talk could barely understand. Backyard looked like a ghost, spirits speakers that are closer to our dimension but in truth, are installed in the same hell ...
My friend came in a box, I could see his face with a light yellowish, carrying their small lenses and always part of your chest clad in beige camisole from prison. I was nervous, his eyes alert but revealing sadness, depression and fatigue. I reached that introduced through a crack and kindly provided, I thanked whoever was visiting: "Thank you for coming to visit me ... and see Raùl one here." He tried to smile. There was silence, the murmurs of the criminal and the crush of other visitors, and there were, float time, everything happened in slow motion, the distance of my disbelief vanished. I remembered so many things that I lived with him at other times, in other times, with his wife, his daughter, those times of sound doctrine and life ... It was and is my friend ... I asked him treated well. Oops! Replied shaking his head hit me, but I do not want them to know neither my wife nor my daughter, Raul ...
Once again I felt the crush of the lady and the girl next to me were warmly greeted his prisoner. Try to get closer and loudly said, "Go to the past, remember the pleasant moments of your life. Do not live the present nor the future. Lock yourself in your best past, that is real, authentic, is very attractive. Is all that we should value ... If - said - this is hell here ... There is no future, Raul.
We shook hands three times, on the backs and shoulders of other visitors, and not loving each fire, we slipped fingers, and also asked him to hang on a little longer ... You know something, Raul? - Asked nervously and hurriedly - ... We saw a friendly face. We were moving away. And the visit came to an end ... Left waste, torn, destroyed ... The human vultures, had taken hold of my friend!
I just hope to have been effective in bringing me my visit and of their shadows, cries, tears and something else ... Hopefully, this has been ... Damn crooks, corrupt damn!