Cradle of drug lords

Sinaloa center for smuggling since 1800s

By Niko Price
The Associated Press

GUAMUCHILITO, Mexico Amado Carrillo Fuentes' life of
drugs and guns was played out in safe houses across
Mexico, orchestrating cocaine smuggling to the U.S. East
Coast for profits of up to $5 million a day.

But when he wanted to relax with his family, talk with a
trusted priest or play volleyball, he came to
Guamuchilito, his childhood village of dirt roads and
ramshackle huts in the Pacific coast state of Sinaloa.

The rich soil supports thriving fields of corn, cotton
and vegetables. The baking sun drives people to their
porches for a long break in the middle of the day, to
chat about the harvest, baseball and the old lady down
the road.

Carrillo loved the pace of life here, and when he died
July 4 in Mexico City after 8 1/2 hours of plastic
surgery and liposuction, it was here that his
grotesquely decaying body was laid to rest in the family
crypt.

In that, he has something in common with many of
Mexico's leading drug lords. Almost all were born in
Sinaloa, and many have been buried here when bullets,
drugs or medical troubles cut them down.

Sinaloa has been a center for smuggling since late last
century, and as the drug trade has become more lucrative
in recent decades, the state has seen its native sons
thrive in a business that many here see as legitimate
and honorable.

Rafael Caro Quintero, who is in prison for the killing
of U.S. drug agent Enrique Camarena, is from Sinaloa.
The Tijuanabased Arellano Felix brothers, the most
successful surviving drug lords, were born here. So was
Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo, the godfather of the
Mexican drug trade.

The drug lords have showered their hometowns with gifts
Carrillo built a church, a kindergarten and a
volleyball court in Guamuchilito and the people have
rewarded them with reverence.

Even before Carrillo's body was lowered into the ground,
local musicians had written a ``corrido'' a ballad
singing the praises of a fallen hero in his honor.

Sinaloa is a state where people think little of seeing
dozens of men jump out of pickup trucks with automatic
rifles. Where almost everyone has a story about a trip
to ``the other side'' the United States. And where a
bustling shrine pays homage to a man considered the
patron saint of drug dealers.

``Since the beginning, drug trafficking was seen as a
business'' in Sinaloa, said Luis Astorga, a sociologist
at the Autonomous University of Mexico who specializes
in the drug trade.

Sinaloa has been growing poppies at least since the late
1800s. When the United States outlawed opium in 1914, it
was still legal in Mexico, and Sinaloanbased producers
used their welldeveloped rail and sea routes to smuggle
it across the U.S. border.

In 1926, opium became illegal in Mexico, but a
succession of governors in Sinaloa worked with the
traffickers, taking a cut in exchange for letting them
stay in business.

The real boom came during World War II. The U.S.
military needed opiumderived morphine for its wounded
and Washington encouraged the cultivation of poppies in
Mexico.

After the war, Sinaloa kept growing poppies for the
production of heroin for U.S. addicts. Sinaloan
traffickers worked out distribution deals with American
gangsters.

When cocaine became the U.S. drug of choice, the Sinaloa
suppliers made deals with Colombian producers.

``The knowledge of the Sinaloan traffickers has been
passed from generation to generation,'' Astorga said.
``They have a greater history, a better knowledge of the
routes, and they know the rules of the game.''

Sinaloa's drug smugglers even have spiritual guidance in
their endeavor. Their unofficial patron saint is Jes s
Malverde, who according to local legend robbed from the
rich and gave to the poor. He was hanged in Culiacan in
1909, and across the street from the former gallows is a
chapel dedicated to his memory.

On a recent afternoon, three musicians bass, guitar
and accordion played melancholy tunes in front of the
shrine. ``Oh, how they killed him,'' they sang. ``Oh,
how they killed him.''

Off to one side, with a can of beer in his hand, was the
man who had hired the musicians. He had just returned
from a ``business trip'' to Hong Kong that had gone very
well. He said giving his name or specifying his line of
work might get him into trouble.

``Malverde helped him in his job,'' explained the man's
drinking partner, Henrique Milan Carrillo. ``He asked
for a favor and Malverde made a miracle happen. So he
brought musicians and candles to thank him.''