Federico Reyes Heroles
What is the purpose of being in power? The candidate asks herself and us. To serve, not to serve oneself, to give. To listen, to unite, not to divide.
Maquinazo, they used to call it four decades ago. An act of improvisation that depended on the colleague’s craft. “I am going to give a maquinazo” was as much as admitting that one did not have hard information, that one would be speaking about what was flowing in one’s mind.
Fernando Benítez could be eating and joking. We were writing in Unomásuno, and suddenly, he would say: Hermanito, I am going to lay my choleric egg. Fernando wrote a very short column every day. It was gunpowder. Thirty minutes later, he would come back and continue joking. The next day, we would find out about the bomb he had planted. With time, I understood that a maquinazo was something richer than the irresponsibility of writing in a hurry and on the spur of the moment. That improvisation was something much more complex than what we were saying, both in writing and in music. Keith Jarrett -the fantastic American jazzman- could improvise for hours with magnificent results, like the Cologne concert, without a score in front of him. He relied on his very extensive knowledge of harmony and prepared something. I am passionate about the subject. Pilots or surgeons improvise. Ortega y Gasset said there are moments when one thinks with a part of the body that is not the brain. Here goes a maquinazo.
Sunday morning, extreme heat that would scare away a coral snake. And yet, many at the Zócalo. 95 thousand? Laughable. In addition to the rugged heat, the CNTE is threatening with its mere presence. Let’s remember that this organization admits violence as part of its instruments of struggle. Environmental contingency? Everything to stop the Pink Tide. Nothing stopped it. I have been there at the rallies from ’88 onwards. I try to observe and take notes. Unlike 1994, in the closing of Diego Fernandez de Cevallos’ campaign, also with heat in Chihuahua, or in 2000 with Fox, there was a lot of anger this Sunday: “Morena out”. Acosta Naranjo intervened and managed a wise balance between rage and hope. Taboada is leaning forward with energy and firing possibilities for improvement. The culmination arrives in an encounter of a very well-conducted mass that, as Canetti pointed out, implodes, turns in on itself, and discovers itself in the ignorance of the other. “Narco-president”, “narco-candidate”. Was that prepped? No, it is part of the implosion. The singularity of a mass in which one sees the logos of three parties, genuine historical rivals, now marching together. The security forces have been left far away. The imposed islands by the CNTE, better kept silent. But there were attempts of violence. The Pink Tide conquers space.
There is anger. There is anger, and a lot of it, because the President accepted, due to pressure from the opposition, that the flag would be present, although it went up until well into the morning. But, of course, he described the attendants to the rally as traitors. The closing of the accesses causes anger. Anger as a result of the boycott attempt, which speaks of a government that has lost all empathy. Xóchitl mentions, based on General Negrete and the battle of May 5th, that, beyond the parties, there is the homeland, there is Mexico. Without ambiguity, she speaks of the middle classes that the President has offended, she wants them “strong”. The Plaza is heated in many ways. There are young people, people with disabilities, older adults, hats, caps, and joy for the meeting.
What is the purpose of being in power? The candidate asks herself and us. To serve and not to serve oneself, to give. To listen, to unite, not to divide. A suit tailored to the polarization that governs us. Concordia resounds from the Cathedral to the Palace and resounds again. Mexico wakes up. A young woman passes by me, her banner is personal: “not even for a scholarship will I change democracy”. Another young man: “An ingenious engineer”. Another, “Mexico deserves more”. The meeting formally ends, but a girl cannot find her parents. Xóchitl accompanies her, and they page to find her parents.
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