4/10/19
ON THE VENEZUELA-COLOMBIA BORDER — She is 15 years old, pregnant, hungry and alone. Deisimar sat on a bench in a park in Maicao, just inside Colombia, and wept as she told her story — the story of Venezuela. Deisimar was born in an oil-rich, middle-class Venezuela. Then everything began to collapse at a pace reminiscent of Weimar Germany or Syria during the civil war. In the oil hub of Maracaibo, Deisimar’s family lost electricity, reliable running water, health care and, finally, food. Venezuela’s inflation may reach 10 million percent this year, the International Monetary Fund says, and some people root through garbage or eat rats to survive. “We had no money to buy food, so I came here,” Deisimar explained. Complicating the situation, she had become pregnant by her equally impoverished 18-year-old boyfriend. Contraception has become unavailable or unaffordable: A single condom now costs as much as a couple of pounds of rice and more than a tank of gas. “I don’t have enough to eat, so how could I pay for birth control?” Deisimar asked me.
Venezuelans overwhelmingly told me that they want tougher international action to dislodge Maduro. “I lost my jobs because of sanctions,” said Claritza Rojas, who used to work for P.D.V.S.A., the state oil company, and now is homeless in Maicao. “They affect us, but pressure on Maduro is still good.” Conditions may get worse, for the economy and health system are virtually in free fall. A university survey found that two-thirds of Venezuelans had lost weight — an average of 25 pounds in a single year. In a world that has mostly treated migrants wretchedly, Colombia is playing a heroic role in providing such care. The country has admitted perhaps two million Venezuelans — often allowing them to work, attend school and receive free health care. But because of the crisis in Venezuela and the difficulty attending school in Colombia, the girl, 12-year-old Yanethzy Sánchez, has not been to school for three years and can’t read even simple words. Her 18-year-old sister died last year from pneumonia, and Yanethzy, once outgoing, is now herself fearful and withdrawn. “She never leaves the parking lot,” her mom fretted. It seems that she may never get an education, like others in Venezuela’s lost generation. I asked Yanethzy if she could write her name. She couldn’t. I asked her what three times four was; she looked blank. I tried another: What is four plus six? She looked at her feet and there was a long silence. Finally, embarrassed, she suggested in Spanish, “16?”
