THE WALLS OF PUEBLA

Puebla, Mexico - HOW has life in Mexico changed under the rising tide
of drug violence? It's difficult to say; it is what it is. It goes
on. For long stretches of time, it is easy to forget about the
violence. But then reality breaks through, and it becomes once again
impossible to ignore.

All my life I have lived in Puebla, a city of more than one million
inhabitants about 70 miles southeast of Mexico's sprawling capital.
Puebla has a reputation for being a moderately safe place to live
(considering the general standard in the country today). Mexico City
residents, called chilangos, have been moving here for years -
particularly since so many were driven from the capital by the
earthquake of 1985, which destroyed hundreds of buildings and killed
thousands of people.

The famous have retreated here, too. At one time, Puebla was reported
to be home to Mexico's most-wanted man, the billionaire drug lord
Joaquin Guzman Loera, who has still not been apprehended. Other
prominent traffickers have followed. Puebla is perceived as a place
that is largely free from violence - which, surely, must be as
attractive to a drug lord as it is to me - but it is known for being
free from the authorities' scrutiny as well.

There is lots of speculation about "agreements" between governors and
certain cartels. The government turns a blind eye, and the cartel
guarantees a level of peace. Many people believe these pacts to be
the reason that states like Puebla are relatively "safe" while
Mexico's civil war rages around them.

Recently, though, the delicate balance has been threatened, as the
authorities have started to crack down on traffickers. Last month,
Sergio Villarreal Barragan, another important drug lord, was arrested
in one of the city's most posh residential neighborhoods. The
government may have been emboldened by the results of the summer's
elections, which ended decades of rule in Puebla by the PRI (the
Institutional Revolutionary Party).

But the sad thing is, nobody has much faith in the new coalition
government. I met a taxi driver here whose children had moved to New
York City: one of them works as a cook at a fancy restaurant in the
Flatiron neighborhood and the other one cleans bathrooms near Penn
Station. He hasn't seen them in six years. We got to talking about
the elections, and I asked him if he thought the new governor might
change things.

"I don't know," he said. "I've always thought it was inevitable that
politicians are thieves. But even so - they could still leave
something behind, right? Do some good work just the same."

It wasn't an earthquake or drug violence that drove his children from
home. Puebla expelled them because it couldn't offer them any
opportunities. Worst of all, they went to New York illegally. So now,
they can never leave.

We too, in a sense, are trapped in Puebla. In my neighborhood, where
the roads are still unpaved, we live behind high walls and
electrified or barbed-wire fences. A friend of mine, an artist, lives
in one of the city's fanciest neighborhoods, behind an immense wall.
Last weekend he was unable to enter or leave; the great drawback of
the wall is that it has only one entrance. In this case, the opening
had been blocked by the Naval Department for an operation of some
sort. For the first time, my friend felt that he was living in a prison.

And no matter the lengths we go to preserve our tranquillity,
violence infringes. Not long ago, robbers broke into the house across
the street from mine. Luckily, my neighbor had a machete. He chased
the intruders out, after hacking one of them in the arm.

That morning, his garage floor was still covered in blood. I asked
him what they had taken.

"All sorts of things," he said. "Tools, the television set, some
things from the kitchen."

"Do you think they'll come back?"

"That's the worst part of it. I can't sleep in this house anymore,
thinking that at any moment they might come back, with me and my
daughters inside. Thank God nothing happened to us!"

I couldn't help but think of something the chief of security said
about the recent wave of arrests of drug traffickers in Puebla.
"Puebla is a safe state to live in, and that is why they come here,"
he said. We dream of happy endings, but sometimes I'm afraid that
everything that could possibly happen in Puebla has already happened.