Hipercapitalismo

This market city nestled in the mountains of the wild Zapoteca state of the same name is the quintessential reflection of the Mexican primitive hipercapitalismo that can be witnessed throughout the country but seems concentrated here where poverty and tourism intersect. Looking for a stall to eat at in the city center’s food market, 7 ladies nag with the same voice flashing their menus beckoning me to their food. ‘Tengo enchilada cecina huevos rancheros café chocolate.’ Overwhelmed and inundated with their pleas all saying the same insane thing, all I can do is laugh. I am not prepared to make a decision with so much competition, it is hard to react. Like being at Walmart and trying to pick through the 347 varieties of toothpaste that all advertise their whitening power, their ability to eliminate tartar and their taste which leaves your breath minty fresh. This is capitalism. And it leaves you like a zombie. And all the competition keeps the prices low… in theory. But man is it exhausting. One needs to escape. In another part of the market 5 or 6 women sell chapulines, Mexican for grasshoppers in chile, limón and salt. They joke back and forth in their Zapoteca tongue. And all I can do is wonder why the hell someone would eat grasshoppers. But I buy a bag. Because this is capitalism. Buying makes you feel good. If you are lonely and forlorn, buy something buy someone buy time buy anything because it is bound to make you feel better. And I chomp on the grasshopper and its high protein and nutrient content completely takes away my aching stomach’s hunger. Later, I calculate that I am accosted by Indians selling me crap at the rate of one every 13.8 seconds. Buy something. You will feel better. You will be a better person too with your memory of Mexico. When you sit in your house during the winter and in the hyper-comfort of the United States of Amnesia, you will have a piece of Mexico with you… or China. And you will rid yourself of your dirty white liberal guilt.