This entry should also have been posted about a week ago, just before leaving Iquitos....
This time I'm sitting next to my mother in an internet cafe in Iquitos, a city in the Peruvian jungle. The walls, both inside and outside, of the cafe are purple and covered with little signs, and AC/DC is blaring from the computer at the front desk, making me long for the Maná that was playing there before. It's warm and humid, but the breeze from the fans feels great.
We entered the cafe through a small door, about 4 feet high, cut into the big door used to lock the cafe up at night. The cafe is half-closed, like any other businesses here seem to be, on account of a nation-wide strike here. Political unrest and unhappiness seems to be a part of life anywhere in the world right now, and it's interesting to see how different places deal with it.
I had spent the past week wandering around, blissfully unaware that there was going to be a strike. There was graffiti for it on the walls, but not all that much, and none of it registered with me until our taxi driver mentioned it, and my mom told me that she had read about it before leaving the states. "Huh," I thought, looking around, reading the walls. "Fuera Toledo. Paro 14 de Julio." I guess I should have seen it. (Toledo is the amazingly unpopular president of Peru. His approval ratings have been in the single digits since January, and this strike is largely to show disapproval.)
Things really seemed to begin on the night of the 13th. Coming back to our hostel we ran into a big crowd of people gathering in front of one of the workers syndicates. Most of the people were carrying meter-long sticks, and now and then a glass bottle would fly out of the crowd and shatter on the street. We joined a few scattered onlookers on one of the side streets, and watched as they chanted and shouted anti-toledo slogans that we only half understood. After a short while they marched off toward the central plaza, and we went to bed wondering what tomorrow might bring.
When we woke up and walked out of the hostel it was obvious that today was different. The city was quiet. No taxis. No motorcycles. Only a few people strolling along, and now and then the sound of kids playing. Broken glass in the intersections, and the occasional remnants of a burned tire, were almost the only sign of what had gone on the night before. After breakfast, walked down to the market. The streets are full of kids playing football, but the market was quiet. Here and there people were selling things, but generally it was closed. Felt very eerie to walk around. Iquitos doesn't seem like the kind of city where there should be peace and quiet.
...
In the afternoon, more people seemed to be out. There was a huge march along the plaza -- lots of people from all sorts of different groups protesting. Very peaceful. Families marching, mothers with babies, old and young, men and women alike.
As the day wore on, the city became louder and louder, as more and more taxis went back to work, restaurants opened up, and people became to come out again. After dark, the city began to take on it's usual character...
Posted by vanwie at July 22, 2004 06:54 AM