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A sign on the main road into town carries the simple message, "Welcome to Oaxaca". A centre of indigenous crafts and cuisine, of gorgeous Spanish colonial architecture, of art institutes, literary salons and tranquil contemplation, it has long been a tourist drawcard.
A visitor approaching yesterday, however, would
have had good reason to pause. The city, nestled beneath verdant mountains, was partly obscured by plumes of smoke. A smell of petrol filled the air and the highway was littered with tree trunks, rocks and smears of blood - the debris of hand-to-hand violence.
Oaxaca has been sliding since early May into near anarchy amid a fast-gathering and angry popular rebellion that has forced the closure of hundreds of businesses, including almost all its hotels and restaurants, and kept children from school. Laws gave way to lawlessness, as leftist gangs roamed its streets, took control of its radio stations and set up a rag-tag encampment of tents and banners in the 16th-century central square, fringed by forlorn, abandoned cafes.
The crisis has been one the federal authorities in Mexico City, 480km to the northwest, appeared unwilling, or unable, to confront. President Vicente Fox, who leaves office in a month, contended that Oaxaca's journey into chaos was a local problem requiring local solutions.
It became a town where men accused of robbery were tied to trees with placards around their necks detailing their alleged crimes and mothers fought pitched battles with demonstrators using clubs and steel pipes as they tried in vain to get their children back into school.
The target of the loose coalition of unionists, anarchists, students and Indian groups has been state Governor Ulises Ruiz, whom they accuse of political thuggery, intimidation, vote-rigging and corruption. Their single demand, which remains unanswered, has been his resignation. The grievances boiling in the cauldron of Oaxaca exist across Mexico, a country seemingly unable to close the yawning gap between its wealthy and grindingly poor and where full democracy, born only six years ago, remains fragile. After a shoot-out at one of the demonstrators' barricades on Saturday left an American photo-journalist and two other people dead, Fox ordered the Army and federal police at last to retake Oaxaca.
The two-day operation began on Monday when police with automatic rifles took up positions around the city. They began their advance, backed by armed soldiers, water cannons and helicopters. Street by street, they advanced to the centre, pushing aside screaming protesters and breaking up the barricades.
The protesters abandoned their stronghold on the main plaza, the Zocalo, and the bloodbath that some had feared was inevitable appeared yesterday to have been avoided despite more protests. To what extent the movement has been subdued and Oaxaca can return to normality remains uncertain. The tides of rubbish - banners, tents, ad hoc lavatories and cooking stations - left behind were cleared. Luring back the tourists that once formed the backbone of the local economy will take a lot longer.
For visitors, Oaxaca used to present a face of beauty and sophistication. Yet the surrounding valleys are home to some of the poorest people in Mexico. After teachers declared a state-wide strike in May, locking 1.3 million children out of the classrooms, Ruiz eventually sent in police to break up their protests, using poorly trained officers. It was the spark that ignited the far more serious resistance to Ruiz. Local activists swelled the teachers' ranks, calling themselves the Popular Assembly of the People of Oaxaca. Protesters accuse Ruiz of rigging his election in 2004 - an allegation that hits a nerve across Mexico, whose recent history is littered with claims of elections fixed and manipulated. They accuse him of using thugs to crush and kill his political opponents. It has been a protest against what many perceive as illegitimate government and an expression of frustration with the rift between rich and poor.
The city remains deeply divided. Many residents came out of their homes, their streets still dotted with charred and overturned vehicles, to thank the police for what they consider the liberation of their city after months under siege. "I don't want them to leave. Let them stay," said Edith Mendoza, a 40-year-old housewife. "We were held hostage for five months."
But some among the protesters vowed more resistance, including marching on the Zocalo, declaring that the battle will only be over when Ruiz is ousted.
The worst of the violence may yet be to come. Even if it doesn't, the wounds suffered by Oaxaca will need many months to heal.
- INDEPENDENT
