Source: Arizona Daily Star
Pubdate: July 21, 1997
Contact:  http://www.azstarnet.com/public/dnews/la0672.html

 Cradle of drug lords

 Sinaloa center for smuggling since 1800s

 By Niko Price
 The Associated Press

 GUAMUCHILITO, Mexico  Amado Carrillo Fuentes' life of
 drugs and guns was played out in safe houses across
 Mexico, orchestrating cocaine smuggling to the U.S. East
 Coast for profits of up to $5 million a day.

 But when he wanted to relax with his family, talk with a
 trusted priest or play volleyball, he came to
 Guamuchilito, his childhood village of dirt roads and
 ramshackle huts in the Pacific coast state of Sinaloa.

 The rich soil supports thriving fields of corn, cotton
 and vegetables. The baking sun drives people to their
 porches for a long break in the middle of the day, to
 chat about the harvest, baseball and the old lady down
 the road.

 Carrillo loved the pace of life here, and when he died
 July 4 in Mexico City after 8 1/2 hours of plastic
 surgery and liposuction, it was here that his
 grotesquely decaying body was laid to rest in the family
 crypt.

 In that, he has something in common with many of
 Mexico's leading drug lords. Almost all were born in
 Sinaloa, and many have been buried here when bullets,
 drugs or medical troubles cut them down.

 Sinaloa has been a center for smuggling since late last
 century, and as the drug trade has become more lucrative
 in recent decades, the state has seen its native sons
 thrive in a business that many here see as legitimate
 and honorable.

 Rafael Caro Quintero, who is in prison for the killing
 of U.S. drug agent Enrique Camarena, is from Sinaloa.
 The Tijuanabased Arellano Felix brothers, the most
 successful surviving drug lords, were born here. So was
 Miguel Angel Felix Gallardo, the godfather of the
 Mexican drug trade.

 The drug lords have showered their hometowns with gifts
  Carrillo built a church, a kindergarten and a
 volleyball court in Guamuchilito  and the people have
 rewarded them with reverence.

 Even before Carrillo's body was lowered into the ground,
 local musicians had written a ``corrido''  a ballad
 singing the praises of a fallen hero  in his honor.

 Sinaloa is a state where people think little of seeing
 dozens of men jump out of pickup trucks with automatic
 rifles. Where almost everyone has a story about a trip
 to ``the other side''  the United States. And where a
 bustling shrine pays homage to a man considered the
 patron saint of drug dealers.

 ``Since the beginning, drug trafficking was seen as a
 business'' in Sinaloa, said Luis Astorga, a sociologist
 at the Autonomous University of Mexico who specializes
 in the drug trade.

 Sinaloa has been growing poppies at least since the late
 1800s. When the United States outlawed opium in 1914, it
 was still legal in Mexico, and Sinaloanbased producers
 used their welldeveloped rail and sea routes to smuggle
 it across the U.S. border.

 In 1926, opium became illegal in Mexico, but a
 succession of governors in Sinaloa worked with the
 traffickers, taking a cut in exchange for letting them
 stay in business.

 The real boom came during World War II. The U.S.
 military needed opiumderived morphine for its wounded
 and Washington encouraged the cultivation of poppies in
 Mexico.

 After the war, Sinaloa kept growing poppies  for the
 production of heroin for U.S. addicts. Sinaloan
 traffickers worked out distribution deals with American
 gangsters.

 When cocaine became the U.S. drug of choice, the Sinaloa
 suppliers made deals with Colombian producers.

 ``The knowledge of the Sinaloan traffickers has been
 passed from generation to generation,'' Astorga said.
 ``They have a greater history, a better knowledge of the
 routes, and they know the rules of the game.''

 Sinaloa's drug smugglers even have spiritual guidance in
 their endeavor. Their unofficial patron saint is Jes s
 Malverde, who according to local legend robbed from the
 rich and gave to the poor. He was hanged in Culiacan in
 1909, and across the street from the former gallows is a
 chapel dedicated to his memory.

 On a recent afternoon, three musicians  bass, guitar
 and accordion  played melancholy tunes in front of the
 shrine. ``Oh, how they killed him,'' they sang. ``Oh,
 how they killed him.''

 Off to one side, with a can of beer in his hand, was the
 man who had hired the musicians. He had just returned
 from a ``business trip'' to Hong Kong that had gone very
 well. He said giving his name or specifying his line of
 work might get him into trouble.

 ``Malverde helped him in his job,'' explained the man's
 drinking partner, Henrique Milan Carrillo. ``He asked
 for a favor and Malverde made a miracle happen. So he
 brought musicians and candles to thank him.''