During my three year assignment to Mexico, I got to see quite a bit of the country, areas normally not seen by casual tourists or even some residents. I can't lay claim to have seen all of Mexico or even most of it, but I did get to visit many parts of it. Most of my travels throughout Mexico was on behalf of the U.S. government, as part of my job, and quite a bit of it was on my own, during my many hunting trips.
One of the places that I liked to go to was not far from Tijuana, just southeast of Tecate which is not far from the California border. It was actually a little hamlet in the high desert that is called El Hongo (mushroom). The village of El Hongo takes its name from a large rock formation at the entrance to the village that looks exactly like a mushroom! Once we reached the village of El Hongo, my friends and I would go a bit further then turn left off the paved road and follow a rough dirt road that cut through some very pretty ranch country, cattle and horses. But before we reached our favorite site, we would go by a huge castle-like structure, a huge compound, in the middle of an isolated valley that we could see from the dirt road. The compound was new and it had a good, smooth oil and gravel road leading to it. The compound was surrounded by about a 20 foot solid concrete wall with watch-towers (gun turrets!) at four corners. Inside the compound, it appeared that there was a huge, luxurious ranch style house with a swimming pool and other buildings and a manicured garden with lawn and trees. You could see all of that from the road because the road was above the valley floor and the compound.
When I first saw this impressive looking compound I remarked to my Mexican companions that it must belong to some rich rancher. They looked at each other uneasily before answering me. Yes, they said, it belonged to a rich man, but not a rancher. According to them, it belonged to one of the lieutenants of the Arellano Felix Cartel, a narcotraficante! Although we were looking at the compound at a distance, they all seemed nervous and did not want to dally around but quickly pass by the location. So, for the next three years during the hunting season we would pass by that place at least three or four times each season, on the way to our favorite location for quail hunting.
During my final season in Mexico, in fact during my very last hunt at that location, we ran smack into an armed Mexican Army patrol. The lieutenant in charge of the patrol had us detained at gun point while the soldiers collected all of our shotguns, then proceeded to examine our IDs. My Mexican companions were extremely nervous, while I was a bit annoyed. It seemed that it didn't matter that I showed them my diplomatic ID, the lieutenant simply glanced at it and continued with his questioning of our group. I was more afraid for my dog Logan, who was a friendly dog but a big dog. Mexican soldiers seemed to be afraid of him and kept waiving their submachineguns and assault rifles at him if he came near. He just wanted to be friendly, but I had to hold him tight on a leash!
I had lived and worked in half a dozen other countries prior to Mexico and had been to at least a dozen other countries. In all countries, including the old communist bloc countries, the diplomatic status was honored and I was never detained or searched. Mexico was the only exception. Quite often while traveling on the roads of Mexico I was stopped by numerous Mexican Army patrols, roadblocks, and they would unceremoniously search my vehicle despite the fact that it had diplomatic plates and I showed them my ID. This was in direct violation of the international diplomatic convention and agreement between countries. You can rest assured that if American police or military stopped a Mexican diplomat's vehicle in the U.S. without cause and searched it, there would have been newspaper headlines, protests from Mexican government. CNN would have reported the incident with great relish, explaining how heavy-handed and insensitive we were about international agreements and diplomatic convention. But, our government does nothing about such cases when Mexicans ignore diplomatic convention!
It is amazing how we kow-tow to Mexico, take their unwanted millions, allow our citizens and diplomats to be bullied in Mexico but extend all rights to their illegals in our country! We know how corrupt their government is, and just about 90% of all drug traffic comes through and from Mexico, yet, we look the other way and pretend that everything is fine!
No doubt the lieutenant was either looking for a pay off or was going to perhaps run my Mexican friends into jail or something. I was furious, but I held my tongue and instead pulled out the business card of the Commanding General of the segunda zona militar. Ironically, when I visited the general, besides presenting me with a Mexican Army parachute badge, he gave me his business card and said to show it to any soldiers if they gave me a hard time. I never once did that, hoping that perhaps there was at least one Mexican soldier that would recognize and honor a diplomatic ID. But in three years and numerous encounters, it never happened. This time I decided to use his card. I shoved it at the tienente and said that the general would not be happy to learn that he was hassling his friend. It was amazing, the lieutenant upon seeing the card, clicked his heels like a good Prussian officer and bowed to me returning the card. His whole demeanor and language changed. Instead of using the gruff, rough language as he did, he changed immediately to extremely polite formal language. He apologized repeatedly for detaining us and gathered his patrol and left.
My Mexican friends found it amusing, but they weren't laughing. They said that the lieutenant and his patrol were typical Mexican Army soldiers and that they were probably assigned to "protect" the narcotraficante that owned the elaborate compound down the road. They told me that it was a normal practice in the area that the high ranking cartel members received protection from the army. The army also helped protect drug shipments that went across the border. That compound, I learned earlier, was the staging point for drug shipments across that part of the border. Daily, several pickup trucks would arrive with loads of drugs, then transferred to other trucks and sent across the border on foot, carried by "mules" on their backs!
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