Sun, Sand, and Politics

Sunday, January 25, 2009

It’s amazing how enticing the ocean is. It’s as if the waves are calling you into them. You can sit there on the beach and pretend you don’t hear them. You can even turn your back to them and try to have a chat. In the end, however, they drag you forth out of your chair and draw you in.

At first it’s refreshing; the water is cool, the waves are tumbling you around, but then you realize you’re being dragged further in. Suddenly the beach is kinda far and you think, “Hey, I need to head back in!” Swimming is easy enough until you figure out that you’re not actually getting anywhere. A slight edge of panic, a burst of energy, and a lucky little surf finally drop you breathless onto the beach. Time for a beer and more conversation so that you hardly even realize that your skin is frying and your head is spinning. When it comes time to pack up, you take one final look, drag yourself away from the invitation for more, and load into the car. There is always sand in strange places and the salt makes your shirt feel funny on your back, but you have had fun; another successful day at the beach.

It was good to have a day like that as it was a long week. We only had four days of school, but those four days were packed with things to do. The school had guests from a private school in Georgia. They arrived and provided workshops for the staff. This was great, except that it stole away a few prep periods, leaving me with less time to prepare for my kids. The workshops were good. Two of the folks that arrived turned out to be the vice principal and the guidance counselor of the elementary school. It was refreshing to see administration playing an active role in education. My experience has always been with hands off types that make demands but put no effort into carrying them out.

This week culminated with a conference in Caracas. Called VANAS (Venezuelan Association of North American Schools), this annual event attracts seven school from Venezuela, as well as institutions from Curaçao and Aruba. It’s a fun event and we were all looking forward to it. Our unique problem was in finding child care. The plan was to get on a bus for Caracas at 4:30 Friday morning, returning sometime around 8:00 that night. This meant that we needed to find somewhere for Zachary to spend Thursday night and all of Friday. Our options were severely hampered by the school which offered us no assistance whatsoever. We presented a couple of plans to the administration that were soundly defeated.

Meanwhile, on the political front, Mr. Chavez has decided to put forth another referendum eliminating term limits. This would allow him to run for office in perpetuity. A similar referendum happened in November 2007 and was narrowly defeated. He seems to be hoping that he can get it in place before the general elections in 2012. There has been a lot of protesting happening in Caracas, most of which has been met with tear gas and rubber bullets. This put some fear into us as we prepared to go to that very city for our conference. As a result, it was decided that we go down on Thursday night and be put up in a hotel. Those who desired could stay in Valencia and work rather than risk their safety in the big city. This allowed Carrie to stay behind and care for the little man while I traveled to Crackass (as it is sometimes known). (Somewhere, someone has decided that that lovely little burg, population 7,000,000 is the most dangerous city on the planet!)

It was a great conference; I attended some helpful workshops and connected with some folks who live there. Hopefully, we can rectify the child care thing for the conference next year. It will take place at a different school in Caracas. Yes, my friends, we have agreed to stay here another year. We rejoice in the decision one minute and rue it the next.

After the event there was a cocktail party and then we loaded onto the bus for the trip home. There was more than a little traffic leaving the city so two hours later we were barely out of town. We came to a restaurant/gas station and stopped for fuel. I stepped to the front and asked to be let out to use the restroom. I was told that it was too dangerous and I needed to stay on the bus. Several women joined me at the front and demanded that the doors be opened. I was told to tie my hair up, shut my mouth and walk quickly in and quickly out. The restaurant was huge and packed with people, there were a million lights, and cops everywhere, but I was told to fear for my safety. I think the most dangerous thing there was the disgusting little bathroom. Needless to say, I made it back to the bus alive and undamaged.

It seems that folks here are just afraid. Anything new must be scary. The poor are also very scary as they are likely to attack you at any moment for no reason at all. I can’t imagine how one could live their life in fear all the time. Why is it that different is evil? I am more than a little tired of people telling me to be afraid. I have been to the big city before and I have traveled to some pretty crazy places. I think I can take care of myself.

This new referendum is causing no small degree of consternation here. We have been given three days off in the middle of February, but are tenuous about traveling in-country. We are thinking that maybe Colombia or Ecuador might be nice. Depending on how the vote goes, there could be trouble right here in River City. I think I would just as soon be stuck in Ecuador as central Venezuela. Hopefully the whole thing will come off without a hitch. I am alarmed by the Chavez administration’s use of strong arm tactics to dispel the opposition. This is new to me here. In the last referendum, there was plenty of opposition, but no rubber bullets (at least none that I heard of). We did experience tear gas here at our apartment while the police were breaking up the street blocking party so I guess it’s not unheard of. It just feels more oppressive this time. It is not a clear cut issue and both sides are impassioned by it so voters will turn out. Any victory will be a slim one.

I try to sit with my back to the action; focusing more on us and our life here. This works for awhile, but eventually, the politics drag me forth from my chair and draw me back in.

MJR