Taco With Bullets
But our coverage is weighted towards the mothers of the disappeared, digging in the Mexican countryside for the remains of their children. Those displaced by this crisis, living in tents on the border, knowing they can’t go home. Those kidnapped, tortured or extorted. We have covered them in every state in this country, year on year, as the conflict has drawn out. Which brings me back to Aguililla. After three days filming, we finally made it out and filed our piece. We moved on to the next story. A couple of weeks later, safely ensconced in the bureau, I got an email from the uncle of the two sisters we’d interviewed back in the town - the ones who had lost their grandfather in the blockade. The uncle had been following our coverage from his home in the United States and decided to get in touch.
It was a short mail. He thanked us, and said that he thought that the interviews with the townspeople had helped pressure the government into finally getting the town’s main road open. The police were now making their presence felt. For the first time in many months, there was some free transit in and out of Aguililla. That small thank-you note suddenly made the travel and the danger worth it. It was a reminder that our reporting can make a difference. That it does pay to focus on the population trapped at the centre of the big stories. To amplify the voice of the voiceless.
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