As we all know by now the historical gem that is Ciudad Mier, a Mexican town on the Rio Grande border with Texas, was recently depopulated by the ultraviolent, bloody Zetas in a move to consolidate territory as they battle their rivals, the Gulf cartel.
We could never have imagined this type of cleansing of populations in our own backyard, reminiscent of Bosnia-Herzegovina, Kosovo, Afghanistan during the Taliban rule and other tragedies.
Many people bravely came to the aid of the internal refugees from Ciudad Mier that were accepted with open arms by their brothers and sisters in neighboring Miguel Aleman.
This is the story of one successful effort to deliver aid, love and support, orchestrated by a wonderful “Abuela”.
Sitting in my home, hoping my eyes and heart had somehow misinterpreted what I had just seen, I began to watch the video a second time.
There was no way to deny the truth, I understood the horror perfectly and I was sobbing at the realization.
How did we get here? What can be done to bring all the violence, pain, and suffering to an end?
I could never have imagined drug gangs would be successful in claiming an entire municipality and intimidate a whole population to abandon their beloved "Magical Town", chosen so for its beauty and historical and cultural past.
How could anyone have predicted the cruel irony of this legendary town’s banner, el Pueblo Magico.
Before this year if
Ciudad Mier was Googled the response would have encouraged a visit on a tour that would include the sites of the first battle of the
Mexican American war and the last battle of the Civil War.
Today those search results leading to the beauties and wonders of the magical town of Mier have all but disappeared. Much like the proud people who were forced from their homes with threats of death, they have been relocated and replaced by the tragedy of cartel violence, abductions and murders.
I am a grandmother and a humanitarian. I love this country with a passion. It is the land of my ancestors; my roots and my culture.
I see the disintegration of this beautiful country and feel, as all good people do, we are enslaved by this horrific violence and powerless to stop it.
We see no end, not in our life time, nor that of our children. My hope only begins when thinking of the future generations, that of the children and their children. But will it all be too little, too late?
What will happen with the children of this war? With the orphans? How are they being affected? How can they NOT be damaged and scarred?
It's these children I worry about most. They have unknowingly, out of necessity, created survival mechanisms to cope with their fears and anger. They have become desensitized.
Studies claim this desensitization is a
symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but how can it be? How can it be
post trauma, when it's ongoing and escalating?
What type of people will this drug war produce? What type of adults will these children become? Children are losing their ability to become emotionally moved. What will the future hold for children whose moral, character, judgment and emotional development was so greatly compromised by violence and tragedy during such crucial stages of development?
Will they lose their ability to feel? This is my greatest fear.
Drug consumption and addiction increases as the cartels dump excess supply on the streets of impoverished colonias and rich enclaves.
If Mexico does not stabilize soon, one can only imagine what will happen when the next generation, previously exposed to violence, beheadings and atrocities, become adults.
My humanitarian work primarily involves and aids the educational and medical necessities of disadvantaged children. However, after seeing the video of the people of Mier now living an uncertain life in a Lions Club converted to a make shift shelter in Miguel Aleman, I was compelled to help.
What I wanted for the people of Ciudad Mier was not only to deliver much-needed supplies, but to send them a message:
The world now knows what has happened to them and they matter deeply to us. We are outraged and we care. That was my mission.
It took less than 5 days for my team and me, working day and night, to plan, coordinate, and prepare the supplies and two days to drive through multiple states then through the no man’s land of Tamaulipas, to deliver them.
The mission was accomplished through the heroism of my team and their drivers. We were as successful as we could be under the given circumstances.
My team carried hope, enthusiasm and courage going where danger lurks around every corner and violence and chaos explode without warning.
On this particular mission, my team included a teenage boy who had offered to help with personally delivering supplies to the children and elderly of Mier.
Benito is a special child: loving, caring, thoughtful, and a longtime volunteer for my foundation. Always with a smile, he was willing and eager to help.
I had mixed feelings about having allowed Benito travel to the shelter.
He comes from a very small town which is controlled by Zetas. Although there was a brief outbreak of violence last year, there has yet to be an actual struggle for this town between the Zetas and their rivals.
This has allowed his town to remain unmarked and deceptively peaceful.
Benito didn't know much about drug cartels and territory wars. He has never witnessed a shootout and never heard or seen the destructive impact left by a grenade. He doesn't know about kidnappings, extortions, and has no idea that torture, mutilation, and decapitations are every day occurrences outside of his world. He had been sheltered, as children should be.
Benito was changed in Miguel Aleman, his rosy glasses were lifted, his innocence was lost. It was there while listening to children tell him their stories, he said goodbye to childhood and became a young man.
He has learned not only the truth, but that it is incumbent on us to act to make a difference, especially when it is painful, because it is there that few venture.
On the way to the hotel, after the mission, Benito sat in silence. He now knew the true evils that lie in wait, he was hurt and afraid.
His Mother, in attempts to distract him and lift his spirits, turned on the radio only to have Benito scream: "NO! Please turn it off and don't speak!."
She did as he asked and when the silence returned her son began to sob and shake and scream:"Why? Why is this happening? What will happen to those children? and the 'buelitos? Why don't they stop this?" He cried into the night.
I have included the reports Benito's mission report and a letter from his Mother, who also went to Miguel Aleman shelter. Benito's report depicts the depth of what he has heard and learned on this mission, and how it affected him.
Abuela Gloria Bueño