When the river became the enemy and only six brave men remained
Imagine a town that went from having the soundtrack of a magical town to the post-apocalyptic scene of a zombie movie, but without zombies, just with lots and lots of mud. This is how Chapula dawned, in the Huasteca of Hidalgo, after Hurricane Priscilla decided that its mission was to erase it from the map. Of a community of 200 souls, now only six remain. Six people who are basically telling destiny: “there’s no way we’re leaving.” While everyone else packed up their lives and left, this select group of stubborn people is committed to an almost impossible mission: resurrecting a town that the authorities already left for dead.
Access to Chapula is now like the most difficult level in a video game: you either do it on horseback or on foot, in a three-hour walk up the mountain. There is no Uber, there is no Didi, there is not even a passing truck. Raúl Jiménez Montiel, 50, has proclaimed himself the guardian of the entrance, the doorman of a ghost town that refuses to be a ghost. Meanwhile, some families make lightning trips, not to stay, but to rescue from the mud what little the water did not swallow. It is climate weathering at its finest.
Saints, bristles and a hope that is proof against everything
In this Dantesque scenario, Zoralia Cruz Hernández, or Zury to friends, 32 years old, has her priorities very clear. The first thing: a one-meter-high Saint Jude Thaddeus who, according to her, is her heavenly bodyguard. The second: his animals, his herd. Among them, two sows, one of them about to become a mother. Zury, who was dedicated to raising pigs, is now the protector of an improvised zoo where dogs, ducks and chickens are the new owners of the streets. His drama is like a soap opera: he can’t get his pregnant “pig” out of there, so he had to put her in his own house, which is also a mess. “I was struggling with her… Yes, it hurts,” she confesses, massaging the sow’s belly as if she were a pig doula. His other pig, Lupita, was almost carried away by the current, in a scene that not even the most dramatic animal movie could surpass.
But Zury is not alone in her stubbornness. Alberto and Edith are other members of this exclusive resistance club. They had a mojarra farm that is now just a memory and a puddle of mud. His plan is as ambitious as it is moving: to get his business back on its feet to give the community a reason to exist. “We came to collect the little fish that was left,” says Edith with a resignation that hurts. Meanwhile, his brother Beto adds: “We had to come and see what was left because, poor little mojarras, some were still here in the mud.” It is economic weathering against all odds, literally.
Bureaucracy vs human stubbornness
While these anonymous heroes fight with shovels and hope, the governor of Hidalgo, Julio Menchaca Salazar, dropped the bomb: Chapula was declared an uninhabitable area. Basically, the government said “there are no houses here anymore” and washed its hands of it. The detail is that no one formally notified the six inhabitants, or if they did, the memo must have gone with the current. So they continue with their plan, feeling a little like in a series where the protagonist finds out that he is dead to the system, but continues to pester.
The most epic case is that of don Nabor Hernández Montiel, a 57-year-old rancher and farmer who acts as a guide, bricklayer and messenger. This man makes the round trip to Pemuxco (the closest town) up to THREE TIMES a day. The descent takes an hour and a half, but the climb, carrying supplies and tools, can take more than three hours. He is the influencer of the effort, but without sponsors or likes, only with the conviction that his people are worth it.
Don Antonio Bautista Hernández, 54 years old, lost everything. The rains took away the house and the lands that he had obtained after migrating and returning. His story is that of many: the dream of an entire life turned into mud in one night. But even he, amidst the desolation, clings to a thread of hope.
This is the chronicle of a community resistance that refuses to become a statistic. It is the battle of human stubbornness against the force of nature and bureaucratic indifference. Six people who, with their stories of saints, sows and mojarras, remind us that sometimes, home is not a place where it is easy to live, but a place worth fighting for.
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