Chavez - Saint or Sinner?

Wednesday 21^st September was International day of Peace. It was marked by candid, anti-imperialist fighting talk from Evo Morales, President of Bolivia. Bravo. TeleSur in Venezuela, an al-Jazera type station for Latin America, created by Chavez, gave much coverage to the Morales speech. It also covered an ecumenical service at Riverside Church for the health of Chavez, who has returned to Cuba for another bout of chemotherapy. Despite being in Cuba for treatment, Chavez joined the worshippers and spoke to them for several minutes via satellite link up. He called for peace and for the world to speak up against imperialist attacks on sovereign states.

The pulpit at Riverside displayed quite an amazing portrait of Chavez, the pioneer of 21^st century socialism, in the icon Mother Teresa and Dalai Lama, hands in prayer in front of the face pose. Was there a subliminal message here? Is Chavez a saint or a sinner, does he feel his immortality close at hand? 21^st century socialism, Chavez style, has issues with the church but not with religion. We should pray for his recovery.

Although my Spanish remains rudimentary, I attempt to read newspapers and notice that in papers of a certain hue, el imperio, is used to refer to the United States. Chavez has taken a stance against el imperio on a regular basis but clearly the ante is being upped. Following Venezuela's supply of an oil product to Iran earlier this year, the US imposed sanctions against several Venezuelan oil companies/subsidiaries. Since the government owns the oil company this was seen as an attack on the government. What the US did not impose however, was sanctions on the sale of oil to the US from the very same companies. The hypocrisy of this is self-evident. And while Chavez and Morales highlight the way in which the US and other Western powers play games with sovereign states – think Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, they must also fear for themselves as promoters of a different political and social ideology. One which capitalist powers, for all their claims to democracy, seem unwilling to let flourish, either inside or outside their own borders. Chavez is right to feel threatened but he's coming out fighting and if that means invoking 'great' leaders such as the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa, I won't complain.

And one more thing, price controls on meat came in to effect in Venezuela this past week. It caused chaos in supermarkets in Disneyland! But more on that next time.

Beyond the Gates of Disneyland

Today I ventured way beyond the gates of Disneyland, or about 6 Metro stops beyond where I've gone before. Downtown Caracas, restored under Chavez and cleared of the chaos of multitudes of street vendors, has some beautiful old buildings, including the St. Theresa church, the Court of Justice, the Parliament Buildings and Bolivar's house (now a small museum). Bolivar is the Libertador, a military and political leader of great significance in Venezuela and the man who led the country (and others, then part of Gran Colombia) to independence in 1812. A statue of him on horseback dominates the Plaza Bolivar. It's a pity they can't get rid of that pigeon that sits on his head. This was the place where a very enthusiastic member of the army battalion charged with protecting the country's heritage wanted to practice his English. His boss had told him not to fraternise with the visitors (i.e. people like me) and only to speak if spoken to. He disagreed. Furthermore, he insisted I speak to his boss and ask that he be allowed to act as tour guide to Simon Bolivar's house. The boss was none too impressed. Disciplinary charges could follow!

Across the plaza, a socialist cafe served excellent (and cheap) coffee and cakes. Overstaffing and talking among themselves marked 21^st century socialism's customer service policy. But it came without the sense of intimidation and downright rudeness that typified 20^th century East European communist style customer service. A man at the next table, wearing the trademark red polo shirt of government supporters (and employees), hearing us speak English, struck up a conversation in which he shared his socialist philosophies and knowledge of the history of the Irish who fought in Venezuela and Mexico's wars of independence. The Irish do love a good revolution, I assured him! What could I say when he highlighted that an Irish man also supported Hitler? There's always one bastard who lets the side down.

The gangs of street cleaners, clad in their red polo shirts add a sense of order and civic pride. This was much in evidence when a newspaper vendor (socialist papers of course) proudly pointed us in the direction of a public toilet, which was, he said, 'very clean'. And so it was. The man at the entrance handed over a generous strip of toilet paper and pointed out which cubicle I should use. He refused any kind of payment for the service. All of this is a remarkable turn around for a city centre that ten years ago was dilapidated, insecure and chaotic. Apparently public sector workers are given a free uniform (coloured red). While not compulsory attire, a central district hiving with red clad citizens has the psychological effect of making it seem like everyone in the capital is a Chavista!

Which they are not. Later in the afternoon, I was assured the rejuvenation of Caracas doesn't extend more than 2 blocks, north, south, east or west of downtown. Makes me think maybe I simply went from Disneyland to Universal Studios!!

22^nd September 2011, Caracas

You can hate the revolution and enjoy it too

So, standing in line for the free fusion music theatre event, a man looking exactly like a 65 year old Fidel, greets two guys in front of me in the queue. 'How are things going?' they ask. “How do you think, now that our country belongs to Cuba” is the dead pan response. I noticed he was one of the first through the doors (seniors being permitted entry before all others). There has be some democracy when you can criticise Chavez in one breath and enjoy the free cultural events that have come with 21^st century socialism with the next.

Viva la revolucion!

21 September 2011

Music to Watch Revolutions By

There seems to be no end to cultural events in Caracas, thanks largely, it seems to the socialist revolution which is of a 21^st century hue. My first weekend saw a free Salsa-esque concert in a restored (and government owned) hacienda in a park in Caracas. This past weekend I was lucky to enjoy cultural events on Friday, Saturday AND Sunday. Friday night saw an invitation to a Shabbat, the day that marks the 7^th day of the Jewish week and the day of rest. There appears to be a wealthy and vibrant Jewish community in Caracas, into which the sister of my friend has married. Being a festive occasion, this particular Shabbat was also serving to mark the recent Bar Mizvah of my friends nephew. These are Sephardi jews, originating in Morocco. The food was appropriately Moroccan, the families present, warm and friendly, the apartment luxurious. This had nothing to do with the revolution, except perhaps that it indicates business has continued to flourish as the socialist revolution has advanced. Though had I questioned the hosts perhaps they would have indicated harder times under Chavez. Now that I think of it, someone present did make mention of Caracas being a horrible place these days. I can't say I see that so much myself.

On the contrary, it seems the revolution has reclaimed the streets of Chacao, not directly mind since Chacao has proved a stronghold for the anti-Chavistas. But to compete with the Chavez move towards culture for the masses, the streets of Chacao are buzzing with free cultural events, restaurants, businesses, nice shops and a reliable police service. People have reclaimed the Plaza in Los Palos Grandes and since families tend to live in high rise apartments it is the place to be between 3pm and 7pm. It rings with upward of 50 people 'om-ing' to the free yoga classes in the square and the sound of children at free storytelling and drawing activities 3 days a week. As a volunteer with the children's activities group told me, “this is Disneyland” compared to the rest of Caracas.

And so, as appropriate to a district that is competing with El Presidente, Saturday was an evening 'Por El Medio de la calle 2011' in the Plaza La Castellana al Mercado de Chacao. There were bands, street theatre, dance and photo exhibitions from 5-11pm. The atmosphere was great and the streets hiving with young people which meant only one thing by the time I got there – it was young people's music, a hip hop band had taken the stage and the last of the street acrobats was packing up. Still, it was a great (short) night out!

And so to Sunday and fruits directly from the tree of the revolution. In a theatre down town, I queued for free entry to a fusion of classical and indigenous music and dance, or rather, dancer. There were no pre-performance political speeches and if the performance was in any way political it passed most of the audience by. Everyone knew it was 'of the revolution' but there were certainly non-supporters enjoying it too. More of which in another post. This work of fusion was all confusion and the two Amazonian Indian's and the 6 classical musicians dressed in bizarre outfits with bits of feathers and such like, really were from two different worlds. The awful, all but naked, female dancer was from another world altogether. Without lyrics the music was to speak for itself and the audience to leave totally renewed spiritually (thanks, presumably to the special gifts of the Indians). I know at least two members of the audience who left trying to stop themselves from laughing at how ridiculous it was. But that was a sort of spiritual renewal too in a way.

Thank you El Presidente for valuing culture of all hues and for making it free to all.

19 September 2011, Caracas

Chevere

Chevere...every sentence has a smattering of 'cheveres', local slang for good, nice, cool, great, things, people or situations. That's probably about the extent of my Spanish oral comprehension right now.  After one week and four and half hours of Spanish that's pretty awful. Not chevere at all! Unlike the arepas, the standard breakfast fare made from refined cornflour and filled with queso or ham or whatever you like. Doing the 50 minute walk back from CVA on Saturday I stopped for some empenadas but they weren't at all chevere. Friday night's soup and visitors were muy chevere. My friend spent 2 days making it – chicken, olives, potatoes, milk, avocado. I passed the night sinking deeper into Spanglish with every additional tequila provided by some long lost visiting Mexican cousins. Which made Saturday a day of suffering that was not dissipated by the visit to Caracas Country Club. A beautiful building straight out of an Allende novel and a place for the 'old rich' to while away the hours, eating, drinking, smoking, golfing, playing tennis. They still take your car from you at the entrance, park it and bring it back when you decide to go back to the real world. The world where the other half, or in the case of Venezuela, the other 90% live! To me a more chevere world in many ways.

5 September 2011, Caracas

No hablo espanol

After months of planning I arrived into a warm, sunny Caracas and a warm welcome first from El Presidente Hugo Chavez whose face, in at least 20 times life size, adorns the aeropeurto internacional de Maiquetia de Simon Bolivar to give it its full name, and then my friends, in human size.

Caracas has been a pleasant surprise. To date, I have avoided the Caracas of 15 murders a day, being drugged by impregnated leaflets and kidnapped by an unscrupulous taxi driver. The later could be down the fact that I haven't yet ridden in a taxi or taken the cable car into the mountainside barrios. I have however, negotiated the camionetas and the Metro all without incident. I've listened to a free salsa concert in a restored hacienda, appropriated by Hugo for the people. The local Plaza is the place to enjoy watching capoeira practice and someone take his hamster for a walk (in a plastic ball made just for the purpose).

I appreciate the Avila mountain range which dominates the city to the south or is it the north – it reminds me of Belfast and therefore, of home. Thoughts of home were also brought to the fore when I came across a man selling puppies from the back of a van in an underpass near Centro Venezolano Americano where I attend Spanish class. I've taken in the ranchos but only from a distance. One day I'll take those cable cars Chavez installed to take los pueblos to the barrios in the Avila mountain range. I feel comfortable here in this city – and I don't generally like cities.

Spanish classes have started, some at 7am! I wake early here, in this pleasant climate, and go to bed early too. Being surrounded by Spanish does not seem to help my learning and shop assistants and such like aren't too bothered to attempt to figure out what I'm trying to say. For now, yo no hablo espanol, but I am trying hard to ensure that one day I do.