The beginning of police operations in the streets of Rosario following the arrival of troops and mobile units, with the aim of confronting the escalation of violence, "invited" Clarín
to
take a tour to observe
the brand new deployment through the hot areas of the city
of Santa Fe, today in the eye of the storm due to the wave of drug trafficking crimes that occurred days ago.
"It could be anyone who triggers you." "Narcos have no contemplation."
"You can't walk calmly through the streets."
"You have to be very careful."
"Do you have to take that route?"
Comments of all kinds, not only from the surroundings themselves, but also from ordinary Rosario residents, daunted the chronicler,
insecure in a beautiful city
, both building and cultural, but with a current reputation for the underground.
After 11 pm on Friday, the rain does not let up, as has been happening for the last four days in Rosario.
"Don't worry, nothing is going to happen to you with me
. "
Born and raised in this city, in the southern zone, Tatín is an immense photojournalist in every sense, which provides some peace of mind.
We leave the center and take Carlos Pellegrini Boulevard, known for its varied gastronomic proposal.
Although it is late and the weather is not favorable, the social landscape looks busy, nothing like what was noticed two nights ago.
You see young people drinking beer on the sidewalks, you hear music coming from a bar, another restaurant is fifty percent occupied, and you can feel the hustle and bustle typical of a rainy Friday.
We stop at a hamburger restaurant.
"It's going well, today we're working well, we'll be there until at least two o'clock
," says the cashier.
Police?
I didn't see around here, but they told me that from time to time a patrol car passes by." Three friends sitting and eating a promotional menu do not shy away from the question. "We spent the whole week without going out, today our parents left us but
we have to return at twelve at the latest
," say Cande and Anto. "We are not afraid, we are careful," they say.
We return to the car and it is suggested to the photographer to continue through the friendly area.
"I'm going to take you to the Rosario posta, trust me, I know people."
So much enthusiasm invited distrust and the absence of police personnel in sight at the moment made the stomach
flutter
, even though the night up there seemed like that of London, not only because of the weather... You can see taxis, buses and Also
service stations closed between 22 and 6
, in protest for the murder of the beachgoer.
Four young people walk past midnight, under the intense rain, through Tablada.
Photo Juan José García
The rain intensifies, added to the thunder and lightning, which make up a set designed by Los Monos.
A red traffic light lasts forever on Belgrano Street, heading towards the Circunvalación, where "the other Rosario" begins.
There is a grimace of relief when we see, next to us, an empty taxi.
We propose contact.
"I don't see any gray hair, let's not fool around, it's the same old story,
" says the young driver. "Of course I'm afraid, they killed two of us the week before, but if I don't work, my son won't eat... Passengers "
They stop me on the street, but I don't even stop them
, only the radio people and the casino people."
Green, we continue.
"Chalamán" by Los Abuelos de la Nada plays on the radio.
"Sometimes I think/That you no longer have an effect on me, and I say/On the street I will look for you/On the street I will find you, no, no, no, no, no."
Tatín, a photographer with vast experience in this type of coverage and an elite driver, accompanies the song somewhat out of tune.
Newell's fan, do you think we are going to the field to shout the goals of the Paraguayan Cáceres?
"We are going to Tablada, where last year the highest number of homicides was recorded
. I know you well, you smoke," she comments as if she had said that we were heading towards Independence Park.
A police van standing guard at a closed gas station.
Photo Juan José García
We are in the Tablada neighborhood and unrest reigns inside the car.
We travel along the two-way street, from 3000 to 4300, and we don't see patrol cars or police officers on foot.
A cyclist passes by, the closest thing to a
kamikaze
, and Tatín wants to take the devastating image, worthy of a Pulitzer.
"
Take a photo of me, you won't find any police
," shouts the fifty-year-old smilingly as he pedals away.
"There's a policeman, I saw a blue light," I almost scream, as if it were a UFO.
We go there, but the blue light disappears from sight and we try to follow it.
We turned in a U and
found two brand new white vans, recently arrived from the province of Buenos Aires.
We get off at Maestros Santafesinos and Isola.
We approached the trucks, opening our hands, as a sign of friendship.
Two uniformed officers get out and two others from the vehicle in front join in.
"The night is there, calm, but
we must not trust it, it is very treacherous
. These people cannot be at home in peace, they shit fighting so they need to go out and do quilombo," reflects a Chaco gendarme who arrived a month ago Rosary beads.
"We already know the terrain well, we have been weaving the streets (sic), at this moment
there are 20 mobiles only covering the 3 kilometers by 2.5 of Tablada."
"We have 20 cell phones roaming the Tablada neighborhood," said one of the uniformed officers.
Photo: Juan José García.
We stayed for a while chatting with the uniformed men.
Two more approach on foot, one of them carrying a long weapon that could be a shotgun.
Its size is impressive, however
being there is calm
.
Shake your head Tatín, we're leaving.
A few turns take us to a dead end,
we turn back and four young men in hoodies walk towards us.
We accelerate
and they avoid us but they look at us intimidatingly until they get lost in a passage.
"They look like they're looking for a cave," says the driver behind the wheel.
A few meters away, a young man is sitting at the door of a laundromat.
Only.
He draws attention.
We get closer and he seems to recognize Tatín.
"What are you doing crazy... here, calm down.
Watching all this spectacle. Another one from the police, right? Pure
horror
. In two days you don't see anyone, as usually happens."
We are soaked, back to the car and we enter a street without a sign.
Suddenly,
a red car flashes its lights at us, follows us and when we touch it, it pulls over to the side
, on the passenger side.
He rolls down the window and he is big and sports a red muscle shirt.
He stares for a moment, until he turns onto the U, known as "the street of the miscreants."
This chronicler insists on finishing the tour after the bad experience.
It's almost half past one and the streets, at least those of Tablada, are not crowded with uniformed men as announced by Minister Patricia Bullrich.
Red light, I insist on not stopping, but we brake.
Another taxi appears and accepts the
door-to-door dialogue.
"There's little movement, people are very confined... I see police in some areas, but it's kind of sporadic
. I leave them, I'm going to the casino, it's a trip."
Taxi drivers at the casino, picking up passengers.
Photo Juan José García
Just the idea of going to the casino, five minutes from Tablada, is oxygenating.
We arrived quickly and
it gives the impression of being in Las Vegas, it doesn't seem like this version of Rosario
that we are describing.
You can see a queue of at least 20 taxis and the casino door has nothing to envy of the turnstiles on the 9 de Julio subway.
An older man, parked with beacons, mutteringly agrees to talk.
"Today, Friday, I'm going out with my friends and my wife is coming to play. I'm waiting for her. It's her money, I can't do anything.
Scared? This could be the far-west thing that my wife doesn't move from the machines.
" .
A casino security looks at us with an unfriendly face.
"Where are they from? What do they do?" he asks. "They can't park there."
We leave, or we show that we are leaving, but we turn around and return to the casino through another wing, where the endless line of taxis is.
The noise of the drops hitting hard on the hood forces us to raise our voices.
"
Today I returned to work at night after four days, I couldn't support myself anymore
," says veteran Samuel, waiting for his passenger.
"The police stopped me twice in the last hour. They asked me and my passenger for documents," says Samuel, the taxi driver.
He says that he has never spent so many nights without working, but that he gained momentum.
"You see and hear that there are announcements, that reinforcements arrive, patrol cars, the problem is that you don't see them - he gets bitter -. Of course, it's not like you're going to bump into a police officer on every block, what do I know... What I can tell you is that
in the last hour they stopped me twice and you know what, it seemed good to me
. They asked me for my document, my license and they also searched my passengers. You have to start with something and I tell you that the "The fear I had when the night started has gone away. It's almost two o'clock, one more trip home, because my wife is on the verge of a heart attack."
We do the same, against the will of Tatín, who suggested going to Las Flores, another peripheral neighborhood that is on the red list.
"Leave me at the hotel, and come back."
It seems like a comedy move, but we finish the day.
From the casino to Dorrego Street and Salta, in the center, we did not meet police officers
.
Drenched, we lowered the blinds on a disturbing evening.
Now we have to lower the decibels, the adrenaline is very high.
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