Venezuela, revolution by the barrel

I´m in Venezuela, home of the Bolivarian Revolution and consumerism gone wild. Where self-declared anti-imperialists scoff down MacDonalds and Wendy´s in red shirts, while the middle classes worry more about getting their hands on dollars than they ever did about helping their fellow countrymen out of poverty. It´s such a bizarre and contradictory society it would funny if wasn´t all so terribly tragic.

I´m here to find out what Venezuelans think about some drastic changes to their constitution which will be put to a referendum on December 2. The proposed changes will, if approved, turn this nation of 27 million into a Socialist State. The economy will be in hands of the government; voting allowed from the age of 16; new forms of communal property will be introduced; the military will be officially "anti-imperialist" and include a people´s militia; and - the Chavez Special - the president can be re-elected indefinitely for a term of 7 years. The latest opinion polls I saw put the No ahead of the Yes by 45 to 40 percent, but that doesn´t mean anything. Neither the opposition nor the government can be trusted in these matters and each come up with their own polls.

I´ve been here about ten days now and it just keeps on getting weirder. The first five days I spent in Maracaibo, supposedly the stronghold of opposition to President Hugo Chávez. Lying at the shores of Lake Maracaibo and floating on god knows how many barrels of oil, Maracaibo is the Houston of the Caribbean. It´s all huge SUV´s, uninspired architecture, fast-food drive-ins and such a scorching heat that the streets are almost always deserted. Obese men and women pop in and out of air conditioned shopping malls, sporting designer sunglasses and baseball shirts. Actually, the people there were lovely. Extremely chatty, hospitable and laid back.


I went to a baseball game - an endless ordeal under a burning sun - and watched as fans from both sides sat together and knocked back Polar beer (light!). Some students protested against the referendum, and unarmed police in polo shirts and caps stood in front of them for a while and then retreated. At a press conference I later attended, the same students claimed they were beaten by the police, or rather by an individual cop, but from where I was sitting, it all seemed pretty harmless. Especially compared to anything you´ll see in Chile or Mexico.

A friendly middle class family invited me over for dinner and told me why they might emigrate if the Yes beats No on Sunday. They had a lot to loose and little to gain from a centralized socialist state, and I sympathized with them. The husband said he and his wife could make a living anywhere, but it was their two daughters at university they were more worried about. The eldest, a medical student, said the day was coming ever closer when her hospital would be run by Cubans. (There are currently around 20,000 of Fidel´s physicians in Venezuela). She claimed that the doctors sent by Cuba were unskilled and very behind in modern medicine. The husband told me how the Cuban secret service ran all the registry offices where real estate and automotive property is registered. He was sure they were already making lists of what to take from whom, for the good of the glorious revolution. That´s not as improbable as it sounds... check out this video.

Now I´m in the capital, Caracas. Grimy, sleazy, hectic and alive sounds and smells. It's actually a lot more pleasant than it sounds, if you don´t mind naked beggars and an arepa-only diet. The shopping malls - like the one I'm in now - are far more infernal than the streets. Brim-filled with every useless consumer item ever conceived by Uncle Sam and fabricated by Chairman Mao, they are a tribute to the kind of consumerism that is destroying our planet. Excuse the Gore-ologue. No don't, some salsa twat has justed started belting out Viva Las Vegas as the mindless masses swipe to their heart's content. If Chavez sticks the whole bleeding lot of them in a some bean producing kolkhoz tomorrow, then so be it. They had it coming.

See what I mean, this is what Venezuela does to you. Half the time I´m amiably chatting away with some sweet old lady, who´s awfully enthousiastic about working in a sewing co-operative and finally deciding herself whether or not she deserves a toilet break, instead of some greedy sweat shop owner. I feel justice is being done. And then, bang, I realize that the whole exercise in Bolivarian Socialism is not in the least bit feasible and worse, hangs by a single thread. The price of oil. As long at that keeps shooting up, Chavez can continue to subsidize anything that´s willing to don a red cap, cry "Ahora Sí" and taunt the US.

I guess that´s the real irony of all this. Were the US, in it´s insane quest to conquer the Middle East by force, to decide to invade Iran, that would almost guarantee Venezuela at least another ten years of Boli-fun.

Despite all the ranting, I enjoy it here. Venezuelans are a good bunch and they deserve better than being relegated to ballot box fodder - be it for or against the government. An attitude of maturity and decency is what this country's leaders are lacking. As long as that continues they'll keep stumbling along the highs and lows of the oil curve.

Cartagena de Indias

Het is vochtig, warm en bewolkt in Cartagena de Indias aan de Colombiaanse kust. Toeristen zien af van een intensieve rondgang langs musea en kerken. In plaats, schuilen ze in hotelkamers en restaurants, waar de airco het poolklimaat opwekt.


Zo vermoed ik althans, want ik heb er nog maar een handvol geteld.

Jammer voor ze. Gisteren hebben wij hier namelijk genoten van een hoogtepunt op de Caribische kalender. De processie van de Reinado Nacional de Belleza, de optocht van schoonheidskoninginnen langs de oude stadsmuren van deze koloniale burcht. Elke provincie van het land stuurde zijn schoonste Miss om de lokale eer te verdedigen op het nationale toneel.

Zondag bepaalt een ontgetwijfeld deskundige jury welke mestiza, mulatta of negra zich Colombia's mooiste mag noemen. Maar voordat het zover is, groeten de Reina's de toegestroomde fans in een twee uur durende optocht. Met duizenden Colombiaanse gezinnen, bejaarden en prinsessesen in spe zwaaien we naar de voorbijfuivende tropische verrassingen.

Ondertussen is het spel om elkaar met meel en nep sneeuw onder te klieren, vast een of ander purificatieritueel (ga ik heus nog wel navragen). Met een teug rum en een hap gefrituurd maisbrood wordt de klamheid bezweerd.

On the road again...

Vandaag ga ik op reis. Ik vertrek via Lima en Bogotá naar Cartagena de las Indias in Colombia. Daar blijf ik tot de dag naar het onafhankelijkheidsfeest op 11 november. Dan ga ik door naar Venezuela.

In Venezuela ga ik een aantal reportages maken over de naderende referendum over de grondwet. Die houden, als het goed is, het hele land land in bedwang. De wijzigingen - o.a. een inperking op eigendomsrecht, onbeperkte herverkiezing van de president, schrappen van de onafhankelijkheid van de Centrale Bank - zijn al goedgekeurd door het parlement. Op 2 december worden ze aan het volk ter goedkeuring voorgelegd.

Op 7 december reis ik weer door. Dan terug naar Argentinië of via Colombia naar Ecuador. Dat laatste hangt af van M.. Als zij vanuit Buenos Aires naar Ecuador kan komen, dan ga ik daar ook heen.

Ik zal proberen met wat meer regelmaat te posten dan de afgelopen weken...