I had arrived, via ferry, at Mazatlan, Mexico, and proceeded down the exit ramp. At the end of the ramp, stood a stern military officer and several alert, armed and dangerous soldiers. The officer surveyed the disembarking passengers. I passed scrutiny and moved forward, however to my left was a narrow hallway, and there stood eight Indian women and children; they had been culled from the crowd. Pathetically silent, they awaited their fate; it seems the rebellion in the Chiapas region had reached far north to Mazatlan.
Collection: Jennifer (McCabe) Hughes
