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Las Elecciones de Presidente de Ecuador
I believe I was gifted my disdain for the political process at the young age of 11, when I was the victor of my elementary school presidential election, and held rein for one year over Nat Williams Elementary School, grades K-6. At the time, slap bracelets and the brand new television series with one rebellious Bart "I didn't do it" Simpson were all the rage. My campaign consisted of merely one poster, cleverly placed between the cafeteria and the restrooms, competing against the handfuls of candy with "Vote 4 Suzie" notes attached, and dozens of posters plastered all over the school by the other hard-working candidates. My poster was a dead-on representation of the Simpson's family portrait, done in shiny art markers. As an 11 year old, did I have the artistic foundations to create the 2-dimensional cartoon idols myself? Of course, and I did a grade-A job of coloring in between the lines that my architect father drew. And the off-yellow skin color of the citizens of Springfield was spot-on, I must say. I still have that poster under my bed at home. During the weeks preceding our campaign speeches and election day, Marge, Homer, Bart, Lisa, Maggie, and Santa's Little Helper drew many 4-feet tall crowds sounding off with "Oooh's," "Ahhh's," and "DOH's!" I had entered the election on a whim, not caring one way or the other what happened. It just seemed like the cool thing to do. But something was happening, and I wasn't even working for it. Then came election day, when the candidates for all offices gave their campaign speeches in front of the entire student body during assembly, followed by the voting. I was running against three other aspiring leaders, one of which was my best friend Jessica. She wanted dearly to win that election, and was no doubt the sweetest girl in our open-concept school. Her speech was sincere, full of solid promises of a safer safety control, better school lunches, and longer P.E. periods, everything that our democracy needed at the time. My speech consisted of some wisecracks, maybe a chicken-crossing-the-road joke, and the final wammie, which nailed the coffin shut. The wrist bracelet. I stepped out from behind the podium, slapped that lime green sucker with black polka dots around my left wrist, and declared to my fellow citizens "Vote for Brian!" Two hours later, Principal Lockett came on the loudspeaker to make the afternoon announcements, and after all the offices under President had been announced, there would be only one runoff. The school would have to vote again between myself and Jessica. The West Texas heat was too intense. We casted our secret ballots, folded them into as tiny a piece of paper we could,
With the next day came the controversy. Jessica, my best friend, claimed that I cheated. I had used a prop in my speech, and they were not allowed. It wasn't fair. And my Simpson's poster had nothing to do with the election. It just had a picture of the Simpson's, and "Vote Brian for President." My campaign was dirty. She appealed to the authorities that I should be disqualified. I was not, our friendship was tainted until a rousing session of spin the bottle in Junior High, and I ended up hating being President, because everyone wanted me to make decisions for them, and I didn't want to. I was 11 years old. I wanted to play Nerf football in P.E. and shoot spitwads at the 3rd graders. My rein was not fun, it was borderline ridiculous really, and I have not run for another office since. Thus you know my black scar surrounding politics. 12 Years Later: Cuenca, EcuadorI have since had the divine opportunity to witness the processes of presidential elections in Junior High and High School, as well as national candidates who use saxophones for props (that's cheating), have dysfunctional arms (that's cheating too!), and controversy concerning how to deduce which ballot box to check, stemming from the often-problematic topic of literacy in political arenas. I have gained no more faith in the political system. Now I have one more experience to add to that list: a presidential election in a foreign country. As I have been living in Cuenca, Ecuador for the past five months, I was privileged enough to live through the bulk of the most recent presidential election. It was a privilege, indeed. Please allow me to expand. The PropagandaI didn't even see it coming. Then one Sunday morning I was awoken at 8:00 sharp by the most heinous music imaginable, invading the peaceful innocence of my apartment from the streets outside. It was terrible, and all it did was repeat over and over and over, on full blast. It went something like this: Chorus I walked out onto my balcony to see a beat-up red pickup truck 5 yards away with a rickety old bullhorn attached to the top, music blaring. No one was in the car, nor was anyone attending it. It was left there for a purpose, of which I did not know, as my Spanish was quite poor at the time, and I could not understand a word of the song (I am still not sure what exactly was coming out of that sound system all those days, though I am almost positive the culprit behind the voice was a Latin-American banshee). I took my morning shower, and attempted to write my daily journal entry over my daily cup of coffee, but the music was just too excruciating. I couldn't concentrate. So I left my apartment, and was greeted by newfound political propaganda all over town. Posters, stickers, cars with bullhorns. It had taken over like a nasty infection. Where had it come from? I didn't know. Nor did I much care, as my political mindset is no different just because I am in a different country. All I knew was that it was annoying, and I couldn't sleep past 8:00 anymore because of it. It continued relentlessly for the next two months. Just like my elementary school, the entire town was plastered with propaganda, and in much the same pre-adolescent manner. Posters and stickers in business windows, on light poles, electrical boxes, cars, random walls and building facades, laying on the ground, everywhere. Giant sized campaign ads were found placed on wooden placards, braced up around town in high foot traffic areas. And these posters were terrible. As opposed to the cute little cardboard flagsticks stuck in yards in the United States, which generally have only the name of the candidate and their respective political party, these posters all have photos of the candidates. Probably not the most intelligent idea, considering the looks on some of these photos. Half of the candidates aren't even smiling, and the ones that are look like they have two fish hooks in their mouths pulling their smiles open. And they all either had bad hair days, don't own combs, or are unaware that there are people who make their living by styling hair. Then there's the action shots. Some opt for the classic thumbs-up, occasionally mixed in with the more confident double thumbs-up. Watch out for those candidates. They mean business. Others get more aggressive and break out the machismo fist-pump photo, interestingly utilized most by the female candidates.
You also have the all campus college party invitation method of handing out flyers in the street. "¡Todo es invitado! Vote Gonzalez." Or, on a more practical level, and also well utilized in the States, there are the free t-shirts given out. It would make sense that a citizen voting to change his/her standard of living would vote for the candidate who added something to his/her wardrobe. In a recent trip to Guayaquil, I saw a construction worker wearing a beat up, paint covered "Vote Alvaro Noboa" t-shirt. I bet he got that guy's vote. TV commercials, too, play an important role in the process. Some of the richer candidates buy the airtime for all the available local stations, so that the only thing on television for an hour is their campaign commercial. Imagine George Bush with an infomercial on the war against terrorism. (I haven't been home in awile, does he have one?) By far my favorite was a commercial purchased by an Ecuadorian citizen to support his candidate. It was a slow-zoom, close-up camera technique, and the 30-something man started off calm, but as the camera got closer, he got fierier and fierier, eventually grinding his teeth in anger in support of his candidate. Not a smile to be seen. Just daggers for eyebrows, clinched jaws, and a haircut like Moe from the 3 Stooges. Let us not forget the aforementioned theme songs, which get blared around town through the bullhorns on moving '87 model propaganda machines. I once witnessed one of these beasts circling a large dirt-road neighborhood, but only making the rounds of a couple blocks. Apparently, that candidate only wanted the votes of 20 of the 150 houses in the neighborhood. Also, he was using the secret tactic of allowing the music to skip. And now, for my favorite campaign method of all. The car train. It seems that each candidate has one shot to make the most of this rare opportunity in each city, and for that they have to visit that city on their campaign trail. Upon arrival, all supporters of that candidate decorate their cars with bullhorns and an absurd amount of streamers and stickers all over the windows, tires, antennas, dashboard, seats, headrests, stickshift, hood, trunk, and doors (did I leave anything out?). Then, they meet somewhere early in the day, and with several people in each car, commence to drive around town honking their horns in nonstop harmony, yelling out the windows or from the backs of the pickups, generally making great strides to help their candidate win. The melodious car honking is beyond beautiful. I'm not sure how a candidate could stand a fart's chance in a tornado of winning without this powerful campaign performance. The CandidatesAllow me to begin by mentioning that in the past 6 years, Ecuador has had 6 different presidents. This is not because they have a different term cycle than the US. In fact, it is the same 4 year term. It is because the presidents are continually corrupt, and the citizens kick them out of office. Former President Abdala Bucaram was booted out by the National Congress because he was deemed "mentally incompetent." He robbed Ecuador blind once in office by raising the prices of goods by more than 200%, and then fled with his family to Panama once removed. But on his way out, he made sure to get one last laugh. Upon leaving the Presidential Palace, he stole all the paintings, vases, silverware, china, you name it. That would be like Clinton taking the JFK portrait on his way out (or the oval office chair for sentimental value). Bucaram is a complete cheesewad, believing he is a popstar, and only wanting to play music. While in office, he released two solo CDs, one titled "A Crazy Man Who Loves." The same goes for his aspiring superstar children. Now he is begging forgiveness from the Ecuadorian people, and wants to reenter the country to run for president again in the next election. Two years ago, President Jamil Mahuad was forced out of office by a military and indigenous uprising, led partially by current candidate Lucio Gutiérrez, who would serve a 6 month jail term for his involvement (more on this later). One of this year's candidates' campaign ploys was to sell houses for 10 cents. He did not win. Of the current 2002 election, there are many candidates to be mentioned, but I will stick to the big four, in alphabetical order.
Borja comes off as no doubt the most conservative of the candidates, yet there is something about him that just smells. I can’t help but think of him as the dirty old man next door, the reason you don’t want to leave your children at home when you go to work in the summers for fear that he desires to molest them by luring them with aphrodisiac-laced jawbreakers, meanwhile pumping himself full of Viagra. Just doesn’t seem right to me.
On Jan. 21, 2002, Gutiérrez helped to head a military/indigenous revolt against then President Jamil Mahuad, ultimately succeeding in removing Mahuad but being betrayed by his own military forces and placed in jail for six months. He was subsequently released from prison, and relieved of his duty. Despite this, he still wears his fatigues, mixed with business suits in which he looks direly out of place, like Jordan in a Wizards uniform. Gutiérrez has somehow created for himself a schizophrenic air of part dictator and part wet-puppy-on-a-rainy-afternoon.
So, when not swimming with Uncle Scrooge in his gold coin treasure vault, what can one do with all that money to win a presidential election? Let Noboa count the ways. Well, first, we’ll give out bags of flour and t-shirts to all the poor citizens of the country. On those bags of flour will be our photo. Then, we’ll devise our ingenious plan to solve the unemployment problem. Each citizen will complete a form informing us of exactly what job they would like to have, regardless of pay, social stature, or necessary educational background. We will then “ask” our friends who work in those industries to give these people their desired jobs. (To one man named Webster, this process would be referred to as bribery.) Noboa competed in the last election, and finished second, yet claims the entire thing was a fraud, that he really won, and the government lied about the final tally. He needed a few extra million dollars to prove his theory, though. This year he finds himself running second again, to Lucio Gutiérrez, and in the end, he will probably lose this election too. In a word, Álvaro Noboa is a greaseball. The man has the general feel of a lizard/salamander crossbreed, and gives no impression of honesty whatsoever. Yet he will continue to have money, and thus the ability to buy his way into any election, and possibly into the presidency.
Aside from that, this former Vice President finished a surprising 3rd place in the primaries, and publicly claims support for Gutiérrez now, meaning that most of his supporters will do the same. As I know of nothing negative to his credit, I am convinced that the sole reason he did not advance was the "Wiy sha pi." Suffrage: The Right to Vote?If you are between the ages of 18-65 and, listen closely, literate, you are obligated to vote in Ecuador. Should you not live in the province of your birth, you are required to travel to that province in order to participate. Upon voting, you receive a credit card sized slip of paper which grants you certain privileges previously unavailable to you by the divinity that is God’s will, such as the ability to leave the country. Also, to ensure that you do not attempt to vote more than once, you are branded with a bright purple stain on the tip of your index finger which lasts for 3-4 days.So, with election day falling on an October Sunday, the Thursday prior was the final day granted by law for the candidates to utilize propaganda for their campaigns. For me this was like finding the light. No more music, no more honking caravans, no more flyers in the streets, no more stickers, no more angry television ads, and finally no more bullhorns. I was giggling that day as I walked the streets, watching all the political boneheads removing posters from store windows, disconnecting the bullhorns, and scraping the stickers and paint off their cars. I was giddy. Late Sunday evening, with all the votes tallied, Lucio Gutiérrez and Álvaro Noboa received the highest percentage, and thus are the only two remaining candidates in the election, set to be resolved with one more vote on November 24, 2002.
The process in the States is far from mature, but I've seen a whole different world these last few months. Does it really matter who wins here in Ecuador? I think not. The victor will likely be removed before his term is over, either because he wants to sell the country or camouflage it. Whatever the case, they both want to paint it green. I'm left to believe the country would be better run by one of the blue-footed boobies of Galápagos. If not better run, their mating dance would at least serve for a better campaign. And One to Grow OnLet's not forget that Lorena Bobbitt is Ecuadorian. Maybe this will help explain things. Update: November 25, 2002OK, I said I wouldn't do this, but I can't resist. On Sunday the 24th, the final election took place, and Lucio Gutiérrez came out on top with more than 54% of the national vote. Noboa was later seen sitting Indian style in one of his plantations wearing a "Vote 4 Noboa, 2006" t-shirt, with a pile of banana peels to his left and one of his model houses to his right. |
