Thursday, February 22, 2007

Hitting the streets

I had the fortune of shadowing a local radio reporter here in Lima a few weeks ago.
The day starts early, 5 a.m., but I am used to it after years of the early morning news shift in Chicago. When you get up that early you are dealing with a very select group of people, most of them doing some serious labor and not sitting in an ergonomic chair, zoning out at a computer like I was.

You get to know everybody who is up at that hour because there are only two trains or busses an hour. Everybody is pretty dilligent because if you miss the half hour deadline, you will be late to work.

I remember one guy who always used to wait at the bus stop with me. Everyday he arrived with a small lunch cooler, suspenders, a flannel sweatshirt and a hat emblazoned with the term "Head-Butt." We never spoke. He did not appear to have many teeth so that was probably for the best. But I did feel some sort of kinship to him, a strange pride that comes with the notion that everybody else is still in bed. He would get off a few stops before me at a construction site.

I always loved the early morning construction guys because they would be up so early that lunch time landed around 9 a.m., when most other people were getting to work. They would be lined up at a portable lunch wagon ordering ham and cheese sandwiches and burgers while people walked by with their latte's.


I digress...

Back to Lima and the present. So I got up at 4 and hit the RPP radio studios at 5, the sun was starting to rise as it is summer. The morning news program, Rotativa del Aire kicks off around 5 a.m.. I was matched up with one of the staff beat reporters who spends the day moving around the city collecting news. Lima has no public transit system, so unlike the old days when I would hop on a train to catch a press conference, the RPP reporters have not only company cars, but drivers. This service is referred to as movil, and it is, more than anything, a very creative marketing tool. Obviously a tv crew warrants a truck and driver based on equipment and deadlines. You don´t really need a truck to lug around one microphone, a tape recorder and a pair of headphones. It appears to make even less sense in the case of RPP where reporters mainly file stories almost exclusively via cell phone. But don´t underestimate the beauty of a car with a shiny logo. The movil service doubles as a very visible marketing tool. People constantly came up to the car throughout the day to share news, say thanks or just chat. RPP has succesfully sold itself as the media of the people.






So I hopped in the back of the car with the equipment (cell phone and notepad) and went along for the ride.



We started the morning in the La Victoria district, at a local fruit market-distribution center for the city. The joint was hopping at 5:30 a.m. as people were getting their supplies for the day. Lima has both a growing number of formal supermarkets and continues to host an army of corner fruit stands.

The news...rains in the eastern Peruvian jungle were killing the papaya and pineapple imports. We got ahold of the market manager who oversees an impressive 3 thousand different vendors inside the market. We chatted with the guy for about ten minutes, getting the details on the papaya pandemic.

So, being a neophyte, I began to wonder why we weren´t recording our encounter. Where was the microphone and tape recorder? In a flash my reporter flipped open his cell phone, called into the RPP board, and next thing I knew he was live filing a report. The most impressive part of the 2 minute news flash was how he set up the quote from the market manager. He put the phone in the man´s face, got a ten second quote, and slipped right back into his internal script. That kind of mini report used to take me a good half hour to write, cut the sound bite, and voice back in the day. And I thought I had it down to a science. So, considering what I had just witnessed, I was left feeling a little bit like a sloth with a Western Union Telegraph machine trying to tell the world that my tree is on fire.


We hustled out of the market to our waiting chariot. The beauty of having a driver with the company car is we never have to find parking, which is tough when you are manuevering 3 thousand fruit vendors with carts and trucks.


Next stop,


Breakfast.


Yes I know, this image is of a plate of fried rice. But when you get up at 4 you have got to find away to keep the tank full of energy. So we headed to a lunch counter inside a typically kiosk flooded Peruvian comercial center. My options where fried rice or pasta with meat sauce. I went with the pasta, mi estimado had an enormous plate of chaufa, or Peruvian-Chinese fried rice. Just as we sat down to eat a tv news crew rolled up. Apparently this was the spot for the early morning news hounds. A few slaps on the backs and jokes later we were on our way again. For the record, spaghetti breath at 6 a.m. is a little rough.

The TV reporters gave us a hot tip on a press conference at the soccer stadium for a local club. Some fans had breached security and nearly killed a rival the previous weekend and an announcement was expected handing down a punishment to the team. So we headed to the suburbs where the stadium was. A half hour later we got word nothing was going to happen. Perhaps it was a food coma, or the already blazing 7 a.m sun, but next thing I remember it was 8 a.m. and I was waking up from a nap in the back seat. Apparently I didn´t miss anything. Another bum press conference later and we were off to San Miguel. We pulled up to a curb in a neighborhood adjacent to the ocean. I was told it was a personal visit and not to get out of the car with the reporter. Interesting.

He put on his designer sun glasses and disappeared for 20 minutes.

The driver of the car seemed fairly adept at being the opposite of his cohort, he was very good at not asking questions. Next stop, the reporter´s house where we waited another 20 minutes, he returned with wet hair, apparently it was time for a quick shower. By this point the sun was so hot that my t-shirt was starting to stick to the synthetic back seat. Mr. so fresh and so clean was revived and ready to hit another press conference. Mr. Hardman was hot, sweaty, smelled like spaghetti, and ready to go home.


Luckily the next press conference was on. We entered the swanky offices of Perús most powerful business coalition. There were actually two press conferences going on. The first was definitely the opening act. Peru´s Minister of industry was announcing a new partnership between the government and the local Yellow Pages to promote Peruvian made goods.


The minister, Rafael Rey Rey (translation Rafael King King) walked into the room flanked by two models in matching Yellow Pages jumpsuits. He was dragging on a cigarette and looked about as trustworthy as a second hand Yugo. He paused, checked out the crowd, an assistant came over waited as he took one last deep inhale, then she took the cigarette from him to extinguish. He proceeded up to the stage and sat down at the table while a, literally, 5 minute presentation took place.

Mr. ReyRey in another important moment inspecting toilets

A host of tv and radio stations were on hand. Around seven microphones were set up at the table, some of them were not connected to cables, which generally means they are remotes. Not in this case. Some radio stations had no intention, or possibly no capacity, to record the press conference. Their microphones were at the table so their company logos would be in the tv camera shots. Again, marketing rules the world.


After the presentation a few nice words were said and it was time to drink. 10:30 a.m. and a line of waiters in tuxedos walked in the room with platters full of pisco sours, Perús flagship alcoholic drink. Rey Rey and the Yellow Pages CEO drank first, and then everybody was offered a drink to celebrate the occasion.


I was again at a loss for words. My reporter in tow was nowhere to be found. While polishing off some more pisco sours Rey Rey took some questions. Some of the radio reporters hid small tape recorders under their logo flanked microphones that were again connected to thin air.

The Yellow Pages girls tried to slide into as many press photos and video shots as possible. The mood was more Vegas superfight weigh-in than political press conference.

My reporter appeared, he had been outside smoking. This press conference wasn´t worth the time he said. The next one happening in the same building in a half hour was the big one. The coalition of big business owners were going to shoot down a government proposed new wage law. It sounded like legit news which both excited me and threatened to ruin what to this point was a terrifically insane morning. I thanked my reporter, waved goodbye to the Yellow Pages girls and headed back out into the hot sun. (I must apologize, I did not have a camera with me this day and I will never forgive myself. But, I hope my words do justice and that you believe that every last thing I wrote is VERDAD.)




Sunday, February 18, 2007


Economics of Peru: Needs More Color

This inflatable Spiderman turned up at a recent festival. As you can see in this photo his chest was tatooed with the message, ¨needs more color,¨which I thought was a nice symbol of economic reality down here in Latin America. I am guessing somebody got a window office for finding a market for these ill-fated super heroes from the island of reject toys.

So Peru imports Spiderman imposters and exports its rock minerals, natural gas, and bountiful agriculture. Sounds like a fair exchange.

I am far from a bandwagon rider of Bolivia and Venezuela, but I can begin to see how their leaders win support when they spin rhetoric regarding resources. Evo Morales likes to say Bolivians first. It is perhaps a failed economic strategy, but it sounds a little more inclusive.

A recent trip to the North of Perú revealed an amazing desert climate with a real water shortage issue in some areas. Last week in the Northern town of Piura temperatures were in the 90s and the local water grid failed. Not pretty. Yet a short drive away up towards the Ecuador border brought a fascinating backdrop of miles and miles of flooded rice fields. So apparently somebody has some water.

I can´t quite get a beat on whether or not there is much of a market for Peruvian rice, nor whether or not anybody is making much money on it, but everybody is doing it.

And the latest crop...What´s that? Somebody says organic bananas are in? We should all grow organic bananas? OK...lets do it.



I found this gem of an economic analysis of Peru on line. It is from 1996...

Peru's bustling economy, engendered by tough-minded market reforms, is good news for U.S. exporters wanting to expand their markets in South America. Of the $2 billion in goods and services that the United States exported to Peru in 1996, agricultural, fish and forestry products made up over $300 million.

Since the election of Peru's President Fujimori in 1990, the country's economy has spiraled upwards. Once in office, the Fujimori administration began massive reforms, eliminating nearly all controls on trade, investment and foreign exchange.

We know now that Fujimori was more than a little corrupt and hogging the cookie jar. This spiraling up economically was not being redistributed, not that it ever is.

This type of analysis also tends to leave out that more than half of all Peruvians live under the poverty level. More than 90 percent of public school students cannot read or do math at grade level. And that a small small sector of the population is formally employed, which explains why many make around 2 bucks a day. This seems to both support a rosey economic outlook in terms of low worker wages and also explain why the country is a pitfall in that the labor force is not educated.

But don´t worry, President Alan Garcia has a new failsafe plan. He relaunched a campaign recently to both spur economic growth and better health in Peru by getting Peruvians to eat more Anchovies.

Economics in Peru: It´s a family affair
I am an informal economist at best, but thanks to my reporting skills I am effectively naive, observent and curious, which comes in handy here. This economic look at Peru is therefore a reflection of my experiences here. I will start, as I often do, with a view from the ground up.

Enrique...my doorman and resident political scientist seemed rather preocupied yesterday.


He always has something on his mind. I generally put in a good half hour with him every day mostly listening to his various theories and commentaries on Peru, Latin America, and frequently an analysis of the hypocrisy that is the United States foreign policy.


Last night was a little more pedestrian for Enrique. He took a break from his usual and quite convincing dissection of why South America should unite and form a European Union type agreement so as to compete with the US.

Instead the topic was his wife´s recent return from visiting her family in Perú's eastern jungle. She was upset that he never came to visit while she and their son were gone. Enrique explained, beyond not really digging his in-laws, that he can´t really take a break. He shares doorman duties with two other Peruvians, Oscar and Pastor, they split the day between 8 hour shifts and when somebody is off, which is rare, they split 12 hour shifts.

Technically they get up to a month of vacation, but, as Enrique explained, none of them take it. He took a three day weekend last year, his only vacation in nearly 3 years of manning doors at my building. Enrique says if he were to take a break the building would bring in a substitute. His concern is that the building management will like the substitute better than him and he would be out of a job. More importantly the break would be a non paid leave, something few Peruvians can afford to do. So, he works and he works, and he laughs at the thought of taking a vacation. I didn´t get the feeling a lack of vacation sticks in Enrique´s craw and makes him bitter. In fact there was a strange pride eminating from him, that he doesn´t need a break. I guess he´s the Lou Gehrig of Peruvian doormen.

I don´t know what Enrique makes a month, my guess it is in the ballpark of 200 dollars. I have recently got a beat on what salaries here in Lima are, and what they afford people.
A cab driver who doesn´t have to rent his cab makes around 300 bucks a month. That sounds low, but it is actually comparatively around the median.
In fact, especially in rural areas, unemployment is so bad that you get the Cuban effect, lawyers and doctors driving cabs.
One must factor in that more than half of Peruvians survive on less than 2 bucks a day.
2 liters of water costs close to a dollar, a very cheap meal at a restaurant costs 2 dollars, and rent probably between 100 and 200 bucks. So factoring its salaries, Lima is not necessarily a cheap or workable place to survive.

So how do people survive?

Enrique and his family share a house with his dad and his brother and sister´s families. He says it works out but space is tight. Most of my friends here live at home, some never leave. Rent, even when it is cheap, is still between a third or a half of ones salary. You can imagine this has a bit of an affect on cultural and social development.

Families are wonderfully tight but children often lack the natural transition to being on their own and assuming more responsabilities. Most middle to upper class families have at least one maid if not two. Many of these employee are live in help, so siblings grow up never doing the dishes, laundry, etc.. That dynamic just doesn´t exist here. I recently enjoyed a conversation between a friend and his 3 young kids about why it didn´t really make sense that they get an allowance. Essentially household chores are done by the maid, and thanks to some sweet urban planning, nobody has a yard big enough to mow, so that chore is out. All we could come up with was washing the car.

Another friend of mine who is in his 40´s has a decent job working in the journalism department of a University and he earns around 5,000 dollars a year. He and his six siblings are solidly
entrenched in their childhood home.
As you can imagine I am an oddball in that I
A. live alone in an apartment
B. clean up after myself
C. can afford to have the lifestyle I do, one that is by no means lavish in US terms, but is considered so here.

It sounds like king of the mountain to some to collect a US salary in a foreign country. The problem is, thanks to natural market selection, that you often wind up pretty isolated. In my building there is essentially nobody in my age bracket.

I am no Thurston Howell III, so the class of people I often find myself around is not really comfortable or congenial. I am the only person in my building I have ever seen utilizing the stairwell, for the exception of the occasional smoker.
I also don´t have a tiny dog, nor a maid(although I do have a bathroom and workspace for one: If anyone who reads this is interested in the job, please send me a CV and a few references)

Obviously my complaints will be recieved as shallow and rightfully so. If I hadn´t been robbed with a long sharp knife gracing my neck I probably would move to a more middle class area. I am internally tortured by the image of modern saint Dr. Paul Farmer living in the bellfrey of a church so he could save money on rent and concentrate more funds in setting up a clinic in Haiti. That sounds like a righteous move to make, but I haven´t done it yet. Maybe a good compromise would be to just die my hair black, take a paycut and move in with Enrique´s family.