A Night to Remember

In Mexico City, the bicentennial celebrations reached truly epic proportions but, like most Mexicans, I watched it on tv.  Even through a medium where people are used to seeing things larger than life, exaggerated and unreal, these festivities didn't disappoint us.  They were bigger, better, flashier, more spectacular than anything I've ever seen, in Mexico or the U.S. The ceremonies began with a pre-Hispanic ritual ceremony know as "The New Fire," where 40 shamans gathered in the zócalo to initiate new solar cycle.  According to ancient beliefs, this ceremony marks the end of the old world, and the beginning of a new one.  This was followed by a monumental parade with allegorical floats, many of them using advanced technology to achieve splendid results:  the giant figure of Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent of ancient mythology, was as tall as the Cathedral and stretched out for a full city block.  It was subtly illuminated, like a giant firefly,  moving through the  night at a slow, serpentine pace, reminding everyone that Mexico's history doesn't begin with Independence from Spain, but stretches back in time for thousands of years. Another float featured giant sized Mexican toys, wooden tops, puppets, the lottery game, along with other colorful and whimsical items, stirring up nostalgia for a pre-NAFTA past, and respect for tradition.   There were costumed dancers from every region of Mexico, acrobats, mariachis, and of course, after the President's appearance on the balcony, spectacular fireworks that lasted for at least 20 minutes and set the night skies on fire with magical colors and designs.

The landmark Metropolitan Cathedral became a movie screen, against whose imposing walls technicians projected moving images showing the history of Mexico, including a tribute to Mexican music, where the Cathedral seemed to move in time to the beat of a mambo.  A 65 foot statue of the Mexican Colossus was erected in the zócalo, slowly and laboriously rising from the ground to stand tall before the people, claiming a place for Mexico in the 21st century as a strong, independent nation.  The message was loud and clear:  No longer is Mexico under the thumb of the "Colossus of the North" (the US).   The time has come for Mexicans to take a firm grasp on their own future.  This magical feat was accompanied by a heart-stopping original musical score specially composed for the occasion.  And, like icing on the cake, there was the newly elected Miss Universe, Ximena Navarrete, looking on from a balcony of the National Palace, smiling and waving at the estimated 65,000 people gathered below.

With my mouth practically hanging open in awe,  I was speechless at the way the spectacle just kept escalating throughout the night.  There were multiple venues for concerts along the main thoroughfare of the city, and the cameras kept switching back and forth from the Mexican Philharmonic Orchestra,  to a rock concert, to country-inspired banda music. It was a kaleidoscope of sound, color and movement.   After hours of build up, the President finally appeared on the balcony to wave the flag, and give the famous "grito."  By this time, everyone present had fallen in love with Mexico, with the very idea of being Mexican, and they were happy to join together to sing the national anthem, despite political differences and overwhelming social, economic and political problems.  Not a single episode of violence happened that night, showing Mexicans and the world (if the world cares to notice) that Mexico is not the barbaric and violent place the media likes to portray.

I kept wondering how a nation like Mexico can afford a spectacle like this.  People are estimating that the cost of these bicentennial celebrations ran around $230 million dollars.  This is in a country where 40% of the people share only 11% of the nation's wealth.  Mexico as a nation is not poor: it ranks 12th in the world in terms of its purchasing power, with a GDP of more than $1.465 trillion dollars.  Yet, asset-based poverty statistics say that 47% of Mexicans live in poverty.  Many people in Mexico must have questioned why so much money was spent on the bicentennial celebrations.  A survey conducted by the newspaper Reforma says that 8 out of 10 people in Mexico City thought that it was costing too much.  And yet, there they were, filled with pride as they watched the ceremonies.  How was I supposed to make sense of these conflicting emotions?  A Mexican friend inadvertently offered me an explanation through an old refrán, or popular saying:  she told me that in Mexico, poverty knocks people down, but pride lifts them up.

Sometimes all people have is pride, and they get through life by clinging to a belief that they're part of something important.  At a time when Mexico is under constant attack and so many people are trying to paint life in Mexico as hell on earth, it feels good to see your country in a more positive light.  People said they understood that the bicentennial celebrations weren't going to make the country's problems go away, but they also said it was important to take part in the celebration, each one contributing a tiny grain of sand to the creation of national unity.  Mexico put on a show to let the world know that Mexico is capable of great things.  The pageantry was only part of it; the greatest achievement of the two-day holiday was that people felt safe and secure, they weren't exposed to violence, millions of families wandered around in the streets of what some call "one of the world's most dangerous cities," and nothing bad happened.  Everything was orderly, people were in a good mood, even the nightly rain held off, making the night of the 15th a truly remarkable event.  And, yet, where are the international newspaper reports about this??

Before the event, I saw many articles forecasting doom and disaster, worrying about the violence that was bound to happen, telling Mexicans that "there's nothing to celebrate."  But when events went off without a hitch, it wasn't newsworthy.  Instead, foreign papers looked at cancelled celebrations in Ciudad Juárez along the northern border, and reminded readers of a bombing incident in Morelia in 2008.  Rather than celebrate, they said, Mexico should focus on its problems with migration, unemployment, poverty, and- of course- drug-related violence.  This struck me as arrogant, since we do a lot of celebrating in the US despite our own internal problems.   But it also made it clear that peaceful events don't make the news.  I see that Univision is showing the Mexican bicentennial on cable tv in the US "on demand," so Mexican-Americans can see what's happening back home, but non-Spanish speakers in the US tell me that they didn't hear anything about the celebration.  It didn't make the nightly news, and even National Public Radio, famous for reporting international news, talked only about the music and cultural events, not about the political significance of it all.

Why do we care about all the violence in Mexico, but we ignore non-violent events?  Why are we fascinated with drug cartels but don't care about parades? Violence and drama sell newspapers and attract readers to internet sites, but these kinds of reports distort reality.   I remember the protests and manifestations leading up to the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City, where students, workers, and housewives took to the streets to protest the money that the government was spending on preparations for the Olympics while ignoring the needs of so many of Mexico's poor.  Like many people of my generation, I admired the passion and conviction of people who were fighting for social justice.  But, I also remember that this ended in the massacre of many people at Tlatelolco Plaza on Oct. 2 that year.  This event rocked the nation and caused a huge rift in society that has perhaps still not been completely healed. And, yes, it made the international news.   I'm glad that Mexicans didn't repeat that cycle of history this year with the Bicentennial celebrations.  Yes, the money perhaps could have been used to better purposes, and maybe they did spend too much, perhaps it was all for show and didn't mean a lot in the day to day lives of the ordinary people.  Still, when I remember seeing the crowds gathered below the presidential palace on the night of Sept. 15, and I remember the joy and happiness they felt at that moment because they were so proud to be Mexican, I understand how it was possible for there to be a night in Mexico when violence and poverty didn't exist.  Was it worth the cost?  I don't know, but I do know it was worth remembering, and I wish more people in the US could have witnessed it.  It would have transformed the way they think about Mexico.