Mexico | Texas Public Radio

Mexico

A Honduran mother holds her newborn daughter in their apartment. She delivered her baby in a local hospital in the Rio Grande Valley, but she and her daughter were expelled to Mexico, along with the rest of her family.
Reynaldo Leaños Jr. | Texas Public Radio

A small apartment on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande is not where a 23-year-old Honduran mother thought she’d end up after fleeing her home country.


From Texas Standard:

Texas Standard producer/reporter Joy Díaz talked with Texas Standard host David Brown about her recent trip to Mexico. She said COVID-19 restrictions there are much more rigorous than in Texas. 

“Face coverings are mandatory. Even children have to wear them,” Díaz said. “I cannot even recall seeing one person without a mask.”

Near downtown Mexico City, Cristian Corte sells tacos and gorditas at a makeshift stand outside a metro stop. He pulls down his thin paper mask, anxious to vent his anger about the Mexican president's upcoming trip to Washington, D.C.

"I want him to tell Trump to stop stepping all over us and to treat everyone as equals," says Corte.

On Friday, President Andrés Manuel López Obrador appeared to be talking to Mexicans like Corte, skeptical of his visit on Wednesday and Thursday to the White House.

Ellen Lord, undersecretary of defense for acquisition and sustainment, speaks at a Pentagon news conference on the effects of COVID-19 on the military industrial base, on April 20, 2020.
Sgt. Jack Sanders | Air Force Staff

The continued flow of weapons and other equipment to the Defense Department depends, in large part, on Mexico. Many U.S. defense contractors, particularly aircraft manufacturers, rely on Mexican suppliers for parts and manufacturing. But since the coronavirus outbreak, factories south of the border have closed or slowed operations, affecting supply chains.


Every Good Friday, for the last 176 years, the Iztapalapa neighborhood of Mexico City fills with religious pilgrims, tourists and the curious. In modern times, up to 2 million people crowd the streets to watch one of Latin America's most elaborate reenactments of Christ's crucifixion.

This year though, the whole affair has been moved indoors, and will be streamed live on the Internet and broadcast on national TV, due to Mexico's nationwide COVID-19 shutdown.

Mexican authorities ordered the shutdown of all nonessential businesses and industries for the entire month of April in hopes of stemming the spread of the coronavirus. To the shock of many, added to the list of nonessential industries was all alcoholic beverage production. Within days a whole new set of panic buying was taking place. Forget the run on toilet paper, beer hoarding was on in cities and towns throughout Mexico.

Editor's note: This story includes graphic descriptions of the search for human remains.

Manky Lugo has developed a gruesome expertise. Like a human bloodhound, she sniffs out traces of death.

Her gray hair wrapped in a bright-green bandanna, the 64-year-old applies her skill during an annual search for remains of fellow citizens who have vanished without a trace — victims of Mexico's drug wars and armed groups. A loved one of her own is among the missing.

A new report by Physicians for Human Rights documents evidence of lasting psychological harm for migrant children and parents subjected to the Trump Administration's family separation policy, which was intended to dissuade migration to the nation's southern border.


Mexico's president is gearing up for a national raffle. The prize? The presidential plane. It's like Mexico's Air Force One, but the president refuses to step foot in it.

The plane, a Boeing 787 Dreamliner, has long been a symbol of government excess in the eyes of President Andrés Manuel López Obrador. He loves to rail on what he calls Mexico's corrupt political class, especially by pointing to the plane and those who bought and used it.

The last two weeks have been busy for Mexico's immigration authorities. Since Jan. 18, the Mexican government says it has "assisted returns" of 2,303 Central American migrants back to their home countries.

"Assisted returns" means deported — but much of the official language referring to migration in Mexico remains euphemistic, critics say, even as the government's migration policies have grown harsher.

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