Ninety-two year old Isaac Jiménez, a pioneer in the modern age of mezcal, gently rocks back and forth in his old wooden mesadora, a rocking chair, in his Matatlán homestead, struggling with his failing senses of sight and sound, memory still sharp.  “When you ask me about the history of mezcal de pechuga, I’m sorry, but I can’t take you back any further than about 1930,” he apologizes, then continues, “when Ramón Sánchez arrived in Matatlán with his family.”

My mission to uncover the origins of mezcal de pechuga, and to a lesser extent catalogue variations in its formulations, lead me to Don Isaac, whose grandfather first arrived in the self-proclaimed world capital of mezcal, Santiago Matatlán, in 1870.  Doubtless, there are several theories and legends, at least as many as exist regarding the first time a Oaxacan released a gusano into a glass of mezcal.

Those under the impression that mezcal de pechuga contains only the essence of chicken breast, which when raw had been suspended inside a still over which steam produced from fermented baked agave passed, are in for a lesson.  Formulations, more in the nature of recipes, may call for wild turkey breast, rabbit leg, deer meat, or no protein at all, with fruit and / or herbs and spices, sometimes infused in prepared mezcal rather than being integrated into the distillation process.

Mezcal de Pechuga Arrives in Santiago Matatlán

“I was about 10 years old, so it must have been around 1930 when Ramón Sánchez put down roots in town, apparently coming from Río Seco, or at least that’s what he told everyone,” recalls Don Isaac.  At that time Río Seco would have been days away from Matalán, whether by foot or beast of burden.  It’s near the junction of the now districts of Tlacolula, Ejutla and Miahuatlán, agave growing country; so residents of Río Seco also made mezcal. 

“Then in 1938, a fellow by the name of Chuy Razgado came to Matatlán,” Don Isaac continues.  “One day he showed up at Hacienda Los Lope where I was playing with my band-mates.”

In Oaxaca, as in other parts of Mexico, there has been a longstanding tradition of playing band, woodwind and percussion instruments, proficiency beginning at a young age.  The youthful Isaac learned to play alto saxophone, eventually becoming a member of a band.  He and his fellow musicians occasionally played at Hacienda Los Lope which was owned by a family of Spanish aristocrats.

The day that Razgado attended at the Hacienda, he had no instrument in hand.  But he asked if he could hang out with Isaac and his fellow musicians and somehow contribute.  The band rejected the overture since at that time there was no indication as to how he could help. Eventually, after subsequent failed attempts to integrate into broader Matatlán, Razgado disappeared.

One day Isaac and his mother, Felipa Arrazola, travelled to Mitla to buy provisions, and they came across Razgado.  Since Isaac had now become an accepted part of the region’s music scene, and the two had to stay in Mitla for at least an overnight because of the distance they had to travel to get there, it was easy for them to find lodging. But that first evening Isaac and his mother by chance encountered Razgado drinking in a cantina and playing music; but not just any music.  He was playing bottles; glass bottles of different sizes, shapes and neck openings, thus yielding different sounds.  He used both his breath and a makeshift drumstick to create different sounds.  He was playing melodies reminiscent of the music of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, near Oaxaca’s Pacific coast.

At the end of the set Isaac and his mother seized the opportunity to speak to Razgado, Isaac now clearly humbled by someone it had become clear to him was a true, multi-facet talent, whom he and the other band members had rejected weeks earlier.  At the time Isaac was learning how to read music.  In the course of discussion with Razgado he realized that he was in the company of a true maestro, a musician who played more than just bottles.  Isaac recognized that an opportunity existed for him to further his own musical skills while at the same time have someone in town, Matatlán that is, who could tutor others. Razgado accepted the invitation to return to Matatlán, and there began to teach and to play, not only bottles, but also guitar, trumpet, sax and a couple of other traditional instruments.

Ramón Sánchez quickly learned about Chuy Razgado and the work he was doing within the Matatlán community of musicians. He decided to throw a special reception in his honor.  During the festivities Sánchez presented Razgado with a large bottle of mezcal de pechuga.  Others at the event also imbibed the pechuga, many for the first time.  Prior to this occasion, while Sánchez had shared his pechuga with some, no one really took notice of the unique flavor nuance, and if they did they didn’t ask about it. The cat was out of the bag, and mezcal de pechuga was born, at least for broad public consumption.  Perhaps more importantly, it had become elevated to the status of a spirit for special occasions.

No one knows for sure if villagers in Río Seco had been making mezcal de pechuga, if Sánchez was the only palenquero with such a recipe, or if it was first prepared by him in fact after his arrival in Matatlán.  We do know two things:  since the honor of receiving mezcal de pechuga was first bestowed upon Razgado, pechuga has been served in many Oaxacan towns and villages at special fiestas; and, there are several formulations of the spirit.

Epilogue to Chuy Razgado & Ramón Sanchez

In 1940 General Lázaro Cárdenas travelled to Mitla.  While there were still no paved roads in or leading to the village, General Cárdenas nevertheless rode there, to inaugurate the arrival of electricity. It would take another 19 years for electric lines to get to Matatlán.

By then Razgado had become well-known and a highly respected musician in both Matatlán and Mitla. The mayor of Mitla invited him to play for General Cárdenas during one of the celebratory dinners.  Razgado did not dress up to perform.  He played a brief first set.  No one applauded.  For the second set he was part of a trio, and at its conclusion a bit of praise was bestowed upon the group.  For the third and final set Razgado lead the local philharmonic orchestra in four songs, decked out in formalwear, a suit traditionally worn by band leaders.  General Cárdenas called him to the box where he and the other dignitaries were seated, to congratulate him.  Perhaps the clothes provided the inspiration for an exceptional concluding performance.  Razgado was known to throw back a few, so perhaps by evening’s end mild inebriation had contributed to his excellence.

Three or four months later Chuy Razgado once again disappeared, this time never to return to the region.  Word has it that he died in the Mixe district of Oaxaca.

Ramón Sánchez continued to make small batches of mezcal, including pechuga, for his own use and to provide to others who had become aficionados and / or wanted it for fiestas.  None of his progeny became palenqueros. During that era there was a pervading perception that making mezcal was not a dignified trade, much the same as leading the life of a musician.  In the case of Don Isaac, he paid little if any attention to public sentiment, and continued to excel at both vocations.

Mezcal de Pechuga in Mexico Today

According to Enrique Jiménez, son of Don Isaac, a chemical engineer and palenquero (producing for the labels Mezcal del Amigo, La Muerte, Herencia del Mezcalero, Ultramarine and Amores), authentic mezcal de pechuga is produced by placing a specified amount of chopped seasonal fruit in the copper still along with previously distilled mezcal (thus in preparation for a third distillation), with a full chicken or turkey breast hanging inside the apparatus. If breast is used, without fruit or other additions, it can still rightfully be considered mezcal de pechuga; and if herbs and / or spices are added, with or without fruit it is still considered the real deal.  If no protein is used, the spirit is more properly considered mezcal afrutado.

At least one Oaxacan mezcalero instructs his producers to use rabbit leg rather than breast of fowl.  A palenquero from the state of Michoacán uses breast of chicken, deer meat, and a selection spices, the recipe closely guarded by his wife.

One incarnation calls for placing 200 liters of mezcal into a traditional 300 liter copper receptacle, part of the alambique (still), along with 100 liters of diced fruit, with of course the chicken or turkey breast dangling inside the top portion of the still.  This yields about 120 liters of mezcal de pechuga.

If protein is omitted from the formulation, while the spice and / or fruitiness of the flavor will surely prevail, the spirit will lack a certain nose created by the meat, fowl or otherwise.

A second broad category of mezcal de pechuga calls for adding the fruit and / or spice to the still during the first or second distillation, along with mezcal and / or tepache (the fermented liquid) and / or bagazo (crushed, fermented fiber).

In both of these two cases, the mezcal de pechuga is clear, since regardless of the ingredients inserted into the brick and cement encased copper pot, a final distillation occurs, resulting in a colorless spirit.  These are the two variations of pechuga which are still often highly coveted, and in fact served at many rite of passage celebrations in Oaxaca such as weddings, quince años, baptisms, and so on – a tradition enduring since 1940, if not earlier.

Since many readers are likely tourists who may consider buying “pechuga” which is an amber color, appearing as reposado or añejo, a word of caution is in order.  A third classification of mezcal de pechuga is being marketed, at minimum in the city of Oaxaca and central valleys. One variety of mezcal marketed as pechuga is simply mezcal blanco (clear, unaged) with a piece of either sugar cane or baked agave having been inserted into the bottle before sealing.  Another consists of mezcal blanco which has been infused with fruit and / or herbs and spices, then filtered before bottling. Whether chicken, turkey or any other meat has been used in the distillation process is doubtful, regardless of representation.

Variations on the Recipe and Unanswered Historical Questions About Mezcal de Pechuga

The foregoing is meant to provide merely an introduction to mezcal de pechuga.  There is an endless variety of recipes.  Both palenqueros and their exporter entrepreneurs will likely continue to experiment, a goal being to create a more taste-worthy product than the competition.  To be fair, there’s also more altruistic motivation, spirit as artful formulation.

The questions which remains unanswered, at least to the fullest extent, are precisely why, where and when that first palenquero decided that using something in addition to baked agave – in particular breast of chicken or turkey – would make for a spirit pleasing to the palate.    

Alvin Starkman has been drinking various formulations of mezcal de pechuga for more than 15 years.  He is an aficionado of both mezcal and pulque, and endeavors to enlighten visitors to Oaxaca about the state´s spirits and fermented products.  Alvin operates Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast (http://www.oaxacadream.com) with his wife Arlene, and Oaxaca Culinary Tours (http://www.oaxacaculinarytours.com) with Chef Pilar Cabrera Arroyo. 

  

Tejate, the pre-Hispanic corn and cacao based drink, is likely the only complex food recipe in all Mexico still enjoyed today in Oaxaca just as it was thousands of years ago. When visiting a Oaxacan marketplace and enjoying a jícara (gourd; in this case half gourd) of tejate, you’re likely treating yourself to the same carefully crafted beverage, made with virtually the same ingredients and preparation methods as was the case 4,000 years ago.   

For those who have never tried or recognized tejate in the markets, it’s the foamy beige drink  (appearing somewhat like spent shaving water) ladled out of oversized green glazed clay tubs, worked and served exclusively by women standing behind a table, stand or small stall.

Oaxaca is the south central Mexico UNESCO World Heritage Site noted for its colonial architecture, Dominican churches, museum and galleries, many diverse indigenous cultures, and nearby ecotourism preserves, craft villages, mezcal production, as well as Zapotec and Mixtec ruins. And its gastronomic greatness is arguably unrivalled in the country.

Despite being a tourist mecca, rarely do visitors to Oaxaca, or for that matter residents, have the opportunity to witness how tejate is made, from start to finish.  And yet while other similar drinks do exist, tejate is a uniquely Oaxacan beverage deserving of widespread acclaim.  Learning the process today provides a glimpse and better understanding into tejate’s past.   Anecdotal as well as social and physical sciences evidence provide a helpful starting point.

Tejate’s pre-Hispanic Origins Supported by a Preponderance of Evidence

All of the key ingredients in tejate are native to Mexico, and in fact to the state of Oaxaca except for one, cacao from the state of Chiapas (some cacao is now imported from Tabasco). This fact immediately distinguishes the drink from other noteworthy prepared Oaxacan foods, such as some of its moles.  Many mole ingredients were first brought to Mexico by the Spanish. Thus we cannot trace, for example, the highly complex mole negro with its 30 – 35 ingredients, to pre-Hispanic times. By contrast, tejate today is likely the exact same beverage which was ceremoniously  drank by the Aztecs in the 1400s, and for thousands of years  before them by the Zapotecs who were, and continue to be the predominate ethnic group in the central valleys of Oaxaca and further beyond.

The tools of the trade and means of production employed in 2012 AD are on balance the same as those used in 1012 BC; rock, fire and clay. Admittedly not all of the metates used today are the large smooth river rock grinding stones utilized generations ago, and commercial manufacture of tejate often includes taking some of the ingredients to a local molino for milling.  But witnessing the labor intensive transformation of raw material into tejate conjures clear images of ancestral production.

The Spanish arrived in Oaxaca in 1521.  Their first contact was with the Aztecs.  Early European writings based on interaction with the indigenous group document the use of corn and cacao and some of the other ingredients used today, as well as the process of making the drink frothy.  They also confirm that the drink was reserved for the upper classes, likely royalty.  We also know that the Aztecs traded jícaras, a traditional drinking receptacle, and cacao.

But that only takes us as far back as the most recent pre-Hispanic era.  Other evidence confirms that up to 4,000 years ago there were trade routes between Oaxaca and the coastal regions further south, such as Chiapas, where cacao has grown since time immemorial.

Physical evidence includes residue found in clay pots dating up to 2,500 years ago and containing a compound found only in cacao, suggesting that cacao was then being cooked by Zapotec residents of Oaxaca. 

Perhaps the most compelling evidence is contained on a vase dating to about 1,300 years ago and decorated with painted imagery.  On the “Princeton Vase” one encounters what the experts presume is a prepared cacao based beverage being poured from high into a vessel below, the aeration creating the foam. The dress and composure of the individuals depicted suggest the drink was ceremoniously imbibed by royalty.   [1]

Today, the same process plays out, but by indigenous village vendors, far from royalty, yet highly respected for their culinary craft by those in the know.

Gloria Cruz Begins Preparing Tejate Early Sunday Morning in San Marcos Tlapazola, Tlacolula

Gloria Cruz holds a jicára high above her head, deliberately allowing its liquid to fall, but in a controlled fashion back into the giant green glazed ceramic tub from which it was taken.  She continuously repeats the process, each time attentively checking the progress of the froth as it builds with each subsequent pour.

It’s 10 a.m., Sunday morning at the Tlacolula market.  Gloria has just finished setting up her stand and unpacking several kilos of beige masa which she has brought from her homestead in nearby San Marcos Tlapazola.  San Marcos is a traditional Zapotec village with about 1,500 residents, known mainly for not tejate, but rather its handcrafted red clay pottery.

Mixing water into the masa, then ceremoniously creating the frothy topping, is the final step in preparing tejate for sale to passersby – residents of Oaxaca and nearby towns and villages who have come to Tlacolula to shop, other market vendors, and the odd tourist who is familiar with the beverage’s nutritional properties, richness and nutty (almost mocha-chino) flavor.

Gloria awoke at 3 a.m. as she does most Sundays to begin making her day’s quantity of masa to then turn into tejate.  When she has time for some pre-preparation the night before, she sleeps in until 4. 

Gloria had purchased all the ingredients she would need, in the same market the week before; except for corn on hand from her own harvest.  Aside from occasionally buying maize, she buys  red cacao (already fermented and toasted), seeds of the mamey fruit, lime mineral, pecans or peanuts (depending on the season) and Quararibea funebris (the flower of an aromatic bush, often referred to as funeral tree flowers, or rosita de cacao though not related to cacao).  Ash from cooking tortillas or baking pottery is always on hand.  

Gloria places ¼ kg of rositas, 6 mamey seeds and ¼ kg of cacao on a comal.  She roasts these ingredients on top of a flame, using dried agave leaves as fuel.  She does the same with 1/8th kg of raw peanuts.  The toasted peanuts and the first mixture (pixle) are kept separate, each in its own clay bowl.

Using a clay colander, Gloria then washes 4 kg of raw corn kernels, making sure to pick out any small stones.  She puts spring water into a large clay cauldron sitting on top of the flame, rejuvenating it with the addition of more dried agave leaves. She adds a small amount of powdered lime. She then strains 3 kg of ash, places it in the pot, then adds the corn.  More agave leaves added to the flame helps to bring back the boil.  Regular stirring prevents sticking. 

By now Gloria’s sister-in-law María has awoken.  From this point onward she will help will the further preparation of the masa, and with breakfast.

At about 5 a.m. it’s time for hot chocolate and sweet rolls, while the corn continues to cook.  After about 40 minutes the flame has died out.  The boiled corn is once again strained, this time to cool it and to remove excess ash. Gloria’s recipe calls for only a little sweetness, which ash provides. The two women clean every pot and utensil immediately after use. 

It’s still dark out.  María and Gloria walk seven blocks to the mill, over a muddy potholed road, corn and pixle in hand.  After knocking on the door of the molino then waiting a few minutes, a woman appears, welcomes them in, and turns on the light.  She washes down the machinery, then weighs their two containers.  She then mills the pixle into a masa, María and Gloria assisting with each step.  The smell of cacao fills the molino, then the maple-y aroma of the rosita overtakes all, that same scent one occasionally encounters when driving along secondary highways and dirt roads in rural Oaxaca.   Next the corn.  The miller knows exactly how much water to add to the corn as it goes through the apparatus in order to provide the white masa with optimum consistency.

It’s 5:50 a.m., and the walk back to the homestead is no different than it was arriving; it’s still dark.  But by now one hears the sounds of roosters.

The masa blanca must cool before further processing.  María alternates between preparing breakfast and polishing a clay figure to ready for the brick kiln. Gloria pours mezcal.  It’s still cold out, and the masa is not yet ready for mixing on the metate with the rest of the ingredients.  Mezcal warms, but more importantly is customary, at least in this household.

Gloria gingerly pours water over four metates, then thoroughly scrubs each. The water is then used to irrigate nearby saplings and plants. She then grinds the peanuts, setting this third mixture aside. A little corn is ground and mixed in with it, just to ensure all the peanut has been removed. Nothing is wasted.  The pixle masa is ground, this time on the metate; and then once again a bit of corn is used to ensure all the pixle has been recovered.

Everything has its order; tradition which has been repeated for generations.  Before the age of the electric molino, the metate was used exclusively.  Even today, smaller batches for household consumption of tejate are ground entirely on the metate.

Gloria and María both work at thoroughly blending the corn masa with the pixle and peanut mixtures.  It takes 1 ½ hours.  The metates are again scoured. But this excess water has nutrients from the corn and other ingredients.  It’s saved in pails and fed to the donkey and chickens.

While the women were grinding on the metates, Mariá’s daughter Lucina had awoken, dressed, showered and gone into the kitchen to finish making breakfast.  It’s 7:40 a.m., time to sit down to a fuller meal than earlier in the morning;  sopa de guias, tortillas and salsa, all prepared fresh along with coffee, and another ritual mezcal. 

The now beige masa must be tested before leaving for the market to ensure sufficient cacao has been used to guarantee a healthy froth, the sign of a successful tejate.  Gloria mixes up a sample;   a subtle smile of satisfaction emerges.

Gloria, María and Lucina walk along that same muddy road, now in the light of day, and await the arrival of a colectivo to take them to the Tlacolula market with their masa.  They also have clay decorative figures and utilitarian vessels they’ve made throughout the week, to offer for sale.

The women arrive at the market at 9:30 a.m.  They walk to their designated section of street, greet their fellow vendors from San Marcos Tlapazola and other nearby villages, and then walk to an indoor storage area. They carry back their tables, bottles of purified water, green glazed clay mixing vessels, tarpaulins, unsold red clay pottery from last Sunday, and everything else they need to begin preparing for sale.    

By 10 a.m. Gloria and Lucina have erected the tarps. Lucina and María are now arranging their pottery while Gloria attends to the finishing touches of preparing her tejate.  While neither Zapotec royalty nor an Aztec queen, Gloria, smartly clad in her own colorful hand-embroidered traditional San Marcos Tlapazola garb, ceremoniously pours the liquid, arm stretched out and raised above her head, just as her ancestors did. 

Gloria’s customers, mainly regular clients, begin to arrive just as the froth in the large green glazed clay pot takes on its tell-tale sign of readiness.  She begins to serve her tejate, its consistency, flavor and overall appearance just as it was thousands of years ago.  After all, the tools, their use and the ingredients have remained the same over millennia, long before the word Oaxaca had ever been spoken.

Alvin Starkman and his wife Arlene operate Casa Machaya Oaxaca Bed & Breakfast (http://www.casamachaya.com).  Alvin has written over 260 articles about life and cultural traditions in and around Oaxaca.  Alvin frequently takes visitors to Oaxaca to experience many of the non-traditional the sights in the central valleys, including into rural marketplaces to sample pulque, mezcal, and of course tejate.


[1] Part of the foregoing is a summary of the compilation of evidence contained in Tejate:  Theobroma Cacao and T. Bicolor in a Traditional Beverage from Oaxaca, Mexico, by Daniela Soleri and David A. Cleveland.

Oaxaca Governor Gabino Cué Monteagudo inaugurates one of four Circuito de la Salud outdoor exercise facilities with Alfredo Harp Helú looking on.

Mexican philanthropist Alfredo Harp Helú is now in the outdoor gym business, or rather has made it his mission to convince Oaxacans to use the exercise facilities recently inaugurated by him and Oaxaca governor Gabino Cué Monteagudo.

An extremely generous Oaxacan resident by all counts, praised by those of every political bent, Harp Helú is head honcho of an extremely diverse empire of projects sponsored by his three  charitable organizations, in this case Fundación Alfredo Harp Helú. The humanitarian donates time as well as his foundations’ resources, skills and expertise, often in conjunction with other aid agencies, government, privately held corporations and individuals.  Instituted in the early 1990s, the umbrella of trusts now provides assistance in eight areas:  education, social assistance, culture, the environment, natural disaster relief, sports, health and special projects.

The Fundación Alfredo Harp Helú Oaxaca Outdoor Exercise Facilities

In each of four parks scattered throughout Oaxaca, there is now an extensive exercise facility known as a Circuito de la Salud, consisting of 20 stations; 10 exercise machines, 10 step-up platforms, and two extra pieces of equipment earmarked for those with knee problems who are unable to “step-up.”  According to Luis Shein, the Oaxaca resident who planted the seed in the mind of Harp Helú, “the concept of having an organized, structured workout routine in an outdoor setting, akin to a brief gym session, is new for Mexico.”

The stationary bicycles, elliptical trainer, muscle toning apparatus, simulated skiing machine and all the rest are contained in a relatively small, well-defined area in each park, stations numbered 1 – 20.  The idea is for each person to spend about a minute at each post, then move on to the next, completing a combined aerobic and anaerobic workout in 35 – 40 minutes.  According to health research, Shein maintains, “40 minutes of intense exercise is better and less dangerous health-wise than a longer, slower gymnasium exercise routine.”

The mission of the project is to improve overall public health, and in so doing build a sense of community consciousness throughout different parts of the city. The goal is to attract young and old, healthy and initially unfit, of both modest and significant means, and everything in between.  Trainers will be on hand during anticipated peak hours, roughly 6 – 9 a.m. and 5 – 8 p.m., at least throughout the first phase of operations.

Inauguration of a Harp Helú Exercise Facility

It’s 9 a.m. June 29, 2012.  Activity is slowing at the Parque Luis Donaldo Colosio (Colosio Park), in upscale Oaxaca suburb of San Felipe del Agua, in anticipation of the arrival of the governor.  Sweaty bodies in the exercise class under the roofed open air pavilion are beginning their warm down routine.  Parents and nannies are hurrying young children to finish playing on the pressure-treated wooden Jungle Jim. The vigilance is ominous, both at every entrance to Colosio, and throughout much of the park’s rolling interior.

A black SUV, followed by another less conspicuous late model jeep-like vehicle not far behind, arrives.  Out steps Gabino Cué Monteagudo.  The Governor, alongside the patron of all that’s worthy of support, followed by the rest of the entourage, walk briskly to the facility. They’ve all done this before.

Colosio Park is their first and only stop to promote the four facilities, this park and another now officially open, the other two within a couple of weeks. The municipality, Harp Helú and Shein had selected the parks to be fitted with the gymnastic equipment.  “These four were the best and most logical locations,” asserts Shein, the other three being El Parque de la Ciudad de las Canteras, La Ciudad Deportiva and Bosque el Tequio.

Harp Helú, Governor Cué and Shein each step up to address the crowd of about 40 onlookers.  The Governor speaks about his wish to see many other identical facilities in the future. The long-term plan is to build a total of 200 outdoor gyms throughout the state. 

Each of the four current installations cost Fundación Alfredo Harp Helú approximately $8,000 USD. Staffing costs are extra.  Funding for the other 196 is uncertain, but it would be reasonable to assume that the government of Oaxaca will step up to the plate, and as well seek other donors from divergent sectors of Oaxacan society.  Shein assures that “similar” exercise equipment has been sourced at about 60% of the cost of the initial sets of machines.

The Challenge:  The Best Choice of Project for Oaxaca?

There was chatter amongst the speakers about a healthier Oaxaca costing the state less in the long run. While expressing his gratitude for the gift of the four facilities, Governor Cué went further. He deemed the project an incentive for his government, not only as one additional means by which public health can be improved, but also for its potential impact in reducing crime including drug use.

No studies were done prior to proceeding with this initial phase, regarding demographics of anticipated users of the facilities, the selection of their locations based upon perceived need or likelihood of use, or any other criteria. 

Oaxaca, reliant on tourism for its very existence, is one of the poorest states in Mexico, many residents struggling to find work for 100 pesos (about $8 USD) a day, then going on to look for a second and a third job. Two issues come to mind: 

1.      Are there better uses of funds now destined for outdoor exercise facilities, perhaps in the area of education, healthcare provision, or even in the tourism sector with a view to countering English language media and foreign governments erroneously warning prospective travelers of the dangers of venturing to Mexico;

2.      It is conceivable that the majority of Oaxacans taking advantage of these outside health clubs are the ones who can afford to take the time to exercise, without concern for putting food on table and having to pound the pavement looking for unskilled and low paying employment.

A $32,000 USD pilot project in Oaxaca is arguably a prudent and wise investment.  But before proceeding with spending a further $1 million USD (or $1.5 million USD if the similar equipment proves to be significantly inferior), those holding the purse strings might want to embark upon a little more due diligence and analysis.   The outdoor park exercise program of Fundación Alfredo Harp Helú has the potential for success, and for expansion.  It could become the model for similar projects throughout all other states in Mexico.