got independence?

The flags are unfurled. Uniformed boys are inartfully blaring trumpets. School children are toting machetes and muskets.

Either Mexico is preparing to take back the orphaned southwest from the Americans (the profaning "foreign enemy" of Mexico's national anthem) or Independence Day is upon us.

I know it is the latter because I attended the kick off last night in San Patricio -- el grito. The Shout. All over Mexico, citizens gathered in town squares to listen to their political leaders repeat the words that may or may not have been spoken 208 years ago.

It all began with a criollo catholic priest, Miguel Gregorio Antonio Ignacio Hidalgo Costilla y Gallaga Mandarte Villaseñor. Or Miguel Hidalgo, as we know him. Even though a priest, he had an eye for women, shady business dealings, and gambling.

The church did not take kindly to his lifestyle. In 1803, those transgressions (plus his heretical beliefs on matters theological and political) got him exiled to the small parish church of Dolores.

It was a bad move for the church. Hidalgo met other criollos (people born in Mexico of Spanish parents) who were dissatisfied with Spain's rule and the social restrictions placed on anyone not born in Spain. They had a better idea. If the United States could free itself from Britain, and France could cut off its king's head, why should Mexico not be free of the Spanish king?

This was not the stuff of 3 AM dormitory chats. The conspirators started preparing an armed insurrection. But, like most secrets held by more than one person, this one leaked. The Spanish authorities mounted up and were on their way to arrest the conspirators.

Even though the conspirators were not fully prepared, legend tell us that the womanizing priest transformed himself into a national hero by rushing to his church on the morning of 16 September 1810 to gather the people for mass. There, he rallied his parishioners to the cause of Mexican independence with what has come to be known as el grito de Delores -- The Shout of Dolores.

No one knows for certain what he said. There are about as many versions as there are people who tell the tale. But, they all end with the same phrase -- "Death to the Spanish!" Modern politicians drop that line. After all, Spain is now a friend of Mexico.

But, in 1810, that is exactly what happened. Once the floodgates of revenge were opened, the massacres were appalling. The Army officers who had joined the rebellion were scandalized. The most horrific was the slaughter of 500 Spanish men, women, and children who had taken refuge in the granary building in Guanajuato.

Things did not go well for the rebels from that point on. El grito may have transformed the priest into a Mexican national hero, but, ten months later, the church and the Spanish authorities transformed him into a corpse. His head, along with those of three other rebel leaders, hung on the four corners of the Guanajuato granary for ten years as a warning to any other restless colonials.

The war would not end until a Mexican-born general of the Spanish army, Agustín Cosme Damián de Iturbide y Arámburu, decided to switch sides. When he entered Mexico City on 27 September 1821, the war was over. He would have himself crowned emperor of Mexico eight months later. And, less than a year later, he was deposed. Eventually, dying in front of a Mexican firing squad.

For years, there was a debate whether independence day should be celebrated on 16 September (honoring the work of Hidalgo) or 27 September (giving a nod to Iturbide). Depending on whether the liberals or conservatives were in power, each day has had its advocates (1810 or 1821?). Sometimes, both days were celebrated in the same year.

You may have noticed something odd when I was discussing el grito. Hidalgo did not deliver his address to the people until the morning of 16 September -- at mass. Then, why do all of those smug politicians deliver it at midnight on 15 September? Because of the smuggest of Mexican politicians.

José de la Cruz Porfirio Díaz Mori was president of Mexico from 1876-1880, 1884-1911. No one will be offended if we call him what he was. A dictator. And, like most dictators, he had a very high regard for himself.

15 September was his birthday. What would be so wrong, if the clock was moved back a few hours to let the dictator share in the glory of national goodwill?

Hidalgo was happy transforming himself into a national hero. Porfirio Diaz was satisfied with nothing less being transformed into Mexico itself.

I cannot think of Porfirio Diaz without thinking of this film clip from one of my favorite movies (Moon Over Parador -- with Sonia Braga; I was once married to her, you know: steve spills a secret).



Well, this is not an essay about Porfirio Diaz. It is my homage to Mexican independence. Whether you prefer 16 or 27 September, the "death to Spanish" exhortation eventually worked.*

Happy independence day, neighbors.


* -- If that "death to the Spanish" bothers you, a lot of nationalities get their turn in the barrel. The French on cinco de mayo. The British and Canadians on Revolution Day. And, of course, as I already mentioned, the Americans when the Mexican national anthem is sung. Poor Mexico has had a long list of abusive lovers.