Inside the walls of Merida

In order to build the youth team meeting in our community, we (myself and a representative from my branch) went through the list of 102 young people registered for the PSUV, and visited each house, systematically going up and down the avenues.

The first house we visited was really fancy- the kind with furniture you don’t want to sit on, little pretty ornaments every where, and they gave us coffee served in teacups that ought to be in a museum. Ok exaggerating a bit, but you get the idea. Their kids weren’t home but the husband and wife said they’d been on the left for ages but would only vote. They were really clear they didn’t want to participate in meetings and all that. Then they talked about Arabic countries for ages (their background is Syrian).

The next person, a young woman, was at work and said she couldn’t do anything because she was working all the time. The next person said something similar, about having to work on a stall on Saturdays- it seems a lot the young people (as applies to the Ven population in general) work on the informal stalls.

Another family- with a cat and dog chasing each other in the background, said they (the daughter and her friend) would come, but a bit late.

Then the guy I was doing this with has diabetes so he had to go back to his house for his injection and he invited me back for dinner.

His house is definitely not so fancy, with a roof made of corrugated iron and so on, but homely. His mum was great and wanted to talk about Obama, and she’ll make the chicha for the meeting on Saturday. He’s a great, funny guy. Spot on with his politics (in my opinion), knowing where the problems are but also how to stay motivated, but so modest, always saying “and well I’m not a really experienced revolutionary… but”

As we left to keep doing the house calls, it started raining and the rain was smudging the ink and we couldn’t see the building names cos it was dark, and we were stopped under a ledge, and he got carried away, talking about how a revolution is sometimes a step forward, sometimes two steps back, that it’s a daily struggle.  

The next day we met a bit earlier, in an attempt to beat the rain. As we walked about D knew EVERYONE. We would stop every half block as he bumped into someone- and there’d either be a brief handshake, or a middle of pavement conversation- about how this person was going (eg one guy was trying to sell lolly pops, and clearly had a drug problem), or about the upcoming political tasks, or about x’s mother etc.

As we walked down Avenue 1, which is on the edge of the centre, therefore much poorer so to speak, he bumped into one of his old students from the Mission Robinson, “he taught me to read” she says proudly and gives her old teacher a big hug, and they- the ex student and her mother- invited us in and of course you can’t say no so we popped in for a minute.

What a range of different living conditions there are in one small area. From that fancy first house, to this place, with barely any furniture, stairs of wood, creaking plastic couches and a stereo on a brick that was falling apart. One of our main problems was that most people in this area live in apartments- many of which had locked entrances doors, so we couldn’t get in (and having lived in a similar apartment myself, I always wonder how mail gets delivered). Some apartments had lifts, some we got into as someone else who lived there was going in, others were peeling and had no lifts, and we joked about getting a lot of exercise. 

For three nights we visited people like this- often having to be a bit like detectives to work out where their house was (with addresses like ‘Avenue 2 house next to fruit shop’- but Avenue 2 is covered in fruit shops. We got a range of responses, from polite but clearly not interested, to friendly, talkative, but also clearly not going to get involved at all beyond voting, to helpful and enthusiastic. In most cases we had to leave messages with parents or residential owners, as the young people were out, or working, or away on holidays. 

The actual meeting on Saturday was disappointing, for me. In the end 7 people came from the batallon- as support- which was great (especially as this batallon has had trouble meeting and getting more than 6 to their meetings), but no new young people, just me and C. So half the point of starting these youth teams within the branches, is to get the branches happening again- and the discussion turned to that, meaning it was still useful. 

Yesterday there were black outs all day (3 of them lasting an hour or 2 each), which made it hard for most people to work, and then the last one was at night. The streets were pitch dark and there was chaos on the main roads, which actually have traffic lights- but which of course weren’t working, so suddenly small street rules applied where people just kinda edge into the intersection so they can get through it.

In one of these intersections, where my bus got wedged into intersecting buses and cars, I got out and walked the rest of the way to the PSUV house, for an FFM meeting. After hanging outside and marvelling that we could see stars (you usually can’t, not just cos of the lights but also because Merida’s always covered in clouds from the afternoon on). Then someone said, “We don’t need light to meet!” and we all went inside and started the meeting in the dark, joking about how romantic it was and how on earth would we work out who wanted to talk.Half an hour or so later, the light came on- to cheers and jokes.

The main discussion was about election intervention- at the moment the PSUV mayor and governor candidate are going around to each parroquia (municipality, roughly), and each day there is a rally in a different area.

There was a really awkward moment in the middle of this discussion- the first like it I’ve ever seen, where a woman suddenly got up and pointed at a new comer (who she knew through her work) and accused him of being opposition. It felt horrible- although she was probably right, I pitied the guy in case she wasn’t, as he had to introduce himself to everyone, defend himself, and a debate ensured about just how open the meetings are. The guy ended up leaving.

Then a few women from the National Police came and talked to us. There is a new university of Security, where the national police are to be trained- the idea being that they are much more community linked, not corrupt etc, than the current police. They are recruiting young people aged 18-25 to form socialist cuadros (blocks?) within the police force, the idea being that young people would become future leaders of the force and have lots of ideas etc. 

Today when I went to the comedor, there was less of a queue, and the price had gone up (4.5Bs from 3.5Bs- eat out anywhere else- 10Bs+). I met a friend of mine, an ex Tupamaru who’s now all into meditation and martial arts- not the typical image one has of a TupamaruJ. He’s started helping out with Mission Nevado (I think he called it) where they go around collecting all the street dogs, feeding them, and finding homes for them, or giving them to the police etc. He’s also going to start a course soon in disaster administration- mostly trying to prevent disasters- structurally (houses etc) and ensuring that people are educated in what to do when one happens. Interesting timing given the hurricane that just went past the Caribbean. 

Quotes:

D: “The people like the money, not the revolution”

T: “Carlos Leon is not the problem, it’s us for not making him accountable and responsible.” And “I prefer an honest esqualido (oppositionist) to a corrupt Chavista”