Barrio Bolivar

Well, I´ve nearly given up on connecting to the web log for now. The internet cafes in La Puerta are basically 6-10 computers networked and, so far as I can tell, connected to a single dial'up line. The site to create new entries just doesn´t load. So, I´m going to write into an email then if I ever get it to load (or get to Valera, the big city) I´ll just paste them in.

This is a bit about my first experience in Venezuela. I didn´t really understand at the time, but now I know more. I arrived in Maracaibo and just outside of baggage claim a young guy asked me what my name was. I should have gone with my instict and asked what he thought my name was. I told him and he said he was from the methodist church and Francisco and I was to go with him. I´m probably a little too paranoid, but I wasn´t entirely sure of this situation. But I went with it.

He introduced someone else as Francisco´s son, and I was starting to feel better about it all. We drove north into Maracaibo and made a few turns. We eventually turned off the pavement and onto a dirt path that wove between fairly run down houses. There were people milling about and lots of dogs just passed out in the road. It was dark, and of course everything looks worse after dark. We pulled up to a gate, opened it, and went through...to another gate, opened it and entered a small courtyard typical of houses in this part of the world. Half was my driver´s residence, and half was an apartment. It looked like lots of people had passed through without necessarily taking all of their stuff with them. There was a chameleon of some sort in one of the cabinets, and it was obvious that at least as many rodents passed through as people. I wasn´t terribly excited about all this, but the bedroom at least had an air conditioner that took the edge off the 88 degree Maracaibo night.

I found out a few things later that brought it all together. There have been a couple of migrations of the homeless in Venezuela into empty land where they established shanty towns that gained a degree of permanence over time. This was the first, Barrio Bolivar, in honor of a revered son of the country and liberator of nothern South America. It was probably established 20 years ago. Francisco set up shop here when it was first established and did what he could to organize the people and work on improving their standard of life. He was there for about ten years I think. The place now has water, sewer, and electricity. It could probably be paved, but the original shanty-town layout doesn´t really lend to it. The area I stayed in was where Francisco began with a hovel and slowly, like everyone else, improved his dwelling. I think now there are three main barrios of similar origin in Maracaibo.