Dear Friends,
As I write this my face is still tender and red from the surface burns of being subjected to tear gas for 5 hours.
In less than 24 hours I went from the downtown battlezone of central Lima, Peru, to the quiet and tranquil small town of Wilmore, Kentucky. From the sounds of a street war–the screaming sirens of police cars, ambulances, and firetrucks, the passionate chants and cries of the demonstrators, the explosions of concussion grenades, the firing guns, the flaming tear gas canisters going off beside me or swishing through the air past my head, the police helicopters chopping through the smoke filled air over head, the military fighter planes cutting through the sky, and the sounds of crackling flames as government buildings were burning all around me–to the sound of a soft, summer Kentucky-rain and the chimes of the Asbury College bell tower. From one context to the other in less than 24 hours.
Phileena's and my last day in Peru, July 28th, was Peru's Independence Day and the inauguration of the president Alberto Fujimori. In a world where democracy seems to flourish, many consider Fujimori to be a dictator. Last year when he changed the Peruvian constitution to allow himself to run for an unprecedented third presidential term, the supreme court protested and he dismissed 4 of the 7 judges.
In presidential elections of April of this year, there were 7 other presidential candidates running against Fujimori. When it looked as if the leading opposition candidate, Alejandro Toledo, was going to win the elections, there was a miraculous surge of votes for Fujimori that forced a run-off election in May. It was later noted that during this first round of elections there were “mysteriously” over one million more votes than there were registered voters.
In the second round of elections held on May 28th, the Peruvian government rejected offers from neutral, international monitoring organizations to oversee the voting process which had been charged with electoral fraud. That round of elections was boycotted by Toledo, the only other candidate, who demanded reforms and monitoring of the elections. Despite Fujimori running formally unopposed in light of Toledo's boycott, many documented reports showed some ballots to have been pre-stamped in favor of Fujimori. Demonstrations and protests throughout the country followed the announcement of his victory and third presidential term (Phileena and I were in Cuzco at the time and happened to be in the middle of a peaceful demonstration when the police began shooting tear gas into the crowds). The international community, including the OAS (Organization of American States), condemned his victory as illegal and invalid, stating concerns about Peru's “technical capacity to undertake an honest vote count.”
Despite winning the presidential elections, Fujimori's party fell short in gaining a majority in Peru's single-chamber legislature. During the past few months several defections from rival parties have joined Fujimori's party giving him a majority in the Congress and free rein to push forward his laws as well as fending off inquiries and probes from the opposition during his third term.
Many of those who deserted to join the Fujimori ranks have been accused of accepting bribes of as much as $50,000 in addition to $10,000 a month pay raises (all of this in a country with an unemployment rate of almost 35% and a minimum wage at $120 a month with more than half the work force not even meeting that standard). Other deserters shifted party allegiance for favorable court rulings in pending cases in the judiciary. One such Congress member, Luis Caceres, had coins thrown at him by the opposition during his swearing-in ceremony, a symbolic message that his allegiance was bought. Caceres joined Fujimori's party in June after Peru's Supreme Court reversed an embezzlement conviction and lifted his three-year prison sentence. Immediately following that, the National Election Board endorsed his congressional win which had previously been suspended due to his pending criminal record.
Under Fujimori Peru is also internationally known for its gagged-media. Fujimori owns all the local television stations, forbidding them to give any favorable coverage to any members of the opposition. In a Reuters news article by Stephen Brown, Peru is described as having “one of Latin America's worst human rights records and is one of the world's worst offenders of press freedoms along with Yugoslavia and Cuba. While a few independent newspapers and radio stations defy alleged government-directed pressure, most news coverage-particularly on television-is blatantly biased.”
Friday, July 28, the media was silent as Fujimori turned the police force against an unarmed civilian population.
That week Toledo had called for 4 days of nonviolent, peaceful marches that were to culminate at the Presidential Palace to prevent Fujimori from being inaugurated as President. Fujimori called out 40,000 police to repress the public.
The opposition newspapers La Republica and Liberacion reported that in preparation for the marches, the police force had stockpiled 7 different kinds of tear gas to be used against the demonstrators and protesters.
Early that Friday morning the tear gas began flying through the skies of central Lima. As Fujimori was being sworn-in the police opened fire on the crowds and started what was to become a massive street battle between a heavily armed and armored police force and an unarmed civilian population.
The streets were alive with roving water cannons and armored personnel transports, and the sounds of the explosions of concussion grenades and rifles shooting tear gas canisters directly at people in the crowds, injuring many. An Associate Press journalist, Rich Vecchio, wrote, “For hours in fits and bursts, the battle raged from one street corner to the next, the tear gas canisters tracing an arcing plume of smoke across an overcast sky before dropping into the crowds.”
Walter Forcatto, the Word Made Flesh acting Peru Field Director, and I were in the middle of the battlezone. At one point we were even marching with Toledo, close enough to put my hand on his shoulder, when the black-clad riot troopers opened fire shooting tear gas at us. The noxious gas burned my eyes as I ran coughing and choking. On numerous occasions throughout the day I found myself doubled-over gagging as the tear gas scorched my throat and blinded my eyes.
The demonstrations and marches were intended to be peaceful. To justify police repression against the people, Vladimiro Montesinos, the secretive head of the Peruvian intelligence agency (and an internationally wanted spy and criminal), reportedly sent over 100 infiltrators into the crowds to stir up violence and unrest. By the end of the day 4 government buildings had been set on fire (I personally witnessed 3 of these fires) all of which symbolize the oppression and repression of Fujimori's reign- the Fiscalia (the juvenile court building where many of the street kids we work with are falsely accused and detained), the Jurado Nacional de Elecciones (the 12-story headquarters of the National Board of Elections that supervised the rigged elections), the Banco de la Nacion (a government institution where taxes are paid), and the Palacio de Justicia (Lima's main court building and a hated symbol of corruption).
By the end of the afternoon the skies of central Lima were darkened by the billowing clouds of black smoke pouring out of the burning buildings and a yellowish haze that lingered in the air with the stale smell of tear gas. The demonstrators continued their marches into the late evening with police continuing to clash with the lingering protesters.
It had been a day of warring. More than 200 civilians had been wounded by stray bullets or shot with flaming tear gas canisters. Countless others had been arrested or were missing. With more than an estimated 80
,000 demonstrators marching in the streets of Lima, a city under a cloud of tear gas and streets stained with the blood of peaceful protesters, the world sat by unaware and unconcerned.
My heart was stirred. Marching with the Peruvians in an act of solidarity with a repressed and voiceless people, awoke emotions and feelings within me that I never knew were there and with an intensity that moved me to action. With burning eyes reddened from hours and hours of breathing tear gas, I found myself grappling with issues of oppression and repression. Witnessing the spilled blood of the poor at the hands of an unjust structure, I prayed in my heart and on my lips for revolution-revolution and freedom for the oppressed poor of Peru.
As I left Peru my last words to the WMF staff there were, “Pray for revolution!” Pray for revolution in our hearts that in our context we would live with the global reality at the front of our minds giving direction to our prayers, our giving, and our living.
From the battling streets of Lima to the cozy, small town of Wilmore in less than 24 hours, it seemed that I had been in two completely different worlds. But I was still in the same world, only my context had changed. Two contexts in the same world, such an important differentiation. And that realization brings with it a prayer for revolution in our hearts. A revolution of transformation.
Many of us think that our context justifies our non-involvement from the hurts and pains of the world. There are falsely accused innocent men and women being tortured in Peruvian jails today, simply because they stood up for their rights and voiced their frustration with a dictator. And we believe that our context justifies our lack of concern and compassion for them. Maybe our context is different from theirs, but we do live in the same world and as global-minded Christians we are obligated to move into a compassionate suffering with them and for them.
Those who go without the basic necessities of life find themselves, regardless of geographical location or proximity, within the perimeters of our family. The body of Christ is such. Fellow believers in the Sudan or in Sri Lanka or in Peru are as much an intrinsic part of the body of Christ as are the Methodists or Presbyterians down the street from most mid-America, small town Christians. Their misery is our misery, their suffering becomes our suffering. We would hope that if there were actually unjustly oppressed or starving members in our local churches, that our spending and giving habits would be altered at least enough to ensure those among us wouldn't suffer the fate of death by starvation.
More disturbing for the North American Christian, is the admission that many of those trapped in oppressive and unjust poverty around the world are not only theologically our “brothers and sisters,” but all are our “neighbors.”
Smugly we sing louder in our churches as to drown out their cries and demands for equality. We spiritualize capitalism and demonize socialism to justify our over-consumption and unresponsiveness to the demands of justice and equality. We even theologize material provision as “God's blessing” overlooking it's potential for Kingdom development, let alone, failing to recognize that perhaps the material provision placed in our trust may in fact be intended for someone else.
We need to remember that we too are beggars at the table. That there's nothing we've done to earn our spot and that God doesn't owe us any favors or places of prominence. The accident of where we were born may in fact be part of the complexity of working out our salvation with fear and trembling- fear that the accident of being born in North America demands more submission and generosity from us than the accident of being born in Africa, Asia, or South America. And that the accident of being born in North America may be the eye of the needle that we've tried so hard to push our camels through.
We all know this. We've all been exposed to the images and the news of the world's suffering and the exposure demands a response. Opportunity and privilege carry with them great responsibility. Until the church understands the sacramental potential of the poor we've not yet experienced the depth of our faith and the full redeeming relationship of the crucified God who identifies Himself with the poor.
Just 48 hours ago I stood on the streets of central Lima standing beside an oppressed people crying out for a voice. Today I pray for revolution. A revolution that would make all of us free so that none would be oppressed. Please stand with us in prayer as we seek justice in a world saturated with injustice that not only dehumanizes, but destroys.
A servant among the Least,
Chris Heuertz