Feeling "The Bite" (AKA Mordidas)

We'd heard all the stories about "mordidas" before we moved to Mexico. Our friend, Ed Jennings from Raleigh, had to pay several mordidas on his way to Tabasco with a donated van from White Memorial Presbyterian. For those of you for whom this is a new word, it's the Spanish word meaning literally "the bite," but in practice it means a bribe. One writer called it the "traditional and customary way of getting things done in Mexico."

Before we moved, John and I discussed this tradition, our beliefs that mordidas are morally wrong, and our recognition that the mordida is such an ingrained part of Mexican culture that we should be prepared to face it. We agreed that we would likely fail to change anything by "taking the high road" in protest and recognized that it could be considered one of those "when in Rome" kinds of things. So we accepted that we could have to pay a mordida along the way.

Well....tonight was my night. Holly and I had enjoyed a delightful evening at a friend's wedding (Bani, Gaspar's daughter, was married tonight). On our way home, we found ourselves rather suddenly surrounded by police cars and taxi cabs. This was approximately 11PM on a Saturday night. Not exactly the best time to be the target of a police action! There were 4 police vehicles with lights flashing, about 10 taxi drivers, 10 policemen and at least 10-20 onlookers.

Gloria Dios that Holly was with me (for translation at the time) and that I was able to reach Pastor Pablo by cell phone (for more serious negotiations). I kept my cool, didn't get out of the car, and demonstrated respect for the police throughout the whole experience. It didn't take long to understand that they were accusing me of something, but since I knew I had done nothing, I wasn't really afraid.

It turns out that I was being accused of hitting a taxi cab. Because he had a "witness" to this effect, it became the word of 2 Mexicans against 2 Americans. The taxi cab company wanted 1000 pesos to settle the matter on the scene (about $100 USD). That I had not been in the area of town where the accident had occurred didn't seem to matter since I had no proof. Somewhere along the way the settlement request went up to 1200 pesos. Pablo's position (and mine) was firm....we didn't want to pay the mordida because we didn't want them to begin targeting us as Americans for repeat performances. We got an attorney on the scene and eventually matched up the two vehicles to confirm that there was no way that my car had hit the taxi cab. Then, the amount they wanted came down to 800 pesos. If I wanted to have my insurance company investigate and duke it out with the taxi company, I ran the risk of the car being impounded by the police for up to 3 weeks...all for the sake of NOT paying the equivalent of $74.29 USD.

In the end, the $74.29 was a reasonable price to pay for the convenience of making sure that I could leave with my car. Part of me hurt... I'm a lawyer's daughter. There was no justice in this. I had done nothing wrong. I'm sorry the guy's taxi got damaged, but I had nothing to do with it. I didn't even look when they were lining up the cars to compare scratch marks because I didn't need to. I had not hit the taxi, and I didn't need to look to know that. But the mordida was easier than the alternative. It was quite possibly cheaper than the alternative. And I paid it.

But what if I had been a Mexican woman whose husband made minimum wage, the equivalent of $5 USD a day? What if we had to find a way to provide for ourselves while still paying the mordida? The 800 pesos would have required 16 days of minimum wage income.The mordida represents silent conspiracy by government and unionized businesses and the people of Mexico that is exploitive and unjust. The same author writes, In Mexico it is endemic to almost all agencies of government: Treasury, immigration, customs, commerce commissions, police, judges, planning departments and even lawyers who will "throw" your case to your opponent in a law suit. It is a customary way of doing business in Mexico and most Mexicanos treat it with a shrug of the shoulders. They complain about it but accept it stoically as a way of life.

I needed my car. I didn't need to chance that it could be held in the police impound lot for days, weeks or months. I went home with my car and didn't have to worry if I would get it back, if there would be things stolen out of it or there could be further unseen issues. Practically, it made sense. We'd agreed that we'd probably have to do it sometime. So why do I feel so lousy? I think it has something to do with those 16 days of wages.

For more information about the exploitation of the people via the mordida and other interesting things about Mexico, check out : http://www.mexicomatters.net/retirementmexico/04_bribeslamordidainmexico.php