Development plans for Estadio Azteca bypass Indigenous consultation
by Madeleine Wattenbarger.
Next year’s World Cup will be the third to take place at the Estadio Azteca, which is located in the southern Mexico City neighborhood of Santa Úrsula Coapa. In preparation for the 2026 sporting event, Mexico City mayor Clara Brugada has announced a series of public works around Santa Úrsula, a historic indigenous town, one of dozens now absorbed by the metropolis. But the authorities have yet to carry out the indigenous consultation process required by the Mexican constitution and international law, and neighbors are concerned about the event’s toll on the area’s natural resources.
“In ‘70 and ‘86, there were a lot of people and a lot of money spent, but who took that money home? Here, they didn’t so much as paint a fence,” says Rubén Ramirez Almazan, the traditional authority figure of Santa Ursula’s indigenous governance structure. ”We aren’t against the project, but they have to do feasibility studies, and the people have to decide whether they do the projects or not.”
The plan includes an elevated bike lane from the Zocalo to the Estadio Azteca, a nine-mile stretch planned above the existing metro line, and a remodeling of the existing lightrail train.
“It’s concerning because we don’t have any information about the impact, if there’s any kind of program for security, waste management or the water supply,” adds Natalia Lara Trejo, a resident of Santa Úrsula. She’s one of a group of neighbors demanding more transparency around the World Cup preparations.
How illegal logging is fueling CDMX forest fires
by Madeleine Wattenbarger and Axel Hernández.
“Because I saw they were destroying the forest, I had to come take care of it,” says Jorge Luis Morales of his decision twenty years ago to join the Teporingos forest-protection brigade.
Wildfires and illegal logging threaten the forest around Morales’s home community of San Miguel Topilejo, Tlalpan, where last week flames ripped through about six hundred hectares of woods. Burns have worsened since 2020 thanks to combustibles left behind by illegal logging operations.
Topilejo sits on the far southern edge of Mexico City, where it harbors 6,000 hectares of a community ecological reserve. Part of the capital’s recently dubbed “water forest,” the area remains governed by a communal land-holding structure. The brigade members, part of the Topilejo community, work year-round to reforest, prevent blazes and keep the trees healthy. “We take care of the forest so that Mexico City can have water,” Morales says.
CDMX nightlife crackdown hits independent cultural spaces
by Madeleine Wattenbarger.
It was 8pm on a Thursday in March when officials from the Mexico City Institute of Administrative Verification (INVEA) showed up at La Caña, a seafood restaurant, LGBTQ+ bar and cultural center in the Doctores neighborhood. But the routine code check soured before it began.
“They arrived with excessive violence, with riot police, with high-calibre weapons,” recalls Ali Gua Gua, musician and representative of the cooperative-run space. “They came in pushing people, taking their tostadas away, yelling.”
La Caña hosts free concerts, literary events and cultural activities nearly every night. To make ends meet, it operates as a restaurant, with a permit that allows for the sale of alcohol with food. The night when the INVEA arrived, one table of diners was still awaiting their dinner order with two beers on the table. The officials seized on the momentary lapse: “They said, no, this isn’t a restaurant, this is a bar, and we’re going to shut you down.”