The Persistence Of Poverty In the New Venezuela

Eva Golinger Mar 2, 2006

CAPUCHINO, Venezuela—If you navigate far enough down the Orinoco River in Venezuela to no man’s land, among cotton fields, wide river banks, dancing dolphins, piranhas and the vast unknown, you’ll find Capuchino.

This little pueblo is truly the land of the forgotten. Almost 400 people reside here, most born and raised in this riverside community with no paved roads or drinking water, just the broad Orinoco river with its succulent fish. A partially constructed “Bolivarian” school shadows dimly in the distance from the river – some private contractor shafted the government and never finished the job. The tiny medical clinic is locked because the nurse – not a doctor around – left for the mainland and never returned. Electricity comes and goes with the tide and the only music jets from an eighties boom-box that is used for all local celebrations.

I found Capuchino by chance while traveling with Venezuelan Minister of Agriculture and Lands Antonio Albarrán and his team, during an inspection of cotton fields and fishing production all along the Orinoco. We banked spontaneously at the site of a small community, barely visible from the glistening Orinoco. The homes were all made of earth, mud, “barro.” No concrete, no bricks, just dirt, sand, water and man. “Ranchos,” they call them, some with aluminum roofs in the luckiest of cases.

In Capuchino, there are no mattresses, just hammocks made by the sweat and labor of the local women. A tiny little girl, hair discolored from malnutrition, peered out the door of one shack, and more followed. A young man, José Orlando Blanco, peeked from behind a tin door plastered with magazine advertisements, embarrassed to show his face to the newcomers. His right eye was inflamed, deformed from birth.

I returned days later with the rest of the crew, at the orders of Minister Albarrán, to transport José Orlando to Caracas for medical treatment. Soon, he will return to Capuchino with two perfect eyes instead of one, a token contribution that will change that young man’s life forever. That is the essence of the Bolivarian Revolution that has captivated the world.

The Orinoco and its native villages, like Capuchino, are full of contradictions. We continued down the open waters to Apure State, to the fishing village of Arichuna, encountering more forgotten souls, severe medical situations, shut-down hospitals, dysfunctional schools and cracking mud homes. But the spirits of the locals remained strong. “We are with Chávez,” most cried, out of the depths of their misery, “but we need help, we are forgotten.”

Minister Albarrán asked me, after three days on the river, stopping in various pueblos and villages, consulting communities and witnessing life in its most dire straights, “What do you think now of all this?” I refrained from answering at that moment, and my response came days later.

Venezuela is a land of contradictions. An immense beauty circles an unbearable misery. Impoverished fishermen catch exotic fish that are shipped around the world as delicacies, savored by the wealthy, while the desolate producers patch holes on their shacks with clay.

“What do you think?” I think the revolution is long overdue. I think the hard work is to come. I think Venezuelans are a strong-willed, tough people, and I feel deep pride to have their blood run through me like the Orinoco River. I think as we awaken our consciousness we will step aboard this boat gliding down the infinite river.

River of hope, river of change, river that flows through the heart of Venezuela, bringing the revolution to the forgotten, the miserable, the wretched. When both eyes are given sight again, we will embark upon the true revolution that will change Venezuela, and the world, forever.

Eva Golinger is a Venezuelan-American attorney and the author of The Chávez Code: Cracking US Intervention in Venezuela. A longer version of this article originally appeared at

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