Five days on the road

MS development worker Preben H. Rasmussen was present in the camp just South of Sébaco during the last five days of the crisis. In this ‘diary’ he describes life as it is seen next to the Inter American Highway, where coffee workers are protesting against the government’s let’s-wait–and–see–policy.

By Preben H. Rasmussen

12. September 2002

Monday, September 9, 2002
It is midday. The heat is suffocating. In fact, it is unbearably hot. People have thrown themselves underneath the shadows of the trees; the children have stopped running around, stopped playing. Some are crying. They look shabby. Most of them have no shoes; their clothes are torn from having been used by older sisters and brothers. Out of the about 2000 people who have left home and settled down along the Inter American Highway, at least some 300 are children. The Highway connects – as the only one – the Northern part of Nicaragua with the capital Managua, the center of power.

The milestone in front of the camp announces that the distance to Managua is exactly 97 kilometers, but the fact is that the distance is considerably longer. The many cars driving by can easily make it in time to have afternoon coffee in the capital, the coffee workers cannot make themselves heard.

Somebody has brought along a small radio and a group of people is listening to the news. Slowly, more attention is being paid to their demands to create jobs. That president ought to be able to understand that people need food to survive. The coffee crisis continues for the second year in a row. The prices have never been worse, less than half of the average price of the last five years. Many recall that prices were once both three and four times as high. The producers have no money to neither grow nor harvest the coffee, the workers receive no pay – the result is a coffee production of half of what it used to be.

The workers are used to taking care of the normally valuable coffee trees. The weeds have to be eliminated; the amount of shadow and sun that each tree receives has to be supervised in order to assure that the beans are ripened correctly. And then comes harvest! But not a lot last year, nor will it be a lot this year.

The workers have arrived from all over. Most of them come from the province of Matagalpa, which during 150 years has been the center for coffee production. The mountainous area and the cool temperatures provide excellent conditions for the coffee trees. Most of them have been without jobs for months, some are now counting years. Social support and unemployment guarantee are unknown concepts. The family provides the only support – some are lucky and have a daily salary of 2-3 dollars.

Rachel is 22, single mother of two and determined to participate until the end. She is used to life along the Highway. For four months she has been part of the plantón, as the camps are called, in El Tuma, North of the provincial capital of Matagalpa. During the last four months, there have been some 20 similar camps along the highway.

Facing sun, rain and dust, and in spite of hunger and tiredness, she has tried to make the government listen: “We want jobs, they can’t just leave us with the ‘jobs for food’ as the government has tried when they make people fix the potholes in the road. We want jobs with a salary, and we want steady jobs”, she says calmly.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002
The camp now holds some 2500 people, asking for jobs. The mood in the camp is calm, relaxed. Everything seems well organized. Food is prepared in big, black pots over a fireplace. The smoke hurts the eyes. Women move huge wooden spoons and stir the rice pots. The menu offers rice with beans, or beans with rice. The food is dished out with a plastic lid and served in plastic bowls. It takes a certain training to eat rice and beans with your fingers, but eventually everything is eaten.

Black plastic sacks can be used for many things. Tied between trees they provide shadow under the burning sun, and if it should rain, contrary to what can be expected in this dry area, they protect against the water. You can also hang a bag with your plate, cup and other few belongings in a tree. The children like to play with the sacks, on their behinds they rush down a small hill, but aren’t allowed to do so.

A towel can also be used for surprisingly many things. Placed on the head it provides shadow, the young girls wrap it around the waist as an extra skirt, covering the old, homemade one, which anyway is torn. Babies are wrapped in towels and carried around by young mothers with pointed tummies, a new baby on the way. Children’s mouths are wiped. During the night, the towel provides a bit of warmth.

A man with a noisy machine arrives. It looks like a huge bazooka with a net on. His uniform is not recognizable. He evidently considers his job as extremely important. The machine expulses huge amounts of smoke. The mosquitoes don’t have a chance. The smoke reaches ten meters ahead and people try to escape. The stench goes right up your nose. Those who are taking a nap start sneezing.

At three o’clock silence is broken. Mobilizing on the way. Everybody has to move to the Highway. With huge banners and catchwords all traffic is stopped. The workers’ union, ATC, is organizing the whole thing. A long line of vehicles is quickly formed. Nobody dares, nor can they, pass the group on the Highway. Big trucks on the way from El Salvador to Costa Rica; old, yellow, North American school busses which now serve as public means of transport; 4x4 Toyotas with important people from international organizations – everybody has to wait in the heat.

“We demand that the President negotiates with us. We want jobs with a pay. We need houses. The government has to give us land to cultivate, to produce corn and beans. Our children lack milk and are undernourished”. Sixteen children have died from malnutrition and made headlines beyond national borders.

Catchwords and the demand for jobs are yelled over and over. One hour later the flow of traffic is restored, while demonstrators watch the vehicles drive by.

Wednesday, September 11, 2002
At exactly eight o’clock in the morning, traffic is blocked. The camp now holds about 3000 people. The line of cars reaches kilometers on both sides. During the day, a group of vice ministers arrives. In a small, humble house close to the Inter American Highway negotiations go on for hours. Meanwhile, the blockade continues. It is decided that the talks should focus on the demands of the workers. Representatives from ATC, mayors from the surrounding cities, members of parliament and police also participate. The police will not act until the President orders them to do so. Anti–riot police are placed in the cities in the area. Government officials, vice ministers and other experts now listen to the speeches about children who has no shoes to wear in school, about the free education which turns out to be anything but free. About the underfed children, about the need for jobs and land, medicine and medical assistance. The vice ministers brought along no solutions and offer a lunch bag if the workers return home.

Traffic is blocked from eight in the morning to six in the evening. The most unfortunate have had to wait for ten hours. From one of the cars in the front, somebody yells to the workers: “Good luck with your demands!” People smile. It takes another hour before the traffic jam is cleared. Darkness has fallen upon the highway and the black plastic sacks a long time ago.

In the nearby city of Sébaco life goes on. People stand on street corners, talking. Two cars with loudspeakers passes each other’s trail. In this country, one of the most important means of communication is the loudspeaker–car. From the huge speakers on the roof, anything from jubilees to parties, movies and deaths can be announced. One car is announcing a party at the local school next Saturday. A prerecorded text is read aloud. A young girl dressed in a white shirt and blue skirt, the traditional school uniform, is seated in the bed of the other car. She uses the microphone to gain support for the demands of “our brethren in the North”. The loudspeaker–cars hit in different directions.

Thursday, September 12, 2002
The day after the biggest, peaceful tranque in Central America, as the blockade is called here, cars once more pass by milestone 97.

A delegation should have arrived at 10 a.m. to negotiate, but have not arrived yet. A single government official arrives, and is not allowed to leave again. Late in the afternoon, several top–officials join him, including a couple of vice–ministers, representatives from the Central Bank and from institutes of all kinds of things; children, rural development, social development, housing, etc. The delegation is lead by señor Sandino, vice–minister for State Administration.

It’s 6:10 p.m. before negotiations start. The vice–minister, Alfonso Sandino, initiates with a friendly style and makes a point out of listening to people. The negotiations have been translated to a small village school, right next to the Interamerican Highway. Three small buildings painted in blue and white, the school has its own flagpole, but the flag hangs somewhat limp from the top. A patriotic bulletin board explains about the country’s history, famous men and women. The children have been sent home. The police controls admittance to the schoolyard.

The work has been divided between two commissions: one for production and land issues, another for social issues. The agenda is written on the blackboard. 34 mostly men are seated to discuss the crises–stricken coffee production – the pride of the nation. Unionists, small, medium and large scale coffee producers, three mayors, four members of parliament from the sandinista party. The workers take the lead and read aloud their demands about jobs with a pay, houses, about land instead of salary when the employees cannot pay, about the creation of the land–bank, about the urgent need for food, and seed which can later on provide food.

The government officials have to pay attention because the loud catchwords from the highway find their way to the classroom. The demands have been yelled aloud all day.

The workers give concrete examples of families who twenty years ago were granted land as part of the land reform, but who so far have not received any deed on their land. Without the deed, not financing. The vice–minister writes down the names of the fincas.

Suddenly the man with the bazooka interrupts negotiations. Powered by kerosene, the machine sends out ten-meter long jets of smoke in the fight against the mosquitoes. People escape in different directions. The catchwords are yelled even louder.

It’s past ten in the evening, people have started to become tired, and the vice–ministers prepares to end the meeting. Suddenly the UNAG–representatives take the initiative. As representatives of small– and medium scale farmers, they have prepared a list of some eighteen points. They take turns in speaking, and are against mortgaging their fincas. Banks and other lending institutions confiscate their farms, because no credit can be obtained. Five banks have suffered bankruptcy and private lending basically no longer exists for farmers. The government says that they have asked the councils which look into these issues, to take it easy. A farmer gets up and explains that eighteen months ago, he had a big finca of some 150 manzanas (a bit more that a 100 hectares). The bank took it all, and now he is a bus driver.

The government officials stress over and over that they cannot interfere in the lending politics private companies, but the advisor of the Central Bank, Mariano Buitrago promises to summon the common bank council already the following day.

UNAG wants the debts changed into long-term debts with low interests. Here five to seven percent is considered low, there are examples of 25 percent in interests, which makes it impossible to make a profit. The idea is to make a national coffee council, which can elaborate a strategy for the country’s most important export crop. The coffee represents 34 percent of the overall exports.

In the social commission there are 21 persons, including eight women and all of the mayors. The issues are housing, kinder gardens, food, milk for the children, reading plans (half of the rural population is illiterate), kitchen gardens, creation of jobs in road construction, etc.

The government offers to create 6–7000 jobs for 60 days, at a rural minimum wage of 22 córdobas per day (less than two US$) and food packages. They recognize that the need is urgent, but hope that the next harvest, which begins in October, November and December, can help to solve the problem. But what will happen when the harvest is over in March? “We don’t have any money”, says the government, hoping for better prices at the international market.

It is past midnight, and all of a sudden the good mood disappears. The vice–minister looses patience and attacks a member of parliament from the sandinista party, who maintains the workers’ demand about land when no pay is received. The atmosphere changes. Several thousand workers follow the negotiations outside the gate. The vice–minister cools down and has to give four apologies – and the intent to make a written deal continues. At three o’clock in the night the parties decide to resume the editorial work at 11 o’clock in the morning. The social commission continues to work until 5:30 a.m. – until the very end, the workers who want jobs and land, follow the negotiations.

Friday, September 13, 2002
Fifth day for the 3000 workers living under open skies, with extremely primitive conditions for bathing, lousy food, bitten by mosquitoes, black plastic sacks as the only luxury, sick children, pregnant women and a constant insecurity about the future.

Then the rain arrives. Big, violent showers manage in minutes to make the camp a mud bath. The lucky ones have a sack to wrap around themselves or shelter themselves under. Nobody complains.

As agreed, at 11 o’clock the government officials begin to arrive. People gather outside the by now famous school in Las Tunas, they know that the job has to be done by 2 p.m., but it is not possible. The document is too big. Nevertheless, the leaders of the event are optimistic; it is the first time in years that they have succeeded in making the government negotiate.

At four o’clock the draft document is presented. Fifteen pages. A lot of good intentions and fewer concrete promises. Temporary jobs for 60, maybe 90, days at 22 córdobas a day, packages with food for fifteen days, milk for children for a year, the possibility of freeing the mortgages, restructuring of debts, establishment of several operational commissions to follow up upon the implementation of the plans. At 5 p.m. a coordination meeting with the vice–minister who carries a greeting from President Bolaños who emphasizes that the coffee has to be harvested, that he will send some 5000 packages with food, and that it is necessary to create permanent forums for dialogue.

The mayor plenary is gathered at 6 p.m. The atmosphere is solemn and sandinistas, liberals and conservatives sing the national anthem. The final document is read aloud. Representatives from all sectors sign it. Everybody is relieved and the ‘thank–you’ speeches are endless. Outside the workers cheer and applaud when they hear that the document has been signed. Darkness has fallen upon the camp when the result is presented in speeches for the workers along the highway. They applaud and listen politely to the solutions to the lack of housing and jobs.

“We have opened a communications canal which has to be used. The fact that we did in fact reach a result is only due to the solid support from the thousands of participants”, finishes Margarita López from ATC.

The government wanted to show some obligingness, the government style in the so-called new era, the workers needed to finish with some concrete results.

Saturday is the day for traveling home. The camp is over for now – when will the next start?

Preben H. Rasmussen is a development worker at UNAG Matagalpa
Translation by Christian Korsgaard