Today I start a series on the political environment of present-day Nicaragua. I begin with the description of an everyday scene that is emblematic of its current political culture.
People
had begun to gather at the park since the early hours of the morning. Mostly women—mothers who, like rocks, had
withstood life’s erosions to the point of achieving an ageless quality—dressed
in plaid straight skirts and depleted plain-colored v-neck shirts: campesino women. They assumed their regular pragmatic,
cross-armed stance, as they stood waiting in front of and glaring at the town’s
alcaldia.
At the
entrance of the alcaldia stood two
four-foot high jumbo speakers, that now begun playing music at a deafening
decibel level. It was a playlist of
around six or seven songs, that would loop round and round for hours and hours until,
mercifully, it would be turned off and discontinued at the end of the day. The songs included an old revolutionary song,
the new Sandinista campaign song, and the famous 1990 campaign song celebrating
Daniel Ortega as a razorblade-wielding cockfighting gallo. (Eeeeese es Daniel,
Daaaniel Orteeega, Es el gallo enavajado que ya tiene preparado el pueblo
trabajador.) Groups of volunteers, wearing the newest edition Sandinista
party t-shirts (no doubt collected at the last national rally), sat on the
steps of the building or on the bed of the pick-ups parked along the
street.
The alcalde (mayor) soon arrived from
Managua to deliver a loud, rambling, defensive speech to the cheerfully
enthusiastic volunteers and the stone-faced waiting women. The alcalde
reminded the crowd of why they were there, which party had made it
possible, and how much the government cares about the poor and struggling. It could easily have been a cheesy, feel-good
speech had it not been for the alcalde’s
habit of screaming into the microphone, his aggressive gesticulations, and his
overall threatening tone. Once finished,
he got back into his Toyota HiLux and drove off.
Finally,
the anticipated materials arrived: sheets of zinc used for roofing. Volunteers helped unload the cargo from the
pick-up trucks, while others started taking the names of the women in line and
scanning to see if they appeared on the official list. Groups of bystanders walked by, some
whispering to each other: “Look at how they reduce those poor people to public
humiliation,” and “They only give the zinc out to people of their own
party.” Throughout the day, the zinc was
distributed to the neediest in the community.
“A lot of those people sell them off after they get them,” one bystander
says. But for many, it is a Godsend. They can now remove their old, crumbling,
leaky tile home roofs, and ensure protection against the elements particularly
during the intense thunderstorms of the rainy season.
This
scene, of poverty-stricken women being given a helping hand while Sandinista
propaganda is shoved down their throats, represents Nicaragua’s current
political environment. It is the
hallmark of the current populist regime of Daniel Ortega.
In the next post, I will examine the arguments given in support of the Sandinista government.
