“We try not to get involved with them,” said the affable former tourist shuttle driver, noting it would be dangerous for him to report drug sellers. Squatter leader Rafael Hernández Juárez acknowledges the area has become more violent, with drug sales and killings occurring every so often. Lucio Hernández, the state police chief, says government security cameras have detected that many of the drug dealers in Tulum use the squatters’ camp as a hideout. In October, two tourists - one a California travel blogger born in India and the other German - were caught in the apparent crossfire of rival drug dealers and killed at a restaurant along Tulum’s main avenue. Street-level drug dealing is behind many of the killings in the October 2 camp - just as it is in the rest of Tulum. Given the cost of tourist-oriented taxis and bus lines, commuting from a new settlement could cost workers a quarter of their daily wages. “We are not going to allow them to keep selling the land to foreigners while they send us locals, who have lived in Quintana Roo for 15, 20 or 30 years, to live 20 kilometers (12 miles) away in the woods,” he said. Asked what would be done about the other 30%, he answered, “Other means will be applied.” “This is going to cause 70% of these people to leave willingly, with the certainty of having a decent place to live,” Montes de Oca said. The businessmen are going to contribute money to build houses.” Montes de Oca says officials plan to relocate the squatters: “We are going to offer them lots away from this area, provided by the state government. “What were they they thinking, firing tear gas among so many people?” Cruz said. The lot where he lives sits directly under a new four-story condo building. “They came and said we had to get out, and take our things with us,” Cruz said of the July 27 attempted eviction. Mateo Cruz, who rents a room for himself and his two children in the settlement, shows off the angry bruise on his thigh where he says he was hit by a police tear gas cannister. Many of those roadblocks remain: mounds of stones, tires and scrap wood piled in the streets, ready to be set alight. “It’s just that every time we have tried, they all immediately get together and block the roads.”
“We even have the court orders for eviction,” Montes de Oca said. The attorney general of Quintana Roo, Oscar Montes de Oca, vows to evict the squatters. So it would take decades of pay for the average Mexican worker to buy one. Around Tulum, $20 per day is considered a good wage. dollars - as are entrance fees at many seaside resorts. The settlement is part of a larger, 500-acre (200 hectare) stretch of public land that was sold by city officials to largely foreign developers in the 2000s.Ĭondos on the edge of the camp - and some well inside it- now sell for $100,000 to $150,000 and are advertised in U.S. “We do not have any personal problems with the foreigners, but they should respect our rights,” he said, adding that October 2 represents a last stand for Mexicans being priced out of their own coast. “These people are not thieves they are Tulum’s workforce.”
It’s like saying someone is stealing something that belongs to him,” said León Méndez. “How can a Mexican be an ‘invader’ in his own country? That makes no sense. Squatter leader Jose Antonio León Méndez, a welder who has lived in Cancun and Tulum for about three decades, says he - like many of the squatters who work as cooks, gardeners and bricklayers at surrounding condos and hotels - was tired of knowing he could never afford a home in towns increasingly filled with foreigners. Officials claim the “invaders” have created a semi-lawless enclave that has worsened Tulum’s reputation for growing violence and threatened the vital tourism industry. As many as 250,000 people are believed to live in squatter communities on the outskirts of Cancun. But others gradually become integrated into their cities. Such land invasions are common across Mexico. It was founded in 2016 on very valuable and once-public land a few blocks off the main street in town and about 1 1/2 miles (2 kilometers) from the shore. Officials in Quintana Roo state have vowed to relocate or remove about 12,000 inhabitants of the 340-acre (137-hectare) October 2 settlement. On a coast where unchecked resort development has already closed most public access to beaches - there are only a few public access points on the 80-mile (130 km) stretch known as the Riviera Maya - residents of the squatters' camp may have reason to ask whether poorer Mexicans will be allowed here at all. The contrast between rich and poor is stark: Gleaming white four-story condos with vaguely Mayan-sounding names and English slogans like “Live in the Luscious Jungle” and “An immersive spiritual experience” stand next to shacks made of poles, packing crates, tarps and tin roofing.
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