“Toda la raza acá en el norte, toda la raza allá en el sur, toda la raza en el oriente, toda la raza en el poniente…” Control Machete-Esperanza

“el recuento y la conciencia la hacen los que están fuera de aquí, los que alcanzan a mirar de lejos el panorama, los que estamos aquí, nos evadimos y refugiamos”

Isa Montelongo (Monterrey Narradora y amiga)



While writing and listening to Control Machete (Nuevo Leon Hip-hop) yo pienso… trato de hablar por ellos… los demás, los míos.

I try to let my words speak for those whose lives had and have been struck, and their mouths shut, by the solid iron fist of the brutal, savage, and unrestrained violence. Yes, it might sound as if the words were taken out of a fiction book. But no, these words are real and the only fiction contemplated here would be the names kept for the victims’ safe sake:

For the grill to burn the night has to unveil along with the beer, the friends, the conversations, it had to be all there. My friend let just call him 1, since we are turning into ““numbers’”’” little by little, was grilling and chilling at 2’s house. 3 and 4 were also there, as always, talking about the musical impact certain old and new bands have on the actual scene.

1 enjoys the ravaging sounds of the magnificence found inside the guitar’s soul. He is a guitar teacher and a prominent musician. Every string, every chord, ever solo that he plays becomes an extension of his own soul into the mortal world. This is 1’s story, the story that he once told me.

1 was at 2’s house and 3 and 4 were also there. All of them grilling and talking at the front porch. The air was filled with conversations that mixed and twisted with the smoke of their cigarettes. It was as if their combined good vibes had acquired a tangible texture, one that you could physically touch and see. The good vibes of pure sane friendship reinforces their bond and solidifies their union. The ritual we all form an active vital part of; turning friends into brothers.

Later that night a truck filled with black dressed militants wearing black ski masks and packing heavy artillery parked outside 2’s house. Quickly, the truck was emptied out and its horrifying content flooded and intoxicated the good-vibe filled sanctuary. Pallid fearful silence violently struck the ““numbers’”’”’ and in quick instances became their most horrifying sickness and only shield of protection.

The only words that could be heard were insults, death threats and horrible direct instruction on how to stay alive. Get inside the house! One of them shouted. The ““numbers’”’” rushed inside the house and quickly positioned themselves face down inside the living room. The shouting did not stop. Suddenly 2’s house became dislocated from the whole block of houses that, along with them, was also kidnapped and taken somewhere abandoned and lonely. No one in the block interceded. The ““numbers’”’” and the house were being held prisoner.

2’s mother, with all the shouting, woke up and went into the living room where everything was happening. She was quickly shouted at, and was told to lie down on the floor face down. Insults filled the atmosphere with its vicious poisoned intent, and the ““numbers’”’” brains were quickly elaborating horrible outcomes and bloody metaphors.

They stampeded on with their black wave of vicious havoc taking everything at sight, computers, laptops, and musical equipment, anything with material value. No life was lost no person was hurt physically. After rampaging inside 2’s house and taking it apart into pieces they shouted out their last commands. Stay face down! Those who attempt to take a look at us will be shot! The words became swords that playfully roamed around the “numbers’” necks. Swords that could easily turn deadly at their owners command.

Several minutes of crude brutal silence and mentally devastation they stood face down. Waiting, just waiting… they were gone, physically gone, but their presence and vicious physical manifestation had branded the “numbers’” existence…forever.

I try to let my words speak for those whose lives had and have been struck, and their mouths shut, by the solid iron fist of the brutal, savage, and unrestrained violence.