The situation in Venezuela

Let me share 2 stories. Two stories of friends in Venezuela.

The first is about Chuito, the father of my good friend, Chucho. He is a fisherman who lives in the small town of San Francisco de Macanao, the only town on the Macanao peninsula of Margarita Island that is setback from the ocean, nestled in the mountains. The family has a small rancheria down the road at a beach called El Tunal. Under the thatched roof of the rancheria, the family has two boats, La Vichita and Cleidis del Mar, but no engines. He applied for a government loan from the Chavez government about 3 years ago and has been promised the money to buy a boat engine so that he can fish and provide for his family of 7 children, 3 grandchildren. When I met him, he was fishing with a neighbor and friend of his on a boat he did not own and was barely able to meet the needs of his 10 dependents. Unfortunately, his friend passed away recently in a car accident – hit by a drunk driver. Chuito not only lost a friend, but his livlihood - he can no longer fish without access to a boat. To make ends meet, Chuito's wife works as well – two different jobs in town. They have a small house of 4 bedrooms for all 12 of them and a small piece of land that allows them to grow some squash, peppers and have chickens and pigs. Somehow they get by. Two boat engines cost around 5 million bolivares (about $2,200) and they have been waiting for the money to come through for over 4 years now. They continue to be hopeful but Chuito is growing older and it is difficult for him to find work. When I saw him most recently, he was employed by the sand mining company, guarding the huge machine that uproots native trees that are in such a delicate balance with the harsh, dry climate of the dry forest ecosystem. He works from sundown to sun up and sleeps in a hammock outside, alone, every night. He dreams of being able to get back out on the water and fish again. It pains him every time he has to pay money for fish that he used to sell. And yet he remains hopeful that the government will come through with the money. Everytime I speak with him, he says, “It shouldn’t be too long now.” They have no telephone, so to inquire about the status of the loan, he must make a trip to the capitol city after a night of guarding the machine in the mountains. On public transportation from San Francisco it takes about 2 hours (an hour of which is simply waiting for the bus to arrive) to get the office where he inquires about the status of the loan. And every time they tell him that there are too many loans, that his time is coming and it shouldn’t be more than a couple of months before the money finally arrives. In the house, they always have the Chavez TV station playing and Chuito talks about how important it is to redistribute the wealth of the country, to share knowledge, resources and opportunities equitably among all citizens. And he believes this is what Chavez is doing. And so he waits patiently for his loan so that he can do what he has always loved to do: fish. Meanwhile, in Caracas's wealthier neighborhoods, far from the salty waters of El Tunal where Chuito patiently awates the money for his boat engines, luxury homes and apartment blocks shoot up as a small elite, the "boli-burguesia", or Bolivarian bourgeoisie, make their fortune from high international oil prices.

The second story is about Emilio Perez, entrepreneur, map-maker, trekking guide. Emilio was raised in a poor mining town of Venezuela whose economy suffered the same fate as many mining towns. One of many children born to a struggling working class family, he recognized that there was no future for him in the town of his birth. Fortunately for Emilio, he had cousins in the US and was able to illegally travel to the States for a couple of years as a young man. He worked wherever he could and lucky for him, had a talent for English. He was also introduced to the internet in the States and he was able to learn about the world and research opportunities for success. Luckily, he landed a job as the manager of Latino workers, liaison between the general manager who spoke no Spanish and the Latino workers who spoke no English. He worked in a fireworks factory for awhile, then a circus, odd jobs in Boston. He saved his money and eventually returned to his country. He loves his country. He loves the spectacular natural beauty of his country. He managed to make a connection to someone who needed guides for Roraima and he started taking tourists up to the top of famous flat-topped mountains in Venezuela. While working with these groups, he became fascinated with maps and decided to try and make detailed maps, using satellite images to capture the contures of the tops of tepuis. Using the internet and through international networking, he was able to obtain the technical equipment he needed to start making his maps. He now has about 4 different maps of different tepuis and a physical and political map of Venezuela. All are in both English and Spanish. He sells them all over the country, to Venezuelans and tourists alike, but still struggles to make everything work out financially. He takes opportunities to guide now and then, he works on international documentaries that want to film in Venezuela, he does other odd jobs when they come to him. Throughout his whole life he has actively searched for opportunities that were not readily available to a person from his background. He has never waited for the government to solve his problems and feels extremely threatened by the current Chavez government and the direction that it is taking his country. He watches the independent TV channels that banter back and forth about the corruption within the current government. He understands that Chavez will never save him, but he may very well take away the wealth he has worked hard to achieve.