A Slave Against The Empire August 9, 2016
I heard the voice of God late today on Calle Independencia, in English, from a giant speaker. More on this in a moment.
Closing streets in my congested neighborhood of Colonia Centro, while never recommended in a city with so many aggressive vehicles, is a regular occurrence. Still, the powers that be, if they even exist, have outdone themselves today. My narrow strip of pavement, Calle Independencia, is closed at both ends!
Drivers who turn onto Independencia find themselves trapped, unable to proceed and unable to turn off, creating unbreakable gridlock and, worse for those with sensitive ears, an unending harangue of angry horns. Barrio Chino is smack in the middle of this but somehow remains, as always, inscrutable and indifferent. The sad minor chords of the perpetual Chinese soundtrack seems to provide insulation from the city’s surrounding Sturm und Drang.
On one end, blocking access from Avenido Lazaro Cardenas, the Native American tribes of Mexico have established a maze of tents and tarpaulins in protest. They could have joined yesterday’s massive street protest—so much for unity and solidarity—but their gripes against the government are all their own. They do not wish to share the stage.
Speaking of stages, on the other end of Independencia, providing access to Avenido Balderas, the entire street has been converted into the Roman Coliseum. This is the block for the Metropolitan Theater, where only last week I saw a very passable performance of Beatlemania for 300 pesos, and 10 days from now I hope to see the premiere of Mexico’s latest great blockbuster, Ben Hur, starring heart-throb Rodrigo Santoro as Jesus.
Banners hang from adjacent buildings: “Hermano contra hermano. Una esclava contra el imperio.“ Brother against brother. A slave against the empire. The tribes down the street might like this film.
Cardboard Roman columns, artificial torches with golden trim, painted backdrops of chariots and spectators, MGM labels, the front halves of two white stallions—everything is ready for the red carpet when the stars arrive to christen their cinematic achievement. Like the races themselves, it is indeed a spectacle—bread and circus, as those Romans like to say and Mexicans like to practice.
In the meantime, no drivers will reach Avenido Balderas on Independencia, and their screaming horns ten days from now may upset the well-dressed dais. The real cognitive dissonance, however, comes in five days, when concert goers shall pass through a fake Roman Coliseum to see a show by some phony country singer named Charlie Montana. On that evening, bread and circus shall devolve into fried butter sticks and rodeo.
At dinnertime, I head over to the indigenous gathering for some cheap tamales. It is advertised as a protest, but, aside from the table selling activist newsletters, this is a fairly typical Mexican party. Woolen and muslin clothes for sale hang as high as three-stories, filling a shabby lane with vibrant color. A 5-piece band occupies the small stage playing traditional acoustic music, while kids in black capes with bull masks dance in some sort of unison. Periodically, someone takes the mike and calls out for agrarian reform, as best as I can tell, but then it’s back to the bull dancing and eating.
Then, as I return home after dark, I hear the voice of God Himself emanating from the faux coliseum ahead. It is Morgan Freeman in the flesh, descended from his throne, making a live appearance to promote the new film. No one cheering can possibly understand what he is saying, but no translation is necessary. All can see that Morgan Freeman is smiling and happy to be here. Everyone is thrilled by how real it is. They furiously snap photos of Jesus. Local television swarms with lights and cables. Mexican paparazzi click away beneath bright heavenly beacons disguised as torches. By habit, I choose not to walk toward the light.
Before bed, I am forced to shut my windows to keep out the horns. Honking is the closest that Mexicans get to road rage, and on Independencia they are absolutely full of it tonight. If only they had chariots, they might stand a chance of reaching Balderas.