Dickinson Students ‘Discover’ the Bolivarian Revolution = in Venezuela

Dickinson Students ‘Discover’ the Bolivarian Revolution in Venezuela

By St= eve Brouwer and Susan Rose

What a trip! Nineteen Dickinson students and six faculty/staff/friends of Dickinson spent 2 ½ weeks in Venezuela this January studying the Bolivarian process. From the capital city of Caracas to the cacao plantations of Barlovento, from the mountain towns of Sanare and Monte Car= melo to the beach town of Choroní, these studen= ts had a chance to witness a peaceful revolutionary situation, the “Bolivari= an Process,” first hand. While there were opportunities to talk with aut= hors and government leaders and visit historic sites, the trip was primarily dev= oted to getting a sense of how ordinary people are participating in the transformation of their society.

While the group had opportunities to talk with authors and government leaders and visit historic sites, the trip was prima= rily devoted to getting a sense of how ordinary people are participating in the transformation of their society. Students spent most of their time meeting = with residents of urban barrios and rural areas, and talking at length with students, families, teachers, doctors, and farmers.

Armed with three video cameras and lots of notepa= ds, the Dickinson students spent many hours interviewing and video-taping individuals working= in education, health, local media, women's groups, cultural organizations, and cooperatives. They took time = to play with neighborhood kids, picked coffee beans and made chocolate from ca= cao beans. And they did not miss = out on the excitement of being in a Latin/Caribbean country -- they danced to the = beat of Afro-Venezuelan drums on the Day of the Three Kings and they marched wit= h 2 million people in the largest religious procession in Latin America, the fi= esta of the Divina Pastora in the city of Barquisimeto.

        &= nbsp; The two and half week trip was organized as part= of a class, “Venezu= ela: Democracy, Development, and the Bolivarian Process,” taught by Susan Rose, professor of sociology, and Sinan = Koont, professor of economics.   &n= bsp;      The trip began with three days in Caracas, a c= ity of six million, where the Dickins= on group met a variety of people who have been working most of their lives for social change. At a community center in Nuevo Horizonte, a poor barrio located on a mountainside outside = the city center, Julieta Calderón explained how community activists, many of them from progressive sectors of= the Catholic Church, started organizing twenty-five years ago. They developed schools, health care service, food distribution, and sports programs that s= till serve the surrounding neighborhoods. “Our organization,” she sa= id, “evolved long before the advent of Hugo Chavez.”

          Wilfredo, one of the founders of Catia TV, a grassroots local television station in another large barrio, emphasized a similar idea. Three decades ago there were a variety of revolutionary and left-leaning groups in the barrio of Catia who dedicated themselves to helping the poor and resisting police corruption and brutality. Now, one of their media projects h= as developed to the point that they are producing their own television programming, and even loaning cameras to area residents who want to contrib= ute to the news shows. Wilfredo explained, “O= ur motto is “No vea television… Hágala! --- “Don't watch television̷= 0; Make it!” He also wante= d the Dickinson visitors= to remember that the poor are the political protagonists in his country. “Chavez is following us,R= 21; he said. “We are not following Chavez.”

        = Student Alexis Henry thinks this aspect of the revolution is unappre= ciated outside of Venezuela= . “You might be under the impression that the changes occurring in Venezuela<= /st1:place> are solely the result of Chavez…but the impression I received from speaking with various Venezuelans is that they are helping themselves and t= hey are able to do it because someone has given them a chance.”   Alexis likes a slogan that is often printed on t-shirts or painted on barrio walls -- “Con Chavez, manda el pueblo” which means “With Chavez= , the people are in command” -- because it emphasiz= es the grassroots power of the poor.

A Different Kind of Oil Company

          These kind= s of efforts to change society are now coming to fruition because the government= has decided to side with the poor and the disenfranchised, who are the large majority of Venezuelans, according to Dester Rodriguez, a top director at the state-owned oil company, PDVSA. The Chavez government is the first one in Venezuelan history that has been willing to = use the state oil company, which was nationalized decades ago, to directly supp= ort the aspirations of this majority. Rodriguez’s job is to oversee the transfer of billions of doll= ars in oil profits to an array of “social missions,” the name for a variety of ambitious programs that emphasize education, health care, and new kinds of productive work.

Dester Rodriguez’s life has followed a course very similar to his President: like Chavez he was born in poverty, received his education at the National Military Academy, and later taught there as a professor.&nbs= p; Even though he is a high-ranking general today, Rodriguez was willin= g to cut his New Year’s vacation short in order to make a special appearan= ce in front of the Dickinson students. For two hours he mesmerized the audience with arguments about Venezuelan sovereignty, the necessity of conserving the earth’s resources, and the obligation of serving humanity. “It m= ight seem strange to you that a man like me, who has devoted his life to the military, is now devoting his energies to promoting the social missions,= 221; said Rodriguez. “We have a new civic responsibility now. We have a dr= eam that the soldiers in our army will be replaced by doctors, so that we can h= ave an army that fights against death instead of preparing for war.”

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Checking on Realit= y

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The enthusiasm of activists in the poor barrios of Caracas and the passionate sentiments of government leaders like Dester Rodriguez seemed genuine enough, but were these people really representative of what was happening with Venezuelans in the country as a whole? To answer this questi= on, the Dickinson delegation ventured out of t= he capital, first for a couple of days in Barlovento, an Afro-Venezuelan enclave in the old cacao growing region to the east of Caracas. Music teacher and drumming expert = Ledys Nava, who was a cultural guide and close friend= to the students for the whole trip, exposed them to the intricacies of local songs, dancing, and musical rhythms.

Next, after an all-day bus ride, th= e Dickinson entourage settled for a whole week in Sanare, a small agricultural town which lies in the foothills of the Andes mountains seven hours to = the west of Caracas. In this intimate and beautiful environment, small groups of students could venture out to learn how the community functioned.   <= o:p>

One group of students visited primary schools, high schools, and Mission Sucre,= the adult education program that continues schooling at the university level. O= ne day at a small rural high school called La Pastora, Darcy McDonald realized her viewpoint was changing, “I was skeptical about the Bolivarian process, but it only took one conversation with a grou= p of high school students to realize the immense impact the revolution was having… they are beaming with excitement because of the doors that ha= ve been opened for them.”

Honorio, the director of rural teachers in Sanare, share= d some statistics at an evening meeting. “In 1999,” he explained, “when Chavez was elected = to office, there were 8,000 students in the municipality of Sanare. Now there are 25,000 students out = of 47,000 people. That’s m= ore than half of our population in school.”

Many of these new students are adults, and about fifteen of them, some with their small children in tow, appeared at the same meeting with Honorio and shared their stories. Many had aspirations of embarking upon new career= s, but one single mother of three emphasized what was more important for her. “I’m growing,” she said, “as a human being.”<= span style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'>

The residents of Sanare welcomed the students to their town and said that Venezuelans are very fond= of Americans, though they do not necessarily feel the same way about the prese= nt U.S. administration in Washington. Lindsay Hazel remembers how one pe= rson expressed this feeling. “When I was visiting the Mission Sucre class,= an adult woman raised her hand and asked if she could ask our group a question: ‘How would you like it if someone came into your house, told you to c= lean it, told you what to cook, and told you how to live? That’s what your government is doing to us.’”

“At this moment,” says Lindsay, “I realized why so many countries hate the U.S. government.”

One small group of Dickinson students learned about organic farming at the farming cooperatives, another visited with organizations that were supporting gender equality and women’s rights, and a third learned how the provision of health care = is being drastically overhauled. Two Cuban doctors, Dr. Eulogio and Dr. Frank, were willing to meet with the healthcare group – comprised of Kevin Riley, Rachel Finan, and Jed Steiner – for about= five hours on two different days. = They explained how they and nearly 20,000 other health professionals from Cuba a= re staffing Barrio Adentro (“inside the barrio”) clinics all around Venezuela, thereby delivering health care= to the majority of the population that previously received little or no medical attention in the past.

   Local people were clearly ha= ppy with the Cuban doctors – “They know what they’re doing,&#= 8221; said one resident, “but they also speak to us like equals, like frien= ds, and they make sure we get our medications for free, unlike the old hospitals.” This relationship, explained Dr. Frank, does not have to be a permanent affair because the Cubans are already training the people who are going to replace them. A new six-year medical education program, which is modeled on a model that has just been introduce= d in Cuba, is underway in <= st1:place w:st=3D"on">Venezuela<= /st1:place>: “There are now 24,000 students enrolled in this program throughout the country, enough to replace all of us.”

Doctor Frank introduced Kevin, Jed, and Rachel to four of the forty students who a= re studying to be physicians within the small town of <= st1:City w:st=3D"on">Sanare. Two= of these students are about the same age as Dickinson students, but the other two are about forty years old. One of them, Juan, explained that = twenty years ago he wanted to go to university but simply could not afford it. “For more than ten years I worked as an assistant in a medical office, but I never dreamed I could be a doctor myself.”

At first glance, it might seem preposterous that 40 students will be studying medicine six days a week for six years in a small community that does not e= ven have a university. Dr. Eulogio explained that classroom studies are based on= DVDs featuring the best lecturers at medical schools in <= st1:country-region w:st=3D"on">Cuba. “Then,” he = said, “it’s our job, the fifteen to twenty= Cuban doctors who are working around Sanare at any one time, to meet with the students in small groups, and go over the DVD and textbook material thoroughly. They may want to watch the DVDs over and over again, and ask us about the vocabu= lary or meaning – and this way we can learn the strengths and weaknesses of each student.”

By the second year, the students are splitting up their six-day week into three days of classroom activity and three days of observation at the side of doc= tors and nurses. They are encourag= ed to ask questions that make connections between classroom work and clinical observation. “Of course= , we talk about moral and ethical issues, too, because they are the most importa= nt factors in the formation of a doctor. We are not interested in money, for our job is to serve humanity, so most of us Cubans feel like we should go anywhere in the world that we are needed. Some day Venezuela will be producing as many medical personnel as Cuba, and these new doctors may want to join us in helping= the rest of Latin America.”

The high point of the trip, Monte Carmelo

Above the town of Sanare, at an elevation = of about six thousand feet, lies the tiny village of Monte Carmelo, literally the highest point where Dickinson students sta= yed while in Venezuela. Fifteen of them lodged in the very simple homes of campesino families in Monte Carmelo while four others went to Barrio San Juan, a poor neighborhood in the bustling city of Barquisimeto. Jennifer Mega= rgell felt her home stay was key to understanding the revolutionary process: “…at night in Monte Carmelo, when Rachel and I were able to sit= and talk with the family in the kitchen, I truly learned the most about the revolution… their opportunities have multiplied like crazy… I f= ound it much easier to learn about what is going on by speaking with a family in= an extremely small town that is basically isolated from all the common ameniti= es that I am used to.”

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Monte Carmelo is home to= about eighty families, many of them connected to two cooperatives, MonCar and La Alianza. MonCar= is run by a group of women who prepare locally grown fruits and vegetables, then t= urn them into bottled sauces and jams. &n= bsp; La Alianza is larger and older, a cooper= ative farm that operates three different parcels of land worked by 42 co-op members. Producing everything= from vegetables to rabbits, from coffee to liquid fertilizers, La Alianza was begun thirty years ago by landless peasan= ts and has been a self-supporting and expanding business ever since. Many testified that “their yogurt is the best in the world.” Most of its products are now organ= ically grown, although a few crops, like coffee, still require mild chemical pesticides.

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Over the years, the co-op farmers have read about and implemented sophisticated methods of organic agriculture that originated in other parts of the world – their worm production and composting system, for instance, was developed in France. They have a reforestation greenhou= se that prepares seedlings for replanting on the steep mountain hillsides, and they regularly analyze soil and plant samples or, if necessary, send them o= ff to university laboratories for analysis.&n= bsp; Their meticulous records allow them to chart their successes with different soil and fertilizer mixtures.&nb= sp; But their highest degree of expertise involves combining their farmi= ng knowledge with their understanding of how people must organize and work together to make a cooperative business a success.

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One of the original co-op members, = Polilla (a nickname that means “Sawdust”)= , is also a member of the ten member “education team.” Ever since the Chavez government s= tarted promoting cooperatives as an important means of providing employment for the poor, La Alianza has also functioned as a school. On many weekends, and= for fifteen full weeks throughout the year, La Alianza hosts seminars for visitors from all over Venezuela. Polilla, who never got to high school, is a natural lecturer and story-teller who has al= so read widely about agricultural techniques.= He says that in their seminars they emphasize the fact that all co-operatives, his own included, “require a learning period, so that people can practice working in harmonious and supportive ways. There are a few people, those who = find it difficult to share, who may have to find other kinds of work.”

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     To Dickinson student Gabriela Uassouf, the experiences of the people of Monte Carme= lo demonstrate that “Chavez is nothing but a logical consequence of the social context and processes previous to him. …The Cooperativa La Alianza had been worked for more than 20 yea= rs when Chavez came to power. Th= ey were already putting into practice the socialist values Chavez is talking about.”



    A combination of facto= rs -- the cooperative way of life, the dedication of those who work in neighborho= od cultural centers and clinics, the hope of small business owners who are get= ting loans, the enthusiasm of those who want to better their lives in the social missions -- made a big impact on the visitors from <= st1:PlaceName w:st=3D"on">Dickinson College. They saw people, a whole society, that are in the process of re-making their lives.

“… to have the opportunity to experien= ce the passion and strength of these individuals was the most moving experienc= e of my life.” -- Kevin Rile= y

“… the peop= le we met in Venezuela were some of the most giving, dedicated, and selfless that I have ever met = in my life…” – Abby Frankenpohl<= o:p>

R= 20;I am absolutely astounded by the number of people who rave about the social missions… the sheer number …Before taking the trip I was extremely skeptical of how beneficial these programs really were… alm= ost every person we interacted with has somehow been affected by at least one of these programs…the single mother who could now go to school, the now college-educated wife who finally felt she could talk to her husband on the same level, the men who received loans to start their own fishing companies= , or the old grandmother who was given her eyesight back thanks to Barrio Adentro II and the Cuban doctors…” -- Rachel Fin= an

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“I was inspired by= so much of what I saw in Venezuela: the stories of the struggles, the victories, the fighters, and the workers,= the political activism and the kindness.” -- Kate Miller

“Venezuela really is the rising star … people are working day in and day out to improve the lives of everyone.” -- Lisa Estrella

…It’s important to be skeptical of Cha= vez or any leader. Only time will tell how successful Chavez and socialism will work out, but as of now it is clear that it has done way more good than harm.”   -- Jed Ste= iner

“I saw the participation, the organization, = the tremendous will of the people, and, above all, I saw hope.” -- Manuel Saralequi

The trip was a great suc= cess. Our objective was to witness, in a down-to-earth way in the company of common people, the profound social transformation that is taking place in another part of America= . There is little understanding of t= he situation, and a lot of misrepresentation, in the media coverage in the North and there aren’t many experts on Venezuela in the United States – you cou= ld probably count them on one hand. Consequently, we tried to read everything = we could get our hands on before the trip. It was certainly a learning experie= nce for the teachers as well as the students – some were a little bit shell-shocked by the different culture when they first arrived, but their resilience and adaptability were remarkable. And everyone had a great time.=

        = Nick Peper, a sophomore business major a= nd baseball player from Massachusetts, puts= it succinctly: “V= enezuela was the best experience of my life.”

Javier M= arquez, whose ancestors were once slaves on the cacao plantations, instructs sophom= ore Nalylie Padilla in the fine art of grinding cacao bea= ns into chocolate at his family farm in Barlovento.

Meghan Erdman, Nick Peper,= and Kevin Riley pick ripe coffee beans outside of Sanare in

the state of Lara.

A view from Monte Carmelo of the town of Sanare – these two locales in the foothills of the Andes were home to Dickinson students for half of their Venezuelan adventure