From north to south, the country begins at a forgotten beach, where the wind dragged the sand over what was once a vacation center. It is Playa Bagdad, in Matamoros, Tamaulipas, a forgotten paradise in the right corner of Mexico.
In the 19th century, this historic port was a strategic enclave during the American Civil War, a key link for the trade of the Confederate states with Europe. Today, the closed palapas and empty tables tell another story: that of abandonment, illegal fishing and drug trafficking.
At its peak, the port housed up to 15 thousand people and was bustling with fishing activity, between ships with European merchandise and international merchants, it is recalled. Now, the few hands that serve the businesses barely see customers offering micheladas at 120 pesos, and a small beer at 60.
The sun reflects on structures corroded by salt and time. And its seawall, there is no seawall, only concrete shattered by the passage of time.
In Playa Bagdad and El Mezquital, the sea claims lives every year. Those who venture into its waters and are swept away by the waves do so at their own risk. There are no rescuers, no security. There is no one.
The only ones there—and sporadically—are the soldiers and guards who patrol this side of the country, which was once visited by trailers with Texas license plates.
Although recently the municipal authorities have promised to repair the retaining wall, the reality is that the fear does not come from the beaches but from crime.
Just towards the end of last year, the United States Treasury Department announced sanctions against Ismael Guerra Salinas, alias El Mayelo; Omar Guerra Salinas, El Samorano; Francisco Javier Sierra Angulo, El Borrado; Raúl Decuir García, La Burra; and Ildelfonso Carrillo Sapien, El Chivo, all linked to the Gulf Cartel, one of the oldest criminal organizations in the country, accused of illegal fishing, drug trafficking and human trafficking.
“Transnational criminal organizations like the Gulf Cartel rely on a variety of illicit schemes such as illegal fishing to finance their operations,” declared Bradley T. Smith, acting Undersecretary for Terrorism and Financial Intelligence of the United States.
The cartel not only traffics marijuana, cocaine and methamphetamine; it also exploits the illicit trade of red snapper and sharks, using boats in Playa Bagdad, also known as Playa Costa Azul, according to the Treasury Department.
The promises of rescuing the beach are piling up. Humberto Francisco Salazar, recently appointed administrator by Mayor Alberto Granados Fávila, announced on social media his intention to improve the image of the place.
He is even looking for sponsors to paint a mural of singer Rigo Tovar to beautify the space. But beyond the painting, visitors demand security.
José Ángel, a tourist, shares his dilemma: “The truth is, I like Playa Bagdad more than Miramar, but for security reasons I prefer Miramar. It is safer to travel there.”
Despite these concerns, the beach remains open and charges 25 pesos per vehicle to enter, and 15 pesos for the use of the toilet, as if it were a paradise destination. And it could be. But instead of maintenance, what you see is accumulated waste with the stench of garbage.
The road to Matamoros is a straight line of asphalt that invites you to step on the accelerator. It is better to do so: the desert extends to the sides and with it, the feeling of vulnerability. Loneliness and fear become traveling companions. The swampy hectares that flank the road reinforce the idea of an abandoned land, or for sale.
The presence of drug traffickers is a daily shadow. For example, they live in an Oxxo on the side of the road near the community of Longoreño, also in Matamoros. Three men get out of a Razer-type vehicle.
One of them stands out: arms, neck and ears covered in tattoos. The shine of the gold on his chains contrasts with the skulls inked on his skin, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to show that he has a gun on his belt.
They walk around with ease, greet the employees, pay for their beers and disappear among the roar of the altered corridos that resonate from their vehicle.
The road crosses ejidos, car junkyards and properties for sale. They say that from here you can see the rockets when there are space launches in the neighboring state of Brownsville, on the other side of the border. The next launch will be on February 28.
The road runs parallel to the Rio Bravo, although its flow remains invisible. Only off-road vehicles venture into these parts. And anyone who dares to brave the gaps can get stuck among the tire-punching machines, or detonate a homemade bomb.
Even the soldiers deployed in the area recognize the reality of this corner of the country: it is a strip of ungovernability. They travel around in armored trucks and with a sharpshooter on the lookout, just in case they come across some monsters of homemade armor.
Source: milenio
