El Ojito ravine
2666El Ojito ravine is a ravine on the outskirts of Santa Teresa whose appearances connect the city’s expanding waste landscape to its recurring killings of women. It is both a specific place in the city’s geography and part of a wider pattern in which bodies are found in peripheral spaces, while identification and investigation remain uncertain or incomplete.
Setting and Urban Geography
The ravine lies south of Santa Teresa’s new city dump, off the Casas Negras highway. The dump itself is described as a vast, growing accumulation of waste, served by more than one hundred trucks a day and already expected to become too small. Its proximity to the ravine makes the area part of a changing urban fringe where refuse, roads, and undeveloped land meet.
That marginal setting belongs to a city portrayed as expanding rapidly in every direction. Santa Teresa’s southern approaches include rail lines, slum soccer fields, and a gully turned into a garbage dump; farther out, industrial warehouses mark the horizon of the maquiladoras. On the western edge, industrial parks are being surrounded by slums. El Ojito ravine thus belongs to a landscape where industrial growth and waste disposal press into spaces beyond the settled center.
Bodies Found in the Ravine
In October 1994, scavengers found an unidentified girl at the new dump south of El Ojito ravine. She was estimated to be between fifteen and seventeen, and investigators could not identify her through the ring she wore, which bore the name of an English academy in the city center. Her photograph appeared in two local newspapers, but no one recognized her; after two weeks, her body was sent to the University of Santa Teresa medical school. The discovery links the ravine’s surrounding terrain not only to violence but also to the institutional handling of unidentified dead: an attempted search for a name ends with the body incorporated into medical education.
In November 1995, a fifteen-year-old maquiladora worker, Adela Garcia Estrada, was found in El Ojito ravine after disappearing a week earlier. Her case passed among several inspectors. The ravine therefore appears again as the place where a missing young woman is recovered, but the discovery does not itself resolve the circumstances of her death or the broader pattern of violence.
Peripheral Space and the Killings
The ravine’s significance comes from its position within a network of peripheral sites—highways, industrial areas, dumps, and valleys—where women’s movements and disappearances intersect with the city’s growth. In March 1996, a ten-year-old girl was found in a nameless valley between the Casas Negras highway and the valley floor. The police statement said she had not lived in Santa Teresa, but did not explain what had brought her there; the investigation was soon closed. Though this discovery is described as occurring in a nearby valley rather than explicitly in El Ojito ravine, it reinforces the narrative’s wider geography of bodies found in exposed, hard-to-account-for spaces.
El Ojito ravine is not presented as an isolated cause of the killings. Rather, its repeated appearance makes it one landmark in a larger urban landscape shaped by industrial expansion, inadequate infrastructure, and accumulating waste. The contrast between the city’s growth and the unresolved status of those found at its margins gives the ravine its narrative force: it is a place on the map, but also part of a geography in which victims can become difficult to name, locate, and remember.
