The secret of success: Lather, rinse, repeat

THERE'S A ratty little market near my local bus terminal where vendors stock sundries for bored commuters: they flog fake flowers and plastic frogs in comical poses next to packets of spare underwear and batteries.

Among the imported joss sticks at one unprepossessing stand are odd bars of Mexican soap, marked thrice the price of supermarket brands. I glance at one wrapper and do a double-take. Could this speciality soap be for money-laundering? The label says "Jabon de Levanta Negocios" and shows a cornucopia of bank notes, gold coins and gems set off by dollar signs. I envision newly crisp bills pegged up on a narco- trafficker's clothes line and grow curious.

Margarita Luz, the proprietor, is unamused when I ask whether ill- gotten cash is meant to be washed clean with this product. I'm confusing the verbs lavar (to wash) and levantar (to raise up) she points out sourly. These soaps are intended to raise business prospects. If the eventual profits might need to be laundered, that's of no concern to her. "Most of my clients are decent folks," she said. "My soap requires faith for good luck."

The label promises a better life with more money and comes with a triple guarantee: force of money, speed of money, protection of money. Slipped beside the pale green bar is a compelling description. "This marvellous soap produces excellent results in commerce and business. It prevents losses through envy, intrigues, or bad management. Use it with faith and see better earnings day by day."

Margarita nudges me and nods at a case of aerosol cans. "It works best in combination with a room spray," she counsels. "Up to 10 minutes before a meeting, squirt the air with this and you'll get the contract." Practical potions, indeed.

These magical mists and sorcerer's suds tap into a hoary Mexican tradition. Aztec Nahuals were notorious in the 16th century for concocting unguents from native herbs, fungi and cacti. Contemporary accounts record results ranging from invincibility to invisibility.

The soaps on Margarita's stand have more down-to earth purposes, though. That bar labelled with a gagged woman is meant to stop oneself from divulging a secret. And to boost machismo, her customers regularly reach for the bar labelled "I dominate my Woman" - complete with a photo of a leggy lady in a dressing gown, kneeling and beseeching an upright gentleman. The instructions say: "After daily use on your body, you will dominate your woman. She will always be an obedient and very compliant lover and will never again reproach you."

But what happens if the girlfriend is already using the yellow soap with the dominatrix on the wrapper, boldly lettered "I dominate my Man"? The box promises that "the woman who uses this soap with occult powers will always have her man at her feet". Margarita shrugs. "Never been a problem. Such an unsuited couple wouldn't pair up."

Her biggest seller by far is a whiffy orange soap labelled "Rompe Camino", or Pathbreaker. Silvia Munoz, a teenager, tells me she buys two soaps every week because her mother abhors her tattooed boyfriend. No ingredients are listed, but Silvia points to the soap's special powers detailed on the side: "Break through all obstacles that present themselves, no matter how difficult, and simultaneously to cut all malign influences that may ensnare you." I figure that'll do nicely, and ask Margarita to wrap one for me.

Should I need something stronger, Margarita advises, I should go where the seriously superstitious shop. At Mexico City's Sonora market, I can consult dozens of curanderos, or healers, and browse for specific spells and amulets.

At Margarita's humble bus-side stand, there's only room for the routine Mexican household precautions against envy, blocked opportunities or shortages of cash.

Jan McGirk

Copyright 2001 Independent Newspapers UK Limited
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