Elections in
by Lisa Sullivan
http://soaw.org/article.php?id=1786
I came to
observer of the electoral climate in a delegation
organized by the
converged, connecting some 30
more from
prior to the elections we scattered to different
cities, towns and villages, meeting with fishermen,
farmers, maquila workers, labor leaders, teachers and
lawyers, as well as those who were jailed for carrying
spray paint, hospitalized for being shot in the head by
the military, and detained for reporting on the
repression. It was, most likely, a bit off the 5-star,
air-conditioned path of most of the mainstream
journalists who are filling your morning papers with
the wonders of today's elections.
But by the evening of the day of the elections, what we
had witnessed in previous days pushed those of us from
the
polling stations, was where this horrific destiny of
Honduras, and perhaps all of Latin America, was being
determined. And so the
statements and signs and determination there.
We were, indeed, greeted by many: dozens of guards with
cameras, some 30 journalists, Honduran police with guns
and also cameras, as well as a low flying helicopter
that at least made us feel important. While the
journalists let us read our entire statement of why
these elections should be not be recognized by our
government because of the egregious repression, the
embassy guards wouldn't even let us leave our slip of
paper. That, in spite of the fact that the embassy's
human rights officer, Nate Macklin, told our delegation
leader to make sure to let him know if there were any
human rights abuses.
Any? In each of the many corners of the country visited
by the 70-plus international observers, we witnessed
the fear, repression, intimidation, bribery and
outright brutality of the government security forces
(note: we were there to observe the electoral climate,
not electoral observers, since we consider the
elections to be illegal. Likewise, the UN, OAS, and
boycotted "the event" as many Hondurans called the day.)
As elections were in full swing in the morning, our
delegate and nurse practitioner, Silvia Metzler visited
Angel Salgado and Maria Elena Hernandez who were
languishing in the intensive care unit of the Hospital
Escuela in
at one of the many military checkpoints, no questions
asked. Doctors give Angel a zero possibility of
survival and he leaves behind a 6 year old son. Maria
Elena has a better chance of recovery, but it will be a
long road. She was selling snacks on the side of the
road to support her teenage children when caught by
military bullet.
Tom Loudon was on the streets of
police tanks and water trucks and tear gas canisters
attacked a peaceful march of the resistance movement.
It took him a long time to find other members of his
delegation who had scattered in the frenzy, but they
were luckier than two observers from the
Council of Churches who were detained or a Reuters
photographer who was injured in the massive display of
repression. Dozens of cells phones captured the police
beating anyone they could catch with their billy clubs.
The first person I thought of as I awoke on election
day was Wlmer Rivero, a fisherman in a small town with
the big name of Puerto Grande. I kept thinking of the
fear in his eyes as he relayed how the police have been
visiting his house and asking for him, ever since he
trekked 6 days on foot to greet a returning President
Zelaya. Each local mayor has been asked to put together
a list of resistance leaders, and his name was one of
22 from his town. We suggested to Wilmer that he not
sleep at home during the electoral days. He called the
next day to thank us for our advise. The police had
ransacked his home, and that of many of his neighbors,
the night before elections, threatening his life. But,
he wondered, what will he do now.
I also thought of Merly Eguigure who I had visited 2
days earlier in a cold and crumbling jail cell, reeking
of human waste. She had been captured for having a can
of spray paint in her car. Though she was released
shortly before elections, she will face trial and
probably prison for defacing government property. Merly
claims that the spray paint was to be used in an
activity to raise awareness of violence towards women.
Perhaps authorities worried that the paint was destined
to add a new message to the city walls. Every square
inch of blank wall space in the city is covered with
powerful graffiti against the coup. In spite of
government to whitewash over it, the blank spaces are
filled in again within hours.
So, now I wonder what the Honduran people will do to
overcome the massive whitewash that just took place in
their country. Not of walls, but of coups. The military
coup led by SOA graduates Generals Vasquez Velasquez
and Prince Suazo first had a quick bath of whitewash by
placing a "civilian " leader as the figurative head of
government: President of Congress and business mogul
Roberto Micheletti. The whitewash used at the moment
was mixed ahead of time, and quite abundant. It was the
excuse that Zelaya was preparing a vote to call for his
re-election and had to be removed quickly. (Never mind
that the consultative vote actually had nothing to do
with a re-election. It was a consultative vote to ask
Constitutional Assembly). I call this first whitewash
the "transformation from military coup to civilian coup".
And now, the second bath of whitewash was even more
challenging, especially since the first whitewash
proved to be kind of thin and exposed the words from
below. Thus, it didn't really convince many. As a
matter of fact, it didn't convince anyone except the
helped to stir the first batch), Now, the challenge of
November 29th whitewash was to transform the civilian
coup into a shining electoral display of freedom,
fairness and grand participation so that all the world
would say, "wow, that Honduran coup is gone. Now
Honduras has a real and wonderful democracy, End of story".
Except that it's probably the beginning of a story. One
that we thought had been left to rest in
years and years ago. One of fear and repression and
deaths and disappearances. We know the litany all too
well, and we remember the names of its thousands of
victims each November. This year we had to add too many
new names from
to recognize these elections, this massive whitewash, I
fear that many more names will be read from the stage
in front of
So, when I said that I wonder what Hondurans will do in
the face of this whitewash what I really wonder is what
I will do, what we will do
whitewash will only have the formula to whiten and
brighten this military dictatorship if our government
chooses to accept the results, as they have indicated
that they will likely do.
Today the headlines in most of the
the official Honduran statistics that 60% of Hondurans
went to the polls yesterday. Our delegates visited
dozens of polling stations, finding them almost empty,
in most places counting more electoral monitors and
caretakers than voters. The resistance movement puts
abstention at 65-70%. Which statistic do we prefer to believe?
I have lived in
to stay in this land when I saw how young and
idealistic youth such as myself at the time, were being
taken from their homes, never returned. Somehow, I felt
called to continue the steps they would never take. And
so I stayed 32 years. I have witnessed hope rising from
the South in the past 10 years, in ways I never
dreamed. I have seen efforts of building dignity and
sovereignty rise high, inspire millions, and make a difference.
And so, maybe this explains the anger that rose from
within me yesterday, in front of the embassy. That
anger surprised even me. I am ashamed of our
government. Ashamed that we are in great part to blame
for pushing this country back 30 years into dark and
deadly times. And I worry that
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