In Capital of Mexico, Cabin Fever Takes Hold

International / Americas

In Capital of Mexico, Cabin Fever Takes Hold



By LARRY ROHTER
Published: May 3, 2009

Restrictions apply all over the country, but their effect may be felt most strongly in the capital.


MEXICO CITY — The traditionally crowded May 1 Labor Day parade was canceled, despite protests. The baseball and soccer seasons continue, but games are being played in stadiums that are empty by government decree. And with the Sabbath looming, not only are religious leaders calling off public worship services, but weddings, confirmations, pilgrimages and retreats are being postponed.

All across Mexico, the flu epidemic that has stricken more than 400 people and killed at least 16 is altering the texture of daily life in big and small ways. Barely a week after the government here announced the first measures to contain the spread of the virus, this country of about 111 million people is in lockdown and will remain that way through at least May 5.

Almost all government offices have been ordered closed, and a vast majority of private workplaces, including stores, shops, businesses and factories, have also shut down. The restrictions are part of the government’s effort to discourage people from gathering in large groups and transmitting the newly discovered flu strain, H1N1.

“Stay at home with your family,” President Felipe Calderón urged Wednesday night in a televised speech to the nation in which he ordered the five-day shutdown, which began Friday. “There is no place more secure.”

The government-decreed restrictions on public activities apply all over Mexico. Their effect, though, is perhaps felt most strongly here in the capital region, which is home to more than 20 million people and accounts for an overwhelming majority of the flu cases and the fatalities that have been reported so far.

The shutdown coincides with a long weekend holiday that extends through the traditional Cinco de Mayo commemorations on Tuesday. That annual mini-vacation in any case would have reduced activity in Mexico’s cities, as people headed to parks, resorts, beaches, relatives’ houses and other getaways. But now, with the government measures, the streets are emptied and people are mostly confined to their homes.

At this stage of the flu epidemic, with the number of newly reported cases declining, many Mexicans seem less worried about contracting the virus than about the prospect of growing bored during the imposed shutdown.

“I was really looking forward to this little break,” said Carlos Murillo Bernal, a shoe salesman. “Now I’m going to be cloistered, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.”

Because of previous government restrictions on public activities, many of the most popular forms of diversion were already proscribed even before Mr. Calderón’s speech last week, and they will remain so even after May 5. The same prohibition that closes stadiums to sports fans, for instance, also applies to concert halls, movie theaters, fitness centers and gyms, museums, billiards parlors and night clubs.

Restaurants have been allowed to remain open, so long as they do not allow customers to enter and eat and drink at tables. Despite the growth of American fast food chains here, carry-out food is still a habit much less ingrained in Mexico than in the United States. As a result, many restaurants are not equipped with the containers and delivery systems they would need, and they have decided simply to shut their doors for the duration of the emergency.

“I’m suffering, but not as much as my cooks and especially my waiters,” said Antonio Calera, the owner of Hostería La Bota, a traditional downtown lunch spot that has a dozen employees. “The waiters can make 1,000 pesos on a good day,” about $70, “but now they can’t work at all, and I’ve been forced to give everybody an advance to tide them and their families through this mess.”

Supermarkets remain open, however, as do pharmacies. Though food supplies continue to be normal and shoppers calm, pharmacies have been running short of antiflu drugs like Tamiflu and Relenza, often sold here without prescriptions, of sanitizing gels and wipes and of the surgical masks that have become a common sight on streets and in the subway. It also remains open despite a steep drop in traffic.

As might be expected, the shortage of masks, whose efficiency in screening out germs is questionable but which clearly provide a psychological relief to a nervous populace, has led to profiteering, with some stores marking up the cost of certain brands to five times their pre-epidemic price. Late Thursday night, with complaints growing, Mr. Calderón made a point of going to the airport and being filmed as he monitored the arrival of a new shipment of masks, donated by China. Legislators have even been wearing them while Congress is in session.

In a pair of cases, criminals have taken advantage of the proliferation of masks in public places to use them as cover while robbing a bank and a department store. Over all, however, lawbreakers seem as intimidated by the epidemic as everyone else: according to police figures, the crime rate here has dropped more than 40 percent since the emergency began.

The most frustrated group, however, may very well be the parents of young children. The country’s estimated 33.8 million students and their 1.1 million teachers have been out of class since early last week, and schools here in the capital area have been shut down since April 24. Many parents have been forced to keep their children at home, away from outdoor playgrounds and parks, and already an outbreak of cabin fever can be detected among both adults and children.

Marta López has three children, ages 6, 4 and 2. She recited the list of distractions she has used to keep them amused for the past week: “Toys, reading them books, puzzles, television programs, movie videos, video games, sports, cooking lessons.” But she also admitted that she was running out of options and, at times, patience.

Jessica Ferrer, a mother, added, “It’s not easy.” She and her 5-year-old son, Emiliano, live in a small house with her parents, and all four had been planning to spend the long weekend in the colonial town of Taxco, south of here. Instead, Ms. Ferrer now has to figure out new ways to keep her energetic son entertained until classes resume, whenever that proves to be.

Even body language on the street seems to have changed as a result of the epidemic. As in other Latin American countries, Mexicans like to greet relatives, friends and acquaintances warmly, with kisses on the cheek and animated embraces or bear hugs.

But that cultural tradition clashes with the government’s instructions on how best to prevent the spread of the virus. “Avoid greeting with the hands or with kisses if you are ill,” warns an official poster that is on display in public places like markets, subway stations and supermarkets.

As a result, encountering a friend on the street can now lead to an awkward ballet even when both parties are healthy. People start to hug each other, realize they really should not, back away and end up settling for a clumsy bump of the elbow or shoulder.

“The force of habit is very strong, and so you forgot,” Francisco Ruiz Pacheco, a college student involved in one such exchange on Avenida Insurgentes, a main artery here, said with a grin. “I don’t want to get sick myself, but neither do I want to make someone else sick.”

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In Capital of Mexico, Cabin Fever Takes Hold