brad brace contemporary culture scrapbook

June 11, 2007

Nicaragua leader in Iran, calls for new world order

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 5:20 am

TEHRAN – Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega, who wants more aid from the United States, called on Sunday for a new world order to replace “capitalism and imperialism”, at the start of a trip to arch U.S. foe Iran.

His comments echoed some remarks by his Iranian counterpart who often attacks “imperialist” and “arrogant powers”, although Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is a more vehement critic of Washington.

Ortega has raised eyebrows in Washington, which broke diplomatic relations with Iran in 1980, for forging ties with the Islamic Republic. But the Nicaraguan president said he did not need permission about who to befriend.

“We have chosen our friends by our own will and we haven’t got permission from anyone,” Ortega said shortly after arriving in Tehran, the official IRNA news agency reported.

“In negotiation with America we have explained our personal and political positions towards imperialism … Imperialism and capitalism should be removed and we should create a peaceful and friendly world,” Ortega added.

Ortega, a Cold War-era enemy of Washington, had earlier said he would travel to Iran on a jet loaned to him by Libyan leader Muammar Qaddafi, a former U.S. foe who has been developing better ties with Washington.

The Nicaraguan president, like Ahmadinejad, is also an ally of U.S. antagonist President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela.

The Iran trip will focus in part on getting Iranian investment in Nicaraguan factories that build tractors and other agricultural equipment, Ortega said before the visit. Business links were a topic when Ahmadinejad visited Managua in January.

“In this trip (by Ortega), the agreements between the two countries which were agreed in Nicaragua will be finalised and put into effect,” Ahmadinejad said, IRNA reported.

State media also quoted Ahmadinejad saying Nicaragua had been wounded by “the lashes of colonialism”. Ortega, a former Marxist guerrilla who fought U.S.-backed Contra rebels during his 1980s government, later on Sunday met Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

“Today America is the most hated government in the world,” Khamenei told him, the ISNA news agency reported.

Ortega said according to the same news agency: “Today America is isolated among other nations.”

Nicas Learning with Cuban Literacy Method

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 5:11 am

Managua — Nicaraguans who are expected to work in the literacy campaign as of July 17 in this country started to become familiar with the Cuban audio-visual method “Yo Si Puedo” (Yes, I Can).

The Education Ministry issued a release that the First Methodological Workshop was given in this capital on Saturday by Orlando Gutierrez, chief of the Cuban pedagogical advisors.

The aim, states the text, is to spread the literacy method among activists from the country’s departments and autonomous regions, to organize and develop the National Literacy Campaign “From Marti to Fidel.”

The drive, whose goal is to declare Nicaragua free of illiteracy by 2009, bears the names of the Cuban National Hero and the president of the island, in appreciation of the Cuban support, Education Minister Miguel De Castilla stated.

In addition to the “Yo Si Puedo,” which allows an illiterate person to read and write in only six weeks, the Caribbean island has offered the Central American country pedagogical assessment and all technical equipment for the campaign.

The new Cuban method is being implemented in Nicaragua since 2005, after the arrival of the first TVs, VHS-format videos and Cuban teachers to back the work of the Carlos Fonseca Amador Education Association.

June 7, 2007

Nicaragua authorities launch new anti-drug operation

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 7:56 pm

Nicaragua’s anti-drug forces and navy on Wednesday began an operation seeking the ringleaders of the drug group Millennium Cartel, said the police.

Operation Pacific Storm is a follow-up to the operations on Monday and Tuesday. On Tuesday, six cartel members were arrested on the beach at Salina Grande in Leon Department, some 93 km northeast to the capital.

On Monday, in Operation Tenacious, 11 cartel members, including Guatemalans, Hondurans, Salvadorians and Nicaraguans, were arrested.

All these operations, after months of intelligence work, “have been a success until now,” police spokesman Alonso Sevilla told local media.

He said the police will continue the anti-drug efforts along the Pacific coast as those “traffickers are trying to attack the Pacific coast because we have hit their Atlantic Ocean routes.”

About eight tons of cocaine and 41 kg of heroin had been seized so far this year, said Sevilla, and 50 Mexicans, Salvadorians, Guatemalans, Hondurans and Nicaraguans had been detained in 2007.

The smuggling group takes drugs from Colombia via Mexico to the United States.

May 31, 2007

Police: Nicaraguan girl killed American

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 6:02 am

MANAGUA, Nicaragua – A pregnant Nicaraguan teenager allegedly shot her 53-year-old American lover and enlisted her siblings to help dismember the body, police said Tuesday.

The girl said her 14-year-old sister and 19-year-old brother helped her cut up the body to put the pieces in plastic bags. They then drove outside the city and buried the bags in two different places in northern Nicaragua, Herrera said.

Ken Kinzel disappeared in Nicaragua two weeks ago. Details of what exactly happened to him are still coming into focus. But at this point here’s what is known for sure, according to his best friend, his wife and reports from the Nicaraguan newspaper El Nuevo Diario:

Kinzel is dead.

He was 52.

And a 17-year-old pregnant Nicaraguan with whom he was having an affair has confessed to shooting him in the head and throat and then cutting him up with a chain saw.

The girl told her mother and then police she took his body parts to four different rural locations.

“I’m completely overwhelmed, ” Kinzel’s wife, Marty Jo Johnson, said Monday night when reached on her cell phone.

The girl met Kinzel in December and apparently introduced herself as a 21-year-old college student. She is eight months pregnant, according to El Nuevo Diario, which means the child couldn’t have been Kinzel’s, Johnson said Monday.

Kinzel, who grew up on 62nd Terrace S and lived in that house after his mother died in 2002, got involved with Nicaragua as the stateside coordinator of ProNica, a nonprofit Quaker organization with offices in St. Petersburg and Managua, Nicaragua.

He was no longer the coordinator, though, and last year he sold the house on 62nd Terrace S and bought land outside Esteli.

May 29, 2007

Hope dries up for Nicaragua’s Miskito

Filed under: global islands,kenya,nicaragua — admin @ 4:47 am

Central American indigenous people are among first to suffer from climate change but least equipped to adapt.
 
When the first white cranes started appearing on the banks of the Rio Coco, deep in the Nicaraguan rainforest, Marciano Washington told his sons to start preparing the family’s three hectares of land for planting.

A month later, the weather-beaten Miskito elder from the town of San Carlos shades his eyes from the baking sun and surveys his cracked and barren land. His seed is rotting or has been eaten by rats. The few rice seeds that have sprouted are only inches high, yellow and discoloured.

All my life the earth has told me when the rains are coming,” he says. “I don’t understand what is happening to our land.”

The natural signs that Washington’s father taught him to observe, such as the white cranes, flowering avocado plants, silver fish and rapid flashes of lightning, no longer herald the rains that his community so desperately need.

Climate change is having a devastating effect on the Miskito Indians who live in wooden huts in Nicaragua’s western territories. They subsist on crops planted on a few hectares of land and food hunted from the jungle and rivers.

Ten years ago Washington said he could harvest 60 bags of rice a hectare. Last year he managed seven. “Every year it is getting worse,” he says. “We have floods in the summer and droughts in the winter. We can’t depend on nature anymore and we don’t know when to plant our crops. I don’t know how I am going to feed my family.”

Environmental researchers are warning that the effect of climate change is likely to hit indigenous communities like the Miskito the hardest. Many of the world’s indigenous people live in isolated communities and their livelihoods depend on nature and on predicting the weather, making them vulnerable to increasingly unstable weather patterns.

In a report out today Oxfam International says that at least $50bn (£25bn) a year in addition to existing aid budgets is needed to help communities like the Miskito adapt to climate change.

In the report Oxfam says that those governments with a legacy of high carbon emissions and the means to support the indigenous communities suffering the impact of climate change should foot the majority of the bill, with the US, Europeans and Japanese contributing 75% of the total.

“Western governments need to understand the scale of the threat and take preventive action,” says Kate Raworth, author of Adapting to Climate Change. “Otherwise we will all face huge costs in cleaning up after the increasingly large-scale disasters that will be the inevitable consequence of the inability of developing communities to adapt to climate change.”

Scientists are painting a bleak picture for the future of Nicaragua’s indigenous communities. Temperatures across Central America are expected to rise by 1°C-3°C and rainfall will decrease by 25% by 2070. Droughts, hurricanes and unseasonal flooding are just a few of the expected consequences of such a rapidly changing climate.

Isolated from modern farming techniques and crippled by poverty after years of economic neglect and discrimination, the Miskito are on the frontline. They make up the majority of Nicaragua’s 85,000-strong indigenous population. By now they should have had almost three weeks of heavy rain, but the Miskito villages perched on the banks of the Rio Coco, the 470-mile river that snakes through Nicaragua’s indigenous territories, are baking under temperatures higher than 40°C.

After centuries defending their rainforest territories from Spanish settlers, Sandinista guerrillas and US-backed Contra forces, they lack the knowledge or resources to deal with the greatest threat to their survival yet.

“We are a proud people, do you think we want to have to ask for help or depend on handouts from outside agencies?” says Nicanor Rizo, a community leader in Riati, the oldest Miskito community on the Rio Coco. “This is our land and we are unable to fulfil the responsibility passed down to us by our elders to protect and look after the river and the forest.”

Almost a month into the rainy season, the river should be a swirling torrent. But at many points the water is ankle-deep and dugout boats struggle to negotiate their way upstream.

In the village of Siksayari, home to 1,400 Miskito, Martine Valle, a technician from the ministry of agriculture who is volunteering in the village, explains that the people there have been without basic supplies such as salt and drinking water for more than a month. “The situation is getting desperate,” he says. “There are no roads here. Nobody expected the river to dry up and now supply boats can’t get down here. At the moment the water is too polluted and diseases like cholera and TB are rising.”

Many Miskito communities believe the massive deforestation of their territories – an estimated 50% of its rainforest has been felled in the last 50 years – is also having a detrimental effect. Last year the new government of President Daniel Ortega pushed through a speedy logging ban to halt deforestation. But with no effective policing of the ban, local non-governmental organisations say that it has pushed commercial logging operations deeper into the forest.

Around 80% of Nicaragua’s natural resources are to be found within the Miskito territories. Although the Unesco-designated Bosawas Biosphere Reserve protects 1.8 million acres of forest, the exploitation of their land continues.

Last year Nicaraguan media reported that contracts had been signed between the previous government and two multinational companies for the exploitation of oil and natural gas on indigenous lands in Bilwi, in the Puerto Cabezas municipality. Community elders in Wiwinak, a small village of 120 families, say their wells have also been contaminated by cyanide and mercury from the new gold mines along the river.

Weather monitoring stations installed by Oxfam along the banks of the Rio Coco help Nicaragua’s indigenous people deal with the impact that increasingly unpredictable weather patterns are having on their way of life. But the long-term ability of the Miskitos to adapt is looking increasingly uncertain.

“We feel we can’t be the guardians of the land like our ancestors anymore and we don’t know what to teach our children,” says Nicanor Rizo. “The world has changed and we know that we will somehow have to change with it if we want to survive.”

At risk: Other communities on the frontline of climate change.

In the Canadian Arctic, western Inuit are having trouble reaching their traditional hunting grounds as warmer springs have brought an earlier thaw. Inuit campaigners say their human rights are being violated by human-induced climate change.

In Norway, Sami reindeer hunters have recorded severe changes in weather patterns that are affecting breeding cycles and destroying grazing areas. The Sami are having to alter their travel routes because of changes to prevailing winds previously used for navigation.

Residents of the Pacific island nation of Tuvalu claim to be the first climate change refugees, as many have been forced to flee to neighbouring New Zealand to escape rising seas. The islands, only three feet above sea level, are expected to disappear below the waves.

Indigenous communities in Puerto Rico have seen plants they gather for traditional medicines disappear, making it impossible to continue healing practices.

Severe droughts are forcing the nomadic Turkana people of north-west Kenya into towns and relief camps as entire herds of camels, cows and goats are being wiped out. Although they are accustomed to months of dry weather and resulting food shortages, droughts are becoming more intense and more frequent.

May 20, 2007

UN Expert Praises Nicaragua Free Ed

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 5:35 am

Managua, May 19 — UN special rapporteur on the Right to Education Vernor Munoz applauded the Sandinista government´s efforts to guarantee free education in Nicaragua.

“Whenever we pay money to enter to schools, we are hindering the human right to education,” stated Munoz.

The UN expert slammed international financial organizations, and particularly the World Bank, for not recognizing education as a human right.

“It is unacceptable that a bank manage the destination of education in the world. That´s like putting a mechanic in charge of the surgery department of a hospital,” he said.

According to the UN rapporteur, nations are obliged to guarantee people the right to education and adapt educational programs to the students´ needs.

May 10, 2007

A City of 2 Million Without a Map

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 6:20 am

Somewhere in this lakeside Central American town, there’s a woman who lives beside a yellow car. But it’s not her car. It’s her address. If you were to write to her, this is where you would send the letter: “From where the Chinese restaurant used to be, two blocks down, half a block toward the lake, next door to the house where the yellow car is parked, Managua, Nicaragua.”

Try squeezing that onto the back of a postcard. Come to that, try putting yourself in the place of the letter carriers who have to deliver such unruly epistles. How, for example, would they know where the Chinese restaurant used to be if it isn’t there anymore? How would they know which way is “down,” considering that “down,” as employed by people in these parts, could as easily mean “up”?

How would they know which way the lake lies, when most of the time—in this topsy-turvy capital, punctured by the tall green craters of half a dozen ancient volcanoes—they cannot even see the lake? Finally, how would they know where the yellow car is parked, if its owner happens to be out for a spin?

Somewhere in this lakeside Central American town, there’s a woman who lives beside a yellow car. But it’s not her car. It’s her address. If you were to write to her, this is where you would send the letter: “From where the Chinese restaurant used to be, two blocks down, half a block toward the lake, next door to the house where the yellow car is parked, Managua, Nicaragua.”

Try squeezing that onto the back of a postcard. Come to that, try putting yourself in the place of the letter carriers who have to deliver such unruly epistles. How, for example, would they know where the Chinese restaurant used to be if it isn’t there anymore? How would they know which way is “down,” considering that “down,” as employed by people in these parts, could as easily mean “up”?

How would they know which way the lake lies, when most of the time—in this topsy-turvy capital, punctured by the tall green craters of half a dozen ancient volcanoes—they cannot even see the lake? Finally, how would they know where the yellow car is parked, if its owner happens to be out for a spin?

Somehow, the people who live here have figured these things out. Granted, they’ve had practice. After all, most Managua street addresses take this cumbersome and inscrutable form. “We don’t have a real street map,” concedes Manuel Estrada Borge, vice president of the Nicaragua Chamber of Commerce, “so we have an amusing little system that no one from anywhere else can understand.”

Welcome to Managua, quite possibly the only place on Earth where upward of 2 million people manage to live, work, and play—not to mention find their way around—in a city where the streets have no names.

No numbers, either. Well, that isn’t quite true. A few Managua streets do indeed have conventional names. Some houses even have numbers. But no one hereabouts ever uses them. Why bother? Managuans have their own amusing little system to sort these matters out, a system that has the amusing little side-effect of driving most visitors crazy.

“For people who’ve just come here,” says a long-time Canadian resident of the city, “there’s no way on God’s Earth that they’d know what you’re talking about.”

What Managuans are talking about, when all is said and done, is an earthquake that shattered this city three decades ago. Before that time, Managua was an urban conglomeration much like any other, at least in the sense that it had a recognizable center. It also had streets that ran east and west or north and south, and those streets not infrequently bore names. And numbers.

But then, on Dec. 23, 1972, the seismological fault lines that zigzag beneath Managua shifted and buckled, with horrific results. Upward of 20,000 people were killed in the quake, and the city was pretty much reduced to rubble. The catastrophe thoroughly disrupted the old grid pattern of Managua’s streets, so the city’s surviving residents were obliged to devise a new way of locating things. They started with a landmark—a certain tree, for example, or a pharmacy or a plaza or a soft-drink bottling plant—and they went from there.

Nowadays, for example, if you wished to visit the small Canadian Consulate in Managua, you would present yourself at the following address: De Los Pipitos, dos cuadras abajo. In English, this means: From Los Pipitos, two blocks down.

Any self-respecting inhabitant of Managua knows that “Los Pipitos” refers to a child-welfare agency whose headquarters are located a little south of the Tiscapa Lagoon. Managuans also know that abajo, in this context, does not mean “down” in a topographical sense. It means “west,” because the sun goes down in the west. (By the same token, in Managua street talk, “arriba,” or “up,” means “east.” Al lago, which literally means “to the lake,” is how Managuans say “to the north.” For some inexplicable reason, when they want to say “to the south,” Managuans say “al sur,” which means “to the south.”)

Just to make a complicated process even more perplexing, Managuans, who normally use the metric system, will often give directions by employing an ancient Spanish unit of measurement called the vara. They will say, “From the little tree, two blocks to the south, 50 varas to the east.” Visitors will therefore need to know how long a vara is (0.847 meters). They will also need to know that the “little tree” is no longer little. It is actually quite tall.

A few years ago, the Nicaraguan postal agency considered scrapping the jerry-rigged system of street addresses. But nothing came of the project. Besides, the scheme actually does seem to work. Nedelka Aguilar, for example, has learned that you merely have to have a little faith. Born in Nicaragua, she left as a young girl and spent most of her youth in southern Ontario. Now she lives in Managua once more.

Shortly after her return four years ago, she arranged to visit a woman who dwelled at that outlandish address—“From where the Chinese restaurant used to be, two blocks down, half a block toward the lake, next door to the house where the yellow car is parked.” By this time, Aguilar spoke the Managua dialect of street addresses well enough to take in the gist of this information. But what about that yellow car?

“I said to the woman, ‘How will I find you if the yellow car isn’t there?’ ” Aguilar smiles and shakes her head at the memory. “The woman laughed. She said, ‘The yellow car is always there.’ ”

May 7, 2007

For workers in Nicaragua, deadly mysteries

LA ISLA, Nicaragua — Ursula Tobal knows the names of almost all the 20 widows who live on this tiny islet between two narrow streams, and almost all the orphaned children who play in the dusty fields.

The 40-year-old Tobal became a widow herself in late 2005 when her husband, Luis Abraham Martínez, a cane cutter at the nearby San Antonio sugar mill, died of the same disease that has earned this islet the nickname of Island of the Widows.

”My life has been very hard,” said Tobal, who was left with 10 children and a social security payment of $74 a month. ‘There have been times when I’ve had to put my children to bed telling them, `If you sleep, you won’t feel hungry.’ ”

The widows are just part of the human tragedy being wreaked in the Chichigalpa region of northwestern Nicaragua by chronic renal insufficiency (CRI), an illness whose cause remains a mystery.

Nearly 2,000 current and former employees of two nearby sugar mills in the surrounding Chichigalpa region now suffer from CRI, according to Nicaraguan government figures. A workers group puts the death toll at more than 560 employees of one of the mills alone over about 30 years.

There is broad agreement that the region has an unusually high number of reported CRI cases. But both the government and the mills acknowledge that no study has ever pointed to the reasons behind the high incidence of CRI in the region. Maybe it’s in the genes, one mill doctor says, or in the heavy metals spewed by the nearby San Cristóbal volcano.

But to many people in this area, the cause is in the chemicals used in sugar-cane fields at the San Antonio and Monte Rosa mills, which produce most of Nicaragua’s sugar exported to the United States. The mills flatly deny that they are responsible, and workers who have sued the mills have presented no scientific evidence.

Whatever the cause or causes of the CRI, Chichigalpa, a town of about 62,000 people some 75 miles northwest of Managua, and neighboring villages like La Isla, had the air of a doomed region during a visit last month by El Nuevo Herald.

La Isla, a hamlet of about 80 mud and sometimes brick houses, has 20 widows, said resident and widow Marta Yesca. The district that encompasses La Isla, Guanacastal Sur, has 63 widows and about 300 houses.

MOBILITY LOST

Former mill and sugar-cane-field workers, dismissed when their kidneys showed signs of failing, now walk the streets aimlessly or sit on stools outside their homes. They cannot work, because they become exhausted within minutes.

”His agony was awful,” Tobal said of her husband. “He couldn’t walk. That sickness takes away people’s strength, affects their eyesight, bursts their innards, mouths and skin, and they vomit blood.”

All the victims can do is take calcium tablets to compensate for the loss of that element as a result of the kidney malfunction, and slow their deterioration.

But in the end, they can no longer stand, and they just lie in bed. Their bodies are swollen, their breathing labored. They sip Gatorade to keep hydrated. And they wait for death.

The figure of 2,000 people afflicted with CRI comes from Dr. Edwin Reyes, a kidney specialist with the Nicaraguan Ministry of Health and an authority on CRI who has been watching the Chichigalpa situation for the last 10 years. When he began to count CRI cases in Chichigalpa in 2004, he said, there were 800.

The national government now runs a special CRI unit at the Julio Durán Zamora Health Center, a government clinic in the town of Chichigalpa.

But Reyes conceded that neither the government nor the mills have carried out any studies on the causes of CRI. Asked why, he simply said, “I don’t understand why not.”

The number of victims is so high that three years ago, local residents pressured Nicaragua’s national legislature to pass a law defining CRI as an ”occupational disease” — allowing its victims to collect government disability payments.

Many of the affected people worked for San Antonio, a 117-year-old mill that produces 80 percent of Nicaragua’s sugar exports to the United States. It is owned by the Pellas family, the country’s richest. The family also owns BAC Credomatic Network, a financial network that includes the BAC Florida Bank in Coral Gables.

Alvaro Bermúdez, managing director of the San Antonio mill, said the company has done everything possible to investigate the causes of CRI. It offered to cooperate with the Nicaraguan government over the past decade to investigate the causes, but ”nothing came out of it,” he said.

AN ISSUE OF FAULT

San Antonio also contacted foreign universities to help with the scientific research, Bermúdez said. But the universities require Nicaraguan government support for such studies, and authorities in Managua have not cooperated because of what Bermúdez called official bureaucracy.

”There is a real problem, there is a real epidemic, there is a disease that is very sad and very difficult, and there is a company that wants to help,” Bermúdez said. “But it turns out that . . . now people say the company may be at fault. Then we won’t solve this, because the company is not at fault.”

San Antonio nevertheless should have some responsibilities, said Juan Salgado, who worked for the mill for 31 years, now suffers from CRI, and heads the Chichigalpa Pro-life Association, a group of former mill employees who have sued for indemnification. He said San Antonio began required testing of its workers in the late 1990s and dismisses any who show signs of kidney malfunction.

”We worked for them our whole lives, and they threw us out on the street when they discovered we were sick — the way the Romans did with their slaves after they were no longer useful,” Salgado said.

But the problem is not just unemployment. It’s the possibility of death.

At least 563 people who worked at San Antonio have died of kidney disease since 1978, according to María Eugenia Cantillano of the Global Nica Foundation, a group created to defend workers’ rights throughout Nicaragua. Her records included dozens of death certificates listing the cause of death as “chronic renal insufficiency.”

Dr. Alejandro Marín, director of a hospital run by San Antonio for workers and relatives, told El Nuevo Herald that 200 current employees have been found to have abnormally high levels of creatinine in their blood — a substance that signals kidney malfunction. He acknowledged that the company dismisses workers who come down with CRI, saying they are no longer strong enough to work. The company does not pay them for disability, he said, but they qualify for government aid.

About 1,100 workers filed three lawsuits over the last two years against the two mills, alleging negligent use of chemicals in the cane fields. Those lawsuits have not reached the stage where evidence has to be submitted.

In another lawsuit filed earlier by about 1,100 workers, the San Antonio mill agreed to an out-of-court settlement in which the company denied any responsibility for CRI but agreed to make ”humanitarian payments” totaling more than $2 million to victims.

Adrián Mesa, the lawyer who represented the plaintiffs in the earlier cases, said the lawsuits reached a point where the plaintiffs could not prove that the chemicals were the cause of the disease, and the mills could not prove the opposite.

”We said, let’s not talk about who is guilty. Let’s look at this as a humanitarian issue, because what our clients need is money to cope with their disease,” Mesa said.

Sacarías Chávez, one of the plaintiffs’ lawyers in the more recent lawsuits, alleged in court papers that CRI is caused ”by being in contact — directly or indirectly and without any protection — with chemical agents” used in the cane fields. But the lawsuit cites no scientific evidence for that link.

A list of eight chemicals identified by a San Antonio legal advisor and workers was sent by El Nuevo Herald to Chen-sheng Lu, a professor at the Environmental and Occupational Health Department of the Public Health School at Emory University in Atlanta.

”None of the herbicides that are being used by the sugar-cane farmers would raise any red flag for health effects that the farmers are experiencing,” Lu wrote in an e-mailed reply. He speculated, however, that perhaps CRI might be the result of the “interaction of different herbicides.”

Bermúdez, the San Antonio director, noted that while it’s easy to assume a link between CRI and the mill because most of the workers affected worked for the mill, in fact most of the region’s residents work or worked for the mills — one of the few sources of jobs in this region.

”Everyone who gets sick has in some way been linked to the San Antonio mill, not because we are the causers of the illness but because we’re in the area where the problem exists,” Bermúdez said.

Felix Celaya Rivas, a physician who works at San Antonio’s hospital, argued that while both men and women work at the mill and the cane fields, few women have been stricken with CRI.

Celaya also said CRI has been reported in other parts of Nicaragua not related to sugar-cane fields.

Reyes, the government’s kidney specialist, said high incidences of CRI have also been found in three other sugar mills around Nicaragua, as well as some nonsugar agricultural areas. He added that smaller outbreaks of CRI have been reported among sugar-industry workers in neighboring El Salvador.

Celaya, in an interview with El Nuevo Herald, raised several other possibilities for the cause of CRI.

The indigenous people of Central America — most Central Americans are descended from a mix of indigenous people and Europeans — might have a genetic vulnerability to kidney disease, Reyes said.

The metals that spew from the volcanoes, homemade alcohol or malnutrition also could cause CRI, he added.

While the cause of CRI remains a mystery, its impact on the people around Chichigalpa has been harsh.

In the town of Chichigalpa, Hermógenes Martínez — father of eight, evangelical pastor and San Antonio employee for decades — died last month of CRI.

He had been one of the CRI victims who received humanitarian aid from San Antonio — about $850, the equivalent of 16 months of the minimum monthly salary as set by the government at the time of the payment. Cane cutters make an average of about $1.80 a day.

Martínez’s widow, Cándida Reyes, said two of their children now have CRI: Henry, 34, and Liliana, 35. Her younger brother, who also worked for the mill, died of CRI, and another brother is in a wheelchair with CRI. Four other half-siblings also have the disease, she added.

The situation is pretty much the same at the Monte Rosa mill, where about 300 former workers who claim they were fired after company-required blood tests showed that their kidneys were failing have been protesting near the mill’s main gate for months to demand indemnification.

The mill was bought in 2000 by Pantaleón, a powerful Guatemalan business group.

When Verónica Medrano, one of the women who hope to get compensation, became a widow four years ago, she was left with a shack and 11 children. Her husband, Juan Senón Bartodano, a cane cutter at Monte Rosa, was felled by kidney disease and received no indemnification, she said.

In La Isla, Ursula Tobal’s son Nelson Moisés Martínez said that he began to cut cane at 14, and started to feel sick at 20. Now 24, he says his last checkup showed a creatinine level nearly eight times higher than normal.

He would like to work to help his widowed mother, he says, but he can’t. He cracked a morbid joke about the guanacaste trees that cover the Chichigalpa cemetery.

”If I work, I die more quickly,” he said, laughing a bit. “I’ll go faster to the guanacastes .”

•••

Finding Plaintiffs Lawyers Committed Fraud, Judge Dismisses Tort Cases Against Dole and Dow Chemical

At the hearing Thursday, Judge Chaney dismissed from the bench two tort cases against Dole and Dow Chemical, ruling that Los Angeles plaintiffs lawyer Juan Dominguez and co-counsel in Nicaragua committed a “fraud on the court” and a “blatant extortion” of the defendants. In the hottest water is Dominguez, counsel to thousands of Nicaraguan men who won judgments against Dole Foods in Nicaraguan courts after claiming they were made sterile by the chemical DBCP, which is used on banana plantations.

After several days of testimony on defense allegations of Dominguez’s misconduct, Chaney tossed the tort cases before her. “I find that there is and was a pervasive conspiracy to defraud American and Nicaraguan courts, to defraud the defendants, to extort money from not just these defendants — but all manufacturers of DBCP and all growers or operators of plantations in Nicaragua between 1970 and 1980,” she said from the bench. Her ruling puts in doubt $2 billion in pending judgments Dominguez won in dozens of similar suits. Chaney also said she would refer the matter to state bar associations and to prosecutorial agencies. (Chaney specifically exonerated the Sacramento firm of Miller, Axline & Sawyer, which is also plaintiffs counsel on the case, saying she did not suspect its lawyers of participating in the fraud scheme.) Dominguez couldn’t be reached for comment.

Dole’s lead lawyer, said that in 25 years of practicing law, he’d never seen anything like the conduct of Dominguez and the other plaintiffs lawyers. They offered a $20,000 bounty in Nicaragua for information about witnesses, and saw to it that Dole investigators were subject to intimidation by police and other officials. The court testimony that led to Chaney’s ruling detailed how a group of Nicaraguan lawyers, in apparent collusion with local officials, judges and lab technicians, rounded up 10,000 men whom they coached to claim sterility — and to blame that sterility on Dole’s chemicals. In fact, many of the men had never worked for Dole, and many weren’t sterile. Some even had multiple children. “There [are] massive amounts of evidence demonstrating the recruiting and training of fraudulent plaintiffs to bring cases in both the Nicaraguan and U.S. courts,” Chaney wrote.

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Dole has already lost similar lawsuits and been ordered to pay millions of dollars to DBCP victims, but the latest move could help the company on appeal, as well as thwarting lawsuits that are still pending. “We think this is critical evidence that should have a devastating effect on any efforts to enforce any Nicaraguan judgments in the United States,” Dole attorney Scott Edelman said.

Some background on the case:

DBCP was banned in the United States in 1977 after workers in California started getting sick, but Standard Fruit (which later became Dole) continued using the product in Latin America and the Caribbean, where no such laws existed.

This worried Dow Chemical, which tried to stop selling it, but Standard Fruit threatened to sue for breach of contract. Dow agreed to continue shipments only after Standard Fruit agreed to indemnify Dow in the case of any lawsuits. When the lawsuits came up in the 1990’s, however, it seems Dow jumped back to arguing that there was no proof DBCP was dangerous.

The original round of lawsuits were possibly brought by actual former banana workers who actually suffered from sterility and other problems, or whose children actually had birth defects. Dole, Dow and Shell blocked those suits on grounds that the United States was not the proper place to try them, since the alleged crimes occurred in Nicaragua and other countries. Conveniently, none of these countries had the legal infrastructure to try foreign corporations.

Until Nicaragua passed Law 364 in 2001, specifically designed for those affected by DBCP. Then when a group of alleged victims there won a $490 million settlement, Dole, Dow and Shell changed their tune and argued that Nicaragua had an inadequate legal system so the case needed to be tried in the United States.

By that time, word had gotten around Nicaragua that this could be a lucrative deal for those without ethics, and the number of former banana workers in the country mysteriously started to grow.

In the end, that may work out quite nicely for Dole. The cases recently thrown out represented only a small portion of the thousands of claims against Dole, all of which could now be in jeopardy. “This court questions the authenticity and reliability of any documents that come from Nicaragua,” Chaney said. “I can’t believe in lab reports, work certificates, medical reports — what is there for me to believe? Nothing.”

May 6, 2007

Nicaragua Gets to Roots of Hunger

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 6:27 am

Managuam — The Zero Hunger program, whose aim is to benefit about 75,000 rural families in five years, starts Saturday in a distant northern community of Nicaragua.

President Daniel Ortega is expected to go to Raiti, on the banks of Coco River near the border with Honduras, to open the Sandinista government project.

According to promoters, this is an integral program for families to produce their own food.

It envisages the delivery of a productive food bonus of $2,000, which includes a pregnant cow and sow, species of fowl, seeds, fruit trees, agricultural and other supplies.

The aim is that the family is capable of producing milk, meat, eggs, grains and other

May 4, 2007

Why Nicaragua’s Caged Bird Sings

Filed under: global islands,nicaragua — admin @ 5:43 am

In most democracies, Arnoldo Alemán wouldn’t seem like a viable presidential candidate. In fact, the former president of Nicaragua might not even pass the basic sniff test. Past scandals? Yes, Alemán has a few. In fact, he’s currently serving a 20-year jail sentence for embezzling and laundering some $100 million from the coffers of the second poorest nation in the hemisphere. Transparency International awarded him the dubious distinction of including him in its list of the World’s Ten Most Corrupt leaders of all time. (To his credit, he only ranked ninth, ahead of former Philippine President Joseph Estrada, who stole a paltry $80 million.).
Popularity? Not really; Alemán consistently polls as the least popular public figure in Nicaragua.
Clean bill of health? Not exactly. At 61, Alemán is obese and reportedly in frail health, suffering from ten different chronic illnesses.
But none of that seems to deter Alemán’s revived presidential ambitions, nor does he appear too concerned about the legal provision that prevents prison inmates from running for office. Instead, Alemán is out on the road campaigning in old form, with more optimism than Orphan Annie, more money than Daddy Warbucks, more jolliness than Santa Clause and a political charisma that — pound for pound — rivals Bill Clinton. And in Nicaragua, that combination trumps reality.
To see Alemán out on the campaign trail, kissing old women on the forehead, mussing the hair of young boys, giving thunderous speeches and blowing his signature two-handed kiss with a Cheshire Cat smile, it’s easy to forget that he is, technically, still a prisoner. Alemán, too, has a hard time remembering.
“I have never felt like a prisoner and I never will,” Alemán bellowed during a recent campaign stop in Granada.
Alemán’s self-confidence is stroked by a posse of yes-men who refer to him as their “maximum leader,” but his insurance is rooted in a secretive power-sharing pact he forged in 2001 with the nation’s leading powerbroker, President Daniel Ortega, in which the leaders agreed to divvy up power in state institutions.
In March, Alemán’s already loose conditions of house arrest were further relaxed to allow him the freedom to travel the country. And now that President Ortega needs opposition support for his government’s agenda, Alemán, who controls the second biggest legislative bloc in the National Assembly, is cashing in a few more chips. On April 19, Sandinista and Liberal lawmakers combined to pass a law reducing the prison term for money laundering to five years, which Alemán conveniently will complete next December.
Oh yeah, and the law is retroactive, meaning Alemán could now finish his soft sentence 15 years ahead of schedule and run for President in 2011. Free at Last! Free at Last!
But the hawkish Alemán, who speaks wistfully of the repressive days of the Somoza dictatorship (which Ortega overthrew as leader of the Sandinista insurgents), was never a typical prisoner. He has spent more of his jail sentence in a hospital bed recovering from a minor finger surgery (three months to be exact) than he spent behind bars. And now that full freedom appears to be just around the corner, he has valiantly cast aside concerns for his own health for the good of his party’s.
“Seeing the landscape of my country is better than any aspirin or pills,” Alemán said. “Seeing the clear eyes and holding the calloused hands of the hardworking farmers is what gives me health. So why do I need medicine?” (A calloused handshake is not exactly a typical treatment for diabetes, hypertension and heart problems.)
Alemán, despite his millions, comes from a humble background. And he has nothing but disdain for the right-wing reform efforts of Liberal dissident Eduardo Montealegre, a Harvard-educated, U.S.-backed former banker who he refers to as “the rat.”
“When you let the cat loose it eats the rats, and this cat is going to travel all over the country,” Alemán said. Ortega must be silently nodding in approval as he watches his opposition claw at each other — the same situation that helped him into the presidency last year.
But, Alemán warns Ortega, once he disposes of Montealegre he will be setting his sights on the presidency, which could lead to a rematch of the 1996 election when Alemán beat Ortega. “Don’t get too happy in power. There’s no debt that goes unpaid and no soup that doesn’t get cold. We will return to power!”

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