CARNE AND QUESO
MEXICAN HISTORY
When I was 19 I got an email from this guy named Varro who was starting a chapter of Comida No Migra in Tucson. Comida No Migra, Food Not Borders, was alot like Food Not Bombs but out of Mexico status. Every other Friday Varro would go to the Coop on 4th Ave and get all thier old food and bruised vegetables, cook it into a shit ton of soup, and then drive it down to Nogales where the Mexican counterparts would meet up. These enterprising Anarchists would setup a big table in one of the cities plazas and give out the food to the people of the city that were getting off work or going to work. I started helping Varro cook the food and then started going down with him to Mexico.
On the third or so time going I brought a crate of spray paint because Varro and the other Nogales homies said "It's not illegal to paint the border wall, the United States border actually goes a few feet beyond the wall and the police can't do shit". So after serving up some food to le gente de Nogales we all walked to the border wall. They brought white paint and rollers to paint huge white political slogans. I brought my Rusto flat blacks and Colorplace silvers.
As I got my fill in done the police showed up and arrested the solo gringo in the group. I was handcuffed to the grate in the back of the police car and we sped away. Varro and company piled 6 into thier car and raced to follow the speeding police cruiser. We pulled up to what looked like an apartment complex and they led me into the super's office.
While I tried practicing my minimal Spanish, the Mexican police official practiced his broken English. After 15 minutes of conversation the only thing we were able to communicate back and forth was (A) I had no wallet, I.D. or money and (B) what I was painting on the wall was not a nude women.
I heard yelling and commotion outside the door and caught a glimpse of Varro trying to push pass a cop into the room I was in. Varro had gotten the door open but the other cop had an arm around his neck and was trying to pull him backwards. I jumped to my feet and police official jumped to his. He started yelling in Spanish and I started yelling "He's my lawyer! He's my lawyer!"
I think Varro was allowed to stay as "my lawyer" mainly so we could have a translator present. The police official and Varro were arguing back and forth for about five minutes before I started having a panic attack and interjected to ask Varro what the cop was saying. Varro calmly told me he was arguing over the price to pay to get me out then went back to yelling with the cop. Another ten minutes later and it was agreed I would have to pay 400 pesos.
My heart sunk into my lower intestine. I don't follow exchange rates but imagined I was about 200 dollars in the hole before I would get released. Varro laughed and said I only had to pay 25 greenbacks. ¡gracias a dios! The rest of Varrow friends came in and together they put in a 20 and a 10 dollar
bill. The cop pulled out his wallet put in the 30 bucks and gave them 5 ones back.
As we left the police hovel Varro asked me "Do you see where the money goes?". I was still in shock and
could only reply "What the fuck are you talking about? Where what money goes where?". Varro
laughed calmly and said "In his pocket man".
The police official help carry my milk crate of paint to the car and waved us goodbye. 25 dollar
fine and I got to take all my paint home. God Bless Mexico. Well my ride had already left back
for the states hours ago, I had no money. I turned on my phone which had died during the past
3 hour dilemma and had just enough juice to call my girlfriend in Tucson and say
"I've been arrested in Mexico but...".
I stayed for two days with Varros family in one of the Colonias before finding a ride back with
a cross border preacher. But thats all part of another story.
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