I lived in Mazatlán for three years. The land of the Sinaloan band, seafood, and one of José Alfredo Jiménez’s most popular songs, “El Corrido de Mazatlán”.
A land of good, sincere people, who look you in the eye, speak rudely, straightforward, but also the cradle of one of the world’s most important cartels, the Sinaloa cartel.
Here the narcos rule, but they also respect. They guard their territory and don’t allow people to take advantage of the population. If you misbehave, you know what’s coming.
The people of Mazatlán and the rest of the state are fascinated by the Sinaloan band, that type of music where wind instruments and drums create a chaotic yet balanced sound that resonates with the people.
In recent years, tourist development has boomed. Mazatlán has strong national tourism from its own state, Durango, Chihuahua, Monterrey, and other northern states. It is also a paradise for Canadian and American retirees. This port is relatively more affordable than Puerto Vallarta, Cabo, Cancun, among other beaches. Thousands of foreigners who live off their retirement have settled there.
But recently, due to the tourist explosion, seasonal tourists have begun to arrive and who, mistakenly, seek a restful, enjoyable destination.
Mazatlán is noise, music, nightlife, ‘origas’ (vehicles that transport groups of people with speakers at full volume), ‘pulmonías’ with music at full volume, seafood, and dozens of Sinaloan bands that occupy its beautiful beaches day and night.
In recent weeks the hotel and entrepreneurs part of the population have come up with the idea of establishing restricted hours and places for the bands to play. They also want to reduce what they call noise pollution. Their argument, “it’s driving away foreign tourism.”
Gentrification has reached the port, but this time it has chosen the wrong opponent. The Sinaloans took to the streets, by nature they don’t give in, they are brave and defend their rights. Confrontations are already happening on the streets between musicians, local tourism and against the authorities. They cry out for the “gringos” to leave, they don’t need them. They demand respect for their traditions and culture.
And certainly, the people of Mazatlán don’t need that kind of tourism. When I arrived there, I immediately realized that Sinaloa is a country within another country. Thus, with their flip-flops, their skin burnt by the sun, their joy, their Pacifico beers, their shrimp, their sincerity, and their dignity.
This won’t stop, and it wouldn’t be surprising if they insist on implementing this silence, the population will rise up, the land of Banda Recodo, hosts of singers like Julión Alvarez and many others will fill, bury the entire city in music.
And let’s not forget, the capital of the narco won’t stay silent, it’s their favorite music, they’ve built their “Disneyland” and they won’t be willing to lose it.
We must take an example from the people of Mazatlán, that dignity for their culture, for their city where, as José Alfredo wrote, “the poorest feels like a millionaire.”
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