Across an alley, residents can step into another time
http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/mexico/20041030-9999-1n30...
By Sandra Dibble
October 30, 2004
CIUDAD COAHUILA, Baja California ? When daylight-saving time ends tomorrow, gaining an hour ? or losing it ? will be a question of seconds in this
quiet Colorado River Delta community. The few seconds it takes to step across a dirt alley that runs behind some bars and small shops.
The alley, known as Callejon Sonora, divides two time zones ? and that can create some curious situations.
Students can leave for school at 8:45 a.m. and get there by the time the bell rings at 8 a.m. Patrons can leave a bar when it closes at midnight, then
cross the street to find a drinking establishment where last call is still an hour away. New Year's revelers get to whoop and cheer two times.
"It's definitely to my advantage," said high school student Maria Baldenebro, 15, smiling as she contemplated the extra hour of sleep she'll be
getting come next week. She crosses the international time line each day when she goes to classes.
Time lines zigzag around communities or follow geographic features as they divide the globe, so such peculiar situations usually are avoided. But not
here.
Technically, this place is two separate towns. On the eastern side of the alley, it's Mountain time in the town of Luis B. Sanchez, Sonora. On the
western side, it's Pacific time in Ciudad Coahuila, Baja California.
For half the year they're synchronized, because Baja California sets its clocks forward in April for daylight-saving time, while Sonora does not.
But at 2 a.m. tomorrow, Baja Californians will set their clocks back an hour to standard time, creating the hour difference.
Time difference or not, residents say they're a single community. And except for the giant green welcome signs above the main street connecting the
two ? a street called Calle Cuarta in Baja California, Cinco de Mayo in Sonora ? they look much the same: the same streets that flood with
schoolchildren every afternoon, same yards with bougainvillea blossoms, same small concrete houses where residents sit outside and talk in the
evening.
As dusk fell one day this week, TV sets in stores, bars, city offices and private homes flashed images of the latest telenovela, or soap opera.
Outside, the sun's last rays cast a soft, pink glow over the small downtown as trails of dust rose with each passing pickup.
This is a community sundered by nature and geopolitics. But residents say that doesn't change the relationship between the two sides.
"It's the same family," said Bonifacio Nu?ez, 54, a fertilizer salesman who lives in Luis B. Sanchez but crosses to Baja California and then into
California to buy his product in El Centro.
In the winter months, time stands still as he leaves the house by 8 a.m., drives for an hour and gets to the border at 8 a.m.
Field workers and their families make up most of the population of both towns, about 15,000 on each side by one count, though even official estimates
vary widely. They show up at the same dances, they shop at the same stores, and their children march in the same parades.
"Sometimes it gets complicated when we say, 'The parade starts at 8,' and then some people show up at 9, and by then it's almost over," said Carlos
Contreras, a government official in Luis B. Sanchez.
The two communities originated in 1937 as a single town, if you could call it that. It was a collection of small houses clustered around a tiny, rural
railroad stop at the far southern end of Baja California's Mexicali Valley. Back then, they called it Estacion Coahuila, or simply Kilometro 57, for
its spot on the railway line.
Cotton was then king in the Mexicali Valley, and in its early years this was a prosperous community, Manuel Rojas wrote in his 2002 book, "La Estrella
Dividida" (The Divided Star). But its fortunes fell after it split into two communities.
"It's a very sad story," said Rojas, who grew up in Estacion Coahuila and now lives in the Baja California state capital, Mexicali. By dividing the
community, "they caused damage, and the change of time is just one part of it."
Originally, the entire area was part of Baja California, divided from Sonora by the Colorado River. Then the river changed its course, shifting
slightly to the west. That changed everything.
Hoping to gain territory and tax revenue, Sonora argued that the border should be redrawn to reflect the river's new course. That set off a bitter
dispute with Baja California, which Mexico's federal government resolved in 1945 in the manner of King Solomon.
The area was split in half and the railway track was used as the dividing line, sort of. The actual boundary ? nobody can explain why ? is Callejon
Sonora, about 100 yards east of the tracks.
That created the community that exists today, split between two municipalities, two states and two time zones. There may be inconveniences, but many
residents say they've learned to live with them. "Estamos impuestos," they say, and shrug. "We're used to it."
There also are certain advantages.
Nicol?s Mart?nez Meza, 46, an architect who is the top local government official in Ciudad Coahuila, said New Year's can be twice the fun. After
trading abrazos, or hugs, on one side, "all I have to do is leap across the alley, wait an hour and then get another abrazo."
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