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Earthquake in Peru: Asking for a help that is taking too long to come in

By Zoraida Portillo

Lima, August.– Despair is the word that best describes the situation of August 15 earthquake victims.

Three days after the event, much-needed help was not available in many southern cities where there was no power and water supply, sewage facilities had collapsed and piled debris was clear evidence of devastation.

Chincha is one of these cities; it is located 194 kilometers away from Lima and is famous for its happy, friendly inhabitants, African-origin dances and fertile land.

As we toured the area, we had to be very careful about high-voltage electric cables lying on the road, poorly propped walls about to fall down and pieces of furniture being aired on sidewalks.

Grief, terror and uncertainty have cascaded upon the city. Some minor shakes that occur every now and then make its residents recall the terrible two-minute earthquake a couple of weeks ago.

"I do not have a place to go. I am sleeping in the street with my two children", said Estela Ramos. She invited us to see what had been left of her house.

"My mother is an invalid and I am both mother and father of my three children", stressed Erminda Mercedes. As we listened to her comments, we were surrounded by dozens of people who wanted us to see their homes in ruins, take pictures and speak of the dramatic situation they were facing.

An 11-month-old baby died last night here, on this sidewalk. We are using newspapers as covers, Maritza Rojas told WNS. A few hours later, we were informed at San José medical center that several children and older people had been hospitalized due to acute respiratory problems because temperature had dropped to five degrees Celsius.

We were not given the exact number of patients because there was no electricity supply to keep records. The only two hospitals in the city have collapsed due to the number of wounded people (around 700) treated and the shortage of medicines and other supplies.

"My little son has a fever, but there are no medicines at the hospital. Pharmacies remain closed because they fear being plundered", said Irma Hernández, whose son is barefooted and uncovered. "I had no time to take our belongings out of the house", she regretted.

Chincha has around 60,000 inhabitants. One way or another, they have all become earthquake victims. Fire Brigade Captain Marco Casas estimates that 80 percent of houses have collapsed and 75 percent need to be demolished.

There is no way to do so at this point in time, however. Not even piled debris has been removed because there is no equipment available. With the latest shakes, more walls have fallen down and foundations have destabilized.

The Peruvian Geophysical Institute had recorded 318 low-to-moderate-intensity shakes in the August 15-18 period. As we toured the city, two events occurred and sparked fear again.

There is no power supply yet because most transformers and cables need to be replaced. Street light posts dangerously move back and forth over houses. There is no water supply either; sewage facilities are not working; and local officials do not know when they will be re-established. Telephone communication services are far from effective.

A total of 190 policemen are not enough to keep order in a 3,000-square-kilometer area that is being hit by hunger and need. Last Friday, desperate villagers and criminals who had run away from a top-security prison plundered shops, attacked trucks that were carrying foodstuffs and terrorized pedestrians.

Chaos can become rife because people are hungry and anxious. If we do not get help from Lima, we will not be able to control the situation, a senior police agent who asked not to be identified told WNS.

After a night of terror, the situation was brought under control thanks to reinforcements from Lima. The main problem (no timely, effective assistance), however, remains unresolved.

While President García and his cabinet asked earthquakes victims to be calmed and patient, residents in Chincha felt they were being relegated. All international help was being sent to Pisco, a city that has an airport, and Ica, the department's capital.

"How can I possibly ask people sleeping in the street to be calmed and patient? Not even one single tent has been sent here", said Lucio Juárez, mayor of Pueblo Nuevo. This 80,000-inhabitant district is the most densely populated in the region. Over 80 percent of the population was hit by the earthquake.

"We have had to buy coffins on credit because there were corpses in the street", he stressed. Around 120 people have died in Chincha and there are still unburied bodies in the Andean region, especially in San Juan de Yana.

We asked local leaders about their most pressing need. They all answered: tents, blankets, drinking water, medicines, batteries and even candles and matches. We need some light in the dark, emphasized Ernesto Sauri, a resident in León de Vivero.

In the midst of such a crisis, some good news: Erika Gutiérrez, a 22-year-old first-time mother, had given birth to a healthy baby at a social-security tent in Pisco. This reminded us that life always makes way for itself and restores hope.

 Recuadro

Population: The right to decent housing

By Norma Loto

Buenos Aires, July.– City growth often poses architectural challenges. While cement towers are built, shantytowns tend to mushroom.

Entitled “Boosting urban growth potential”, the 2007 World Population Report was recently published, indicating that urban development is usually accompanied by fast-growing, unplanned and poor neighborhoods that lack basic services like sanitation.

When urban development in Latin America reached its peak in the 1970s, both the high and middle classes took hold of urban areas and made poor people move toward the outskirts, the document emphasized.

María del Carmen Feijóo, liaison officer of the United Nations Population Fund in Argentina, told media representatives that the relationship between urban development and poverty in Latin America should not be ignored.

According to the Report of the United Nations Human Settlements Programme (UN-Habitat) entitled World cities in 2006 and 2007, 32 percent of the Latin American urban population is living under precarious conditions.

Social anthropologist Griselda Palleres told WNS that accelerated population growth does not involve all cities, but marginal villages. They are expanding and reaching uninhabitable areas where there are no services available.

Liliana Rainero, an architect who is the coordinator for the Latin American Women’s Network (www.redmujer.org.ar) told WNS that local segregation is giving rise to social exclusion and negatively affecting women’s quality of life, especially in poor areas.

"Lack of public transportation services to cover long distances makes it virtually impossible for poor women to meet family needs, increases isolation, hinders social and labor integration, and does not facilitate recreation", she underlined.

"Urban violence against women makes them feel insecure and limits their access to the city", she added.

How does lack of housing affect low-income women?, one may wonder. Speaking at the Americas Gender Forum in Buenos Aires a couple of years ago, Rainero stressed that housing is often considered an economic unit where income is generated and poverty is alleviated.

Some Latin American local governments have provided special subsidies to promote housing access and refurbishing works, and have granted labor subsidies for individual construction and soft credits for purchase and/or renovation.

She also told WNS that these efforts seek to improve women’s conditions, as most of them work in the informal sector and have no access to credits.

These experiences have not been duly followed up. While the legislation in almost all countries of the region guarantees access to housing by all citizens, discrimination occurs. "Men and women’s social conditions are different. There is a need to implement state policies along these lines", she concluded.

Recuadro

Peru: The legally invisible

By Julia Vicuña Yacarine

Lima, July.– "I was born when maize was to be harvested. I do not have a birth certificate because my parents had no money for such a thing", said Dalia.

Like her, many rural women living by the coast, on the mountains and in the jungle spend their lives without ever relating to the State. Their children often have no identification papers either.

Although there is no updated information available, the National Identity-Restitution Plan showed that there were 1,411,113 people living without IDs by June 2005.

A report of the People’s Defense Council indicated that lack of ID papers is closely linked to poverty and violence. It is not only a problem of identification, but also of exclusion of millions of people who do not exist in the eyes of the State. The latter does not exist to them, it stressed.

Elena Villanueva, coordinator of the Flora Tristán Center’s Rural Development Program, told WNS that rural, indigenous and Amazon women are facing a worse situation because they also endure gender discrimination.

A study over six departments in the country showed that more than 50 percent of the rural female population does not have ID papers, she added.

To some Andean women, this is like living in the dark, said Tesania Velásquez, a psychologist working with the Women’s Rights and Advocacy Center (DEMUS). She conducted a research work entitled “Living experiences: lack of ID documentation in rural women”.

"The so-called National Identification Document (DNI) makes them visible", she added.

"To enjoy identity right in Peru, you need to have a number of documents, including your birth certificate and DNI (at 18)", she indicated.

These arrangements, however, are really difficult to make. Poor people, especially rural women, find them literally impossible. Costs range from 20 soles (six dollars) to 100 soles (31 dollars) and include photography and transportation expenses.

People who make five soles (1.50 dollars) to 10 soles (3.10 dollars) a day can not afford them.

Poverty is presently hitting 78.4 percent of the rural population and 9.9 percent of residents in urban areas. Extreme poverty is affecting 51.3 percent of the rural population and 9.8 percent in the countryside. It covers 50.8 percent of women living by the coast, 47.2 percent on the mountains and 48.2 percent in the jungle.

In an effort to overcome ID paper problems faced by rural, indigenous and Amazon women, the Flora Tristán Center launched a pilot project to facilitate arrangements and require only the birth certificate.

"I was happy to hear about the project. My husband supported me. We sold two arrobas (24 kilograms) of potato and made five soles (1.50 dollars) to have my picture taken," recalled Eusebia. She lives in Cusco, a south-eastern department in the country.

"My life changed", she said. " I am no longer afraid of getting to a place and being rejected because I do not have any ID. Some people think it is not necessary, but I met a 71-year-old lady who was really excited because she had just obtained her papers. By the time I die, my family will face no problem", she told Eusebia.

While projects and campaigns along these lines have made some headway, there are still many people who are “invisible” to the State.

Children’s situation

Lack of ID also involves millions of children who have no birth certificates. According to the National Institute of Statistics and Information (INEI), 15 percent of the 628,000 boys and girls born every year in Peru are not registered.

It is very difficult to determine the number of births a year, however, because many children are born at home and are not accounted for by any healthcare facility. Therefore, INEI is working on estimates.

"The Civil Code does not authorize one of the parents to register a child with the Civil Registry", said DEMUS director María Isabel Cedano.

This move is discriminatory because it makes a difference between boys and girls born inside and outside marriage. It also discriminates against single mothers. "They often give up fearing confusion, stigma and discrimination", she added.

Further obstacles are present in rural areas. Amnesty International (AI) said that healthcare centers in the countryside are charging to issue certificates.

Women who do not go for pre- and post-natal control or deliver at home have to pay up to 50 soles (15 dollars) for this document, it announced.

UNICEF officials stressed that depriving children of the possibility to know who they are and where they come from will mark them for life. They will be like ghosts who do not appear in any statistics, but do think, feel, reason and make demands. They will be human beings who, though not included in registries, have the right to live with dignity.

Bolivia: Paulina Apaza, a successful businesswoman

By Helen Álvarez Virreira

La Paz, July.– Paulina Apaza is really short and her voice is very delicate, but she has strong will power and much courage. She is an artisan who thanks life every day for the opportunity to help other people.

The 6th Andean Tourist Handicraft Fair provided the right framework for 300 artisans from La Paz and neighboring provinces to display their products and break into new markets in and out of Bolivia.

Apaza and her four children have devoted time and effort to organize this and previous events. "Instead of making a party to honor a saint, I invest my money in support of my comrades", she said. "Artists from 11 provinces showed their clothes, ceramics and gold/silver works for a couple of weeks in the capital city", she added.

Pastor Mamani and Leocadia Capajeique spin and weave sheep and alpaca wool. Listening to a local radio station, they heard Dona Paulina invite artisans to the fair. They immediately packed and left for La Paz.

Living in Charazani, the cradle of Kallawayan culture, declared by UNESCO Intangible Heritage of Mankind, the couple has five children who are also artisans and look forward to exporting their head bands, bracelets, purses and blankets.

Hard work

Apaza is a fervent believer. As she talks, she thanks God for everything she has accomplished and her ability to make blankets that are exported to Spain and the United States. "I have sold pastries, chicken and ice-cream", she recalled.

As she became orphan, she was raised by her grandmother who taught her how to sew, embroider and knit. "I used to make rag dolls because we did not have money to buy toys. When I was a teenager, I began working at a chocolate factory. At 16, I decided to have my own business selling caramel-coated apples", she stressed.

By 1976, she was not making one dollar a day. She could hardly buy some fruit and sugar. She recycled the canes that florists had used in flower arrangements to make sticks for the apples. She was doing quite well, but her idea was soon copied.

She stopped selling apples and learned how to make skirts (used by Aymara women). She knitted sweaters and became a guild leader. Later on, she joined La Paz Development Corporation's training center.

Women did not have access to the labor market at the time, she indicated.

"I would have become a very good professional, but I could not study. I had to look after my children. I taught them to work hard. You have to learn if you want to have your own business, she often told them. The oldest is an engineer, the second is a business manager, the third has a bachelor's degree in tourism, and the youngest is still in college", she said.

Life has taught her everything she needed to succeed, especially humbleness. She now deals with foreign diplomats who invite her over to their countries. She has visited the United States and Europe to promote her blankets, and has paved the way for other artisans to do the same.

She does not trust governments, let alone politicians. She is convinced that the Constitutional Assembly will not benefit the people. She does not trust banks either. That is why, she never requests credits. Her success lies in knowing how to spend, save and invest.

It is vitally important to get along well with potential importers, she remarked. An example: on the same day, she gave a tour of the fair to a U.S. embassy representative in the morning and a Cuban embassy official in the afternoon.

She strongly believes in her work and local talent. "I would never leave the country for good and I always urge people to stay here", she concluded.

Dominican Republic: A bi-national second-hand clothes market

By Mirta Rodríguez Calderón

Santo Domingo, July.– The market on the Dominican-Haitian border covers two countries and languages. This has been traditionally seen in indigenous-population nations, but not in the very heart of the Caribbean.

It is quite different from Ipiales (Quito) or Lagunilla (Mexico City) and very similar to the so-called flea market in other cities on this continent. Second-hand clothes markets are the expression of a period of time when poverty has hit and people have devised various ways to meet pressing economic needs. The wealthy experience no limits or restrictions, while the underprivileged use and re-use.

Women are the actual protagonists at the Dajabón-Wanament market. They import and sell whatever they can.

The atmosphere there is incomparable and indescribable. Beautiful black faces and honorable attitudes speak of Haitian beings who overcome all sorts of difficulties. The white-faced, hard-working Dominicans are the other side of the coin.

Located 380 kilometers away from Santo Domingo, the market is “put up” twice a week (on Monday and Friday). Sellers normally use fixed stands, but also wander all along the area. Creole (the French spoken in Haiti) and Spanish mingled. Noise comes from carts, vehicle engines and even human loaders who ask to be given way. Odors heighten as temperatures go up.

Those who wander do so to evade taxes by the Town Hall and go rather than wait for potential buyers.

Altagracia Tapia had warned me: It is virtually impossible to get in after 10 a.m. Although the market has no walls or partitions, everyone knows where to stand and sell.

Difficult history

The bi-national market has seen an incommensurable history of struggle, clandestinity, sentries, vigils and pressures.

Sellers are popularly called “pepés” or “pepeseras”, depending on their nationality.

Tapia is presently a leader of the Border Solidarity Movement and founded the market in the 1980s. She told WNS that Creole-speaking Haitian women had found it impossible to pronounce the phrase "second-hand clothes". They used to point to displays and say: "pepé-pepé".

This was how the market and the term developed. Haitian sellers used to take the bundles that came in as donations from the United States and Canada, cross Massacre River in early morning hours and sell pieces “bit by bit” on the other side of the border.

Poor Dominican women soon realized they could also sell clothes. They became “peperseras” (after adding the suffix “seras” to the word because they sold goods in Dominican pesos).

Well-established traders and new-clothes sellers did not like the competition of the nascent women’s market, which was helping support hundreds of families. They put pressure and fought back.

Clashes were so intense that Dominican President Hipólito Mejías was forced to lift the ban on used-clothes bundle transfer. Over 700 women, a priest (Regino Martínez) and some sympathizers staged a one-week demonstration in front of the local Customs House.

Fortunately, the situation did not end in a bloodbath. Members of the New Hope Women's Association (Asomuneda), headed by Tapia, went to the capital city and managed to meet with the President.

"Can you, Mr. President, provide any support to 720 mothers and their families? If you can not, we will stay there", she told him. Tapia had usually asked her husband for permission to go anywhere.

"I was so shy that I did not dare to speak. I have learned my lessons well. The President told us to go to hell and indicated that he would not give his authorization. We came back and kept on working. He finally lifted the ban and taxes started to be collected. We are now facing problems of a different nature", she told WNS.

The military

Luz María Silverio is a young, successful “pepesera”. "I came here out of need. I had a terrible experience on the first day. I had borrowed 100 pesos to buy four small bundles. I went to Montecristi (a province 80 kilometers away from Dajabón) to sell. The military caught me and took away everything I had. Women mean nothing to them; they used to trample on us. Those who are not unionized still are, she stressed. They usually accuse us of smuggling," she added.

What will I do with my children?, she then wondered. "I soon changed my mind, borrowed another 100 pesos and went back to Montecristi. I made enough to buy food for my family. I have been a “pepesera” ever since. Thanks to this work, my children have all become professionals", she noted.

Uncertain future

Dominican market women are really worried. Haitians are very smart. Some of them go to Miami, New York and Canada to buy clothes, said Aleida Marisela Helena. She is a founding member of Asomuneda.

Second-hand clothes quality has dropped and competition is really fierce. This rivalry benefits nobody. "We are making very little and the military do not let us do business. We are looking for alternatives", she added.

While Dominican women admire the talent and boldness of Haitian sellers, they feel disturbed. What will we do?, who will help us establish other associations or cooperatives?

These are the main questions they ask themselves. After having waged so many battles to sell "pepé" and develop a prosperous business, they are being forced to start all over again. How far will we go?, they wonder.

The struggle goes on!

The Women's News Service from Latin America and the Caribbean, International News Agency, offers this weekly service. No reproduction without authorization. Any comment o suggestion please contact us: semlac@redsemlac.net