Phase II Tug of War

Phase II: Tug of War; 21 Sept 2009

The return of Mel Zelaya came as his departure did: “like a thief in the night” just as he and his ‘Savior’ said it would be. Though at this point, he and so many had cried wolf that the general population barely moved when the news trickled down to their own social ripple, some still faithfully deeming true whatever their new interim government sells them. If Micheletti blatantly lies to save face, as is common in Honduras, stating Mel Zelaya is not in Honduras until live news casts force him to admit it, those wanting “Peace and Democracy” have no other option but to believe it. Once his presence was confirmed as fact, the shock, sheer unbelief and surprise of ‘how in the hell did he do that?´ found a hard time settling in.

I found out, once again, by people who expected I already knew, through a text message a friend showed me that said, “Get out ¨Golpistas¨(Coup-ers) Long Live the Resistance!” common slogans used by Mel´s resistance crew that had been graffitied all over key city buildings and once aesthetically pleasing structures all over the city.

Mel had attempted to return the 5th of July on an airplane which could not land due to army tanks taking over the runway. On the 25th of July he proved he could in fact enter Honduras by quickly crossing over the Nicaragua border to the spot where it said “Welcome to Honduras” rallied around his support and went back to his asylum stationed country. This 21st of September entry. however, was an infamous feat that the grown sleepy by inaction armed forces didn´t expect. He says he walked fifteen hours ´through rivers and mountains´ through El Salvador with his crew to the smoggy capital of Honduras to reinstate his reign.

“Come on, you actually believe that,” a client of the community center where I work remarks,

“ He was driven in a private car.”

“He explained the way he crossed the border to news sources,” an animated coworker, Alan, explains.

“He said he shot out a prayer as he crossed, and a mighty wind moved through the pines, causing them to bend and make a big noise. So the soldiers turned, and focused their attention on the pines, and Mel Zelaya and crew could cross, unnoticed. He said it was a miracle…” Alan´s audience, over-devout Christians who thought it comical and ironic for any Honduran political figure to summon upon God and claim divine intervention, exploded.

“He was quoting a verse in Isaiah,” Marvin added, “Something about how God is always with you.”

Tickled, the office folk transitioned into a description of Mel´s current state where he decided to announce his return and is now sequestered, at the Brazilian embassy.

“Nobody can bring food in, they cut off the water, electricity, phone lines, he might as well be in prison.” Johnny reflected.

“They say a Venezuelan plane came in later,” Alan continued, “They came with Hugo Chavez, checked up on him and the plane left.”

A more left leaning newspaper, El Tiempo, which temporarily and often, was an ‘unreachable domain’ online, stated on behalf of Hugo Chavez, “We are behind you Mel, the Venezuelan army is ready to fight.”

Chavez´s close relationship with Manuel Zelaya has now become common knowledge, out in the open, so much, that Mel called Hugo Chavez´s cell phone when he arrived at the Brazilian embassy while Chavez was at an inauguration of a computer program for kids. Chavez was proud to announce to the audience Mel´s arrival in Honduras, to which most applauded. Chavez said he would be in Honduras to meet and discuss with other leaders the next day. It was as if they had planned it, and now only receiving pre-determined signals to know which move to make next.

Ecstatic about his return, Mel supporters rallied around the Brazilian embassy and extended their celebration into the streets, where a second grade student claimed they were charging a 100 Lempira ($5) fine to all who passed by at around 1:00p.m, when all the action was unfolding. This particular driver of this van of school children refused to pay the fine, and was eventually, strangely and gratefully passed through.

In predictable grip tightening fashion, Roberto Micheletti swiftly set a curfew (be at home or at least in your neighborhood) for 4:00pm at 3:30pm. The stated aim, “keep peace and prevent possible violence”. The hidden aim, “keep all Mel supporters from organizing and create a legitimate reason to punish them for doing so.” No action or dialogue even pursued much less resolved, Mel Zelaya still in the Brazilian embassy, Micheletti extended the curfew to 6am the next (Tuesday September 22) morning, and when that still wasn´t long enough extended it to 6pm Tuesday evening apparently that wasn´t long enough, so they extended it until 6am and then 6pm Wednesday.

On Tuesday morning, the from five am to seven pm bustling bus terminal was wanting of aggressive sing-songy sales pitches by cobradors and competing taxi drivers and the vehicles that made their shouts possible. The only vehicles seen were BMX bikes undersized for their owner doing figure eights and attempts at jumps, taking full advantage of their new found traffic free space. These were accompanied by the occasional motorcycle and the stagnant morning vegetable and afternoon cheese trucks. These determined to make a buck vendors join these pre-gang misfits in lounging with the news radio on full blast, simultaneously chiding them and all those within earshot to be astute and aware of the latest move of the dueling
presidents.

Upon nightfall, across the still vacant terminal at Nueva Suyapa´s own mini-market central, the owner is faced with the dual task of trying to sell his products while avoiding going scarce on the routinely delivered ones. His two co-workers/family members efficiently, professionally and hurriedly receive orders and collect products to be given to customers, shuffling through dirty bills and running to the cash stash to return change. They do this all with candles, as the routine crisis time power outage has lasted longer this night.

“The truck of products was due to come today; but with the situation like this, they wouldn’t let anybody go out of their prospective colonias to get anything or anybody come in to deliver anything.” He apologized to merchandise-hungry customers with a spelunking flashlight strapped to his forehead in the electricity starved dark.

“I heard they were even forcing some businesses to close downtown.” He explained to me after the ravenous crowd had left.

“Soon people are going to start raiding the stores. With all of this rising uncertainty, they’re going to get scared that they won’t be able to get food when they need it so they’re going to stock up.”

“Those who suffer are the people, while these guys sit around and decide whether or not to have dialogue,” He rightfully complains.

As I walked from one of the always stocked product depleting pulperias to the next, the dust packed road was almost empty, allowing it to haze into the city-plagued darkness above.

Pulperia #2, unlike #1, had candles for sale.

There, an old man with more gaps than browning teeth sprayed through them,
“32 injured at the Brazilian embassy off to Hospital Escuela. But, then again, those protestors, hooligans on both sides really, being paid off, and then when the police crackdown, eh, well, that is just another level of thug.”

Right before my eyes were the visible signs of “the people” growing disgruntled and losing faith in a “Honduras for Peace and Democracy”.

Many of them were behind and in front of me in the 65 person line at the pharmacy on Wednesday, when, due to all over outrage with the 30 hour curfew (toca de queda), that a local pro-interim government newspaper called a “toca de hambre” (Hunger Curfew), the interim government saw it necessary to give Hondurans at least a window to shop: between 10am and 4pm. Unsure of when this chance would come again, afraid the current government was going to continue to grip so tight their nails would start digging into the country, everyone that had the resources went out, waited in 500 people grocery store lines and bought. The parking lots to malls and grocery stores couldn’t fit the demand of parking space, nor the grocery stores themselves fit the customers, hence the lines. Gas stations and banks echoed in similar chaos. When we asked for a handful of money, the amount of $US1,500, the bank teller told us we had to wait for the money truck to come, which at 10:30a.m was just filling up.

“I never thought anything like this would ever happen my country. Never in my country!! Look at this craziness!!” Said an outraged middle aged woman waiting to buy her medicine whose teenage daughter, having apparently heard the spiel many a time before had contracted a sickness of her own that involved repetitive sighing.

“All because of these two power hungry men, who act like they need all of our freedom and money, we have to do crazy things like rush to the store all at the same time, wait in line, hoard what we can find,” she raised decibels, which inspired eye rolling in the already annoyed.

“Puppets, that’s all we are to them, being tossed and manipulated to their very whim. Is this entertaining to them? Their own sick form of fun!” she continues, defiant and pokerfaced to her daughter’s poor attempt at indirect communication.
Her daughters disease was not the only one newly infected, as booked psychologists and psychiatrists can testify and a rise in assaults and murders has displayed.

“The next step is a military state,” a friend informs me, “first comes the coup, then comes the curfew then the military state,” says one who has lived through the horrific transition from democracy to a dictatorship.

“I remember exactly how it was in the late 70’s, nobody is allowed to leave their house even within their own colonia or allowed to buy anything, like being under a country wide house arrest.”

And that is how it had already begun to feel, as, days later, Roberto Micheletti suspends a slew of civil liberties, including freedoms of the press and of assembly, an accustomed to various levels of abuse population braces themselves for the next blow, not even blinking as they crawl on the ground searching for their candles and matches on the eve of the 50th ‘unplanned’ power outage.