To and Fro

Going back to Managua from León was like going back to the "real world." Managua (in the Metro Centro district -- which I've heard described as "the Beverly Hills of Managua") might as well be Miami -- a city with which it is "twinned." A couple of days at the Managua Backpackers Inn (while I searched in vain for my ticket to Costa Rica) was more than enough. Managua Backpackers is the only place n Nicaragua I'm always glad to leave; but it's a good place to store my stuff so that I can travel light to other places. After getting my situation cleared up with Immigration -- paying $17 ($1 per day for over-staying my tourist permit by five days, and $12 to extend my permit for 25 days) -- I decided to return to León for a few days. My stay here has turned into three weeks, más o menos. I'll be going back to Managua tomorrow. Below is the Metrocentro Mall.

The itinerary I had planned before I left Canada changed completely when I reached Nicaragua and fell in love with this country and its people. The original plan was (sort of) to travel from Nicaragua to Costa Rica, and then to Panama. From Panama I would have taken a boat to Colombia (with a three-day stop-over in the San Blas Islands), and then traveled to Peru. I had gotten some conflicting advice from travelers who suggested crossing into Bolivia either from Peru or from Chile. In the end, it didn't matter because Nicaragua captured my heart and wouldn't let me go.

Despite the intense heat, León is my favourite city. As I've read, Granada may have the style, but León has the substance. Still, it's a world apart from the one in which I usually live -- which is a world into which I do not fit comfortably. I am already beginning to feel a kind of sadness, knowing that my time here is coming to a close. Only two weeks and two days remain for me in Nicaragua. Between now and the time I leave there will be many interesting things to see and do, but strangely, I'm starting to feel like a tourist -- someone with a brief period of time to fill with interesting sights and activities before returning to my "normal" life -- a life which will never be normal for me again.

What to do? Just get on with it, I guess.

In Love With León

Today I will be returning to Managua. I'll stay there for a couple of days before going to Costa Rica. I have to leave Nicaragua because my visa is about to expire; but I'll be back. To ensure my return, I'm leaving my heart in León.

I hardly know where to begin to describe my experience in León. Other than the first night, when I stayed at Hostal Don Raúl (which was cheap and friendly, but lacked internet), both times I've been in León I've stayed at Hostal Tortuga Booluda. I had gone out in search of an internet cafe. Seeing several young people with backpacks (who turned out to be from Sweden), I asked them if they knew where I could find one. They said they were on their way to Hostal Tortuga Booluda, which has wifi. Although there were no dorm beds available that night, Santos, who was working at the reception desk, told me I could use my laptop there. In the common area I saw photos of Che Guevara on the walls, and heard some wonderful reggae and Cuban music -- and I knew this was the place where I wanted to stay.

The following day I arrived early and got a dorm bed. Only three and a half blocks from the Central Park, La Tortuga Booluda has been the perfect place for me. (This video, taken by a traveler, will give you an idea of what the place is like.) Of course, much of the ambiance of a hostel is created by the people who stay there. I've been very lucky to have met some amazing people here. They come from all over the world and have enriched my experience with their stories of their lives and travels. We've had some great conversations about the politics of Nicaragua -- a fascinating topic. Some of these people are now FaceBook friends, and I follow their travels as they post photos and commentaries.

I would have to say, though, that my most interesting experience has been getting to know Maria. As I was looking at a large mural, full of historical and revolutionary symbolism, covering the walls of two buildings on the north and east sides of the plaza across the street from the cathedral, Maria approached me, notebook in hand, and offered to show me some of the important sites connected with the Sandinista revolution. We spent the next couple of hours wandering the streets of León. We toured a jail where Anastasio Somoza's army tortured prisoners. Maria showed me buildings damaged in the war, like the building with rectangular openings, used by the army to shoot from (turned into a school, Escuela Taller de León Pepe Escudero, after the Sandinistas took over) and a church blasted to smithereens by Somoza's forces.

Escuela Taller de León Pepe Escudero (left)Bombed church (right)

















Maria explained what it was like during the war so that I could almost feel what it must have been like to live through those years. She speaks no English, and my Spanish is very basic; but she was so perceptive, catching every look of confusion that crossed my face when I didn't understand what she was saying, and re-phrasing her explanation until I got it.

Over coffee at Cafe Rosita, I learned about Maria's life (which will be the subject of another post), and began to think about how I could help her. That was the beginning of what I call el proyecto 'coche de hot dogs' -- Maria's hot dog stand. I could have donated the equivalent amount of money to one of the foreign-based organizations engaged in charitable works here (and I don't deny the need for these -- in fact, there should be more); but it has been an immensely satisfying experience to have been personally involved in providing Maria with a means of making a decent living. This little project has created a bond between us that will last throughout the years, sustained by our weekly emails and, I hope, my occasional visits.

To be continued ...

Peace

Down Time in Managua

Laid up n Managua with a sinus infection (a recurring problem), I’ve had some time to read and watch movies. I’ve been reading The Shock Doctrine, by Naomi Klein, one of the most important books I‘ve ever read. I had just read the chapter on the coup in Chile when, apropos of that, I watched the 1982 Costa Gavras film, Missing. The film is based on the true story of independent journalist, Charles Horman, a young US citizen who was killed during the US-sponsored coup against Chile’s democratically-elected President, Salvador Allende, in 1973. Also killed was Frank Teruggi, who worked with Horman at a small news magazine, FIN (Fuente Norteamericano de Información, or North American Information Source).

According to history professor, Steven Volk (who was also in Chile during the coup that put Augusto Pinochet in power, and was the person who identified the body of his friend, Frank Teruggi), FIN "was designed to keep interested Chileans informed about the activities of the U.S. government and corporations around the world, and to demonstrate solidarity with the Chilean left by calling attention to progressive movements in the United States." Association with FIN was enough to put Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi on the list of persons to be rounded up and killed in a coup supported (and to some extent organized) by their own government.

Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi were like a lot of us -- passionate about social justice, using every possible means to communicate the larger issues to anyone who's interested, and completely outspoken about we're seeing. We use Facebook to post links to articles and videos that tell the story better than we ever could. We blog. At the same time, we are mostly unaware of the lengths to which the powers that be will go to protect their interests. We may feel insignificant in the larger scheme of things, but if we have anything coherent to say about what is happening around us, it's sure that we've been noticed -- if not by those we want to reach, then by those who know that the ideas we try to disseminate are inimical to their interests. Charles Horman and Frank Teruggi didn't see themselves as very important. That was a mistake.

It's not that we should ever stop speaking the truth that we see to as many as will listen. But we need to be aware of the forces that are arrayed against us. We need to understand that the desire for social justice, for truth, is not on their agenda. Making a profit at any cost is their prime motivator. To them, we are "bleeding hearts," concerned about the survival of people who are irrelevant to their scheme of things, and striving to protect cherished human values that they have decreed passé. In Archbishop Oscar Romero and Reverend Martin Luther King (among many others, nameless, faceless, but still speaking their truth from beyond their unmarked graves) we have examples of the kind of integrity we know we will need in the face of an onslaught by those who desire to frighten us into doing their bidding.

These martyrs boldly spoke the truth they as they saw it, that they were living within an evil system that required the sacrifice, often the blood sacrifice, of those who spoke out against the injustices being perpetrated against the people they loved. They were willing to sacrifice themselves, not to prove the evil-doers right, but to show that you can kill people, but you can't kill an idea. The idea is justice, freedom and respect for all. The desire for these is inherent in human nature, and yet how often do we practice doing unto others as we would have them do unto us? I think that if we applied this principle generally, we could change the world. But we need to remember that the application of this principle has a cost.

More and more people are waking up to the reality that has been before our eyes all along. But the system that controls our possibilities and our perceptions also monitors our desires. It's time to think about these things. It's time to think about the personal cost of challenging a system established to further the greedy interests of a small number of those of our species who would sacrifice the rest of us for their goal of gaining total control of the world. Horman and Teruggi found out too late that there was not even a shred of humanity in the system they attempted to challenge. They were killed because they knew too much. And so, what is our alternative? Refusing to know anything? (Ignorance will not save us.) Pretending that things will get better on their own? (We know they will not.) There are no easy answers. Still, we need to ask ourselves the questions.

All I know is that the more I learn (and The Shock Doctrine has been a real eye-opener), the more I experience the need, the desire, to tend to my own integrity, which is challenged every time I speak out and get criticized for it; every time I have a choice to make between my desires and others' needs; every time I am tempted to give up on humanity. I don't know what the future holds in store for me. All I know is that integrity seems to be the worst mortal sin in the upside down world of today. It seems to mark people for martyrdom. And yet, without integrity, what am I? I might as well be dead.

These are serious thoughts on a beautiful morning in a beautiful country whose people have had to grapple with these issues before (and, judging from the signs, unfortunately probably will again). But at this moment I feel very alive and overwhelmed by the beauty around me. It's a good day to travel back to León to refresh my perspective.

Peace

The 30th Anniversary of the Assassination of Archbishop Romero

Today marked the 30th anniversary of the assassination of Archbishop Oscar Romero. While I was in El Salvador, I was considering going back for the commemoration. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would probably be a big disappointment. Even worse, it would probably have left me frustrated and angry. The lessons I am learning from my travels are all about remaining "at peace" in an increasingly troubled world. I would have been disturbed by the commemorations that have turned the remembrance of this great man's assassination into a "reality" show.

Other than a couple of articles online, including a comprehensive piece in ConsortiumNews.org, I have seen no mention of the School of the Americas in Fort Benning, Georgia (renamed the Institute for Hemispheric Security Cooperation -- although its murderous mission is unchanged). Also called The School of the Assassins, in Latin America, it is called La Escuela de Golpes (the Coup School). It is there that Major Roberto D’Aubuisson, responsible for ordering the execution of Archbishop Romero, was trained.

There have been commemorative gatherings in churches of many denominations all over the world, but the main event in San Salvador is a very Roman Catholic one. The message of the Catholic Church hierarchy to the poor, who were so loved by Romero, is, as always, one of individualistic holiness and self-sacrifice in the hope of a heavenly reward. For themselves, and the powers that they support, the Church's message is one of continuing impunity.

At the time of Romero’s assassination, El Salvador was ruled by a US-backed authoritarian regime that secured the interests of rich landowners. The Catholic Church hierarchy gave its support (as it has throughout the history of El Salvador and, indeed, all of Latin America) to the government of wealthy landowners and the military, and "worked hand-in-glove with the CIA in anti-communist counterinsurgencies." However, there were certain Catholic priests who understood the message of the Gospels differently. Father Rutilio Grande, a Jesuit and close friend of Romero's, was one of those who embraced "Liberation Theology," combining the teachings of Christ with elements of Marxist theory, and seeing the mission of the Church in the world as one of uplifting the oppressed and supporting them in their efforts to achieve justice and dignity, even through armed struggle. On March 12, 1977, Rutilio Grande was assassinated.

This event was the turning point for Romero, who had recently been selected for the position of Archbishop because of his conservatism and because it was expected that he would maintain the status quo in an increasingly turbulent time. However, with the assassination of Father Grande, he was transformed virtually overnight into a passionate defender of the rights of the poor, challenging the government, the military and even the Catholic Church hierarchy that gave its blessing to the oppressive regime. With this change, his fate was sealed. Three years later, on March 24, 1980, he was assassinated while saying Mass in the Chapel of the Hospital La Divina Providencia, where he lived.

His assassination fueled the war between leftist guerrillas and the US-backed government. As thousands of mourners gathered for his funeral, snipers from the National Army opened fire on them, killing at least 50 people. By the time the war officially ended with the signing of peace accords in 1992, at least 79,000 people had been killed. At the end of the war, the FMLN (Frente Faribundo Martí para la Liberación Nacional) political party was formed by a coalition of guerrilla groups that had opposed the government. Even so, the fascist Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA) party continued to rule for 20 years, "elected" through massive fraud, and the United States continued to exercise its power over the Salvadoran people through the government's neoliberal policies. One thing is for sure: "...U.S. policy has been motivated by its refusal to tolerate any major redistribution of economic resources in Latin America" (in "The Latin American Revolution II," by Asad Ismi, Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives). With social unrest growing due to the increasing poverty resulting from the ARENA government's policies, the FMLN finally produced its first president, Mauricio Funes, in 2009. Funes, a “moderate” former television interview program host and former correspondent for CNN en Español, has inherited the responsibility for leading a country wracked by extreme poverty, corruption and gang violence -- a situation that can (and I believe will) easily be exploited by the US through economic means and the CIA's usual covert destabilization activities.

Although the victory of the FMLN government was greeted by jubilation among the majority of Salvadorans, the hegemonic machinations of US geopolitics do not bode well for the new government, which has already begun bending over for the US. This posture is clearly shown by Omar Montilla, in a prescient article in Machetera, "What is going on with Mauricio Funes?" This article is a "must read" for anyone interested in being able to predict El Salvador's future.

It is not the future for which Archbishop Romero gave his life.

Peace

En León, La Lucha Sigue

I feel like I've been looking for León all my life. It's a place where I could live.

There is a definite temptation, while traveling in Nicaragua, and especially here in León, to leave aside the work of sharing my experiences in this blog and simply allow myself to absorb and assimilate the beauty and the pain of life, shutting out comparisons with the place where I usually live and just letting the Nica world change me. There is a sense of discomfort that comes with looking back on the privilege in which I am steeped “back home.” Perhaps there is an element of guilt involved in making comparisons but, if anything, it is a kind of participation in the collective guilt that arises from the knowledge that I am the recipient of immense, unearned privilege there -- privilege bestowed on me, as a white person, at the expense, in part, of the people of Nicaragua (and El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, etc.). And so, I blog ... to share the love of this country and its people, and to try to open the hearts and minds of the people who live in el norte to the responsibility we have to acknowledge our unearned privilege and to begin to look at ways to address the terrible, everyday inequities in which we participate every day, whether knowingly or unknowingly.

Canada is truly a world apart, a crystal palace constructed of the frozen tears shed by its earliest inhabitants and their descendants, and by those in “third world” countries who toil sewing fashionable clothes in sweatshops, cutting sugar cane, picking coffee beans and hauling bananas out of the jungles. But we who live in the privileged North cannot be faulted completely for the bubble mentality that has been created for us by an entire succession of governments (starting, in Canada, with the Hudson’s Bay Company, and then Government Agents, and now the international finance capitalists) that have been involved in the brutal colonization of the upper third of North America -- that is, we cannot be faulted unless we know.

There is a difference between knowing, in the intellectual sense, and knowing experientially. Anyone who has been educated in a Canadian school system or who reads Canadian newspapers “knows” about the conquest of Canada, about the genocidal policies practiced upon indigenous peoples by such means as deliberately induced illnesses (like smallpox), forced sterilizations, tearing children from their families and placing them in residential schools, differential incarceration rates (with 4% of the population of Canada making up nearly 20% of its prison population), and the continuing racist exclusion of Canada’s so-called “First Nations.“

Relatively few (and here I include myself) have actually seen the reserves without decent housing, drinkable water, electricity, adequate health care and relevant education. And so, I believe that most do not really “know.” I like to believe that, if they/we did know (in a personal, experiential way), there would be no more heart wrenching newspaper articles about “boil water alerts” or about young people sniffing glue or committing suicide because of the hopeless conditions that prevail on so many reserves.

This is, perhaps, another reason I am reluctant to share my experiences and observations about life in Canada. I find that when I do, many people react defensively, thinking that I am trying to lay a guilt trip on them. I don‘t want to provide them with opportunities to exercise their denial -- it serves no one well. At the same time, I cannot keep my opinions to myself, remaining a part of the conspiracy of silence that allows these abominable conditions (and the attitudes that support them) to continue.

It’s strange … I find it easier to speak out about conditions in Nicaragua. Yet, things are the same here in many ways as they are in Canada -- but they're different. One difference is that things are relatively so much better, in the material sense, in Canada that calling attention to injustice and exploitation there leaves one open to being criticised as a whiner or a complainer. And yet, we know that there are many among us whose hopes for a good life are fading day by day as our government makes decisions to remove needed services, wages an unjust, illegal war, participates in "extraordinary renditions," and removes our Constitutionally-guaranteed Rights and Freedoms. Those of us who are not directly affected tend not to see the similarities between what is happening in North America because we are individualistic, trained not so see that "an injury to one is an injury to all."

There is a connection I feel with Nicaragua that I’m only now (since I’ve been here) beginning to explore. My mother once taught Lillian Somoza, the daughter of Anastasio Somoza Garcia (founder of the Somoza dictatorship dynasty). My mother identified more with the ruling class, represented by the Somozas, than with los pobres who were his victims. I, her daughter, have always identified with the poor and have never desired to be in the company of the rich. For this, I was ostracized within my own family; and because of this, I learned to stand alone. In Nicaragua, and especially here in León, I feel at home among those who fought with the Sandinistas against Somoza and who now find that their conditions have changed very little under the government of the Sandinistas (or, as the say here, las oficialistas, making a distinction between those who fought alongside them and those who now rule over them -- although in many instances they are the same people). The people are undaunted.

While far from covering every aspect of the revolution, the Al Jazeera video, Nicaragua: an unfinished revolution, offers an excellent overview of this time in Nicaragua's history. Especially poignant -- and revealing of the character of the people here -- are the campesinos, one who fought on the side of the Sandinistas and the other who fought with the Contras (seen in part 4, at 00:39), who now work together, united in their poverty and their humanity.

"¡Sandino Vive! ¡La Lucha Sigue!"

Peace

Let the world change you ...

Che Guevara said in The Motorcycle Diaries: "Deje el mundo cambiarle y usted puede cambiar el mundo" ("Let the world change you and you can change the world"). Although these words can inspire a person to think about moving out beyond the boundaries of a familiar and often stultifying culture, the truth they contain can only be experienced by actually taking the trip. How does letting the world change us make us better able to change the world?

It's not just the physical act of placing ourselves into the unfamiliar surroundings of another country, of an unfamiliar, "third world" culture, that creates change at the deepest level of our experience. The change begins to happen when we move out beyond the limitations of what is normal to us into a social landscape that features people who, although they want to make us feel welcomed, wouldn't even begin to know how to make us feel comfortable and esteemed. They've never had the experience of being treated the way we're accustomed to being treated. And even if they knew, they couldn't afford to approximate the fulfillment of our desires. Getting to know people and learning to see the world through their eyes also gives a chance to see what we look like to them.

Most people in the "third world" world have to put up with us. We are culturally imbued with a sense of superiority. We invade their countries, puffed up with a sense of entitlement, flush with cash and equipped with stuff they can't even dream of owning. Even if we feel pity for them and wish they could participate in "our way of life," we also like them the way they appear to us: simple, colourful and slightly obsequious.

But they see us as we are. And perhaps that's what makes us feel slightly uncomfortable around them. It's only when we become "strangers in a strange land" and begin to see ourselves through the eyes of the "strangers" (to whom we are the extraneros) that we get the priceless opportunity to free ourselves from our delusional sense of superiority. The chance to see a larger reality is one of the most wonderful benefits of traveling in a "third world" country. It helps us to put those things that often disturb us about our home cultures -- our materialism, our consumerism, our laziness -- into the proper perspective. It gives us a clearer vision of what needs to be changed and better ideas about how to change it.

It naturally leads us to think about justice. We have not been educated to think about our experience in the world in terms of justice. We've never been encouraged to wonder why our way of life, and the comforts and conveniences we've learned to expect from it, should be so dependent upon the hard work of the people in the countries we love to visit. We've never been taught to think critically about the distribution of wealth in our world or to wonder why people who live in these lands, with all their natural resources and wonderful climates so well-suited to the production of so many of the things we enjoy and depend upon -- coffee, fruits, minerals -- should be so "backward" in their ability to access the wealth of their own countries.

These are the questions one begins to ask when traveling. These are the topics of discussion among many of the travelers I've met staying in hostels. They will be some of the subjects I will discuss in future blog posts. I hope that anyone who reads this will decide to travel to a "third world" country to have the experience of being changed. The change will do you good.

Back in Managua Again

I would loved to have stayed at Oasis for another week or two or three, but Im just not getting any work done. Yesterday's trip from Granada back to Managua was uneventful. The Backpackers' Inn seemed just as I left it. I even got the same dorm bed as I had last time. Only the faces of the guests have changed. It's still a cool place to hang out, but I have to say that Oasis has become my second home. Oasis is extraordinary. It's a 5-star hostel. Just look at this lovely pool. I'm thinking of going back there for a few days before I leave for Costa Rica. strangely, the thought of leaving Nicaragua is not appealing. But I got my ticket to Costa Rica when I was still in El Salvador, so I'm kind of committed to going. I'm beginning to think about not going to South America this trip. I may just go as far as Panama, then turn around and come back to Nicaragua. I've fallen in love -- with a whole country.

In today's sweltering heat, I've only been able to work for a couple of hours on my micro mini-documentary video of the ex-banana workers affected by Nemagon. I tried editing it while lying in a hammock, and ended up sleeping for a couple of hours. Students at Bucknell made a video last year (featuring some of the same people a friend and I interviewed there). It's called Missing Seeds.

From now on, I'll have to take videos with my digital still camera because my handycam lost a lens. I discovered it was missing at the Masaya volcano. It would have been nice to get some good video of that beautiful smoking volcano. I may be able to get the lens replaced in Costa Rica, but it's more likely that I'll have to wait until I get home. Too bad, but these things happen. Fortunately, thanks to someone who posted an eruption of Masaya on YouTube. What an amazing sight. The Spaniards called Masaya Boca del Infierno (the mouth of hell). I could just imagine Father Bobadilla performing an exorcism on it.

The evening breeze is coming up now. I'll spend some time on my Spanish lessons and head off to bed. There's not much else to do in Managua in the evening. For a capital city, it's pretty boring. Granada is way more fun.

A Visit to the Masaya Volcano

Because a youth group had booked the dormitories at Oasis, I had to find another place for a couple of nights. I checked out a couple and, unintentionally, booked what was probably the worst one.

After an exhausting tour of Masaya, the Kalala Lodge didn't seem so bad the first night I stayed there. A dorm bed was only $5. Granted, the lockers, located across from the front desk, were only about 12"x12", and the mattress was almost wafer-thin. But since I had left my backpack at Oasis in anticipation of my return, and had the six-bed dorm to myself, the first night was tolerable. I was able to close and lock the door. Although the Kalala Lodge advertised that it offered free internet access, it did not. The woman at the desk said, "Maybe tomorrow." Right! Even so, I was able to watch a documentary I had downloaded to my laptop, and found a way to accommodate my bones to the metal bars beneath the mattress. Sleep came easily enough. The second night was hellish. All five other beds were occupied. Every time the person in the bunk above me shifted position (which he did often because of the mosquitoes that had easy access to the room through the open door and joyously feasted on us all night)the metal bed creaked ans swayed.

On Tuesday I went on a tour to the Masaya Market and the Masaya Volcano, and went 35 metres below ground into a bat cave. Our guide, Oscar (with Nahua Tours), was wonderful. He was an endless font of local knowledge. At the volcano, we were provided with respirators (because of the toxic fumes emitted from the crater). Oscar told me that people living near the volcano experience many health problems from breathing the fumes. When I asked why they don't move away, he explained that they have been living there for, perhaps, a thousand years, and wouldn't have any idea where to go. They accept their fate, which includes blindness, respiratory ailments and, of course, early deaths.

The market has a wonderful variety of locally made goods for sale at amazingly low prices. These include leather goods, cigars and coffee (some of the best in the world), beautiful paintings, weavings and ceramics, Unfortunately, I have no space in my backpack for anything more than what I'm traveling with now; but I bought a couple of things anyway -- a couple of dolls dressed in Nicaraguan costumes for my granddaughters, and some organically grown coffee beans. My first purchase from a street vendor was an oddly-shaped ceramic piece similar to those sold by the hundreds in all the markets an on La Calzada, but signed by the artist and especially attractive. Peter from Kelowna, who is also staying at Oasis, calls it "the vessel. Some items currently taking up space will have to be sacrificed to make room for these things.) I hope to travel this way again, so after I've left my winter clothes behind in Bolivia, I'll have space for more.

The bat cave was amazing. For this part of the tour we were equipped with flashlights and hard hats. The bats that live there are ordinary bats -- much appreciated in Nicaragua, since they eat mosquitoes. We descended 35 metres below ground to a world of stalagmites and stalactites. Oscar explained that this cave was used as a camp by US-supported dictator Anastasio Somoza's army in his fight against the eventually victorious Sandinistas. The Masaya volcano was also the horrific scene of Somoza's death squads dropping the dictator's political opponents into its mouth from helicopters. So many beautiful places in Central America have such bloody and barbarous histories.

I was happy to get back to Oasis and chat with friends, use the internet and take a nice swim in the pool.

Glitches and Opportunities

I have to move to another hostel, since the dormitorio I've been occupying at Oasis will be taken over today by a group traveling together. I'll see if there's room at the Bearded Monkey, which is also highly rated by travelers. The Oasis has been fun, and I've met some interesting and fun people. Most of the travelers I've met have been Canadians, and most of these have been from British Columbia.

Over the next few days I'll have to focus on editing the video I did of the ex-bananeras at their protest camp in Managua so that I can give them copies when I return. After a couple of days there, I'll be off to Costa Rica and Panama. From Panama, I'll have to find a way to get to Bolivia. There are possibilities for traveling to south America from Panama. It's possible to go to Colombia by boat, although I'd prefer to find a boat going to Ecuador. From there, it's either on to Bolivia (a long, difficult trip over the Andes) or to Peru, and then on to Bolivia (also a long, difficult trip over the Andes, but perhaps at a lower altitude -- according to someone who knows a little about traveling in this region). As always, my itinerary is difficult to predict. I've found that it works well for me to take it step by step and get travel tips from people I meet along the way.

One thing I've discovered is that travel books do not usually provide up-to-date information. Things change quickly, and what was good information when the book was printed has changed in the year or so since its publication. Even online information is incorrect when it comes from travelers blogging about their trips. A lot depends on how adventurous or demanding the writer is. I've stayed in hostels that were criticized by people submitting comments to Hostelworld or sites like Lonely Planet, and yet I've found them to be wonderful places to stay. I've stayed at others that some people found adequate, and yet I didn't find them adequate at all. The best information comes from the travelers you meet along the way.

Well, I'm off to check out the Bearded Monkey. Later today I'll be taking a trip to the Masaya Market and the volcano. More about that (and photos) soon.

Ain't Life Granada!

I like to blog long and philosophically, but my time in Managua was so filled with happenings I had very little time to think about the meaning of my experience. I’m in Granada for a couple of weeks to write, edit videos, relax and get some sun. After investigating (in a minor way) the mining situation in El Salvador, and visiting the protest encampment across the street from the Asamblea Nacional to videotape interviews with the ex-bananeras in Managua, I have a lot of work to do. Somehow I’m not getting to it because Granada is even more interesting.

I'm staying at Oasis in Granada, and an Oasis it is. (t's beautiful, with comfortable beds, free coffee all day, wireless internet, a beautiful (and really clean) pool, an inexpensive and delicious breakfast served in the morning, and lots of interesting travelers eager to share travel tips and perspectives on life in Nicaragua.

At the same time, I’ve been participating in a “lively” (or perhaps “deadly”) exchange on FaceBook about the protests in Vancouver against the 2010 Olympics. I’m fortunate to have a few intelligent, sensitive people, committed to seeking justice “on my side” (although I hate the necessity of having to being on one side or another, and hope that one day we will all be on the same side against injustice, exploitation and the everyday violence of poverty). If it were not for this comradely support, I would be depressed by some of the supercilious comments I am reading about “violent” protesters (and those who don’t take a stand against them, like me). These are the people who seem to live comfortably in that bubble of unreality that is my community. They seem to think there is nothing wrong as long as their own lives are running smoothly. Concepts of justice and compassion do not appear to figure in their thinking. I prefer to think that it is only to their ignorance and fear, rather than hostility toward these ideas, that keeps them inside the bubble of unknowing. Ignorance dissipates with knowledge, and fear can be overcome.

Meanwhile, the realities of the larger world -- those I am seeing in the places I travel to, those I come across in my research and those brought to my attention by people I meet -- keep expanding the range of dots to connect and keep taking me further outside the bubble. Seeing more than most people do, or even questioning my own “received knowledge,” has repercussions that are difficult to predict and sometimes unexpectedly unpleasant, but they always lead to an expanded awareness.

As it is in San Salvador, El Salvador, and the Sunshine Coast, Canada, the daily experience of most people here in Granada is far removed from the machinations of the governments that rule over them. People learn to live with the contradictions, the lies, the corruption, the impunity and the exploitation that surrounds them. People get by to the best of their ability, hoping for better days. The difference I’ve observed in Central America is that the poorer people have a stronger sense of community in adversity than I’ve seen in North America, and they have demonstrated time and again their willingness to rise up together against the powers that be.

The people of El Salvador briefly experienced a sense of collective power when the FSLN won the election last year. Now they are learning that simply replacing a right-wing military government with a left-wing “revolutionary” government has made little or no change in their daily lives. “No matter whom you vote for, the government always gets in,” the saying goes -- and the first order of business for any government is to secure its continuity in power. Power no longer comes from the people, the natural persons. It is conferred or withheld by the legal persons, the transnational corporations and the banking institutions.

In El Salvador, the apparently (and avowedly) moderate left-wing government of Maurcio Funes presides over a country of incredible beauty and an abundance of natural resources, a crumbling infrastructure and rampant gang violence. Although his party, the FMLN (Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front) was born out of a revolutionary movement," Funes compares himself to the US president, Barack Obama, who has already proven himself -- to the disappointment of followers who were expecting "change"-- to be decidedly big business-friendly. This is not a good sign.

In the New World Order, big business-friendliness and improving the conditions of a nation's people have a negative correlation. Is that happening here? Despite the recent assassinations of anti-mining activists in the Cabañas region and the death threats being made against journalists keeping the story alive at Radio Victoria, the anti-mining issue appears not to be any way near the top of the Funes government's agenda. Little progress has been made to find and bring to justice those responsible for the killings and there is no ongoing coverage of the anti-mining struggle in El Salvador's mainstream press.

To learn more about the anti-mining activists' struggle and to add your name to a petition calling for the government of El Salvador to: investigate the murders of the anti-mining activists, to provide effective protection to activists organizing campaigns to defend their land from the despoilation of mining, and to make mining illegal in El Salvador, please visit the PetitionOnline site.

My first impression is that the people of Nicaragua seem, in general (and I realize it's a sweeping generalization, based on only the few people I've met and spoken with), a little less oppressed than the people of El Salvador. One San Salvadoran, noticing the number of flag-emblazoned t-shirts people were wearing at Playa El Tunco, asked me if I'd ever seen anyone wearing a t-shirt with a Salvadoran flag. I shrugged, and he said, "That's because we're not proud of our country."

I will be posting on some of my experiences in Managua and Granada over the next while. From now on, my blogs will (I hope) be shorter and more frequent, with more photos. Too much is happening for me to let it pile up and then try to bring it together. That would take a really long essay.

Getting to Know San Salvador, Poco a Poco

On Thursday, January 21, just as the sun was rising, I arrived at the San Salvador International Airport. As soon as I retrieved my luggage from the carousel and cleared customs and immigration, I took a taxi into the city. The trip is about 50 km, and cost $25.

As the taxi sped along the Panamerican Highway, I saw several maquilas (zonas francas, free-trade zones). One of them stretched on for about a quarter of a mile, just rows of sheds on a barren lot. Many women were outside waiting for the gates to open to let them in to work. I saw no trees, no picnic tables for the workers to have their lunch breaks. I could only assume that they don’t go outside for their lunches. Do they eat at their work tables? Do they not eat lunch at all? These places are well guarded, so dropping in for a visit will not be possible.

The brilliant film, The Corporation, has a segment on YouTube that shows what we are not allowed to see about maquilas in El Salvador and Honduras. Please see it: The Corporation (5/23) Case Histories. And don’t miss Canada’s own Michael Walker, of the right-wing Fraser Institute, explaining in the same clip what a blessing the maquilas are to poor people around the world who are “starving to death, and the only thing they have to offer to anybody that is worth anything is their low-cost labor.” The only person who could believe this garbage is someone engaged in serious self-deception -- perhaps to justify investing in companies that profit from this kind of super-exploited labor.

The sprawling metropolis of San Salvador came into view, obscured by smog and watched over by the San Salvador Volcano (also known as Quetzaltepec). Home to approximately 2.27 million people, San Salvador is a city that has seen better days --before the 1980-92 civil war, before the earthquakes of January 13 and February 13, 2001, before the floods that resulted from Hurricane Ida last November (a disaster exacerbated by deforestation). By most accounts, it's one of the most dangerous cities in Central America.

I've begun my sojourn in El Salvador's capitol city as a kind of pilgrimage to the place where Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated for refusing to be silent about the United States-sponsored repression of Salvadoran campesinos. He has been an inspirational figure to me ever since I saw the 1989 biographical film, Romero (still available to rent in some video stores and now available on YouTube). I want to understand how an ordinary person, who sees injustice but accepts it as the status quo, is transformed into a person who refuses to be silent about these injustices even to the point of accepting martyrdom as the price to be paid for speaking the truth.

Arriving at the Novo Apart-Hotel, I was shown to a comfortable room facing a lovely garden and a swimming pool. At $55 a night, the place was beyond what I’ve budgeted for accommodations during my trip; but with a hot water shower, wifi in the room and a buffet breakfast, it was a nice way to transition into El Salvador. There was a small group of English-speaking people (some of them probably well-intentioned) who are engaged in the missionary business in El Salvador. I appreciated the information they were able to give me about what they knew of the country, its people and their customs; but their El Salvador is not the one I’m looking for.

After a couple of days I moved on to Hostal La Portada. It is here that I am meeting people who are providing me with my initiation into San Salvador.

Haiti's Real Problem

I arrived in San Salvador, El Salvador on Thursday, January 21. But before I write about the beginning of my experience here, there is another topic I want to discuss: the disaster in Haiti.

Across the length and breadth of the mainstream media (which is unfortunately the primary source of “news” for most people), the story of the tragedy is couched in terms of the failure of the Haitian people to govern themselves, with the implication that, for whatever reason, they lack the capacity to do so. Scene after scene is presented showing Haitians failing to take advantage of (or even destroying) their own natural resources or the material aid and technical assistance that is so “generously” provided to them by more (economically) successful nations. Oh yes, we are asked to “pity the poor Haitians,” but we are never told the reasons why their situation was so dire even before the earthquake. And seldom do people ask what is, and has been, going on in the larger scene.

But when we pull the focus to reveal the background forces that have been moving the plot forward, a new picture is revealed: that of systemic racist exploitation. It is a picture that many do not wish to see, perhaps because it reflects their own culpability in the ongoing punishment of a courageous people whose ancestors were the first to successfully rebel against their enslavement and form their own nation. This act of rebellion has never been forgiven by those whose false sense of superiority has been used by colonizers through the ages to justify the exploitation of people seen by them as “different” (and thus inferior to themselves); and, in the case of Haiti, it has been used to render invisible the deliberate undermining of the Haitians’ efforts to create the nation they desire.

The power gained by the early colonizers through the forced extraction of wealth from its rightful owners has been so immense that their descendants (and their minions) have been able to rise to the god-like position of controlling much of the world’s perception of reality itself. This is the primary function of the mainstream media. It is called “propaganda.” It has been used with great success to obscure the unrelenting war against the courageous black people who dared to overthrow their oppressors. It was an example that could not be allowed to stand as an inspiration to others.

At this point, my words are directed only to those who, like me, see themselves, in the words of the reggae group, Third World, as “only someone in an ocean of someones” (from "World of Uncertainty") and who sincerely wish for others those good things we wish for ourselves. For you, perhaps my words are unnecessary (even though we all hunger to see our deepest thoughts expressed by others). Even so, I offer some alternative sources of information about Haiti that may provide you with useful facts to counter the misinformation and disinformation being disseminated about the situation there.

Democracy Now!
If a picture is worth a thousand words, a video is worth a million. Democracy Now! has been providing excellent coverage of the crisis. Despite the mainstream media’s portrayal of the 11,000 U.S. soldiers in Haiti as “keeping order,” in fact they diverted planes carrying critically needed supplies to the Dominican Republic. The United Nations (which has been proudly heaping shame on itself since 1994, when it failed to stop the slaughter of 800,000 Rwandan Tutsis and moderate Hutus, and again in 1995, when, by its own admission, it "appeased and unwittingly abetted the Bosnian Serb military" in the slaughter of thousands of Bosnian Muslims) refused to enter Léogâne, near the epicentre of the quake, saying that "unless they could ensure security, they would not be providing aid there." And yet, DN! hosts, Amy Goodman and Sharif Abdel Kouddous, with a small crew, unarmed and unafraid, walked the streets of Léogâne and spoke with residents who were asking for water, food and shelter (90% of Léogâne's buildings having been destroyed in the quake). This leaves any human being appalled and wondering: could the chicken-shit U.N. not have delivered water, food and tents from the safety of a helicopter?

Consortium News
An excellent article, "Haiti and America's Historic Debt," provides background for understanding the deliberate hindrance of Haiti's self-determination efforts by the United States and the weak response of the U.S. to the current crisis. This is a must-read.

Naomi Klein, author of The Shock Doctrine, offers a concise warning that Haiti is about to be the next recipient of "economic shock therapy" in her blog entry, "Haiti Disaster Capitalism Alert: Stop Them Before They Shock Again." If you are unfamiliar with the "Shock Doctrine," please see this short video.

There is a lot of good journalism out there, but you have to look for it. It's time to get off the fence (if that's where you've been sitting). It may not be too late, but we're getting close. With the likes of Pat Robertson spewing racial hatred in support of the global white-supremacist takeover of the world, and its genocidal plan to reduce the non-white population to just the numbers necessary to operate the sweatshops that produce the "goods" (and I ask, for whom are these sweatshop-produced commodities good?) that we consume. Sweatshops are a large part of the wealthy nations' plan for "economic development" in post-quake Haiti.

Here's some news: There's no such thing as "race." We are all human beings, and we'd better start coming together to overthrow our slavemasters. Yes, we have all been made slaves to consumerism. A better future is still possible, and it's up to all of us to create it. Let us make future history one where the Haitian people will be honoured for having been exemplars of the desire for freedom that is fundamental to the human spirit.

Come on, people, let's evolve!

Brighter Days Ahead

In these dark days of winter, the need has arisen in me again to travel beyond the boundaries of country and culture to gain a fresh perspective. I’ll be leaving soon for a five-month sojourn in Central and South America. Without wishing to offend anyone in my community, I simply have to get back to the real world, where people are taking seriously the threats facing their communities and are coming together in solidarity to confront them. The New Year’s Eve blue moon seemed auspicious as I moved the last of the contents of my apartment into storage, knowing that if I never returned, I wouldn‘t miss a single item.

But, of course, I expect and hope to return. This community has felt like “home“ to me for almost nine years. I’ve met some kind, generous, open-minded, interesting, spiritually aware people here. I’ve met others who are nasty gossips, chronic complainers and greedy scammers. In some ways, it's a community of opposites. Even so, tolerance is considered to be one of the characteristics of this community, along with a fair degree of love and appreciation of our environment and our lively arts and music communities. There is abundant clean water here. There are mountains and forests, eagles, ravens, crows, seagulls, deer, bears and coyotes, as well as llamas and even peacocks. There are palm trees, and banana trees that grow tiny bananas. On the whole it‘s been a pretty tolerable place to live. On pleasant days, it’s not uncommon to hear people greet each other on the street with, “Just another day in paradise.“

But it’s not paradise for everyone. The natural beauty of the environment aside, for many it’s not even close to paradise. There are residents of this community caught in various “Catch-22” situations -- with their housing, with the medical system, with welfare (“income assistance“ in this province) and with social services -- largely the result of measures instituted by our provincial government. A significant portion of our population is poorly housed, inadequately nourished, under the surveillance of barely functioning government bureaucracies, living with chronic illness and pain, and unable to enjoy the quality of life that many take for granted. Health care is administered by doctors who, in large measure, are more interested in prescribing pharmaceuticals than in advocating for healthier conditions for their patients. The small, beleaguered groups of dedicated individuals who advocate for those being dragged to the bottom of our little society are overwhelmed by the work of navigating complex bureaucracies on behalf of their client-neighbours. Depression is endemic. It’s impossible not to notice the heavily medicated people who walk like zombies among us (not to mention those who self-medicate with crack cocaine, methamphetamine and heroin, as well as morphine and other prescription medications easily available on the street). In general, however, most people prefer to ignore our social malaise in the name of “tolerance.” But there is trouble in our tolerant little paradise.

My community seems to lack a sense of connection to the wider world. If North Americans live in a bubble of materialism, we live in a bubble within a bubble. And within this bubble, I am a fish out of water. The common people living in the countries I’ll be visiting have been struggling for many decades to preserve their lands, their water and their cultures from imperialism and corporate exploitation. Until now, it has been pretty much a losing battle. They have been trying to alert us to the dangers they face, and now they are cautioning us that these same dangers are soon to arrive at our doorstep. At this moment, a mining company, taking advantage of the liberalized mining regulations that backed our Premier’s declaration that our province is "open for business," holds a claim to the minerals beneath 19,320 hectares of land in one of our local communities. Although individuals and small groups have spoken out against the proposed mining operations, they have failed to ignite the interest of the general community.

Although the words of environmental activists from so-called third world countries seem to have fallen upon deaf ears until now, recent actions taken by a some of their governments, as well as the worsening social and environmental conditions throughout the so-called first world, offer a ray of hope. Our communities stand at the brink of a new awareness of reality. Perhaps (and I sincerely hope so), we will find a true sense of community in our common struggle to preserve our land and water unpolluted.

I love to travel, but I don't feel like a tourist. My travels are always for the purpose of experiencing and expressing solidarity with other daughters and sons of Mother Earth. In April, I will be in Cochabamba, Bolivia, to attend the Alternative Climate Conference. I hope that my recorded observations will stir a heightened consciousness of the truly desperate condition of our world -- as well as a conscience concerning the role that our (often willful) ignorance is playing in the hardships of the most exploited countries and the hardships soon to befall us. The times they are a-changin’, and the change is not starting in the over-developed countries, where “reality TV” trumps reality. Rather, it’s starting in some of the most economically exploited countries, where true wealth is manifested in the spirit and solidarity of their communities.

I hope to be able to bring some of that spirit and sense of solidarity home with me when I return in a few months.