After fleeing to Texas, chef Oscar Herrera talks about finding the courage to return to his hometown of Juarez, Mexico, and reclaim his family's restaurant from the criminals and thugs who once burned it down.
CIUDAD JUAREZ, Mexico — Young daughter in hand, Isabel Aguilera recounts the mayhem that stalked these streets.
Here they dragged a father from the breakfast table, shooting him dead outside in front of his family. There they came for a shopkeeper, gunning him down behind the counter. Yonder they snuffed two brothers after pulling them from their beds before sunrise.
“They were people from outside,” Aguilera, 38, said of the killings that recently swept like cholera through Riveras del Bravo, a teeming sprawl of Mexico’s working poor. “They wanted to inject power, fear.”
These thousands of matchbox houses once ranked among Earth's deadliest patches through years of criminal war in Ciudad Juarez, an industrial and narcotics corridor bordering America’s safest large city El Paso, Texas.
More than 10,000 people were murdered across the Mexican city of 1.3 million in less than five years. Many were young men gunned down on streets like these.
But the fever has broken. At fewer than two a day, murders citywide likely will finish the year at about a seventh (14 percent) of those three years ago.
Endemic extortion endures. But most other violent crimes, including kidnappings, stand at a fraction of what they were.
Riveras del Bravo and Juarez’s other former cauldrons of carnage may now prove vanguards of Mexico’s long-promised peace. They’re providing a road map for a nationwide pacification campaign in gangster-spawning communities being rolled out by President Enrique Peña Nieto.
Will the peace last? Many think not. Nearly all the causes of the violence remain, lurking.
But a hopeful few like Aguilera tug at threads of the possible, determined to rebuild.
"There are a lot of good people here. They must have confidence in themselves," says Aguilera, a community organizer paid in part with U.S. government aid. “We have to search for a solution.”
The fitful turnaround began here in 2010, following the massacre of 16 innocents at a block party in Villas de Salvarcar, a poor neighborhood similar to Riveras del Bravo.
Then-President Felipe Calderon clumsily suggested the victims, mostly high school and university students who’d avoided gang life, somehow deserved their deaths.
Mexico howled in outrage.
A chastened Calderon responded by pouring many millions of dollars into Juarez community centers and sports fields, scholarships and job training. Nearly all the 10,000 federal troops and police that had deployed to the city — blamed by many here for much of the killing — were pulled out.
A new mayor and state governor changed security tactics. An iron-fisted chief was brought in to purge and professionalize the corrupt Juarez police.
The Global Post's Deborah Bonello reports on how American football is helping teens heal from exposure to extreme, drug-related violence that has plagued the city of Juarez, Mexico, in recent years.
Chief Julian Leyzaola imposed zero tolerance on crime, earning accusations of human rights abuses.
Pressured street gangs cut back on car thefts, robberies and assault. They set aside fights in favor of sharing the local narcotics market.
The drug trade is still thriving. Tons of cocaine, marijuana and other drugs flow north to U.S. consumers. Increasing amounts stay on the streets of Juarez, feeding vibrant local demand.
But the all-out war between the Juarez and Sinaloa cartels for dominance of the businesses has ebbed.
“They don’t bother us and we don’t mess with them,” Javier, a 17-year-old gang member on Juarez’s west side, says of once-deadly rivals a few blocks away. “There is so much business now that the feuds don’t really serve for anything.”
Some believe Sinaloa’s Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman won, that he’s maintaining relative peace in a deal with the government. Others say the gangsters simply divvied up the city’s various rackets and smuggling routes among them.
Authorities deny having made any backroom deals. They suggest cartel bosses have wisely begun favoring profits over bullets.
“It’s completely logical,” Raul Avila, the senior Chihuahua state police official in Juarez, says of the rumored inter-cartel deals perhaps behind the lessened bloodshed. “If you are interested in making money you want to try to have more peace.”
Whatever its causes, the respite has pulled Juarez back from the abyss.
Some restaurants, bars and shops targeted during the drug war have reopened. Foreign-owned factories, the “maquiladoras,” have been hiring. Many who had fled the city — the wealthier to El Paso, the poor to their native southern Mexican states — have returned.
Though keeping a jaundiced eye out for the next storm, a determined few struggle to mend their city.
“We organized out of necessity,” says factory owner Jorge Contreras, who heads a Juarez civic group that monitors government anti-crime efforts. “It was chaos. We were all victims. Instead of running we decided to face the situation.”
The years of bloodshed finally awakened some, like Contreras, to the threat from Juarez's prevalent poverty.
Hundreds of foreign-owned factories spurred a decades-long population boom. But most of the more than 200,000 factory jobs pay little more than survival wages.
Stunted ambition and rising resentment push too many toward the gangs.
“Depending upon the maquiladoras has not allowed us to lessen social inequality or extreme poverty,” Contreras says of the factories. “In countries where there is greater respect for the law there is more wealth, less inequality."
“We have to change our economic development model.”
This article was originally published on GlobalPost: Juarez: The sequel
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