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Political scheme turns Mexican into odd celebrity
And what a party it will be.
MEXICO CITY - An eccentric street vendor known for his Rambo-style headband took charge of Mexico City's most populous borough Thursday - at least for a few hours.
Rafael Acosta strode into Mexico City's legislature with his arms raised triumphantly and was sworn into office. Immediately after the ceremony, he requested a leave of absence - part of an elaborate political scheme that has captivated Mexico.
The concept is this: Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, the leader of Mexico's left, wants to hold onto Iztapalapa, a poor but populous borough of 1.8 million people that is the equivalent of a swing state in presidential elections.
His candidate, Clara Brugada, was defeated in his party's primary, so he offered to get the longshot candidate Acosta elected. In return, Acosta agreed to step down and give the position to her. All went according to plan - until Acosta won in a landslide and said the deal was off.
He was sworn in Thursday to cries of both "Traitor!" and "Don't resign!" as many still questioned what he would do. He answered the question in short order, submitting a request for a 59-day leave of absence, citing heart problems.
Acosta has been remarkably open about the political finagling that transformed him into a bizarre celebrity who appears daily on newspaper front pages and evening newscasts.
Known affectionately as "Juanito" because he once coached a youth soccer team in which 11 of the 15 players were named Juan, he has become a symbol for many Mexicans of the little guy caught up in a powerful game.
The case is bizarre even for Mexico, where corruption is rampant and conspiracy theories abound. But many Mexicans have found comfort in Acosta's openness about the whole matter because it confirms their worst suspicions about how politicians operate behind closed doors.
"Juanito is the antithesis of being a politician," said George Grayson, a Mexico expert at the College of William & Mary in Virginia. "He dresses modestly, wears that headband and gives the establishment hell. He represents more than just a flamboyant figure. He's a sign of the repudiation of the Mexican political class."
In his day job, the 51-year-old sells everything from ice cream to Christmas decorations from his metal-frame-and-plastic-tarp street stalls. He has regaled reporters with tales of his days working as a waiter, wrestler and even actor in a B movie about flirty waitresses at a bar of ill repute.
He came to national attention when Lopez Obrador first disclosed their electoral deal - and became an instant celebrity when he backed out of it.
For almost three months, Acosta has kept the country in suspense over whether he would try to hold on to the post, which pays 90,000 pesos ($6,600) a month - basking in the attention all the while.
At a bodybuilding contest, he ripped off his shirt and flexed his pale, pudgy body among the tanned, oiled-up athletes. He never removes his headband - red, green and white like the Mexican flag, with "Juanito" scrawled across with a black marker. In interviews, he speaks freely about his political scheme, earning the respect of many a cynical citizen.
"People know that there are lots of under-the-table dealings in Mexico, and therefore it's refreshing to see the cards all laid on top of the table," Grayson said.
Though new to government, Acosta is no stranger to politics and considers himself an accomplished "social fighter." He says his son was killed in 2003 by "political enemies" in an attack in which Acosta was shot as well.
"If things get sticky, I will still continue living in Iztapalapa," he said at the bodybuilding contest. "I will still go to work because I am not afraid. If I was, I would simply stay inside locked up."
Acosta was a ubiquitous presence during Lopez Obrador's campaign for the 2006 presidential election, and in the protests that followed Lopez Obrador's narrow loss to Felipe Calderon. At one of those protests, he had teeth knocked out by police, and eagerly shows the gaps in his mouth to prove it.
"This urban Frankenstein was an invention of Lopez Obrador to keep the booty that is Iztapalapa," columnist Jose Cardenas wrote in the newspaper El Universal. "What resulted highlights our ridiculous political system."
Days before his inauguration, Acosta backed down from his pledge to govern, visibly nervous as he met with Mexico City Mayor Marcelo Ebrard to ask for police protection.
He emerged from the meeting saying he would name some cronies including his son to borough positions, then leave his post to Brugada.
Brugada, wearing a sunshine-yellow business suit, said she was already organizing her victory party.
Rafael Acosta strode into Mexico City's legislature with his arms raised triumphantly and was sworn into office. Immediately after the ceremony, he requested a leave of absence - part of an elaborate political scheme that has captivated Mexico.
The concept is this: Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, the leader of Mexico's left, wants to hold onto Iztapalapa, a poor but populous borough of 1.8 million people that is the equivalent of a swing state in presidential elections.
His candidate, Clara Brugada, was defeated in his party's primary, so he offered to get the longshot candidate Acosta elected. In return, Acosta agreed to step down and give the position to her. All went according to plan - until Acosta won in a landslide and said the deal was off.
He was sworn in Thursday to cries of both "Traitor!" and "Don't resign!" as many still questioned what he would do. He answered the question in short order, submitting a request for a 59-day leave of absence, citing heart problems.
Acosta has been remarkably open about the political finagling that transformed him into a bizarre celebrity who appears daily on newspaper front pages and evening newscasts.
Known affectionately as "Juanito" because he once coached a youth soccer team in which 11 of the 15 players were named Juan, he has become a symbol for many Mexicans of the little guy caught up in a powerful game.
The case is bizarre even for Mexico, where corruption is rampant and conspiracy theories abound. But many Mexicans have found comfort in Acosta's openness about the whole matter because it confirms their worst suspicions about how politicians operate behind closed doors.
"Juanito is the antithesis of being a politician," said George Grayson, a Mexico expert at the College of William & Mary in Virginia. "He dresses modestly, wears that headband and gives the establishment hell. He represents more than just a flamboyant figure. He's a sign of the repudiation of the Mexican political class."
In his day job, the 51-year-old sells everything from ice cream to Christmas decorations from his metal-frame-and-plastic-tarp street stalls. He has regaled reporters with tales of his days working as a waiter, wrestler and even actor in a B movie about flirty waitresses at a bar of ill repute.
He came to national attention when Lopez Obrador first disclosed their electoral deal - and became an instant celebrity when he backed out of it.
For almost three months, Acosta has kept the country in suspense over whether he would try to hold on to the post, which pays 90,000 pesos ($6,600) a month - basking in the attention all the while.
At a bodybuilding contest, he ripped off his shirt and flexed his pale, pudgy body among the tanned, oiled-up athletes. He never removes his headband - red, green and white like the Mexican flag, with "Juanito" scrawled across with a black marker. In interviews, he speaks freely about his political scheme, earning the respect of many a cynical citizen.
"People know that there are lots of under-the-table dealings in Mexico, and therefore it's refreshing to see the cards all laid on top of the table," Grayson said.
Though new to government, Acosta is no stranger to politics and considers himself an accomplished "social fighter." He says his son was killed in 2003 by "political enemies" in an attack in which Acosta was shot as well.
"If things get sticky, I will still continue living in Iztapalapa," he said at the bodybuilding contest. "I will still go to work because I am not afraid. If I was, I would simply stay inside locked up."
Acosta was a ubiquitous presence during Lopez Obrador's campaign for the 2006 presidential election, and in the protests that followed Lopez Obrador's narrow loss to Felipe Calderon. At one of those protests, he had teeth knocked out by police, and eagerly shows the gaps in his mouth to prove it.
"This urban Frankenstein was an invention of Lopez Obrador to keep the booty that is Iztapalapa," columnist Jose Cardenas wrote in the newspaper El Universal. "What resulted highlights our ridiculous political system."
Days before his inauguration, Acosta backed down from his pledge to govern, visibly nervous as he met with Mexico City Mayor Marcelo Ebrard to ask for police protection.
He emerged from the meeting saying he would name some cronies including his son to borough positions, then leave his post to Brugada.
Brugada, wearing a sunshine-yellow business suit, said she was already organizing her victory party.
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