We don’t vote here no more
Under a canal bridge away from thousands of prying surveillance cameras, the reporter from Mexicali asked citizen #4218 how Imperial Valley came to this. The woman gazed down at the dirt avoiding eye contact. Well, we woke up one day and heard the loudspeakers and saw the instructions on TV.
We were to report immediately to the football stadium nearest to where we lived. There were no exceptions: babies, the elderly — even people from nursing homes and hospitals. We saw people being transported in ambulances and buses.
Once at the stadium, we were given numbers and photographed. Our driver’s licenses were shredded. Cash and credit cards confiscated. We were told we would be given script for the work we performed under their direction. Organized work was to begin immediately, and those reluctant to follow rules would be given incentives to conform. They didn’t specify what would happen, but everyone knew in their bones that these guys weren’t kidding.
Who were they, the reporter asked? Dunno, said the woman. Never paid much attention to who is in charge or who runs things. What did they say, the reporter questioned? They said there were new rules. Citizens had to follow the government’s instructions without question. Elections were expensive, and nobody voted anyhow. So no more voting. The government would decide how things would be done. People would be rewarded or punished as these guys saw fit. Schools would be open only two hours a day for political orientation and labor training. Libraries and newspapers were closed. We didn’t care much about them since we were usually too busy to read. Who reads newspapers except for the ads? I work two jobs. They announced that the TV and radio stations would be supervised, and then we found out that there wasn’t really anymore TV. Not like we knew it.
What do you mean, asked the Mexican reporter? Well, the creeps cut off all regular programs. I couldn’t find my novelas anymore. It was only their news, announcements really. And weather. You know. Our weather never really changes here. So big deal. We had to listen to their political speeches. What we can and can’t do. When we have to report for work. When the kids can go to school. Stuff like that. Now we can hardly go to the bathroom without their say so. They have no heart, no corazon. They have these big ideas. They say that we are going to build a great country again. They sound like a communist or something.
Even computer keyboards were confiscated, and I didn’t understand that at first. Then I realized that they didn’t want the people to communicate. That’s also why they took our cell phones. We were told not to worry that life would become simpler. We wouldn’t have to decide much. The government would provide instructions, and if we followed them, we’d be happy.
The reporter asked, do you know any of these people in charge? No. Never saw any of them, but I didn’t know any people in government before this, either. Never paid any attention. Government was just there. Somebody ran the schools, picked up the garbage, swept the streets. What do I care as long as it’s done? But, the reporter probed, you lived in a democracy. Surely you voted!
Nah. Was busy picking up the kids from school and working. Didn’t have any time for politics. And your husband, the reporter asked? Oh, Johnny? He was always busy working on his car. He told me he didn’t have no time for those stinkin’ politicians.
I gotta go. Give me the money for talking to you. I’ve got a shift picking up garbage. If I’m late, we get less food, and my kids are scared. They are always asking me what happened. What did we do wrong?
The reporter paid her and tucked away his note book. As he squeezed under the wire returning to the Free Municipality of Mexicali, he glanced back and shivered seeing the rows of watchtowers lining the border. The sign proclaimed: No necesitas votar! Nosostros lo haremos por ti.