what happened to the world?

 

what happened to the world? a story of mexico, fear, and the people who deserve better

In 1990, we had to stay in Juchitán, Oaxaca, while waiting to catch a train.

The guidebooks warned travellers to stay away from the bus depot. We were passing through, trying to find our way, following the advice available to us. I remember that journey, and I remember that Mexico was never just a destination to me.

It became a place I returned to, a place I came to love.

The people. The traditions. The markets. The colours. The food. The music. The extraordinary beauty of Oaxaca and the strength of its Indigenous cultures.

Some of the people I love have their roots in Mexico. Their stories, their families and their lives are part of why this country means so much to me.

That is why reading about what is happening in Juchitán hurts.

A recent report describes the killing of a student from the Instituto Tecnológico del Istmo. He was allegedly targeted over an extortion demand of 2,500 pesos. According to the report, he tried to escape when the men demanding money arrived at his home, but he was shot and killed.

The same report makes disturbing allegations about a 19-year-old suspect known as El 22, including claims of multiple killings. Those allegations require independent confirmation, but the story of a young student allegedly killed over money deserves serious attention.

Think about that for a moment.

A young person goes to school because he wants a future. He wants to learn, to work, to make something of himself. Perhaps he dreams of helping his family, travelling, falling in love or simply living an ordinary life.

And somewhere along the way, someone decides that this young person owes them money.

What happens when fear becomes part of everyday life? When shopkeepers are threatened, drivers are forced to pay, and students must worry about whether they can afford to refuse a criminal demand?

What happens when people can no longer trust that going to work, opening a shop or attending school will be safe?

These questions are not confined to Mexico.

Here in British Columbia, Surrey has also been dealing with extortion threats and related violence. People should not have to fear for their families because someone demands money from them. No business owner should have to wonder whether opening the doors tomorrow will put their loved ones at risk.

Different places have different circumstances, and every case deserves its own investigation. But the human consequences are painfully familiar.

Fear takes away choices. Extortion takes away security. Violence takes away lives.

And when young people become involved in these criminal networks, we must ask difficult questions about the circumstances that allow such violence to continue, without excusing the people responsible for it.

How did we reach a point where some people believe they can demand money through threats and intimidation? Why do ordinary families have to bear the cost? How can communities protect their young people and give them real opportunities to build a different future?

I don't have all the answers.

I only know that the Mexico I love is not defined by crime. It is also the people who welcome strangers, the families who preserve their traditions, the artists who tell their stories, the farmers who grow our food and the neighbours who help one another through difficult times.

Those people deserve to live without fear.

And so do the people of Surrey, Vancouver and every other community where intimidation threatens ordinary life.

As I prepare to return to Mexico, I carry both love and concern with me. I will not pretend the problems do not exist. But I will not let the worst things people do erase the beauty of a place or the humanity of those who call it home.

Perhaps that is what troubles me most about the world today. We have so much knowledge, so much technology and so many ways to communicate, yet people are still being threatened for money, and young lives are still being lost to violence.

We cannot solve every problem by ourselves. We cannot carry every tragedy. But we can refuse to treat another person's suffering as unimportant.

We can demand accountability. We can support those who are threatened. We can insist that education, safety and dignity are not privileges reserved for people who can afford them.

And we can remember the people behind the headlines.

Because the student in Juchitán was more than a victim in a news report. He was a young person whose life mattered.

His future mattered.

And no amount of money was worth more than his life.

What happened to the world?

I keep asking that question.

But perhaps another question matters just as much: What kind of world are we willing to help create from here?

I still believe people can choose compassion over cruelty, community over intimidation and hope over fear.

Not because everything is fine.

But because the people who are suffering deserve more than our sadness. They deserve a world that does better.