Dark memories of Comalcalco, Mexico

Shocking video shows a gang attack a suspected rapist accused of snatching a four-year-old girl

In 1982, I lived in Comalcalco, Mexico, I really liked the people, learned much, and had a great time, but in many ways is was completely different than my life in the US. 

More below the fold.

One difference was brought back to me in this story. The people can be quickly driven to a frenzy of murderous anger. 

One warm evening, the family which had "adopted" me, and I walked down to the square to watch the nightly processional. Groups of young single men would circle one direction, groups of young single women the other. It was very retro. The girls in the family would go and walk, the boy, Juan, was only 11 or so, and he remained with the parents and I. We sat at a street side restaurant and drank tamarindo. When we left we were joined by a few other families. I did not know them but the family did.

After we returned home the family went inside, all except for the men, we stayed outside, and slowly walked down to a corner store (I almost never really understood what was going on, my language skills were too poor). Right in front of us a car made the corner, and hit three very young girls. At least one was killed. The driver tried to drive off, but hit something, it's been too long to remember but probably a stone , or concrete pillar for one of the homes "fence." These were generally about 8' tall concrete, brick, or stone, and topped with broken bottles cemented in. 

Within a few minutes the street was full of men. It was loud. The driver tried to get away but was dragged out of the car.

I had gone to the girls. I had extensive medical training, first aide, CPR, life saving, life guard, and wilderness medical (roughly like first level EMT). One was dead, the others alive but they needed medical care. Before I could do anything, they were scooped up and taken away. 

By the time I turned to see what was happening I am pretty sure the driver was dead or soon would be. The description at the link above is similar to what I saw. 

Then some of the men I had been walking with came to me and pushed me demanding I leave. I did. 

I never got an answer to what happened to the girls or the driver. They were all gone by morning. I am pretty sure the driver died. The girls, I do not know.

I seldom think about this anymore, and I don't remember telling that story very often. Not many opportunities to tell a grim, dark story like this at the office party, or soiree. 

Stories like this constantly floated below the surface of life in Mexico. Mostly it was bright, and fun. Once it wasn't it was grim, and dark. A shocking contrast from my childhood in middle America. Before this, the only time I saw deaths specter was when I worked the pale green halls of St. Vincent's Hospital, and even then only when I worked the Emergency unit. Death there was sterile, divorce of its narrative. In Mexico it was always in your face, and visceral, narrative in tow.

If you like, or dislike stories like this please either email me or comment, I really do not know if I should include these here.