Silvio Rodríguez, Ojalá

Just as Peña Nieto waves goodbye with multiple conscience cleansing spots (paid with our taxes) of his own view of the splendid presidency he left behind, there's a new finding which leaves no doubt of his government's legacy.


In Veracruz, YET another mass grave has been found with 166 skulls. This was not an effort promoted by the Mexican authorities, what most of the news leave out is the fact Grupo Solecito, a group in Veracruz conformed of men and women who have a missing relative, is the one that made the discovery happen.


These heroic people have been searching their loved ones on clandestine pits, one by one, walking through lone sites, an iron rod in one hand, a hat on their heads and a simple t-shirt that reads:"Searching with dignity and respect".

These are people that may not consider themselves as anything special, and they might be right in thinking you just do what you need to do in order to release the anger and frustration of an event that has no rationality: why is it federal officers took someone's son, a medical student with a bright future, to never be seen again?


These are people whose idea of reality collapsed as they learned about the gruesome details of retreiving procedures to find a loved one, of twisted forensic details from "narcocemeteries". What was once a simple chat of a few women venting their pain, the group has grown to 180 people that came together, to quiet amongst their company, the cold shivers that came from the abandonment of mexican authorities to their cases.

This is the country Peña Nieto left behind, a bottomless pit in which dead are buried with those of us who try to keep ourselves out of the radar or becoming vulnerable to the corrupted legal procedures of the state that also involve, the drug and most recently oil smugglers called huachicoleros.

Ojalá is a song written by Silvio Rodríguez for Emilia Sánchez, a woman that once dated and left him. In the song's verses he wishes "leaves don't touch her body as they fall, so she can't transform them to glass, or that he really wishes that at some point "her constant gaze, precise words and perfect smile, dissappear". 

A song, once thought to be dedicated to Pinochet was really in the end, a love song. Yet, from the disdain for life our president, his cabinet and law forces exerted for six years, we are happy this government is over. We, dead and alive in this underworld, are singing this song together, hoping "our voice forgets your name, aspiring walls can't retain the sound as you tiredly walk by... in your old government of flowers and deceased..."

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