Nicaraguan crisis leaves vital street market with economic bruises

MANAGUA: In taking over his family’s shoe business in Nicaragua’s largest market, vendor Jose Miguel Gutierrez thought he was set for life-but as his country nosedives into sociopolitical crisis, one of his two stalls stands barren. Situated in the heart of Nicaragua’s capital, the chaotic Mercado Oriental market-which sells everything from buttons to lizard meat-generates tens of thousands of jobs and hundreds of millions of dollars, providing a measure of Nicaragua’s economic pulse that vendors say is now beating at a snail’s pace. Speaking from his empty shop there, the 32-year-old Gutierrez says he and other sellers are feeling a sharp economic pinch from the Central American country’s upheaval, which he says “every day is going to get worse.” Gutierrez is among those

demanding President Daniel Ortega relinquish power, an objective fueling protests and clashes with pro-government forces that have caused more than 130 deaths since April 18.

Some vendors at the market, which encompasses roughly 85 hectares (209 acres), are opting not to accept imports. Instead they are selling only the inventory they have in stock to protest Ortega’s leftist administration. But the political act is not actually much of a choice: even for people like Gutierrez who want to restock, deliveries destined for the sprawling market are being thwarted by myriad road blockades aimed at fending off riot police-which is simultaneously bringing commerce to a standstill.

Economic havoc

Some 4,000 delivery trucks are stranded on the country’s borders, according to local media, a calamity for Nicaragua as well as its regional trading partners including Honduras and Costa Rica. Despite his support of the protestors and their blockades, the shoe seller hangs his head in despair over the state of his business, where the plastic shelves that once featured rows of spotless Nike sneakers now gather dust. His remaining stall has dwindling inventory, and he fears the unrest’s evolution could shut him down all together.

Sandal vendor Veronica Samora goes to work every

morning saddled with a similar burden. A young couple peers at the 33-year-old’s shop, zeroing in on a pink pair of rubber moccasins-but they balk after asking Samora the price, the equivalent of about five dollars. She lowers it, and lowers it again,...