Venezuela shortages create a nation of lines
Poorest hit the hardest as waiting times lengthen amid scarcity of food, essentials
CARACAS, Venezuela — In an impoverished hilltop neighborhood, a dense labyrinth of narrow alleys, mostly shuttered shops and cinder-block homes, residents trudge toward a protruding pipe discharging a trickle of murky water.
Someone has switched on a pump to start the uphill flow to the area, where power blackouts and low pressure make running water a luxury.
People soon gather lugging their plastic pails and jugs. The source is irregular, the quality substandard, and yet the residents here in this stretch of Caracas’ Petare district still line up for the dubious privilege.
“Lines, lines, lines,” lamented Anjelica Aguilera, 29, who waited for her pail to fill from the dripping pipe. She was among a dozen or so waiting. “We are all sick of lines!”
Venezuela’s financial crisis has transformed this sprawling capital into a city of lines, where multitudes face the regular indignity of queuing up for basics — from pasta to toilet paper, rice to bank notes.
The lines represent the most dramatic illustration of the human toll of Venezuela’s unforgiving economic breakdown.
Many Venezuelans trapped in lines come from poor, crime-ridden districts and travel vast distances to better-stocked markets in safer areas, a sensible precaution in a nation with a homicide rate among the highest in the world.
One of the planet’s great oil producers is now unable to pay for basic commodities, like milk, flour and rice, which are mostly imported, triggering the severe shortages. Inflation next year is projected to hit 1,200 percent.
With the country’s largest-denomination note, the 100-bolivar bill, now worth about 10 U.S. cents on the free market, many Venezuelans must make daily trips to the bank just to have some carrying cash. The result: prolonged lines at ATMs.
Tortuous lines have been commonplace for a year or so, following the collapse in oil prices that helped trigger Venezuela’s economic freefall. But there is widespread consensus among scores interviewed that the lines are getting longer and essential products more scarce, further testing Venezuelans’ collective patience.
“We need a change. We can’t go on like this,” said Andres Salazar, 58, a construction worker who had been in line since 5 a.m. outside a supermarket and still hadn’t made it inside more than seven hours later.
The shortages have eroded support for the socialist government of President Nicolas Maduro, whose party lost control of the national legislature in December elections.
Lines are not a problem at gas stations, where motorists fill their tanks with subsidized fuel for the equivalent of less than 1 U.S. dollar, among the cheapest prices in the world, despite recent hikes.
The poor and working classes, backbone of support for the late President Hugo Chavez, are suffering most. Well-off Venezuelans with access to U.S. dollars can afford free-market prices charged by unregulated small shops or rampant black-marketers.
But with the minimum wage at the equivalent of about $30 a month, most residents have no choice but to brave the lines in the hope of purchasing essentials at government-controlled prices.
National guardsmen and police are often deployed to prevent violence or linejumping. Authorities limit purchases of basic items — nearly 4.5 pounds of pasta or rice per customer for instance — in a bid to restrict hoarding.
People are assigned certain days to shop based on the numbers on their government-issued IDs.
In general, Venezuelans have shown extraordinary patience with the soul-sapping lines. Reports of looting have been relatively few.
The government is wellaware that the phenomenon has the potential to trigger explosive social unrest. Street sales of abundant and cheap mangoes and other tropical fruits have helped supplement strained diets.
A recent visit to a cavernous, state-owned Bicentenario store revealed ample supplies of cleaning fluids and laundry liquids imported from China and Spain — but hardly any food, beyond crates of tinned sardines and canned tomatoes, plus some bins of moldy potatoes and onions.
Images of Chavez, who led a nationalization push of private enterprises, adorned the store’s walls along with slogans such as, “An achievement of the revolution!” — an unintentionally mocking motto considering the rows of bare shelves below.