Company Town
The factory is more than just a workplace. It's an entire community. About a hundred years ago, the owners built housing for their workers.
Laurels planted when the town was built have grown large, making shady tunnels.
Scores of houses run down the streets. All share an identical design: Window to the left of the door, power meter to the right, a single lamp over each door.
These are houses, not barracks, but they're as uniform and neat as an army base.
This hamlet is called Soria, after the factory. Like any good Mexican community, it has a shrine to Guadalupe.
Colored light bulbs and fresh-ish flowers lend an upbeat look to this usually solemn image.
The 243 houses were built to exacting specifications, but over the years, make-do ingenuity has left its mark.
A milk can shields a lamp; another hangs from zip cord looped over a shelf rack, black electrician's tape slowly loosening over the splices.
The factory owners saw to the workers' spiritual needs. As churches go, it's pretty modest, but it's well-maintained and clearly receives a lot of use.
In front of the church, a young mother looks after four children. Surely they're not all hers.
Someone thought of everything: even a soccer field.
You old Mexico hands, at least those of you in central and northern Mexico, will notice something unusual about this soccer field.
It's green.
Except for those played on by professional teams, I've never seen a grassy soccer field in Mexico. They're always dirt. Always dusty. Or muddy.
During our factory tour, I asked the general manager, Sr. Cordova, about the field. He told me that the factory treated all the water used in dying yarns and then used it to irrigate the town's gardens and trees, as well as the soccer field.
The factory owns all of the houses. Residents pay weekly rent. According to this notice, they are to pay on Mondays between 9 AM and 12 PM.
Herein lies the mystery I alluded to in my previous post. If, due to automation, the factory now employs fewer than 50 workers, then who lives in the workers' housing?
The answer is: Former workers. Or descendants of former workers. And the factory is trying to get them out.
Negociación Fabril de Soria S. A. de C. V. has filed suit against most of the town's residents, demanding their eviction. The residents counter that their families have lived in these houses for a hundred years, and they should be allowed to stay. They've marched with banners and signs down the highway to Celaya. They've occupied the Presidencia, blocking public access. As of today, the dispute remains unresolved.
There's more than meets the eye in this little utopia. The shady streets are peaceful and serene, but hearts are not.