2
2
1
I learned that a group of international volunteers were helping to rebuild a community radio station, so I took a bus north to spend a few days helping. There I met Alfredo Lopez, a leader of the Garifuna community along the north coast of Honduras. Alfredo was imprisoned for seven years on a false drug charge, because of his work in opposing developments of luxury vacation resorts that threaten to destroy communities and disperse the Garifuna people. Now, Lopez is back in his community, organizing a string of community radio stations that have a key role in informing and mobilizing the struggle against the well funded developers who covet their beautiful beaches.
In February the radio station in Lopez's town, Triumfo de la Cruz, was broken into, equipment was stolen or vandalized, and a fire was set. A month after the attack, with the help of volunteers, it was ready to broadcast again. No one knows for sure who was responsible for the destruction, but it is clear who stands to benefit from it. The developers hold out the illusion of jobs and prosperity, even though in similar developments they have brought in outsiders to work in their hotels, and only a handful of locals benefit.
These illusions have a disruptive effect on the community. As I was walking on the beach I met Ricky Lyon, a dreadlocked fisherman who had immigrated to Honduras from Belize. He started with an impassioned speech about discrimination in Belize, where he said he and other black people are seen as "monkeys", and how he felt so much more at home among the Garifuna, who are mostly descended from Africans. Then he told me that he was a "community leader" who was organizing young people to bring in a new kind of economy. He himself wants to open a diving school for tourists. He was very angry about the role of the Garifuna radio stations. He said, repeatedly, that the people running the station were lucky that only property was destroyed. If they go on with what they are doing, "Maybe next time somebody will get killed." I mentioned this to Alfredo, and he said, " Yes, Ricky was part of the movement when he first came here." Clearly he has gone over to the side of the developers. Given the history and ongoing threats of violence, there are plans to guard the station in the future.
While all of the big daily newspapers have supported the coup, some national radio and TV stations were opposed it. But even big, nationwide media have been shut down, their equipment vandalized and confiscated, and their employees intimidated and attacked. Radio Globo and Channel 36 have been resolute in reporting the truth and opposing the coup, and have been on and off the air regularly. Since they depend on advertising revenues, some wonder whether they will be able to hold out over the long haul, or if they will be softening their attitude toward the Lobo government. The monthly opposition newspaper El Libertador has been bravely publishing and maintaining an informative website, but the editorial staff has suffered from torture and death threats.
Given this censorship, together with the violence and intimidation of those who objected to the coup, the elections held on November 27, 2009 were not recognized as legitimate by the Resistance and by many foreign governments. The United States and a few other countries that have interests that coincide with those of the Honduran oligarchy have recognized the "winner," in the interest of "stability."
The Fearful
Not everyone who is opposed to the oligarchy is able to defy them.
I was walking over a bridge in Tegucigalpa when a man coming from the other direction said, "Hello!" This is not uncommon, since I look very much like a gringo, and people often try out their few words of English in a friendly greeting. But this time was different. He went on to ask, "Where are you from?" followed by, "Why are you here?" When I told him that I had come with a human rights delegation, and that I was staying on another week to do my own informal investigations, he asked if I would like to talk for a while, "English or Spanish, your choice." It was clear that he wanted a chance to practice English; we spent the rest of the afternoon in a very revealing conversation.
I will call him Juan, and I will be vague about some particulars, for reasons that will be apparent. He lives with his mother who is in her eighties. She raised many children as a single mother in one of the poorest parts of the country. She worked constantly, making tortillas, taking other people's wash down to the river, domestic service, whatever she could do. Finally, when she was about sixty her legs became so swollen that she could not work. He is glad that he was able to bring her to the city and can provide her with a home now; her legs are much better. His sister also lives with them. She is in her thirties and has a disability which makes it impossible for her to work.
We visited his home. It is in a new development on the edge of town. Row upon row of identical concrete block houses, one story, about 20 or 25 feet square, quite close together, nearly barren ground around them with a few chickens wandering around. The streets are paved, and the water, sewers, and electricity are all there, so it provides the basics for housing, but Juan kept apologizing for how humble it is until I said something to the effect of, "It is what it is, let's leave it at that."
I asked Juan if he is married. He laughed and said that he was embarrassed that although he is in his late thirties and would like very much to be married, it was just not possible. His economic situation is precarious. He works two jobs, one is in a government agency, and at night he teaches teenagers and adults. He has a mortgage on his house, and even with his two jobs it is hard to cover his expenses.
Juan is outraged at the situation in Honduras. "Everything is broken!" Justice, education, the economy..."We are alone in this country." Corruption is everywhere. As for the rich, "They hate us!" But he doesn't dare say a word to anybody about what he thinks, because if he spoke out he might lose one or both of his jobs. Of course those who favor the coup are free to sound off as much as they like, and people like Juan just bite their tongues.
It is impossible to know what proportion of the population share Juan's frustration; it is revealing that a very large proportion of people who respond to public opinion polls say they have no opinion. Fear of the death squads is very real and ever present for those who dare to take leadership roles. But in a country where people face great economic insecurity, the fear of losing a job or missing out on a promotion forces even those who are not political activists to keep their opinions to themselves.
The Resistance
In Marcala I sat in on a meeting of the resistance at its lowest, grass roots level. Campesinos came, some with their children, after a day's work, to listen to a presentation made by a couple of men who had been to a meeting at the provincial capital and projected the text of a manifesto by Juan Almendares, one of the national leaders of the resistance. They read the text aloud, possibly so as to help any in the audience who might have trouble reading.
Afterwards several people spoke about their disgust with the government and their determination to see this struggle through. They had hoped that they could elect representatives to the regional committee, but due to short notice not enough people had come to the meeting, and they felt that it was important to take their time and include everyone, so they put off elections until next time.
