El Bosque, Mexico, a tiny fishing village on Mexico’s Gulf Coast, is quickly vanishing into the sea. In this episode, we journey to El Bosque to meet the town’s most unlikely hero—one person determined to fight for a future as her neighbors flee the encroaching waves.
This episode was reported by Alvaro Céspedes. It was hosted by Carlyle Calhoun and Alvaro. Editing by Johanna Zorn, Carlyle Calhoun, with additional help from Ricardo Lopez Cordero. Translation by Elsa Gil (as Lupe Cobos) and Sofia Garfias (as Cristina Pacheco). Fact-checking by Garrett Hazelwood. Our theme music is by Jon Batiste, and our sound designer is Emily Jankowski. Carlyle Calhoun is the executive producer.
Sea Change is a WWNO and WRKF production. We are part of the NPR Podcast Network and distributed by PRX. Sea Change is made possible with major support from the Gulf Research Program of the National Academy of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine. Sea Change is also supported by the Water Collaborative of Greater New Orleans. WWNO’s Coastal Desk is supported by the Walton Family Foundation, the Meraux Foundation, and the Greater New Orleans Foundation.
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TRANSCRIPT
The Unlikely Hero of El Bosque
INTRO
I’m Carlyle Calhoun and you’re listening to Sea Change.
I got this intriguing email from a journalist not too long ago. His name is Alvaro Cespedes and he’s based in Mexico City. I called him up because I wanted to know more about this story he had mentioned.
Hello, Carlyle. Good to talk with you!
Hey Alvaro, good to talk with you too! So you are a journalist, researcher, award-winning podcast producer and you report on all kinds of stories from human rights issues to the Latin American music reggaetón.
And in your email to me you told me about this one story you’ve been reporting on, and it definitely caught my attention.
Yeah, I wrote to you about this tiny fishing village on the Gulf Coast. On Mexico’s Gulf coast. I went there for the first time in February to report. Because this village, it’s quickly vanishing into the sea.
And when I read your email I was struck that it was an extreme version of a story that’s happening here, on the U.S. Gulf Coast.
Yes, but in Mexico, this was the first time we’d ever seen this here. And our government, for the first time ever, classified people from this village as “climate refugees.”
And that term, climate refugees, is being heard more and more frequently, even though it is not yet a status officially recognized by international law.
The impacts of climate change are forcing people all over the world to flee their homes because of more extreme weather and rising sea levels.
And this is what is happening in El Bosque. we told this story for a podcast I produce in Mexico City, called Delirios Crónicos –
And most people who listened to this episode were shocked, They had never heard about this place and what's going on down there. The region is often misunderstood and underreported. And El Bosque really is a tiny town.
But their lives and what’s happening there, matter. And so we wanted to share this story with audiences in the US.
And I’m so glad you did share it. Because while none of us really know all the answers for how we are going to deal with all the huge issues that are coming because of climate change, sharing stories is how we make sense of what’s happening, how we can support each other, and how we can work to address these really big problems we are facing.
Absolutely. And, this story also tells a lot about how my country works. Mexico is obviously no stranger to climate change. But at the moment, our government is spending more resources on oil drilling and refining than ever before.
And people who suffer the immediate consequences of this policy are the ones who have been historically left out of decision making. However, there’s always resistance from unlikely heroes. In El Bosque, it was Guadalupe Cobos, Doña Lupe. You’ll meet her in just a moment.
Coming up, Alvaro takes us to El Bosque, Mexico, a tiny village on Mexico’s Gulf - way down south near the Yucatan Peninsula.
BREAK
Lupe Cobos was used to the sound of baseballs smacking against her roof almost every day. She lives in the center of El Bosque, a small fishing town on Mexico’s gulf coast. Her home is right next to the park where people gather for quinceañera parties, weddings, neighborhood meetings and soccer matches. But most of all, it was where the children of this town played the region’s favorite sport: baseball.
Lupe Cobos: Entonces siempre me enojaba porque como jugaban pelota, siempre el la base de la primera la ponían como por ahí. Entonces los fouls caían en mi casa y yo decía “¡Cómo los odio!”
“I used to get so mad. When they played baseball, they put first base over there and the foul balls would fall on my house and I’d say ‘I hate them so much!’.
Until very recently, the park used to be full of children every day after school. Lupe took advantage of the games to sell some snacks to the spectators — everyone knew she made the best.
Now, that park is unkempt, the pitcher’s plate and the bases are covered with weeds and grass. Lupe stopped selling chicharrones and corn on the cob to her friends and neighbors during the games. And she no longer hears the sound of baseballs hitting her roof.
Lupe Cobos: Pero hoy los extraño. Me caían las pelotas, Digo “cómo los odio” y los extraño
“But today I miss them. The balls fell, I’d say I hate them, and now I miss them”
The children stopped going to school, and the fishermen no longer live there. Just 2 years ago, almost the entire community had to quickly pack their things and flee.
Today, the town of El Bosque barely exists. Most of it is submerged under the gulf of Mexico.
Lupe Cobos: Teníamos lo básico agua, luz, escuela primaria, teníamos preescolar para nuestros hijos. Últimamente había llegado una secundaria. Estaba en el desarrollo la comunidad. Pero no nos cambia la vida porque llega el cambio climático.“We had the basics. Water, electricity, a primary school, and a preschool for our children. The community was developing. But that doesn’t change our lives, because then climate change came.
Lupe settled in El Bosque when she was only 12 years old. It was here that she grew up, fell in love, married, and started a family.
Lupe Cobos: Y aquí empezó nuestra vida, aquí nacieron mis hijas, este, crecieron mis hijos. Ya tengo una nieta grande y. Por por ser una mamá muy joven, pues tengo ya nietos grande.
“Our life began here. My daughters were born here, my sons grew up here. I already have grown grandchildren since I was a very young mum”
El Bosque is also where Lupe worked numerous jobs to support her growing family. And one of those jobs was fishing for crab and huachinango, red snapper, alongside many of her neighbors in El Bosque.
Lupe Cobos: Me gusta pescar. No por hobby, pescamos porque vivimos de la pesca. No por diversión, porque hay mucha gente que se dedica a pescar por diversión. Nosotros no. Nosotros pescamos porque vivimos de la pesca.
“I like fishing. Not as a hobby. We fish because that’s how we make a living. Not like people who fish for fun. We fish because it’s our livelihood.
You probably have never heard of El Bosque. Even as Mexicans, El Bosque is little-known. It’s one of hundreds of tiny fishing communities scattered along the Mexican gulf coast where people have maintained their way of life for generations. In Spanish, Bosque means forest, and the name is not surprising when you notice that the sandy beaches are lined with pine and coconut trees. It really is a unique landscape, . And Lupe describes how enchanting it was just a few years ago.
Lupe Cobos: Era lo que se llama escuchen, Bosque era un bosque. No, nosotros estábamos lleno de arbolada. O sea, los árboles ahí estaban, el mar, ahí estaba. Quién no quiere una casa en el mar? A ver, dime, divino.
Listen, it used to be what you’d call a forest. We were surrounded by trees.The trees were there, the sea was there. Who wouldn’t want a house by the sea? It was beautiful.
Now, let me tell you a little bit about how the weather patterns work in El Bosque, because that helps explain why the village lost its battle with the sea.
The fishing communities along the Gulf of Mexico, especially those in the Mexican state of Tabasco, are governed by a phenomenon locally known as "El Norte." These are colder air currents coming from the north that create tropical storms and cause the tide to rise several meters. When the storm passes, the sea returns to its original state. People have lived with the rising and falling of El Norte tides for as long as anyone here can remember.
But not too long ago, the pattern began to change, The sea was gaining ground, inching closer to their homes—something they had never imagined possible. Lupe remembers it well.
Lupe Cobos: Ya no se regresó al mar y ahí vimos que algo estaba pasando, o sea que nuestra vida se iba, Nos enfila. Vamos a perderlo todo. Porque fue sorpresivo, la verdad. No pensamos que el mar. El mar, avanzaba por norte. Vamos a decir que unos cinco metros. Y teníamos mucha tierra para sostener eso. Y en el otro norte se regresaba esos cinco metros. Era muy dinámico. Pero el problema ya fue que si el mar avanzaba diez metros, diez se quedaba, avanzaba 40, 40, se quedaba. Y ese paso nos acaba muy rápido, muy rápido.
…and it didn’t recede. That’s when we saw something was happening. Our life was slipping away. We were going to lose everything. It was a shock, truly. The sea would usually advance about five metres due to El Norte, but we had enough land to hold it back. Then it would recede. It was dynamic. The problem was when the sea moved forward ten metres, it stayed ten metres forward.
Then one winter … while the village slept the waves came through their windows, ruining furniture, fridges, important documents...
And though it seemed like it was a catastrophe that made no sense at all… actually it was the result of a natural process called coastal erosion. That’s the gradual wearing away and retreat of the shoreline due to factors such as waves, tides, ocean currents, and wind. And El Bosque is especially vulnerable to coastal erosion because of its unique location. It is located right where the Grijalva river, one of Mexico’s most abundant rivers, meets the sea. You can’t tell where one begins and the other one ends.
As the sea rose, so did the river, endangering the community from both sides.
Lilly Gama: It's like a huge Delta. It's in Mexico, one third of the water of all Mexico cross here.
This is Dr. Liliana Gama. She’s a local conservation biologist who has been studying El Bosque for decades. Dr. Gama first started visiting El Bosque for a very different reason: to study monkeys. When she first came to the village monkeys roamed freely through the town… now, only a few remain. But Dr. Gama also noticed that El norte patterns in El Bosque were behaving erratically. And she turned her attention from monkeys to the sea.
Lilly Gama: I think the main problem here is climate change because the rains and the winds and the waves are increasing in their impacts and are increasing in their frequency. So we are having these natural events, let's say like huge, every year we have this. But they are now increasing, they stay longer, they are stronger, and that's what climate change is bringing to our area.
El Bosque is a small strip of land which makes it even more vulnerable because people cannot move further inland as the sea rises. El Bosque started losing the few square miles of ground that it had.
Lilly Gama:When we first went there, it was about 2005 and the loss wasn't that fast, but it started increasing. It got faster each year. But the worst part was the last 10 years.
And by 2019, Lupe tells me it was clear that the village was in danger.
Lupe Cobos: para el 19 Nombre el mar se acercó como 40 metros hasta llegarle a las viviendas. Y yo dije no, aquí algo está pasando que no es normal.
Es un amigo que yo leía, buscaba una respuesta, no nada más yo, la gente, todo mundo hacía lo mismo. Así es. Y aquí nos reuníamos, verdad? Y decíamos que no está pasando. Será que se va a acabar el bosque y empieza la incertidumbre?
By 2019 the sea came about 40 metres inland, right up to the houses. And I said, something’s happening that’s not normal. I read, I looked for answers. Everybody was doing the same. We’d gather here and ask “What’s happening? Is El Bosque going to disappear?” That’s when the uncertainty began.
Feeling scared, Lupe wanted to understand what was going on, and what she could do to save her community. Everyone in town felt the same, but they couldn’t really pinpoint what was going on. Like most adults in El Bosque, Lupe had never heard about climate change. But no matter what it took, Lupe was determined to save the place she loved so much.
Lupe Cobos: Nunca me imaginé que de la noche a la mañana yo tenía que ser como la cara de la comunidad y que más tarde se iba a volver como un hasta un trabajo, no de que de de tanto trabajo que se ha hecho para que nos voltearan a ver. Y eso también implicó pues aprender más no? A ver, que que debo de decir, como debo de abordar el tema.
"I never imagined that overnight I’d become the face of the community, and that later it would even become a kind of job, with all the work we’ve done to get people to notice us. And that meant I had to learn more, too. Like what to say, how to talk about the issue."
Lupe started talking with experts and activists to learn about climate change and how coastal erosion is devastating coastlines. Dr. Gama became a close advisor to Lupe, and she watched her grow into a confident spokesperson for her village.
Lilly Gama: Actually, she's the leader of the group and she understands very well what's going on and is fighting for the community. Actually, what they got was because she fights for the community.
Lupe Cobos: Mi nombre es Guadalupe Cobos Pacheco. Vengo de la comunidad del Bosque, una comunidad de pescadores ahí en Tabasco, México.
That’s Lupe speaking at a recent conference in Oaxaca, Mexico.
Lupe often travels throughout Mexico, meeting scientists and activists from around the world. When just a few years ago she would never leave her town.
Every chance she gets, Lupe speaks passionately and eloquently about the defense of her community, her territory, and her traditions. She uses her voice to demand help for the emergency she and her neighbors are living through.
MUSIC
I meet Lupe at her house in El Bosque. The shoreline is now just 20 steps away from her front door. We walk around what’s left of her village.
The sea has swallowed everything in its path. It erased more than three blocks of paved streets, houses, streetlights, sewer systems, telephone lines, and trees.
Lupe Cobos: Esta era una. Una iglesia evangélica que ya nada más quedan sus estructuras. Esta era una casa de salud.
ALVARO: Era como el centro de salud.
Lupe Cobos: Así es. Y este? Y had después de esta iglesia había una calle ahí adelante. Pues ahí se pueden ver los postes de luz.
ALVARO: Esto era una calle?
Lupe Cobos: Esto era una calle. Pero una calle.
"This used to be an evangelical church, now only the structure is left. This was a health clinic. And after this church, there was a street just ahead. You can still see the light poles. This was a street. A real street."
Today, that street is sand, covered not only with sticks and stones but also with bits and pieces of the town: plastic waste, pieces of concrete, broken asphalt, bags of chips, and cans of soda and beer.
But the waves that relentlessly crash against the coast of El Bosque allow for some memories to resurface.
Lupe Cobos: aquel árbol que ves. Donde están esos dos pelícanos? Ese árbol era un pino y nada más. Es lo que queda. Pero de ese pino todavía para afuera. Uy! Había mucha tierra de por medio y mira donde está el árbol. Está en el agua. Es increíble, eh?
"That tree you see, where those two pelicans are? That tree used to be a pine, and that’s all that’s left. But beyond that pine there used to be so much land, and now look where the tree is. It’s in the water. Incredible, right?"
That tree, with its remaining branches sticking out above the water, is a grim reminder of what El Bosque was named after: a forest. Next to it, structures of houses can be seen, now tilted to one side and submerged more than halfway under a murky and violent sea.
El Bosque used to have around 150 houses. Now, less than 10 remain. The shoreline advanced so much that today the waves crash against the school’s facade, and water constantly seeps through its windows.
Lupe Cobos: Esta escuela teníamos. Cuando empezó la erosión costera, teníamos como 50… 50 alumnos, entre 40 y 50 alumnos de hoy, primero, segundo, tercero, 4.º, 5.º y 6.º. Hoy ya no queda nada.
"This was our school. When the coastal erosion began, we had around 50, 40 to 50 students in first through sixth grade. Now there’s nothing left."
The sand completely covers what once were those two classrooms. On their ceilings, there are two fans, with blades so damaged and rusted that they are now facing downward, as if the relentless sun beating on the roof had melted them.
The school had no other choice but to close in 2022. Staring at the building where her children learned to read and write, Lupe tells me that she hasn't gotten over its loss.
Lupe Cobos: Está sumergida en el mar. Le llevó con todo. Tenía unos ventanales de vidrio bien bonitos. Estábamos. Yo presumía mi escuela. Cuando venían los de llaves que hacían un seminario. Yo presumía mi escuela y hacíamos comida para los que venían los maestros de otros lugares, no? para que vieran que teníamos una escuela. Estaba bonita. Estaba en el mar, Estaba bien, bien hecha, con todo lo necesario.
It’s underwater now. The sea took it all. It had these beautiful glass windows. I used to be very proud of my school. When visitors came I would show it off. We cooked meals for teachers who came from other places so they could see that we had a school, and it was a good one. It was by the sea, well built, fully equipped.
The case of coastal erosion affecting the community of El Bosque is not an isolated one. Villages on the coasts of Chile, Spain, Australia and the US too are threatened by coastal erosion.
But this problem seemed not to have affected Mexico. Until El Bosque. And Lupe had spent years trying to bring attention to her village, to the imminent disaster that would come knocking at her door if people just stood and stared. And so far, the authorities seemed not to care.
But then one day, during the daily press conference by the president, Lupe’s hard work seemed to pay off.
At the podium was Andrés Manuel López Obrador, president of Mexico from 2018 to 2024… Lopez Obrador also happens to be from the same state as El Bosque - Tabasco.
And in the audience was Arturo Conteras, a journalist who had been reporting on coastal erosion in El Bosque.
Arturo Conteras: En la desembo cadura del río Grijalva, en Tabasco, hay una pequeña comunidad que se llama El Bosque. Desde 2019 el mar ha estado empezando a comerle terreno a El Bosque y las casas se están yendo.
Ellos ubicaron ya un programa de la Secretaría de Desarrollo Agrario, Territorial Urbano de la Sedatu, para que sean atendidos. Sin embargo, lo que me dicen organizaciones que lo están acompañando en este proceso es que la Sedatu dice que no tiene presupuesto para esto. Entonces, pues pues qué respuesta hay para para la comunidad del Bosque Tabasco
In front of all of the politicians and journalists Contreras says….There’s a small community called El Bosque, and the sea has started to eat away its land. He says that the village reached out to the Ministry for Agrarian and Urban Development for help. But the people of El Bosque were told that the agency didn’t have enough money.
And then Contreras asks… So, what’s your answer to this community?
President Lopez Obrador had directed massive investments to his home-state of Tabasco… roads, bridges, even an enormous oil refinery, but he seemed surprised by what this journalist had just told him.
In a most fortunate coincidence, Lopez Obrador’s secretary of infrastructure was sitting right next to him, and he was planning to visit the region to inaugurate a new bridge later that same day. The president turned to his secretary, and pronounced a sentence that would change everything for El Bosque.
PRESIDENT OBRADOR: este va a esa zona, van a inaugurar un camino y un puente o nada más. Es el puente entre la capital con los accesos. Si van cerca de ahí van a Quintín Araos, que está en el mismo municipio del Bosque. Es el municipio de centro y el bosque está en la desembocadura del Grijalva y del Usumacinta.
Entonces este te lo encargo.
“Te lo encargo” can translate to “please take care of it”. And with that phrase,, the president of Mexico gave an ambiguous instruction to his Secretary of Infrastructure. .
Lupe and her friends considered this a victory. Their cry for help had been heard at the very top. And from that day on, what was happening in El Bosque started to attract attention. A lot of attention.
NEWS CLIP: “Una tierra prácticamente engullida por el mar. En el estado de Tabasco, en el sur de México, los residentes de la comunidad costere de El Bosque observan horrorizados cómo el mar va ganando cada vez más terreno, llevándose las casas en las que ellos y sus familias crecieron.”
NEWS CLIP “En 2 años, la comunidad El Bosque en el municipio de Frontera en Tabasco, perdió 500 metros de costa, el mar destruyó 30 de las 70 casas…
After that press conference, the government of the state of Tabasco did something that had never been done before in Mexico: it recognized the people of El Bosque as displaced due to the effects of climate change. Having won this official designation, the people of the fishing community were now subject to relocation, arranged and paid for by Lopez Obrador’s government.
In November 2024, they officially granted 51 houses to the newly displaced residents of El Bosque, located in the city of Frontera, about 7 miles inland.
Coming up, I travel to the city of Frontera to see for myself how the new Bosque compares to the old one, and how its inhabitants are adapting.
BREAK
I visit El Nuevo Bosque, Spanish for The New Bosque, as this place is known, in mid February. The ferocious summer heat is still months away, but people’s clothes, and my own, are all soaking with sweat.
El Bosque, the old one, is just 7 miles away. But in the new one, the sun just hits differently. The sound of the soft breeze is replaced by the roaring of passing trucks. There are simply no trees, and so the only place where people can take refuge from the unforgiving Tabasco sun is inside their newly built, grey-brick houses. .
It still smells new, with very clean concrete streets and rows of houses—all identical and tightly packed together, freshly painted.
Cristina Pacheco: Es este olor del mar este. Porque mi casa sí estaba más cerca del mar. Entonces ese olor que te despierte en las mañanas ya no era el mismo. [00:16:46][11.8]
"It’s the smell of the sea. My house was closer to the sea. That smell that used to wake you up in the morning. It’s not the same anymore."
That’s Cristina Pacheco, Lupe 's sister. She’s three years younger, but her expressions are almost identical, and they both share a deep and long running love for the town they once called home. She welcomes me into her new house.
Cristina Pacheco: Pues sí, estamos contentos. Estamos contentos, pero no es lo que quisiéramos, porque la verdad nosotros teníamos una vida hecha en el bosque. Nosotros teníamos equipo de pesca. Pero todo eso lo perdí. Teníamos Lanchas. Nosotros en lo particular teníamos la lancha sierrera.
Yeah, we’re happy. We’re happy. But it’s not what we wanted, because we had our whole life built in El Bosque. We had fishing gear. But I lost it all.
Cristina lost her home on Christmas Eve 2023, while she was preparing to celebrate with her family. Waves started to come in through the doors and windows, and she knew she had to leave right away.
Between that day and the delivery of her home in El nuevo Bosque, nearly a year passed in which she had to rent, stay in borrowed spaces, and spend nights in shelters.
Cristina Pacheco:yo tenía una pintura que igual me hizo mi yerno. De De este Del bosque. El faro. Sí, la mar. La mar. Este. Árboles. Palmeras. Y eso es. Lo primero que me despertaba era mirarlo, porque era como la la puesta de sol que me hizo. Y este y. Y ya me levantaba yo y le digo Ya abría yo mi ventana y ya veía yo mi jardín que estaba enfrente, las flores que tenía yo sembradas y ya miraba yo para el río, porque esa vista era para el río.
"I had a painting my son in law made for me, of El Bosque. The lighthouse, the sea, the trees, the palms. The sun was setting. That’s the first thing I’d see in the morning. Then I’d open my window and look out at my garden, the flowers I had planted. Then I’d look toward the river."
Cristina, like everyone we spoke with, refers to where they now live, as "the city." It is essentially the opposite of El Bosque —big, unfamiliar and far from the sea.
Cristina and her neighbors’ way of life changed ever since they stopped fishing. Even their diet. They used to eat fish and jaiba, soft shell crab, for almost every meal. Now, they have to settle with eating a lot more eggs and chicken.
Cristina Pacheco: te cambia la vida, es un cambio radical. De la pesca que nosotros estábamos acostumbrados… Yo me levantaba, me iba a esperar mi equipo de pesca. Ya después, había traído el pescado y a hacer el desayuno fresco.
"It changes your life. It’s a radical change. From the fishing life we were used to… I’d get up and get my gear. Then we’d bring back some fish and make a fresh breakfast."
The landscape has changed drastically—instead of the sea, they now look out their windows and see grassy fields where cows graze.
Cristina Pacheco: Yo y mi mamá tuvimos que recurrir al psicólogo. Para aceptar. Para aceptar que que perdimos y que no había otra cosa más que hacer más esperar a ver qué pasaba con nosotros.
"My mum and I had to go to a psychologist. To accept. To accept that we had lost everything. And that there was nothing left to do but wait and see what would happen to us."
Like all the houses in El Nuevo Bosque, Cristina’s has three bedrooms, a small kitchen, a living-dining area, and a laundry space outside. The entire El Nuevo Bosque project cost 38 million pesos, that’s around 2 million dollars.
Still, They’ve lost so much.
Cristina Pacheco: Los niños de primaria están tomando clases aquí mismo, en la colonia. ALVARO: En donde.
Cristina Pacheco: No, pues no tienen escuela al aire libre. Solo una vecina les presta una silla, una mesa y les sale la maestra y da clases ahí.
The primary school kids are taking classes right here in the neighbourhood. They don’t have a school, so they study outdoors. A neighbour lends them a chair, a table, and the teacher gives class there.
El Bosque used to have 3 churches, two evangelical and one catholic. Now they have none. The pine trees and palm trees that gave such needed shade to cool down in El Bosque are also gone. The park in which kids used to play baseball now has been replaced with streets that reflect the blistering sun.
But what people miss the most is going out into the ocean to fish. That is what made the community bind together: Coming and going to El Bosque to go fishing now implies transportation costs that most are unable to afford.
Cristina Pacheco: nosotros que vamos a pescar, que viene mi esposo y vamos queremos pescar, nos vamos en nuestra moto, ya son 50 $, te da para ir y venir una vez ya si quieres ir otra vuelta ya son 100 $. Sí, está complicado.
When we go fishing, when my husband and I want to go, we have to take our motorcycle. That’s 50 pesos for a round trip, and if we want to go again later, that’s another 100 pesos. It’s tough.
The next day we go to El Bosque, the original Bosque. Lupe is there, in her outdoor kitchen, making breakfast with her husband and daughter. On the menu is fresh fried fish with pico de gallo and tortillas.
Lupe Cobos: Entonces, al venir al bosque nos giro la vida. Obvio que sí, porque en el campo, para que tú te ganes un peso, tiene que pasar una semana. Y aquí vas de pesca. Y si hoy agarras, hoy te pagan. Y ahí está el dinero, no? Y quién no quiere, verdad? Uno se acostumbra a lo bueno. Siempre lo he dicho.Pero no nos cambia la vida porque llega el cambio climático y con eso, por una erosión costera de la que no es un secreto, verdad? Todos sabemos lo que nos pasó. Entonces ahí sí nos irá otra vez la vida.
"Coming to El Bosque turned our lives around. Of course it did. In the countryside to earn a peso, a week had to go by. But here, you go fishing, and if you catch something today, they pay you today. The money is right there. Who wouldn’t want that? I’ve always said you get used to the good life."
But our lives changed again when climate change came, That’s when our lives were uprooted.
Lupe is one of the very last people who have decided to stay here –her house is still not in the way of the water. At least not yet. Even though Lupe fought so hard for a safe, new home for her community, she herself hasn't left.
Lupe Cobos: Cuando yo todas las mañanas me levanto, lo primero que veo es el río y hago mis tres, cuatro o cinco pasos y voy al mar. Yo digo que El Bosque es tan bonito, brilla aunque tenga las alas rotas. De verdad que este lugar está bien hermoso, hermosísimo.
"Every morning when I wake up, the first thing I see is the river. I take three, four, five steps, and I’m at the sea. El bosque is so beautiful. It shines even with broken wings."
According to experts we talked to, the communities of Sánchez Magallanes and Chiltepec, also in the state of Tabasco, are beginning to suffer the effects of coastal erosion, which could eventually lead to a similar situation to that of El Bosque. The fact that Tabasco is so flat, with so much rainfall, rivers, and swampy areas, doesn't help. But that doesn’t mean that the people living in these villages will be recognized as refugees and relocated, like what happened in El Bosque. This is still not official public policy.
In some ways, El Bosque beat the odds. How did they do it?
First, the village got organized and they raised their voices and their fists. They trusted the right person, Lupe, into managing relationships with lawyers, activists, advisors, scientists and government officials. It also helped that the president came from the same area and showed empathy towards the people there. In a country like Mexico, that is definitely not unusual.
Lupe Cobos: Hoy somos la primera comunidad desplazamiento climático, pero siempre lo hemos dicho, no vamos a ser la última, No somos la última. Entonces, qué va a pasar?
"Today we’re the first community displaced by climate change. But we won’t be the last. So, what’s going to happen?"
Most nights, Lupe and her husband are the only ones who sleep in El Bosque. Even though she has a clean, new house 7 miles inland in el Nuevo Bosque surrounded by her former neighbors. But it’s not her home. Her home is here, next to the ocean.
Lupe Cobos: Voy a sacar El Bosque hasta el último suspiro, hasta que me digan ya no puedes vivir en esta casa, te tienen que marchar. Pero sí me voy a quedar hasta el final. Pero lo hago porque quiero.
"I’m going to hold on to El Bosque till the final breath. Until they tell me “you can’t live in this house anymore, you have to leave.” But I’ll stay till the end, and I do it because I want to."
OUTRO
This episode of Sea Change was reported by Alvaro Céspedes. It was hosted by Carlyle Calhoun along with Alvaro. Editing by Johanna Zorn and me, with additional help from Ricardo Lopez Cordero. The translators in the episode are Elsa Gil and Sofia Garfias. Garrett Hazelwood fact-checked the episode. Our theme music is by Jon Batiste, and our sound designer is Emily Jankowski. Carlyle Calhoun is the executive producer.
Sea Change is a WWNO and WRKF production. We are part of the NPR Podcast Network and distributed by PRX. And to help others find our podcast, please share this episode with a friend!
Sea Change is made possible with major support from the Gulf Research Program of the National Academy of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine. Sea Change is also supported by the Water Collaborative of Greater New Orleans. WWNO’s Coastal Desk is supported by the Walton Family Foundation, the Meraux Foundation, and the Greater New Orleans Foundation.
