Ale Jiménez on Independent Radio and Transbordando

Jackson: We're recording. My name is Jackson Ribler. I'm an editor and partner with Everything Matters Press, and we're here today with Ale Jiménez from Radio Nopal in Mexico City. How you doing today, man?

Ale: I'm very good. Just finished the week.

Jackson: Thank G-d it’s Thursday.

Ale: Almost Friday—you know how it is at Radio Nopal, man.

Jackson: Gotcha. So my first question for you: Why do you think independent radio is important?

Ale: Damn, tricky question. Important how? Like, in the world? Or just in our city?

Jackson: Give me the whole thing—global, local, all of it.

Ale: Around the world, we have a lot of independent stations. There’s even a book about it by Diego, our director. It’s called Olas de Radio—Radio Waves—and it catalogs indie radio all over. In the U.S., there’s NTS, Lumen Radio. In Italy, there’s Radio Kashmir. And in Palestine, there’s our friends at Radio Raheem. It’s all about connecting people. Giving voice to those who usually aren’t heard.

Jackson: Love that.

Ale: Like, you can walk into Nopal or Lumen and say, “Hey, I need to talk about how social security failed me,” or “I lost someone important.” Commercial radio won’t touch that. But we do. We even built our own broadcast tech. It's called Mensajito.mx. Diego and Antonio Salas developed it—it’s a little box, right here, I can show you. If you connect it to Wi-Fi and plug in a mic and a mixer, you can broadcast from anywhere. Totally independent. Open source. You can buy it for like $200 USD.

So if you connect Wi-Fi to Mensajito.mx and you have a microphone and a mixer, you can go anywhere in the world and start broadcasting—just with this little guy here.

When Diego started thinking about independent radio, he went to Tijuana, near the U.S. border, and gave a workshop. At that workshop, one guy came out of the closet. A lot of people opened up—talked about childhood, about growing up in Tijuana. That was in 2002, I think. So people started asking Diego—“Hey, how can we keep doing this for life?”

But Diego was just this guy with a MacBook and an iPhone, and all the equipment was expensive. So he needed to create technology. In 2017, he met Antonio Salas.Antonio wanted to create tech for radio, and Diego was like, “Yes, let’s do it together.” So they created this open-source technology. You can buy it for around $200 USD, more or less. You can use it anywhere. We’re now hosting—what, 60?—radios around the world, I think.

Jackson: And so what’s the story behind the name Radio Nopal?

Ale: Yeah. It’s funny. At first, we wanted to call it Radio Cactus—because the cactus is something Mexican. It’s something we eat here. You see cactus everywhere in Mexico. Radio Cactus sounded good to us.

But Diego’s partner, Vera—his wife—said, “I don’t think Radio Cactus sounds good. Let’s call it Radio Nopal.” It sounded more proper, more rooted. Diego is from Guadalajara, and there are a lot of nopales there. So Radio Nopal was born.

Jackson: So Radio Nopal is kind of a collective project. It seems to have a lot of collaborators. As the project manager, how do you balance the organizational needs with the creativity and all the different collaborators?

Ale: I’m not alone. Radio Nopal has a whole coordination team. There’s Sade, who does all the video and communication. Alex some of the graphic design. Ana handles the social media—Instagram and Mailchimp. And then there’s Diego, who’s the director and the PR head—like public relations. He’s the one who knows everyone, has all the contacts. He’s more outward-facing, and I’m more on the internal side.

If I had to do all of it alone, it’d be impossible. Radio Nopal is my life, but it’s too much for one person. We host 72 programs around the world—about half in Mexico City, the rest in places like New York, Chicago, Ireland, China, Germany… So yeah, a lot.

Jackson: You grew up in Veracruz, but moved to Mexico City… how many years ago?

Ale: Four and a half, I think.

Jackson: How has that move influenced your work at Radio Nopal?

Ale: I moved when I was 18. First I lived with some aunts, and then six months later I got a tiny place in Doctores. I moved to Mexico City because I wanted to study theater. I applied to UNAM, to CUT (Centro Universitario de Teatro), but I didn’t pass the entrance exam. I was like, “Shit, now what?” So I started looking for jobs. Ever since I was a kid—like, eight years old—I said to my mom, “I’m going to move to Mexico City when I turn 18.” She didn’t believe me. But on my 18th birthday I told her, “It’s time,” and she was like, “Shit… you actually meant it.”

I worked in a call center. They had this fucked up hazing ritual—30 guys lined up and started hitting me because I made a sale. I was like, “What the fuck am I doing here? I don’t want to scam people. But I need money in this capitalist world.”

Then one day, it was my cousin Tadeo’s birthday, I was walking around Reforma. I turned onto a side street to head toward the metro, and passed this weird space with a bald guy covered in tattoos, working on a computer. I looked over, but I kept walking. But something in me said, “What do you have to lose? Maybe your life. Maybe a big opportunity.” So I went back, knocked on the door. “What is this place?” I asked. “Radio Nopal,” he said.

That was 2021. I asked if they had any jobs. He said, “Come back Tuesday, Diego will be here.” I came back. Diego said, “There’s no money. But if you want to work for free, there’s a lot to do.” I said yes. First week, they asked if I could design. I lied —said yes. I had faked all my high school grades with Photoshop, so I figured I knew enough. Diego paid me 3,000 pesos. I kept learning—design, video, audio—and after six months as an intern, I became project manager. That was three and a half years ago.

Jackson: Let’s talk about your show Transbordando. How would you describe it?

Ale: Transbordando is… well, I don’t know if I’m saying it right in English, but it’s like—I pay attention to what you're saying, to the mic, to the people outside. I’m paying attention to everything, so it’s hard to just be present. But if I really like someone, I know how to focus just on that person. Like with Chloe [my partner]. The name Transbordando came from the metro. One time I got lost in Tacubaya, and this homeless guy behind me started saying all kinds of shit. I was scared. In Spanish, transbordar is what you do when you switch from one metro line to another. 

You’re still on the system, just changing directions. For me, Transbordando is like that. I invite people on, and maybe we start talking about design—but then they start talking about their parents or their past. And we go there. Life isn’t just one thing. Ale isn’t black and white. Jackson isn’t black and white. So I follow what grabs my interest. If you told me, “I moved to Mexico City because I heard about tacos in middle school,” I’d be like, “Hell yeah. What class? Did you ever try tacos as a kid?” That’s what Transbordando is—it’s my project, my work, my world. Through it, I’ve met my roommates, people I’ve loved… a lot of important folks in my life.

Jackson: From what I’ve read, a big theme for you is being foráneo in Mexico City. What does that mean to you?

Ale: There’s a line—some poet in the ’80s said, “If you think you’re lucky, go to New York.”But in the 2010s, people started saying, “If you think you’re lucky, go to Mexico City.”Sometimes I call myself jarochilango. I’m not totally Veracruzano, not totally Chilango—just in-between. Mexico City gave me everything. I learned how to run a project. I improved my English. I learned graphic design. I learned how to love myself. But if you’re foráneo, you have to be patient with yourself. 

Especially if it’s your first time moving to another state or country. There were moments where I thought, “What if I lose my job and have to go back to Veracruz? I’ll be a fucking loser.” I went to a lot of therapy. My friend Phill in Chicago always tells the kids, “If you think you can, you probably can.” I keep that with me. If you’re foráneo, you have to be better than the locals. If someone here has a car, you have to work harder to get your own. You have to go 200%.

Jackson: So speaking of transport—tell me one thing you love and one thing you hate about public transportation in Mexico City.

Ale: I love how it connects the whole city. If you’re lost, you can always find your way back. What I hate is—it’s smelly. Sweaty. But I try to be empathetic. People are just trying to get home after work.

Jackson: If Transbordando were a real mode of transportation, what would it be?

Ale: A bike. Fast. Free. Wind in your face. You don’t sweat as much. The city doesn’t need more subways or cars—we need more bikes. More parks.

Jackson: Has the show evolved?

Ale: Yeah. At first, it was just me talking. Now I want guests. I met this tattoo guy, super interesting. It keeps changing—if I made it about one thing forever, I’d get bored.

Jackson: Favorite episode?

Ale: Amigo Mandi, from TikTok. I DM’d him and he came on. Bioan too. My friend Paisa from Yucatán. Gave me a tattoo just cause. I love my show. I really do.

Jackson: Have you had any interesting interactions with listeners?

Ale: Maybe? People message the station on Instagram. I don’t always see it. I’ll check.

Jackson: Radio Nopal has a Riso workshop—are you part of that?

Ale: Nah. The space changes all the time. It’s a studio, a gallery, whatever. It’s everything.

Jackson: Tell me about the musical styling at Radio Nopal.

Ale: Everything. You want the same shit? Go to Spotify. You want something weird and new? Come here. 152 people. 72 programs. We’re all different.

Jackson: What’s Radio Nopal’s commitment to social justice?

Ale: We hosted a mesa on the genocide in Palestine with Stefan Kristoff. We did events for March 8. Talked about Ecuador and that dumb fucking president Daniel Noboa (don’t put that in the transcript). Pesina is going to Oaxaca soon to report on the zapatistas. We’re always doing stuff.

Jackson: Are there any exciting projects on the horizon for you?

Ale: Yeah—the Museo Anahuacalli invited us to host in June. Also, Diego and I are opening a café inside the station. Opening in the middle of May or the beginning of June. Community plus income.

Jackson: What advice for others interested in radio?

Ale: Talk to people. Find your thing. Your angle. What makes you different? Build community. Strong community equals an unbreakable project.

Jackson: What’s the philosophy of Radio Nopal?

Ale: Give voice to the voiceless. It changes, but that stays the same.

Jackson: What drink would Radio Nopal be if it were a drink?

Ale: Toñito [Antonio] says you need three things to be part of Nopal: drink caguama, drink coffee, and live in the clouds. So yeah—caguama and coffee.

Jackson: Anything else folks should know?

Ale: We’ve been here eight years. Go to our site: radionopal.com. Or Instagram: @radionopal. If you’re in CDMX, come by: José Rosas Moreno 123, San Rafael.

Jackson: That’s all I’ve got, man. Thank you for sitting down with me.

Ale: Let me know if we need to take anything out, Jackson. I think I said “fuck” a lot.