CARACAS — There is nothing that can really prepare you for the human suffering on display here in Venezuela or the degree to which this country is in a free-fall. As a diplomatic power struggle between Nicolas Maduro and Juan Guaido played out on the world stage at the end of January, I spent hours in Caracas walking around Petare, one of the worst slums in the city. The streets are filled with families picking food from the trash, eating it right there, desperately seeking sustenance. My eye is drawn to one young man with boils all over his legs, the skin overtaken by infection. He gnaws at an almost bare chicken bone while he looks around frantically, as if he is afraid someone would steal it from his hands.
My bodyguard, Salazar, is next to me at all times, eyeing the surroundings, and a few minutes into our walk, I see his arm extend to the right of me as he grabs a young man running straight at me. I start running and end up at a square, standing next to a big statue of the national hero, Simon Bolivar. Behind it, there are colorful houses in rows up the steep mountain, structures that are hanging on by thread, and on many of them, there are paintings of Maduro and Hugo Chavez — scattered shards of a shattered dream.
Salazar catches up to me and explains that the man is a neighborhood watchman, a member of one of the criminal gangs Chavez put on the government payroll to police citizens as the country started to fall into chaos. Chavez provided money and weapons, and now, as Venezuela comes apart at the seams, these gangs have created a society within a society, combining a criminal enterprise of drugs, prostitution, and theft with their allegiance to the state. Police rarely come to the areas controlled by the neighborhood guerrillas and the last line of public transport stops several miles away. Though the gangs have remained on the government’s payroll, they are now less employees than freelance enforcers with no particular loyalty.
Although the guerrillas may be an extreme example, the concept of each man for himself has replaced the socialist agenda of solidarity all over Venezuela, as each citizen tries desperately to survive despite lawlessness, starvation, and unbridled corruption. The hospitals lack even the most basic supplies, and last month, Salazar tells me, five newborn infants died in the maternity ward from infections caused by the unsanitary conditions. In any other country, he says, there would be outrage and accountability, but here in Venezuela, there is silence. No media to cover it, no expectation of repercussions for the people who brought this on.
That culture of silence has created a strange and eerie mood here in Caracas, as the city is waiting for the next big clash following this month’s protests and Juan Guaido seeking to supplant Maduro as the legitimate president. One would expect that this crisis would have the city in an uproar, but it is a silent anger that fills the air, only to erupt in violence every other day before being squashed by government forces.
As I walk around the city, I see people going to and from work, waiting for the bus or chatting on a corner, but there are telltale signs of trouble if you know where to look. There are “colectivos” — a faction of violent and armed Maduro-loyalists — standing guard on every block, ready to pounce on protesters and journalists alike. Most shops and restaurants are boarded shut, the proprietors too frightened of riots to keep them open.
And they are right to be cautious; Maduro loyalists and opposition supporters plan to march through the city, both certain to bring protesters and pushback from the other side. The protests I have seen so far have all started peacefully and then, suddenly shifted, as “colectivos,” government forces, and desperate citizens clash with an outcome as predictable as it is horrific. So far, there are 165 confirmed dead and almost 5,000 jailed as a result of the unrest, and the damage is, as most things in this socialist state, unevenly divided. Despite the odds, the people’s opposition continues, and with every new protest, there are more flags, more people, and a little more hope that this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
As the temperature rises here in Caracas, a final showdown seems inevitable, and, given that Maduro has rejected Guaido’s offer of amnesty, this socialist state will not likely go quietly into that good night. Meanwhile, the people still suffer in silence and go about their day, trying to survive while the fate of their nation is fought out in streets and halls of Parliament. This is a city holding its breath, with its totalitarian oppressors at the brink.
Annika Hernroth-Rothstein is a Swedish freelance journalist and author, currently in Caracas for the Swedish daily Ledarsidorna. Twitter: @truthandfiction
