Venezuelans are the most affluent group of Latinos in Massachusetts, according to census numbers. More upper-middle class Venezuelan immigrants are now rushing to get into the US. Those left behind in a country experiencing shortages of everything are mainly poor or lower middle class. Their stories have become part of the pandemonium of world-wide catastrophes from Syria to France to Iraq.
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Venezuela Crisis in 10 secs:
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WGBH Senior Reporter Phillip Martin came across an individual story of deprivation in Venezuela that connects in ways even more personal right at WGBH:
So often we pass security guards in hallways or as we skirt pass the front desks of buildings everywhere, exchanging pleasantries but little else. The deeper lives of the people behind those uniforms often remain unknown to the people they are entrusted to protect. So it was with a guard here at WGBH: I knew his name was Luis, but I did not know his story:
“My full name is Luis Alfredo Velara Mendoza,” he told me.
He’s from Caracas, Venezuela, a city whose troubles hints at the depth of Luis’s despair.
“The whole country is starving.”
In Venezuela most store shelves are reportedly empty of food and shopping carts serve no purpose. And it gets worse.
Most pharmacies and hospitals are bare of medicine: No aspirin, no Ibuprofen, no prescription drugs, which brings us back to Luis Alfredo Velara Mendoza, separated from his family in Venezuela and feeling helpless to assist the people who need him most --his two brothers, particularly his oldest brother Gilberto.
“My brother is diabetic. And at this point the main medicine that he needs the most is insulin,” said Mendoza.
But in Caracas, which population is eight times the size of Boston’s, essential medicine can not be found, and if found often cannot be bought. It is estimated that eighty-percent of medication for chronic diseases have disappeared from store shelves. The most critical shortages, according to NGO’s, are contraceptives, anti-seizure and high-blood pressure medications, anti-burn ointments and insulin. Luis’s brother’s extreme diabetes is made even worse by irregular meals that cause his blood sugar levels to spike.
“My brother came to visit me this last Christmas. He was already running out of insulin.”
Luis’s brother, Gilberto,— during the Season of Giving— could likely have secured insulin in Boston—a major world-class medical center. But he does everything “by the law”, says Luis, and he did not have a U.S. prescription. At the end of his visit here he flew back to Venezuela without trying to load up on badly needed medicine.
“So when he went back home I found out he cannot even get the doses anymore, that’s when I got scared. I talked to him last Sunday and it broke my heart.”
For a full minute Luis was inconsolable.
“It broke my heart because I’m trying to meet with him next Christmas. He told me he doesn’t think he’s going to make it.”
So Luis this week has arranged for friends living on the border of neighboring Colombia to purchase insulin.
`“I have been trying to get it from the brother friend of mine that lives in San Cristobal. The only way is through his brother. They send someone across the border with Colombia and they buy the medicine there and I’m hoping my brother will get it. He might get it. He might not, but I’m taking the chance because it’s my brother’s life.”
Luis says Gilberto may not get the medicine because thousands of similarly desperate people in dystopian-like Venezuela are driven to commit desperate acts. Luis also acknowledges that the medicine may be stolen by literal highway robbers whom his friends may encounter during the 16-hour drive from the border to Caracas.
"Well of course it is dangerous but a lot of people cross the border. So yeah, there’s always a danger.”
The danger extends into Caracas, which ranks as the most violent city in the world. Its high crime rate affects mostly the poor and middle class. Wealthy areas are stocked with groceries and medicines and protected by private security guards like Luis. He is stunned by the irony.
“Obviously there must be some kind of security before you go across these areas, which regular people like my family don’t have the luxury to hire armed security forces in Caracas, only the wealthy people.”
But Luis does not get into the weeds of the Bolivarian politics of Venezuela, now ruled by the successor to Hugo Chavez. But over many years the country has experienced “missing decades” of economic growth and deprivation under oligarchic-supported conservatives, populist socialists and half-hearted pro-democracy politicians. Luis's main concern now is his brother’s health and the health of his nation.
“Every day that I eat. Everyday that I eat, I thank God. But I also think about my brothers and I’m sure they’re going through a lot of hell. The world needs to know what’s going on. This is what’s happening right now.”
And with that, Luis continues his night-time guard duties, checking doors and windows, turning off lights and trying to prevent the worst that could happen here while his mind drifts to the very worst 2,000 miles away.
