Because the rains do not warn, but the bureaucracy (sometimes) does move
In a turn of events that no one expected (or perhaps everyone, because that is what usually happens), the Central de Abasto of Mexico City, that place where you can find everything from a habanero chili to the meaning of life in a vegetable drawer, has decided that its mission is not only to feed the capital, but also to become the logistical center of national charity. Yes, they have sent 70 tons of food to the north of Veracruz, hit by rains and floods. Seventy. That’s like carrying the soul of a promising politician, but in cans of tuna and packets of rice.
The operation, coordinated with the Capital Government and the always punctual Secretary of National Defense (Sedena), seems to be proof that when nature is unleashed, even the most cumbersome procedures can be accelerated. Who would have thought? The drive was organized with the efficiency of a Swiss clock… if the Swiss clock had taco stands and shouted “get to him, get to him!” at all hours.
The magic of collection centers: where solidarity does not close
In charge of this epic logistics is Mónica Pacheco, general coordinator of the Central, who with an enthusiasm that rivals that of a seller during the avocado season, explained that they installed five collection centers within the market, plus one main one. Because, of course, what better place to concentrate humanitarian aid than among tomato stands and the aroma of corruption? (Sorry, I meant fresh cilantro.)
Mrs. Pacheco, in a statement that deserves an Oscar for logistics with common sense, commented: “We want to make it easier for our merchants, grocers and producers to deliver their donations. If someone cannot leave the products in their work area, we pick them up with our vehicles and take them to this center.” In other words, they not only accept your donation, but they pick it up at your home. Is this solidarity or CEDA’s new home delivery service? Maybe both, because in times of crisis, even charity has to be express.
But the most glorious thing is that two of these six installed centers operate 24 hours, taking advantage of the night dynamics of the market. Because, as we well know, hunger and floods do not respect office hours, and what better than donating a bag of beans at 3 in the morning, between the bustle of the trucks and the dreams of the early risers. “The plant does not close, and many of our workers arrive at dawn,” explained the coordinator. Of course, because solidarity is like a basket: always available, even in the dark.
From rice to potatoes: the emergency menu
And speaking of what is donated, the list of products is as varied as the Central’s offering itself. From the basics and essentials – bottled water, rice, beans, tuna, sugar and powdered milk – to those items that make you wonder: “did someone really donate that?” But be careful, because in the midst of tragedy, even a toothbrush can be a luxury. So here they go: soups, oil, instant coffee (so that those affected can stay awake and wonder why fate is so cruel), diapers, sanitary pads, soap, toilet paper, toothpaste, paracetamol and ibuprofen (in case the headache is not just from the rains), and, of course, pet food. Because Firulais also deserves his share of hope.
But the crowning moment of this humanitarian comedy comes with non-perishable items. Or, rather, with the exception that proves the rule. It turns out that, although what does not spoil is prioritized, some Central producers have donated full truckloads of potatoes and onion. Yes, trucks. Because what could be more useful in a flooded area than some good potatoes? As Perfecto (we assume a born optimist) said: “The potato, if properly preserved, can last up to three months.” Sure, as long as they don’t float away in the current. But hey, it’s a gesture as touching as it is absurd: in the midst of the chaos, someone thought: “They need carbs!”
And if that were not enough, the official pointed out that even Tuxpan producers who come to the CEDA to sell oranges are returning with trucks loaded with groceries donated by merchants. In other words, the cycle of solidarity is like this: you sell citrus fruits, you buy help, and you go home with the truck full of tuna and hope. Isn’t it beautiful? It’s like a post-apocalyptic barter, but with a better smell.
Behind all this effort, the Central has the support of the Secretary of the Comptroller General (so that no one takes an extra bean, supposedly) and maintains communication with the Sedena, which will be in charge of transferring the supplies to the most affected areas. Because, in the end, who better than the military to distribute aid with precision and discipline? Although one wonders if among the 70 tons there will be an instruction manual to assemble a shelter with pure onions.
The collection centers of the Central de Abasto will continue to receive donations 24 hours in the coming days, until the next shipments of humanitarian aid are completed. Because, as you well know, solidarity is a never-ending job, especially when the climate insists on playing the universal flood.
Were you moved by this display of organization in the midst of chaos? Share this story on your social networks so that more people know how the Central de Abasto became the unexpected hero of Veracruz. And if you want to explore more content about humanitarian aid initiatives that mix ingenuity with madness, be sure to check out our other posts. Solidarity, like a good joke, tastes better when it is shared.
