The house is small, and about thirty people are crowded inside. Some sit on the couch and chairs, others on the floor, while still others stand leaning against the wall. There are only a few middle-aged people, the youngest maybe in their thirties. Most are older, about fifty or sixty, and immediately I realize that these are the town elders.
Gabriela and I have interrupted a town meeting.
Whatever conversation the people inside were having dies once we enter the house. All eyes turn to us.
Someone asks, “Who are they?”
Before Yolanda can answer, Antonio clears his throat and addresses the group.
“It does not matter who they are. What matters is last night narcos came into our town—during a wedding, no less—and murdered our people.”
Someone else says, “Yes, Antonio, and that is why we are meeting. To discuss the funerals.”
Antonio growls at this.
“Fuck the funerals.”
He pauses, and his shoulders drop, his angry expression going all at once somber.
“Obviously I do not mean that. The funerals are important. But what I want to talk about is the narcos who did this.”
An uneasy silence fills the room. Many of the townspeople glance around at each other, but nobody responds.
Yolanda says, “Sit down, Antonio. You are being foolish.”
He turns to her, his eyes starting to well with tears.
“My granddaughter died last night. The bullets did not even kill her right away. At least that would have been a mercy. They hit her in the stomach. I told her she would be okay while I did everything I could to try to stop the bleeding. But it was not okay. She died in my arms. My granddaughter died.”
Stunned silence. Everybody’s focus is on Antonio.
The old man stands in the middle of the room, turning slowly to address each of the townspeople.
“We all lost somebody close to us last night. And it was not the first time. And it will not be the last time. And I am sick of it. I am sick of it!”
Spittle flies from his mouth. He wipes it and the tears in his eyes away but doesn’t say anything else.
Somebody says, “We are all sick of it, Antonio. But what can we do?”
Somebody else says, “We can stand up to them.”
Another person says, “No, we can’t. If we stand up to them, that will only lead to more killing.”
As if a switch is thrown, the townspeople all start talking at the same time. Some arguing that no matter what they do the cartel will keep sending more narcos to kill them. Others arguing that it had worked in the past, that the autodefensas were successful.
Somebody shouts, “But look what happened to the autodefensas! They’re gone. The government won’t allow it.”
Somebody else counters, “That is because they were spreading from town to town. There is nothing to stop us from protecting our own people.”
Again the townspeople start talking over each other.
Gabriela and I stand off to the side. There’s nothing for us to say.
Finally somebody hollers for Yolanda to speak, and the townspeople quiet down.
Yolanda leans on her cane. She hasn’t spoken this entire time. She just stood there and listened and now it’s her turn to speak and I wonder what it is she’ll say.
She surprises me.
“I think we owe it to the loved ones we lost last night—to the loved ones we have lost before last night—to stand up for ourselves. I think we owe it to our own children and grandchildren. They have learned to live in fear of the narcos. It has become part of their life. But it does not have to be.”
Many of the townspeople agree with Yolanda. Others don’t. They start arguing again, some saying that fighting back will mean they’ll all die, others countering that if they don’t fight back they’ll eventually die anyway. After a while, Antonio raises his voice again.
“I call for a vote.”
This quiets the room.
Antonio says, “Let us vote on it. We are a small town, and we are all friends, but clearly we all have different ideas on what we should do. But something must be done, so let us vote.”
Murmurs ripple through the room. Several people nod their assent.
Yolanda says, “Before we vote, I do want to say one thing.”
The crowd goes quiet again.
“Last night I felt just like Antonio does now. I wanted to fight. I wanted vengeance for our loved ones. But this morning when I looked in the mirror and saw my face I felt differently. As my scars will attest, I am very familiar to the brutal ways of the narcos. They can be heartless. They can be brutal. They feed on fear, and expect those who are not narcos to be scared of them at all times. I fear standing up to the narcos may cause more bloodshed. But I also fear not standing up to the narcos. Even if the end result is the narcos come here to kill us all, at least we have finally stood for something. And so I will cast the first vote. I vote yes.”
After that, things move quickly. Antonio votes next, then it goes around the room, and within a minute every townsperson in the living room has voted yes. Each and every one of them.
There’s a heavy silence as the realization hits them of their decision. From some of their expressions, it’s clear they’re immediately questioning their vote.
That’s when somebody asks, “Now what do we do?”
Somebody else answers, “We kick the narcos out of town.”
A third person asks, “How do we do that?”
There’s another silence, which I take as my cue to step forward and raise my hand.
“I can help with that.”