Halfed
Nueva Suyapa is a slum neighborhood on the side of a mountain on the outskirts of the city of Tegucigalpa in Honduras. It is a neighborhood infamous for its high crime, teen pregnancy and high school drop out rates.One room houses for families of five is the norm. Though most houses are securely structured, some are pieced together by random material lying around. The average education of adult inhabitants is below sixth grade. It is on this scene that this dialogue is set.
Hernan popped up in the same uneventful way he did the day Micheal Jackson died;
“They kidnapped the president,” he says; eyes climbing to his forehead stopping just before they reach it, roofed by raised eyebrows that contain the bulk of his surprise, finished off with a long stare that attempts to cause and assess the reaction in the recipient.
“Yes” I say in my equally unemotional manner. I had been woken up to a phone call that informed me of the news, so all of my shock lay in my initial response.
“They shut the power off in the whole city at 7:00am.” he continued in the same way.
Outside kids and adults are attending to their usual pulperia runs; participating in a buzz of a higher magnitude than usual.
“They say he is in the States,” Hernan comments to a passer-by that stopped to discuss the matter.
Having grown accustomed to his unwarranted fixation on the States, and his tendency to relay faulty information, I don’t believe that end of it. Despite that, my ears remain sponge-like;
“A ton of soldiers are surrounding the Presidential palace.”
“If you look on the TV, you’ll see right there, hundreds, kind of scary.”
“They made Zelaya leave by gunpoint.”
“How they did it was really well organized, up to Zelaya’s body guard, all were in on it. Shows how few people supported him.”
It is true, the plan was genius, seamlessly, bloodlessly and efficiently executed; something to cause at least a fraction of concern.
“I’m happy this happened, the people weren’t in agreement, so the people acted, that is democracy, not all of this stuff about changing the constitution.”
“Ya, I wasn’t going to go to the vote anyway,” comments the stranger
“Me neither.” Hernan agrees.
On Sunday a ballot was organized, called the “Cuarta Urna” to decide whether Manual Zelaya could add a referendum to the constitution which would extend his term limits. The constitution is very sacred to Hondurans, who fought hard to freely create it. The warping, bending and rewriting of the constitution is part of an ugly past that most Hondurans do not want to revisit. Changing firm articles, with which presidential term limits were a part, is illegal. The Supreme Court, Congress and Army were all against this possible change, resulting in Manuel Zelaya firing his chief of defense staff.
“It’s all due to this Chavez guy, he’s wanting to make Honduras communist like Cuba and Venezuela, we can’t have our liberties stolen like that, we have to have freedom.” Charly, overhearing the conversation on his frequent walk past the house, chimes in.
“They say in those communist countries everybody makes the same amount, regardless of what you do, that’s not fair,” He continues.
“Ya, in Venezuela, they are taking the land away from those who own it and giving it to those they think need it,” the stranger makes sure he maintains his place in the conversation.
“Exactly, they would come and say,’ you have two rooms and only need one, now you have to give it to a poor person!’” Hernan indignates
“Ya, rights, property, being taken away just like that, we can’t have that.” All are in agreement.
Honduras had recently signed the Venezuelan initiated ALBA charter which granted Honduras the entry into supposedly free and fair trade initiatives in order to “enhance political and economic trade ties” between other left leaning Latin American countries. The initiative has been criticized by left and right alike for its socialist tendencies. Benefits for Honduras included fuel at market price and $15 million in development aid. Honduran’s first visible sign of the benefits of this aid were environmentally friendly long lasting light bulbs that were donated to Honduran households. Many are now wondering what will happen to this aid, and especially fuel, if the removal of Manuel Zelaya sticks. However, it looks like removing Honduras from ALBA is the least of Honduras’ problems regarding Chavez at the moment.
“I agree with Zelaya raising the minimum wage, but changing the constitution, that’s crazy. He’s just power hungry, we can’t have a person like that running the country. It’s dangerous.”
“Exactly, he wanted to do the same thing that Chavez did in Venezuela, just a puppet of Chavez, will he do whatever he tells him?”
“Ya, right, becoming Hondurans own despot out to defeat the U.S with Chavez and friends.”
Chavez had recently extended his term limits from five to six years in Venezuela due to a very close ballot on the matter, extending even longer his going on ten year reign. Other ALBA member countries have been attempting the same.
Hernan continues to listen to the radio that’s been glued to his ears since three in the morning, when he was sleeping.
“OK, it’s now confirmed that the armed forces have Mel Zelaya in Costa Rica.” Hernan once again reports.
Conversation lulls, electricity returns and we are redirected to the television where the Congress begins to speak. The armed forces suspended electricity, blocked phone lines and censored channels such as CNN to limit communication and possible uprisings and ensure control before the Congress had the chance to meet.
Back in the Congress hall, the representatives are in agreement with Hernan and his neighbors,
“We cannot have a President of this state disobey the Constitution; we must have democracy here in Honduras. This is the consequence for attempting illegal activity!” says a defiant man with slicked black hair and glasses.
All applaud, out-pounding the slew of Constitutional rights they were simultaneously suspending.
“We must defend the constitution and the law, and anyone trying to steal what we as Hondurans believe in, must be stopped.”
Further applause and similar statements subdue.
Now it is time for the vote of the expulsion of Manuel Zelaya. Everyone raises their hands. It’s like they all were in this together. Roberto Micheletti reads the authenticity-to-be-confirmed resignation letter of Manuel Zelaya, and with the tap of a hat Manuel Zelaya is no longer president of Honduras.
“This country will not be without a President.” Congress echoes.
They then explained that because Vice President Elvin Santos resigned, and the head of the Armed forces was recently fired, the next in line to be President is Roberto Micheletti, the Speaker of the Congress.
They pursue the proclaimed necessary routine to make Micheletti president, reading pages upon pages of higher languaged (a.k.a indecipherable by the average illiterate lay man) official inaugaration papers. It seemed the reader was bored himself by the material. Like a high strung salesmen who convinces the unquestioning client that all the written material is a boring waste of time, “So just sign here”, Micheletti and his Congress friends lulled to sleep passive but loyal uneducated Hondurans leading them to sign the life of their country away for the next six months. This all happened within a matter of hours, a speed unheard of in the Honduran government.
Micheletti begins to talk:
“What happened was not a coup, it was a necessary procedure following the law to restore order in this country.”
He hides the meticulous long labored planning for the event, failing to mention that forcing a President out of their house and to another country is also highly illegal and dangerous. Coups and political instability were common in Central America post revolution, the last of which was in 1993 in Guatemala.
“Exactly!” says Hernan, agreeing with all that the Congress and TV is feeding him.
This seems like a common trend for the average low-income Honduran citizen who doesn’t cause trouble and whose only source of information is Honduran news. The slant of the paper can be noted in the title for a pro-Micheletti rally: “Honduras against Illegality.” The biggest crime committed by Honduran papers and news sources in this crisis was the leaving out. I was unaware until two days later of the riots which killed two protesters, injured thirty six and was filled with tear gas and rioters throwing rocks; the ugly side of Honduras that they didn’t want to admit even to its own citizens. The reason: promote the facade that all of Honduras was calm in order to prevent possible uprisings and backlash.
That night the existent divisiveness of the country was evident:
“Mel only wanted to know what the people thought and was asking the people to cast a vote to express these thoughts. He wasn’t going to do anything more,” said Mario who, having had the influence of higher education was more aligned with his left leaning professors.
“Well then it was not well communicated, because the people thought he was taking away their rights and was going to change the constitution,” said Karen who was on Hernan’s side, but had graduated to the ability to think for herself.
“Mel is a man for the poor people of Honduras,” continues Mario, unaware of his growing allegiance to the man.
“Are you poor?” he asks Hernan.
“No,” Hernan replies.
“But were you poor?” he fishes.
“Yes.”
“And how did you change?”
“By working hard.”
“Exactly, that’s how the poor man lifts himself out of poverty. By raising the minimum wage, Mel was supporting the working man in Honduras.”
“That whole raising of the minimum wage was just a way to get people to vote for ALBA, and it worked.” Hernan fights back.
“No, it was for the people, Mel cares about the people, but Micheletti and his stooges, I don’t think so. There are about 300 families that run this country, that own all of the major businesses. They don’t want the minimum wage being raised because it affects their profits. This was their master plan to help themselves through Micheletti and hurt the poor man.”
“I don’t know, sounds kind of crazy to me. How could extending term limits help the people? That’s what I want to know, the direction he was going in wasn’t democracy, how can anything but democracy help the people?” responds Hernan, unused to being challenged by left wing rhetoric.
“But what about what Micheletti is after? Doesn’t seem to have the best track record himself,” I try to chime in.
“Ya, its true. Look; in politics in Honduras, they’re all thugs and thieves, that’s a given, but I’d rather a predictable thug that than an unpredictable freedom thief.” An overzealous Charly charismatically attempts to use his personality and choice of words to convince, starting to sound like a stubborn Republican from the U.S.
“What Zelaya was going to do was bring Venezuela and all its crazy communist laws to
Honduras, we just can’t have that. Do you want that?”
Conversation raises a couple of decibels as both sides, assuming opposing viewpoints from the other, try to out-load political ammunition and shoot at the same time.
Both, too impassioned to even recognize the other’s weapon in hand don’t even attempt to dodge, dismantling the delicately formulated opinion of the other before it even reaches them.
Trying to diffuse the fire, a friend of Mario's starts a side conversation on how it is all in God’s hands, and we shouldn’t worry or argue; that Jesus said the poor will always be with you. Allison, off in the corner, overwhelmed with all the simultaneous conversation, doesn’t know who to follow or believe, and slips off into the back room. Later she tells me she’s glad Mel is gone.
On the TV a lawyer calls for respectful dialogue; Obama chides the same.
This possibility is pursued at my work place, where slightly more informed individuals chime in,
“Ya, I’m not much for Micheletti or Zelaya, they’re both delinquents.” My boss begins the conversation.
“Ya, Micheletti is a coke addict and trafficker.” A co-worker adds.
“Exactly, trying to get his piece of the pie. What I don’t like about this whole thing is the way they did it all, it was unnecessary and illegal.” My boss makes clear his position.
“They could have waited and brought him to court sensibly, why’d they need a coup?”
“And if all was legal, why did they have to bring him to another country, they could have tried him peacefully here,” said a lawyer who earlier commented that she had no opinion on the matter.
“Ya, makes you wonder if something else wasn’t behind it; a little questionable.”
“You know what I say: the US is behind it, they were getting scared with Zelaya chumming up to Chavez and all.”
“Ya the U.S, acting all diplomatic and such, not reducing aid yet”
With US’s former tendency to help in ousting any potential left leaning leader in Central America, and their loyal support and training of the Honduran army, I understood my co-workers’ sentiments, but thought the possibility highly unlikely. Honduras had seemed to convict the US of many ills and accomplishments in which they had not participated; the assumed savior and arch oppressor simultaneously. A dependent relationship at the stage of teenage angst, at fault: its self proclaimed parents.
The conversation was then reduced to making fun of the political rivals. Both Mel and Micheletti had now become easy ways to get a quick laugh around the office, like the age of Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. The change, history, settled in, announces its thorough affects when it makes its way down to the bone of children’s rhymes and games. Jokes are not too far from that reality.
Back at the house I am reminded by Hernan that Zelaya may come back Thursday,
“He’s coming accompanied with U.S support,” he says.
Rumors, and gossip with which this neighborhood are experts, wasn’t about to escape this situation; a way to fill in the news gaps.
Diana, Hernan’s daughter, begins to explain how in Venezuela, children at three years old are taken from their homes and forced into state owned nurseries where they are raised to be soldiers, and that Zelaya was on his way to doing the same in Honduras.
Glad to end the topic, Hernan’s partner, that they call La Chavela, is much more emotionally charged about a situation that involved Diana’s child, her five month old granddaughter in the past week.
With this I begin to realize the different levels of news, and the degree of impact each level has on a regular Honduran family. There’s the news that one's daughter’s five month old baby accidentally fell to the ground, provoking an in the chest fear.
The news that a friend with a fractured leg is hurting, causing one to immediately come running. Then, the news that one's President was just rid of his post, which off-settles one for awhile until it becomes back round information to food on the table; only to come back into the spotlight when it threatens that inner close to home level. We are all hoping that doesn’t become a reality.
Over a week later, Allison comes home at 9:00a.m still a school uniformed expectant, again; without given the opportunity of classes. They say schools are going to stay closed until Mel Zelaya comes home.
In the community the same story is retold; a single mother with two children, one deaf and sick often, laments that she hasn’t been able to sell tortillas, her lifeblood, since the crisis began. She at the moment is depending on the good will of her neighbors and friends.
A taxi driver friend complains the same, ridership has gone down since the crisis began, people more afraid to go downtown where the protests are.
Weeks later, my flight from Houston to Honduras had numerous rows that were totally empty. The tourist town of the Copan Ruins, usually swarming with tourists during the peak of the summer mirrors the airplane seats.
Now that the Honduras crisis has been removed from what the BBC calls news, Hondurans are left to deal with dual wars competing: the sudden waging political one and the constant scraping by one which has just reached another kind of unthinkable level due to curfews and anticipated danger.
Chavez’s lightbulbs still blaze on the rich and the poor.
