A farewell with a guard of honor in the land of grandparents
In a twist of fate as absurd as it was tragic, the Oaxacan journalist Israel Enrique Gallegos Soto was laid to rest precisely in the municipality of Matías Romero Avendaño. The irony? This trip on the famous Interoceanic Train – that marvel of engineering that now stars in nightmares – was supposedly for a vacation with his partner. Life, that scriptwriter with very bad taste, decided that the final destination would be his grandparents’ house, but for a wake, not for a family visit.
His professional colleagues, those who usually narrate other people’s misfortunes, this time had to provide guard of honor for one of their own. Because nothing says “recognition of career” like forming a silent line in front of a coffin. The mass and the subsequent burial were scheduled with the punctuality that death does demand, unlike railway schedules, apparently.
The family, the uncle and the hospitalized wife: the distribution of this tragedy
In the midst of the pain, the figure of the uncle, Ares Edgardo Jiménez del Toro appeared, declaring that he considered Israel as a son. With such careful care since he was little, that in the end the only thing he could do was receive his lifeless body. He recalled, with that bitter lucidity that comes with mourning, that the journalist had been convinced to return to Oaxaca from Mexico City to get away from “complicated situations.” Because clearly, the safest thing was to get on a train on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. Life planning is, sometimes, a comedy of errors.
And then there is the note of hope, the one that must be included so that the article is not so devastating: his wife, Karen Leyva, is still hospitalized. The National Media Union (SINMCO) was quick to report that his condition is stable and with a favorable diagnosis. Thank goodness. Because in this dramatic feature, at least one of the main protagonists has a chance of leaving the hospital alive, although not from the trauma. The medical team provides care, while the rest of us provide our morbid interest from the news.
So it is: a derailment in the Isthmus region, a railway project in the eye of the hurricane, a dead communicator and a destroyed family. A cocktail of misfortune that mixes the politics of great works with the most intimate and heartbreaking human cost. Because in the end, headlines about infrastructure and accidents are always written with first and last names, even though we quickly forget them later.
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