Nicaragua

In mid-July, eight teenagers from across the United States came together on a porch in Managua, Nicaragua for the last time. Prior to this teen delegation, countless others have met in the exact same way on that exact same porch. The porch, and the house behind it, belongs to Witness For Peace, an organization that has been bringing people from the United States to countries such as Nicaragua for almost two decades. That particular day, was the last of twelve days we spent there; the time was too short. Yet by that time, I had seen and learned more than I had in every class I have ever attended for the past fifteen years. For twelve days, we broke bread with the people of Nicaragua. For twelve days we witnessed their joys and sorrows. And for twelve days they shared their lives with us. We stayed with families in the crowded city; we stayed with families in the secluded country; we met with sweatshop workers in secret; we saw the city dump, and the people who live in it; and we spoke to the U.S. embassy, and listened as the fumbled for excuses.

My home-stay in Managua was a concrete house, made up of a small living room, a smaller bedroom, an outdoor kitchen in the back, and a front porch. The entire house could have fit in an average U.S. living room. The bedroom, where there was barely any room to walk, had three beds and a crib. Every morning, my host father, Mario, would make breakfast: rice and beans, eggs, ham, and plantains, all fried in vegetable oil. His wife, Patricia, left the house early and was always busy helping the Sandinista party or organizing cultural events for the neighborhood. In the evening‹instead of shopping or the movies‹the family and neighbors would gather round on the porch to share stories and look at pictures. Laughter was always present and smiles rarely left people's faces. Although these people have next to nothing‹by far less than those living in the United States‹it was clear to me that, even through indescribable adversity, they were by far happier than people here. Without the stresses of stock options, high fashion, and the "need" for an 50,000 dollar sports car, the community I stayed with could focus on what is truly important: family and friends. They do not deserve the situation they find themselves in. Their streets aren't paved, jobs are extremely hard to come by, and for most, their next meal is their primary concern. Yet no one seems to know. These are forgotten people. And the current Nicaraguan government, even if they wanted to (which they do not), can't help.

The economic power of the current, U.S. backed, PLC government is next to nothing. The country is over 8.6 billion dollars in debt, 2 billion due to internal banks and 6.6 billion to external institutions. While some result from bilateral loans, the majority of the external debt is owed to the IMF and the World Bank. This 8.6 billion dollar debt constitutes 3 times Nicaragua's Gross Domestic Product, takes up 85% of the country's $265 million annual budget, and costs the government more money per year than it spends on health care and education combined. To pay off this debt, every Nicaraguan man, woman, and child would have to give $1,400. Since their average per capita income is a mere $430 and the unemployment rate is a colossal 60%, Nicaragua holds the highest per capita debt burden in all of Latin America and possibly the world.

How did Nicaragua end up in such a severe situation? The Somoza family‹a 40 year dictatorship installed by the United States government‹padded their own pockets and built extravagant mansions with $1.5 billion of Nicaraguan money. And for the last 13 years, the PLC party, which came to power through voter fraud orchestrated by the U.S. government, has run the country into a $6.6 billion debt, resulting in absolutely no progress, according to every person I spoke to‹with the exception of the representatives from the U.S. embassy.

Most countries have forgiven Nicaragua's debt, and the United States is no different: the representatives at the U.S. embassy stressed the generous write off of Nicaragua's $37 million debt owed to the United States government. However, since Nicaragua owes over $200 million a year toward debt payments, this $37 million barely made a dent in the $8.6 billion total. The IMF and the World Bank are the only ones that could actually make a difference, but they have yet to extend any forgiveness. Currently, to change any policy in the World Bank an 85% majority is required. The United States holds 17% of the vote, making it the only country with veto power; therefore, the United States, using the IMF and World Bank as a cover, can single handedly hold Nicaragua in this bind‹unsurprisingly, it is using its veto power to do just that.

Because of this colossal debt, the World Bank and IMF can force Nicaragua to abide by their Structural Adjustment Programs (SAP). These SAPs demand reduced state spending, export-led development, and privatization of state run companies, which turns Nicaragua into a country of cheap labor that can be easily exploited by U.S. investors. For four days we stayed in the country side and witnessed firsthand the consequences of these policies. [[The house I stayed in was one big room; they used cardboard to partition bedrooms. The father, Pedro, is a farmer and the mother, Carmen, cooks for the family over an open flame. They are lucky. Their children can go to school and many in the area are actually in college. All of this results from the incredible organization of the community and the cooperative that they have founded. However, few are this fortunate.]]_keep or no? not sure]] The reduced state spending requires a minimum of 1,200 layoffs per year and means by far less money for education and health care. While under the Sandinista government, education was free for every Nicaraguan up to the college level. Now, under the PLC party, universities are being privatized and the cost of education is more than the average family can afford. For the few public schools left, the government can only provide the $2 a day salary of the teachers. All school supplies, furniture, chalk, cleaning supplies, etcŠ are donations from charities and parents.

Healthcare is no different. While healthcare was universal for all under the Sandinista socialist government, now only the richest can afford doctors and hospital bills. We visited the government health clinic in the country side. The nurse, who also makes a mere $2 a day, gave us a short tour of the facilities, which were unsanitary at best. She showed us the crude instruments they use for emergency operations, a dirty old crib where sick babies would lay, and a supply closet that was lacking gauze (although surprisingly full of U.S. donated contraceptives). Had Pedro, or any of his children, been hurt or needed stitches, they would have to first go into town to buy their own medical supplies before going to the clinic. When asked about these policies and their results on the local level, the US embassy claimed that they are teaching the Nicaraguan government to "spend within their means." It is clear, however, that this means basic necessities are now more than families can afford. This reduced state spending may mean that Nicaragua can pay its debt to the IMF and World Bank, but the fact that education and healthcare is nearly impossible for most families is irrelevant in the eyes of the United States.

The effects of privatizing state run companies, which is also required by the World Bank and IMF, are no less severe. According to the U.S. Neo-Liberal philosophy, privatization of electric, water, telecommunications, etcŠ brings about more efficient services and, therefore, a fairer price for consumers. However, fairness always takes a backseat to greed. As a result, basic services have become prohibitively expensive. Recently, the state run electric company was sold to a Spanish corporation. Since then, the price for electricity has more than tripled. Now, on average, the electricity bill takes up approximately 22% of a family's income. In some areas, a month's bill is higher than the value of the entire property. If they can't pay the bill, their electricity is shut off. Many in the countryside who can't afford these skyrocketing prices, have resorted to stealing electricity by illegally connecting their houses to electrical lines. For the majority of the population, trying desperately to feed their children, the privatization of the electric company has been devastating. This policy also greatly effects the Nicaraguan government. It means even more layoffs and a loss of long term income (even less for basic necessities: health care, education, road construction, etc.). Instead, the government receives a quick-cash alternative, but since it all went toward debt payment anyways, the sale was a complete loss.

Another feature of these SAPs is the required switch to exportable goods. Crop farmers can no longer get loans from banks and, therefore, many farmers were forced to switch from rice and bean production to cash crops such as coffee and cotton. Food security instantly became vulnerable. Unfortunately, Nicaraguan coffee couldn't compete on the world market. While there is one tractor for every U.S. farmer, in Nicaragua there is only one tractor for every 1,000 farmers. On top of this, to have any hope of competing on the world market, Nicaraguan farmers must buy genetically altered seeds from U.S. companies. Not only do these expense seeds destroy the surrounding environment and drive out native species, more often than not, they also bankrupt the farmer. Many Nicaraguan farmers ended up sitting on tons of unsold coffee. Prior to this, if a farmer couldn't sell his crop in the market, at least the family had food to eat. However, you can't eat coffee. As a result, many came down from the mountains to beg along highways and dozens starved to death at the side of the road. At their expense, U.S. agribusiness cashed in. U.S. companies make money off the altered seeds and U.S. farmers can now flood Nicaragua with their own, cheaper crops. Poor Nicaraguans have to buy the cheaper, U.S. foodstuffs and, in turn, more Nicaraguan crop farmers must switch to cash crops.

All of these policies have created extreme poverty, jobless, and a desperate population: a very easily exploitable situation, especially for U.S. investors. Since the PLC party came into power, sweatshops have sprung up all over the country. Currently, 40,000 Nicaraguans work in sweatshops owned by U.S. and Taiwanese investors. The Nicaraguan government, with the help of the United States, is doing all it can to attract even more investors. Currently, sweatshops, all operating in gated areas called "free trade zones," benefit from complete tax and tariff exemption on all exports, exemption from all municipal and federal property tax for ten years (after which most sweatshops simply change their name and are granted another ten years of exemption), and subsidized utilities such as water and electricity. Companies that open these factories don't have to worry about labor laws (which are present but completely ignored and, with the government's lack of funds, impossible to enforce), and environmental laws. The minimum wage is a mere $65 a month, approximately $2 a day. To feed a family of four in Nicaragua, you need at least $200 a month. Therefore, even with both parents working, an average family earns barely half of what it needs. We asked the U.S. embassy about their support of these sweatshops as well. Their predictable answer was that a bad job is better than no job at all. If it weren't for these sweatshops, those workers wouldn't have anything. This seems true to an extent, especially to any who aren't sweatshop workers. Yet jobs as demoralizing and dehumanizing as the ones these workers endure might be worse than no job at all.

We spoke, in secret, to many sweatshop workers. They asked their names not be revealed for fear that they will be fired. Horrific is an understatement when describing the experiences they shared with us. 80% of the workers are women, mostly single mothers. Their mistreatment compares to Nazi work camps. When they enter the Free Trade Zone, the gates shut behind them and they are not allowed to leave until they are released. While company policies claim that workers can form unions, in reality, unionization is impossible. Union leaders are fired instantly. On top of this, many factory managers force workers to join "yellow unions," which do what the management says. This cancels out any possibility that other workers can unionize and fight for better wages, hours, or working conditions. Employees are rarely allowed to go to the clinic if they are feeling sick. Managers allow only two bathroom breaks a day and employees are given exactly three minutes to get back to their post. The bathrooms themselves are filthy; soap and toilet paper are luxuries they rarely have. Upon leaving the bathroom, one worker described, women's private parts are inspected to make sure they are not stealing.

On top of fighting these terrible conditions, workers have to deal with a minimum wage that will not support their family. And sometimes, even the $2 a day salary is still too much for the factory owners. Some of the workers reported that management would simply take money off people's paychecks. Complaining might mean being laid off. And even if a worker does make enough to support his or her family, they still have no time to spend with their loved ones. During the heavy season, workers are forced to work overtime: seven to nine, seven days a week. When we described these situations to one of the factory managers, who we met during our visit to Mil Colores, reportedly the best of the sweatshops, he claimed that these things never happened. One of the delegates asked how much he made. His answer: "Enough."

While the workers suffer and toil, the real winners are the U.S. factory owners and the CEO's of corporations such as Sears, Wal-Mart, and J.C. Penny. As the United States negotiates the Central American Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) and the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas (FTAA), many Nicaraguans fear the opening of more and more sweatshops. But never fear. As the embassy representatives say, "a job's a job," right?