| HeraldNet - Snohomish County's online news source |
 FRIDAY, MAY 9, 2008 2:54 pm |
||||||||||
 |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||
 |
|
|
|
| Archives: | |
|
|
|
|
| LINKS: | |
|
• CIA World Factbook Entry on Venezuela • El Universal (news site) • International Reporting Project • Venezuelananalysis.com Other fellows • East Africa Journal • Radio Icebox |
|
|
|
|
ADVERTISEMENT |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
A Surprising Vote It was the unthinkable, and now, two days later, Venezuelans and those mired in Venezuelan intrigue are still reeling. On Sunday, Venezuela voted in a referendum that could have handed their President Hugo Chavez a vast buffet of political tools on a clean-edged, silver platter. From the option to seek presidency for life to increased power to seize private property, Chavez could have become a super-president, all via democracy. Or so he says. Before Sunday, when the sharp-tongued military man’s proposals failed in a 51 to 49 percent divide, the opposition vehemently swore that votes were fixed, particularly the 2006 vote when Chavez won re-election. So sure was the opposition that their votes would count for nothing that many planned to boycott the ballot box. But as the referendum drew near, opposition leaders urged everyone to vote, saying that their numbers were large enough to have a chance at winning. The idea was that the election may or may not be fixed, but if the opposition didn’t turn out, the loss was guaranteed. Now, the opposition must grapple with the apparent probability that the country’s government is run on a democratic system – that Chavez’s 2006 re-election was not fixed; that it was the will of the people that placed in him in power. Or was it? In a country that has long suffered under a string of corrupt despots, where rumors run as wild as petty thieves, no one seems to know what the truth really is. Chavez responded by bussing tens of thousands of supporters from around the country into massive rallies in Caracas. With the promise of pocket money and a day-long visit to the nation’s capital, people poured into the city to march – and go shopping. While it’s clear that there are true Chavistas, it’s impossible to know the number. When the opposition marched, they shouted, “We choose to be here!” and “Without busses!” Some Venezuelans said Chavez’s proposals went too far. Chavistas would follow him, they said, but only to a point. When rumors began circulating that the new constitution could dictate that children born in Venezuela would not be allowed to leave the country until the age of 18, some Venezuelans drew the line. Some real estate investors spent the months leading up to the referendum frantically selling their properties, certain that if the proposals passed, the government would seize them. Others said Chavez is worthy of every Venezuelan’s trust. People who worried they would lose their children to the government were alarmists, they said, adding that if Chavez only wants to ensure every child’s education. Chavez is a man who sought, in Sunday’s election, the power to call indefinite states of emergencies, during which he could detain Venezuelan citizens without charge. He is given to impromptu dress-downs of other world leaders, and violent rhetoric threatening to “raze to the ground” Caracas’ upper class neighborhoods. Did he truly concede? Or does he have another plan in place – one that will allow him to push forward despite popular vote? Already, he has promised that he will not change “a single comma” of the proposal. “I continue making the proposal to the Venezuelan people,” he said in a speech Monday. “The proposal is alive, not dead.” As an opposition Venezuelan friend told me, “We’re safe – for now.” ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Rumors and a sea of red I stood, wearing a black tank top and khaki pants, in a seething crowd of red. I had just a week and a half left in Venezuela, and I wanted to see Hugo Chavez. In person. It's not that I was star-struck by any means, but I can't deny the draw of a man who arguably commands more news attention than any other current world leader. Since his election in 1998, Chavez has masterminded a country-wide polarization that is quickly coming to a head. In just the five and a half weeks while I was in Venezuela, it became increasingly impossible to avoid signs of "¡Ahore, si!" -- the message to, drone-like, accept the constitutional reforms set for a Dec. 2 vote. The proposed reforms came so fast that few Venezuelans knew how they would actually affect their country. In this Caribbean nation, where life is experienced on front stoops, in line for a chicken-stuffed arepa, drinking bottles of frosty Polar Ice beer on street corners, rumors abound on both sides of the issue. Pregnant women are scrambling for foreign visas because, according to coffee shop talk, children born in Venezuela will no longer be able to leave the country until the age of 20. No vacations, no school trips, nothing. That's a rumor, but here's a fact: Venezuelan birth certificates state that children born here are under the care of the Venezuelan government. That's not a problem for Ana Gonzalez, who has an eight-year-old son. Every day after school, Gonzalez drops him off at the downtown Caracas headquarters of PDVSA, the state-owned oil company behind Citgo in the U.S. At PDVSA, Gonzalez's son receives psychology sessions and karate classes. Besides, Gonzalez has a rumor of her own: "If you say something against President Bush in the United States, you go to jail! It's not like that here," she said. I asked her how she knew that was true. "Chavez said so." Rumor: In the near future, all Venezuelans will be required to bear arms to protect the country in case of an imperialist invasion. Fact: Hundreds of schoolchildren flooded the main avenue in Barcelona, a city east of Caracas, on a recent Saturday morning to practice military-style marching, with salutes and goosesteps I've only seen before in movies about Axis forces during World War II. Rumor: Telephone lines and computers of "imperialists" (North Americans living in Venezuela) and other potential dissidents are tapped. Fact: North Americans I met use Skype to speak with loved ones abroad about the political situation in Venezuela, because it's apparently difficult to tap. Rumor: Chavez plants some of his own supporters in opposition marches to induce violence so the police and National Guard have a reason to attack the students. Fact: Masked gunmen met opposition students after another march when they returned to their university. Eight students were injured that day. Another student was shot dead in northwestern Venezuela when an anonymous gunman drove by an opposition march. Rumor: Chavez has invited Iranian mujahadeen to "train" Venezuela's indigenous people to fight for their land. Fact: "The U.S. empire is crumbling," said Nicia Maldonado, Venezuela's Minister of Indigenous People. "Our ally is Iran, and we are the countries who will be the future." I was repeatedly warned to avoid downtown Caracas and other Chavista strongholds because my appearance is so obviously North American. Several times, when I was in a downtown area, Venezuelans approached me and said I should leave for a safer neighborhood. One pastor, born to U.S. parents in Venezuela and who has lived in Venezuela his entire life, told me there are neighborhoods where he can no longer venture because he looks North American. On that recent Sunday morning, thousands of buses from around the country brought Chavistas to Caracas to honor their leader. Avenida Bolivar, a major thoroughfare, was closed for the occasion. The usual rickety, overcrowded buses and posh European sedans with leather interiors were replaced by a stage that would soon hold Chavez himself. To the chagrin of the military reservists charged with protecting their president, I lifted myself up onto the fence separating the people from the stage. I looked back, and saw an ocean of red surging toward me. If Chavez's recent words provide any foreshadowing, I knew his speech would be heavily laced with anti-American rhetoric, and the Chavista crowd - now a mob numbering tens of thousands of people - could become unruly toward outsiders. I knew it wasn't safe. I walked away. Chavez did speak to the crowd that day, and his words were among his most inflammatory to date. "Assuming that this fascist minority manages to unleash violence in the streets, we are going to run them over," he said. "The unpatriotic oligarchy will be razed to the ground. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
A Changing Country Venezuela is in the midst of a critical moment. Someone told me that just before I arrived here five and a half weeks ago. Looking back, the list of things that have changed in this country in the span of a month and a week is incredible. Last week, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez was verbally slapped silly by Spanish King Juan Carlos. At the Ibero-American summit in Chile, Chavez repeatedly called a former Spanish prime minister a "fascist." Carlos responded to Chavez with, "¿Por que no te callas?" Translation: "Why don't you just shut up?" Carlos was applauded at the summit and at home and throughout the Spanish-speaking world, where a traditional Spanish patriotic song has been re-written to feature Carlos's now-famous words. It's a musical response to ¡Ahore, Si!, the Chavista song that has, until now, dominated Caracas's streets. (A link to the Mp3 can be found to the right.) There have been other major changes. Early this month, the National Assembly approved a massive re-write of the country's constitution that will be considered in a referendum on Dec. 2. If approved, presidential term limits will be abolished and the government's power to seize private property will be strengthened. The president will also be allowed to declare indefinite states of emergency, during which personal rights could be severely limited. Opponents of the reform are floundering. Some say they'll refuse to vote, convinced that the election is fixed, the outcome in favor of the reform already determined. Others point out that a vast absentia will ensure Chavez's victory, even if a majority of the country opposes the reform. Since I've been here, the debate over the reform has turned violent. One student was shot dead, and several others (the exact numbers aren't clear) were injured when masked gunmen fired upon them just after an opposition march. Five and a half weeks ago, though real milk wasn't guaranteed at corner markets, at least powdered milk was. Now, a sighting of even powdered milk is enough to spark a brawl between housewives in the grocery store aisles. More changes will come. In this season, Venezuela's future is tenuously balanced, and will easily topple to one side or the other. When that happens, I'll be back in the United States. I leave early tomorrow (Wednesday) morning. I'll brave the highway to the airport (famed for muggings by motorcyclists traveling 50 miles per hour), then break through the clouds on my way to Miami, then on to Washington, D.C. I'll stay in D.C. for a week to finish up reporting and present my project (along with the two other IRP fellows) to the Johns Hopkins University academic community. The Herald will likely publish articles based on this trip early next year. ... [Read More]
E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
¿Ahora, Si? ¡Ahora, Pare! Venezuelans are proud of their Caribbean lifestyle: clear, blue ocean waters, miles of sandy beaches, skimpy clothing for all whether August of December, and of course, the Caribbean beat that dominates the music blasting from every street vendor in Caracas. This Caribbean flavor permeates every piece of life, even the Bolivarian Revolution. These days, a favorite song has nothing to do with love lost or gained. Instead, it promotes another passion: Chavismo. Whether walking to an interview, scrambling to take a photo of Venezuelan life before someone tries to steal my camera, or eating lunch purchased from a street vendor, I, like every other living, breathing person here, move to the beat of "¡Ahora, Si!" a song that essentially says, "Socialism is fun! More fun than going to the beach or falling in love or dancing merengue! We don't have to sing about such trivialities any longer now that we have socialism!" Now, I don't speak Spanish, so that translation may not be word for word. In fact, trusted sources tell me a more accurate translation goes something like this: "Yes, yes, yes the hour of the people Yes, yes, yes the hour of the poor of men, of women, Yes, yes of the workers . . ." and on and on it goes. Every day, in every city I've visited. Yes, yes, the song goes. In other words, Vote Chavez! As a referendum scheduled for Dec. 2 nears, Chavistas flood the streets, seemingly without warning, to exhort all Venezuelans to vote "Si!" On my way to interviews and meetings, I've been caught several times in a teeming surge of bright red as Chavistas wearing their favorite color take over the neighborhood. The bass thuds, the congas pulse, the voices swell, and then Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez begins to speak to his people: "Now, yes! Seven or eight years after, now with a clear direction, now we have a deeper knowledge, a deeper understanding . . .blah, blah, blah . . ." Then: "Ahora, si, si, si, Ahora, si si si . . ." By the time the lyrics get to "Sociolismo inclusion . . ." I've heard enough. But my weariness of the same song over and over and over and ov (okay, I'll stop) doesn't matter. It's quite possible I'll be roused from a deep sleep to "¡Ahora, si!" as Chavistas bring their parade to my neighborhood. Care to give it a listen? http://venezuelaenrevolucion.blogspot.com/2007/11/revolucin-bolivariana.html ¡Ahora, Pare! ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Violence in the Streets Plaza Venezuela. My taxi driver refused to take me there. I was scheduled to meet my interpreter there before we headed deeper into downtown Caracas to interview a government official. Instead, the driver said, he could take me to a subway station a few stops away, and I could go to Plaza Venezuela at my own risk. That was before I knew that nine students, all who had participated in a peaceful march of opposition to a proposed constitutional reform, were injured when gun-toting Chavez supporters infiltrated the campus of the Central University of Venezuela and fired into the crowd. The university is very near Plaza Venezuela. The tension is palpable here. And as the Dec. 2 referendum on a proposed constitutional reform nears, the violence is likely to increase. Even in grocery stores, where Venezuelans were once able to commiserate about the lack of milk, sugar and other basic food supplies, frustration is building. A Venezuelan woman yesterday shared with me the story of her recent grocery shopping trip: it was a rare occassion in which a few cartons of milk were for sale. Shoppers began pushing and shoving one another to grab a carton before it disappeared. Mothers with small children were frantic. "I've never seen this before," she said. These days, it seems just one question matters on the streets of Caracas: do you wear red, or not? ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW! Home Invasion In cop reporter's lingo in the United States, a "home invasion" is code for burglary of a residence. In Venezuela, during this Bolivarian Revolution, the phrase means something quite different. A 2001 mandate legalized the taking of "unused" private property. Government officials have said the law was primarily designed to claim private farmland and use it to benefit the country. As of 2005, the Venezuelan government had identified more than 500 farms that were "unused" and available for citizens to claim and work themselves, according to Hands Off Venezuela, a pro-Chavez organization. Farmers and ranchers who have long owned vast tracts of Venezuela's rich soil have found it increasingly dangerous due to roving bands of Chavistas who say the land is theirs for the taking. In the cities, construction projects that have stalled due to inevitable red tape have never been finished. Crews have found their partially-finished apartment buildings are inhabited by people who once lived in tin shacks that threatened to slide off hillsides in the event of a rainstorm. In some cases, the government has tried to provide help for the poor who insist, and they believe with Chavez's blessing, that they have the right to live alongside wealthier citizens. In Maracaibo, Wayuu indigenous people have built a sprawling slum on land owned by the University of Zulia, according to one university professor. The Wayuu, who came to Venezuela's second-largest city in search of jobs, refused to leave, so the government is in the midst of building an apartment complex for them. The Wayuu are expected to move into the apartments sometime this year, but they most likely won't stay there long, said Rubia Gonzalez, a Wayuu woman who works for the government's Ministry of Indigenous People. The government is building the apartments without considering Wayuu lifestyle, Gonzalez said. The people will probably live in the apartments for a few weeks, then leave in favor of a place, private property or not, whether they can rebuild their shacks with outhouses away from the living quarters, in traditional Wayuu style. "They say it's more hygenic that way," Gonzalez said. In Caracas, journalists have speculated that the government has provided buses to bring people from the barrios into the city to live in empty homes and apartments. If Venezuela's new constitution is approved by voters in December, it's possible that private property considered unnecessary or "unused" by the government could be turned over to those who could never afford to buy it themselves. That may include second homes and apartments that are rented out, vacation homes and any land not in active use. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Being Oligarchy "Imagine one million people marching over the east of Caracas and burning chaguaramo trees and palm trees . . . The unpatriotic oligarchy would be razed to the ground." That's how Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez recently described his vision for dealing with the "fascist minority," "you sons of daddy, you filthy rich people." The city's eastern end has been my home base since I arrived in Venezuela about a month ago. Time and again, Venezuelans have expressed relief to hear that I haven't rented a room downtown, where just walking alone is reportedly perilous. According to Chavez, eastern Caracas is where the oligarchy reside. Apparently, simply based on residence, people from the eastern end are anti-solidarity, poor-people-hating, CIA-subsidized, McDonalds-eating capitalists. That last label, in Chavez's mind, is the worst of them all. And I had naively thought this was my chance to live, for once, on the right side of the tracks! Caracas is quickly becoming a much more dangerous place. Besides the armed robbery that is Venezuela's version of petty crime, "oligarchs" are unwelcome in many areas. Political demonstrations, whether by Chavistas or government opponents, are occuring almost daily. I was at the University of Zulia in Maracaibo on Thursday. On Friday, three students there were shot; two died. Throngs of university students have taken to the streets to protest constitutional changes that would, among other re-writes, allow Chavez to declare an indefinite state of emergency during which personal rights are suspended. The students have insisted that their demonstrations be non-violent. For a recent march, they asked permission of the government to march to the National Assembly and present a document stating their opposition to the reform. That day, a student leader was attacked and beaten - presumably an attempt to silence him. Since then, the violence has increased. The students had organized a march for Wednesday, but they were out in the streets today, where they were met with police blockades, tear gas and water cannons. Now, Chavez has threatened to squelch opposition marches. In a string of venomous phrases, he charged government officials who agreed to the marches of wanting "some people to get killed." "Assuming that this fascist minority manages to unleash violence in the streets, we are going to run them over," Chavez said. The referendum is scheduled for Dec. 2. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Poison and Paranoia Have you heard the one about the poison-toting caterpillars? It goes like this: U.S. President George W. Bush had them sent to the carport of Venezuela's Commandante Hugo Chavez. The intent was to assassinate Chavez through these changelings, but the commandante's security forces were able to derail the plan. What about the one having to do with a bronchial-blasting chemical warfare? Apparently Bush sent a black cloud to hover over Chavez on his recent visit to Cuba. The cloud caused Chavez to develop bronchitis, and he had to cancel his many-hours-long Sunday talk show several weeks in a row. Then there's the one about free speech: U.S. citizens who criticize Bush go directly to jail. The first two are so ridiculous that they must be jokes. Who would believe such incredible stories? The third sounds like the work of a conspiracy theorist or someone who's landed on the wrong side of the Patriot Act. Still, it's an unlikely scenario for the average American, and certainly not founded in fact (have you tuned in to any presidential debates recently?) Yet there are Venezuelans who believe all three. I laughed when I heard the first two, but was assured that when Chavez suggested both scenarios, there were many Venezuelans who believed him. When I interviewed a Chavista woman recently, she insisted that Americans should come to Venezuela to learn what free speech is. "We can say what we want about Chavez. He allows it," she said. "But if you say something bad about George Bush, you go to jail. Everyone goes to jail." When I'm interviewing someone, I make a point of leaving my own opinions at the door. But in this case, I was dumbfounded. "That's not true," I told her. "I promise you, it's not true." She did not relent. She said that Chavez has described how awful the conditions are for U.S. citizens, and she believes him. Thousands of Chavistas gathered today to march across Caracas in a rally for their leader. From the city's eastern neighborhoods to a stage set up in a main thoroughfare in the center, men, women and children wearing bright red t-shirts and hats, waving Venezuelan flags, gathered to show their support. I showed up at about 8 a.m., the time the march was scheduled to begin. Considering Venezuelan time, I knew things probably wouldn't get rolling until about 9:30 a.m. I was so wrong. By 11 a.m., none of the crowds scattered throughout the eastern neighborhoods had begun to move. Eager to see whether Chavez would show up for a scheduled speech, I began to move down the march route on my own. Along the way, huge crowds of Chavistas gathered near trucks blasting "revolution" songs or stages featuring "Bolivarian" musicians blocked traffic in the city's streets. The people weren't marching, they were drinking. Empty Polar Ice (a popular Venezuelan beer) bottles were scattered everywhere, crushed beneath bus tires and combat boots. Dozens upon dozens of tour buses were lined up throughout the city, having collected hordes of Chavistas from throughout the country and delivered them to Caracas for the event. The bus drivers stretched out on cardboard mats, flinging Polar Ice bottles and cans into the streets. Great masses of red filled coffee shops and choked subway stations. Later, a Venezuelan woman told me that she heard Chavistas at the march talking about the need to get rid of the U.S. and all the citizens in it. The reason? They believe Bush is using every tool at his disposal (black magic included, apparently) to try to kill their commandante, and that capitalist "imperialists" want to destroy Venezuela. No one I spoke with at today's march was sure when Chavez was scheduled to speak, but when he did, he would undoubtedly go on for hours. He did. And in an ironic twist, he had a name for his opponents: "Clowns." ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Canaries in the coal mine A Pemon indigenous leader recently told me that there is a saying among his people: “Wherever an indigenous person steps, there is wealth.” The saying refers to the natural resources that are often found beneath the homes of this hemisphere’s first people. In Venezuela, one of the greatest battles for the indigenous people is the one against mining: gold in the southeast, near the border with Brazil and Guayana, and coal in the northwest, where Venezuela curves against Colombia, and where Wayuu indigenous groups have lived for thousands of years. This week, I tagged along with an environmental expert from the University of Zulia on a trip from Maracaibo, Venezuela’s oil cash cow, to the La Guajira peninsula. Much of the peninsula, which juts out into the Caribbean Sea, belongs to Colombia. Venezuela’s portion is a slender strip, studded with coal. The Wayuu villages we were to visit are essentially surrounded by a giant coal mine. To get to them, one must climb into the back of a work truck and be escorted through the mine. If a Wayuu person wants to travel from the village to a larger town to buy food (an increasingly important trip as contamination has made it increasingly difficult to grow crops in the mining area), he or she must wait for the escort truck, or make the two-hour walk through the mine, and risk getting caught near an explosion. The mine has transformed the area from lush, green hills into deep, black canyons. One river that quenches the thirst of the villages is contaminated; another, which flows from a spring, was blocked by the mining effort. There’s another challenge: the villages don’t have their own school. Children must venture through the mine each day to attend class, all the while breathing in toxins. The mine workers wear protective masks, but the villages don’t own any. Advocates for the Wayuu say children have been born recently with defects. This is one of the most tense battlefields for indigenous people in Venezuela. A host of advocacy organizations have been created to help the Wayuu, but their work is mired in politics. While Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez continually promises that indigenous groups will receive titles to their ancestral land, the Wayuu say their birthright is already destroyed. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Where the Free Stuff Is What I have seen: - Sleek internet kiosks set up in the plaza of a government building, where Caracas residents can sign up and surf the Web for free. - Mobile vaccination units, set up in a matter of hours in front of shopping malls, and city residents lined up for free health checks and innoculations. - Karate lessons, soccer camp, family counsling and a host of other free activities at an after-school campus in the downtown complex of PDVSA, the government oil company that owns CITGO. What I have not seen: - Pan-handlers blocking my path to the subway entrance, a la New York City. - People sleeping under the eaves of downtown buildings. Sure, there are hillsides covered with shacks cobbled together from scrap metal and scavenged bricks, but there are more pan-handlers competing for my spare change in downtown Seattle than I've seen in Caracas. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Venezuelans and their Vehicles: Part II “I can’t slow down. I have to speed through here because this is where bandits stop cars to rob them.” That’s what a driver told me as he sped through a remote region near where Venezuela’s border meets Guyana and Brazil. Squeezed between an indigenous guide and a rather large Venezuelan woman in the back seat of a tricked-out sports car, I was having trouble containing the contents of my stomach as we careened around the road’s curves at 150 kilometers per hour (roughly 90 miles per hour). “Is it true about the bandits?” I asked my guide, with whom I had visited several indigenous villages that day. “Oh, yes. In fact, just last week they stopped a bus and raped all the girls and took all their things. That happened right here,” he said, pointing to a area between the road and the thick vegetation of Venezuela’s Gran Sabana. Well, how can I argue with that? Still, I was skeptical. This hot-headed driver had his Venezuelan pop music blaring, and he traveled at the same speed whether passing through small towns or traveling in the remote areas between them. He was only one in a series of drivers that day who exhibited more character than driving skill. Buses in Venezuela’s rural areas travel slowly and offer inconsistent service at best, so men line up with their personal vehicles near terminals to offer an alternative. Our first driver was great. He navigated the roads smoothly and quickly. The second driver was a Colombian sporting a giant white bandage on his forehead. I later began to suspect that the bandage may have come from an incident in which he shattered his own windshield. This guy traveled at a decent speed until he caught sight of a car on the road in front of him. He would then lurch forward and continue lurching until he reached the other vehicle, then roll down the window and lay on the horn while shouting obscenities at the other driver who had the nerve to travel on the same road. Then, the Colombian driver would slow down and cruise along – until, of course, he saw another car. The strangest part was that he did all this while listening to Great Pop Hits of the Late 90s. To Celine Dion crooning the Titanic theme song, he sped up to catch a pickup truck loaded with workers in the back. As the Cranberries mourned lost love, the driver shook his fist in the air. The music: “Even lovers need a holiday far away from each other . . .” The driver: “$%&*$%&!!!” The music: “After all that we’ve been through I will make it up to you I promise to…” Me: “Not likely.” The rest of the day included: - a car completely gutted on the inside save for the seats, the gas pedal and the steering wheel. - A taxi with red velour furnishings, and a fire extinguisher in a special holder near the driver. - A car that overheated and wouldn’t re-start on the side of a remote road at about midnight. - A stranger, claiming to be a friend of the driver who’s car broke down, who offered me and my guide a ride. - And us, who had no choice but to take it. I’m not sure when a harrowing story evolves in one’s memory into a good yarn. Soon, I hope! ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Ciudad Bolivar is a sticky, sweltering city on the banks of the Rio Orinoco in the part of the country Venezuelans like to call “the interior.” Now, when I hear the phrase “the interior,” I think of “In the Heart of Darkness”-like conditions: human remains used as jewelry, severe moral emptiness, and possibly an anaconda or two. I don’t think of sorbet-colored buildings set neatly aside quiet, cobblestone streets, a thriving fishing economy or acclaimed regional artisans. Yet that’s what I’ve found in Ciudad Bolivar – capital of the Bolivar State, and kick-off point for many tourists heading for Venezuela’s many natural attractions. Still, I’m here in part to see what’s happening at a time when the Venezuelan government claims colonial rule is ending for the indigenous groups who live in this vast region. One thing the indigenous people and their advocates, whether government or not, seem to agree on is that the ills that have occurred here aren’t much different from what American high schools read about in Joseph Konrad’s book. “We’ve had 507 years of imperialism,” one spokeswoman for Venezuela’s Ministry of Indigenous Affairs told me. She counts those years from 1492, when Christopher Columbus staked his claim in the Americas, until 1999, when Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez led a re-write of this country’s constitution that included expanded rights for indigenous groups. Since 1999, she said, the indigenous groups have been in a new era. With Chavez’s help, they’ve reclaimed their past, and are building a future no one could have imagined 50 years ago. Some indigenous leaders here in Ciudad Bolivar have their doubts as to whether Chavez is their answer. They’ve offered to show me what’s going on in Bolivar State. I’m already nine hours by bus from Caracas, and tomorrow I’ll travel five more hours by car, stopping in a few villages along the way. Venezuela isn’t a tiny country, but it isn’t large. Still, many areas remain impossible to access by car. Those that are accessible are slow-going. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Reveling in cheap oil North Americans may have a love affair with vintage Chevrolets and brand-new Ford Mustangs, but whatever passion we can muster is nothing – truly nothing – compared to the on-going tryst Venezuelans maintain with their vehicles. From tricked-out Hondas to suped-up SUVs, Venezuelans have daily dates with their cars. And little wonder: with gas priced at about 12 cents a gallon, local residents say they can choose between buying a can of Coca-Cola and filling their tanks. One man and his wife told me that they pulled into a gas station shortly after they moved to Venezuela from Colombia. They had only about 10,000 Bs in cash (about $4.50 at the official exchange rate, and about $2 on the black market exchange), and told the attendant to give them as much gas as their money could buy. The attendant laughed. He filled their tank, then handed them enough change to buy two cups of coffee and a pastry inside the gas station’s convenience store. Drivers here do not retire their 1970’s-model jalopies in favor of more fuel-efficient rides. Instead, they ease them through the city streets and highways, fenders nearly falling off and exhaust billowing out the pipes. Many of these drivers strap “taxi” signs to the tops of their cars and trek back and forth across the city multiple times each day. Then, there are the luxury rides. Top-model SUVs with windows tinted reflective silver or black struggle for space on the city’s traffic-choked roads. Shiny, 2007 Ford Mustangs are as common here as soccer-mom minivans in the U.S. Hummers are so popular that Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez has questioned whether they – along with whiskey, cigarettes and Barbie dolls – are appropriate for the citizens of a country in revolution. “We’re one of the countries that consumes the most whiskey per capita in the world. We ought to be ashamed,” he said recently. “What kind of revolution is this? The whiskey revolution? The Hummer revolution? No! This is a real revolution!” Later, a government minister suggested that no one can follow the example of Ernesto “Che” Guevara, the Latin American revolutionary, while driving a Hummer. Sharp tax increases on luxury import goods in Venezuela are set to become effective early next month. There’s no word on whether a limit on Hummers will do anything to curb the pollution that chokes the atmosphere around Caracas. After all, with fuel as cheap as it is, those 30-year-old taxis will still be chugging along. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Money, money, money When changing money in Venezuela, one must think not in terms of tens, hundreds, or even thousands. Here, Bolivares, the currency of the day, are counted in millions. Yes, millions. That means zeroes, and lots of them. Notwithstanding pre-Euro memories of Italy, I’ve now got more zeroes in my possession than I ever thought possible. Here in Venezuela, the government makes it nigh impossible to obtain U.S. dollars. As inflation here balloons, some Venezuelans are eager – nearly frantic – to convert their currency into something more stable. To a Venezuelan, the preferred money is the good ol’ greenback. The official rate of exchange, set by Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez in 2003, is about 2,100 Bs to $1 USD. However, the value of the Bolivare has plummeted more than 30 percent this year alone. With a parallel market in full bloom that offers a rate of more like 5,000 Bs to $1 USD, the prices in Venezuela – from a snack at a street vendor to a 10-minute taxi ride to a night at the Radisson – are set to reflect that, not the official rate. That means $5 for a taxi ride from the city’s eastern suburbs to the city center, instead of about $12, or 60 cents for a café con leche instead of about $1.50. Still, cash withdrawn from an ATM is at the official rate. To travel in Venezuela at a lower cost, one must bring cash into the country and exchange it here. In fact, it's not even possible to get Bolivares anywhere outside Venezuela, except through unofficial means. As much as the Venezuelan government tries to control the country’s roller-coaster economy, residents here have found countless creative ways to get their dollars. One option (and the most glamorous, in my opinion), is to head to Aruba, which is just a short swim off the coast of Venezuela, in the Caribbean Sea. Use Bolivares to buy chips in a casino, then retrieve it all in dollars. It’s all very Daniel Craig. My currency exchange experience went down on Monday, and without incident. I glanced this way and that, then furtively handed over my slim packet of dollars. Like a blackjack dealer pushing the chips toward the high roller, my moneychanger swept an envelope in my direction. Inside the envelope was money -- and lots of it. It was enough to use in a Broadway musical, in the scene where the protagonist wins the lottery. It was mine -- all mine. Or it would be, except for this little business called budgeting. I knew if I didn’t exert control on those zeroes that clearly outnumbered me, they would be gone in a flash. How does one organize money when it comes in the form of millions, exactly? An image flitted across my imagination -- one of Bill Gates, standing in front of a giant closet stocked with rows of small boxes, each labeled: $1 million. Could that method work for me? I mused. Would it? Indeed, I set out to divide the $50,000 notes from the $20,000s, and the $20,000 notes from the $10,000s. My brain stretched, strained and groaned to handle all the zeroes - more zeroes than it ever anticipated it would be required to consider. Oh, the hilarity of faux wealth! It won’t be so difficult come January, when the Venezuelan government plans to introduce new currency – minus most of the zeroes. In an effort to streamline this country’s economy, 50,000 Bs will now be 50 Bs. What is now 100,000 Bs will, in three month time, be just 100 Bs, and so on. Now, my gut says this economic quick fix might not be as cleverly simple as the Venezuelan government says it will be. Besides, all the fun of feeling really, really well-heeled will be gone. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
From Hugo Chavez posters to t-shirts, Caracas is covered with Venezuela's president. This blow-up doll is hard to miss. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Say what you will about safety in Venezuela's capital, but the people here more than enough reason to venture out into the city streets. In fact, they're often the reason I CAN venture out. In the week I've been here, strangers have helped me in minor and major ways too many times to count. There was the moment in which I was trapped inside the ATM office. No, I'm not joking. The cubicle was clear plexiglass, so when I tried to open the door that wouldn't budge, everyone waiting in line could see me. I keep trying and began to feel wildly overcome by claustrophobia when a man on the other side pointed to the (somewhat hidden) button required to press for exit. During the torrential downpour that floods the city each afternoon (I should have known), I was caught outside, in the middle of a narrow, cobbled street. A cafe owner ushered me into her shop and served me creamy hot chocolate. A grocery store clerk collected my produce and showed me how to enter the codes for the correct price. Then, there are the taxis. Not the taxis themselves, but the people who have helped me find them. A woman in Altamira Plaza, a concrete square studded with greenery, walked with me for a half hour to make sure I found a reputable taxi. She flagged them down and haggled over the price until she was satisfied. On Friday, after doing some reporting on a march that led thousands of people through the city streets for more than two hours, I ended up in unfamiliar territory, and it was getting dark. A couple and their son insisted I walk with them until I found a taxi. It wasn't safe otherwise, they said. Today, after conducting interviews at the largest church in Caracas, several church members accompanied me outside. The neighborhood is too dangerous for someone who is obviously American, they said. When no reputable taxi could be found, a woman insisted on driving me to my destination. Caracas may be a dangerous city, but wherever I go, people stop to make sure I'm okay. I don't want to take advantage of their kindness, but they sure make a person feel welcome. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
There’s just one place in Caracas where milk is sure to be found. Cereal’s companion has been nigh impossible to find for months. Chavez’s ministers have scrambled to state an acceptable reason as to why, but residents say the government’s price controls on not only milk but also sugar, flour and other staples have driven farmers to produce other goods. In the case of milk, farmers say they can’t produce it for the price the government says it should be made available to the public. Instead, they’re using their dairy to make cheese, which isn’t subject to controls. The space that once held milk at a nearby grocery store is empty most of the time, except for the rare occasion in which milk is delivered. When that happens, word spreads fast. Today, the milk was sold out by noon. The alternatives include powdered milk and "Long Life," a boxed milk-type product, designed for long-term storage, that or may not be fortified with yucca juice. While city residents enter withdrawal from lack of leche, employees at the United States Embassy (an attractive complex perched on a slope offering a breathtaking view of the city) are apparently enjoying special deliveries of the cow’s purest product. “Who told you that? We don’t get milk here,” one embassy official told me, unable to hide a slight smile. Not five minutes had passed before another embassy official passed by to share the bad news. “The milk truck crashed, so we won’t get any today,” he said. The official who told me there wasn’t any milk looked sheepish. The U.S. government does its best to make life as familiar as possible for its employees in Venezuela. From red, white and blue-themed hallways to overly-efficient air conditioning, it’s American through and through. An attentive Marine checked my passport and stumbled over my Greek surname. (“Hoo-ahh!” I said in thanks when he returned my passport. I couldn’t help it. The Marine grinned.) I even sipped a frothy café con leche in the embassy’s cafeteria. “Makes you feel right at home, doesn’t it?” one official said as we strolled through the red and white portion of a hallway toward the blue section. Got Milk, indeed. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Lessons from a Taxi Driver The city of Caracas is nestled in a long, narrow valley about 20 kilometers from the Caribbean Sea. The hub of the Venezuelan government, it’s located directly south of Puerto Rico, and about 1,300 miles southeast of Havana. Dozens of towers jut out from the valley’s deepest crevices, and the hills that slope up from there are covered with homes, either the fenced residences of those who have money, or the tin-walled shacks of those who do not. There are neighborhoods where even the policemen scatter when night falls, and where taxi drivers refuse to go. “Sabana Grande - that’s danger!” Miguel the taxi driver warned me, referring to one of the city’s shopping districts. He then ticked off half a dozen neighborhoods where he will never deliver a passenger, and ended with an unusual one: the city cemetery. Besides the typical spooky ghost stories, the resting place for the dead of Caracas doesn’t offer much rest at all. Recent years have seen a rise in grave robberies, and not just for jewelry. Now, thieves are snatching the bones themselves, and selling them to followers of Santeria, a black magic that uses human remains in ceremonies to cast hexes. Fortunately, visiting the cemetery isn’t necessary for my project. That’s something Miguel was pleased to hear. But, according to him, I've got other problems. “A periodista? That’s danger!” he said when I told him that I’m a journalist. Why? “Because the president is crazy!” We’ll see about that. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
Bottom of the sixth. The New York Yankees were besting the Cleveland Indians, 5 – 3. In Venezuela, a country of ardent baseball fans, eyes were straining at televisions for a glimpse of Asdrubal Cabrera, their countryman who is now a star for Major League Baseball’s Cleveland team. Suddenly, the yellow, blue and red Venezuelan flag flashed across the screen. It was the near-nightly Bolivarian news update – required broadcasting for all channels, whether or not a baseball game is on. Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez likes his time in the spotlight. In addition to a Sunday afternoon talk show, “Alo, Presidente,” an hours-long feature in which Chavez makes announcements such as today’s promise of a shorter workweek and sometimes even sings, the president makes certain that Venezuelan families relaxing in front of the tube after a long day get their regular dose of Bolivarian gospel. A flick of the remote control shows that every channel broadcasts the same “breaking” announcement – this time a detail about tolls at the border between Colombia and Venezuela. It only lasts a few minutes, then closes with another flourish of yellow, blue and red. Then, it’s back to this country’s national pastime. For baseball fans, the moment away from the game can be excruciating, but that’s life in the Bolivarian Revolution. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW!
There’s a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s T minus two days, and then I’m off to Venezuela. “It’s no big deal,” I assured colleagues in a taxi yesterday as we headed for a tour of the National Public Radio offices in Washington, D.C. “I’ll probably go to the jungle, but not the DEEP jungle. It’s not like I’ll need a tracker or anything.” Chuckles all around. If only I were still laughing. Since then, sources have indicated that the jungle, though deep indeed, is accessible for those who truly want the real story. It would be a shame, they said, a real shame, to travel all the way to the edge of nowhere, only to stop just shy of where the fun begins. Fun. As in grubs for dinner. As in piranhas. As in a good, old-fashioned malaria outbreak, with a bit of Dengue fever thrown in to spice it up. Of course, this will only be possible if I survive Caracas, my point of entry. There, I’ll likely find near-constant street protests. Tear gas. Commando-style police hauling semi-automatic machine guns. Muggings at night. Muggings during the day. Muggings at 60 miles per hour down a freeway! Yes, this trip is voluntary. In fact, I practically begged to go. Indigenous groups in Venezuela have been promised land rights and cultural protection in recent years – historic changes added to the country’s constitution by President Hugo Chavez. I wanted to find out more, so I applied to the International Reporting Project at Johns Hopkins University in Washington, D.C. In my application, I wrote that I would travel to where these indigenous groups live and find out whether their lives have changed under the Chavez administration. My surprise, upon hearing that I’d been accepted, was only topped by the dawning realization that, now, I’d have to actually do the things I said I’d do. For the past week, I’ve been in D.C., preparing for my trip along with two other fellows (Libby Casey, a radio reporter from Fairbanks, Alaska is headed to Iceland to study renewable energy, and Eliza Barclay, a freelancer based in Mexico City, will go to Tanzania to take a look at spreading malaria epidemics). I’ll leave early Sunday morning, take a breather in Miami, and land in Caracas just before 3 p.m. From there, I’ll travel the country for five and a half weeks. There will be regular blog updates, with photos and audio clips. Feel free to leave comments and ask any questions that come to mind. I’ll be more than happy to try to dig up the answers. ... [Read More] E-mail | Print | Comment NEW! |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Subscribe to this blog
|
|
ADVERTISEMENT |
 |
| View all Top Cars |
 |
|
|
 |
| Classifieds |
| Jobs |
| Cars |
| Homes |
| CONTACT THE HERALD |
Elaine Helm, New Media Editor
ehelm@heraldnet.com |
|
ADVERTISEMENT |
| |||||||||||||||||||||
