Sandinista party signage, Managua
The high beams of the pick-up force their way through the muggy heat of an early morning in Managua until they find their prey. There is fear on the streets of this beleaguered Central American capital. Armed youth pile over the sides of the hitch, homemade arms holstered at their waists, encircling the helpless victims of their assault. Their sights set, they move in for the kill.
Their weapons of choice are spray cans, hired to scour the city and cover any and all of the illegal opposition political graffiti about the current Sandinista government.
I am in Managua, Nicaragua for my work with Presbyterian World Service and Development. I have been coming here for three years to accompany and monitor the agriculture, children’s rights, nutrition, HIV and AIDS, and education projects supported by Canadian Presbyterians through PWS&D.
From conversations on the streets, many people feel betrayed by a government that 30 years ago fought its way to power on a platform of pluralism, popular participation and mobilization. Participation is encouraged, but only if it is in support of the government.
Many feel that free speech in Nicaragua has been severely restricted since the election of Daniel Ortega to the presidency after a 17-year hiatus. Ortega was previously president during the Sandinista Revolution of 1979. He seeded power in 1990 through democratic elections.
With no real opposition allowed in the country against government policies, beatings and brutal physical attacks against intellectuals, journalists and civil rights members are frequent here now. Political polarization is unavoidable – you are either with the government or against it; there is no in-between.
The November 2008 municipal elections across the country are at the heart of much of the tension after the government disqualified two opposition parties from the ballot and prohibited all highly respected national and international elections observers in order to carry out fraudulent results.
Daniel Ortega’s election back to office brought with it an initial surge of hope among the majority of Nicaraguans who struggle each day to get a roof over their head and food on the table. Donor countries were thrilled by an ambitious and exciting social action plan laid out by the administration to tackle extreme poverty, stimulate growth in the countryside, provide healthcare to every Nicaraguan, and get every child in school. This was something to be excited about, and many still are, with good reason. In the poorest neighbourhoods of Managua, people are able to see a doctor, sometimes for the first time, enrolment in schools has increased dramatically throughout the country, and the government has tried to stimulate growth for small farmers.
The process, however, has soured many, once believers at the outset. Through the smoke and mirrors that is the media in Nicaragua, one’s headlights cannot penetrate enough to know where the truth really lies. But no one I spoke with disagrees with the desire to express themselves without living in fear.
