NGO leaders in Puerto Cabezas hammer down a set of environmental recommendations.

The search for a new kind of government

On Nicaragua’s Atlantic Coast, local communities embrace the burdens and rewards of autonomy

By Roger Hamilton, Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua

The pickup bounced violently over the washboard road that headed north from the town of Puerto Cabezas. The landscape was flat, its monotony broken only by an occasional village or a stream. Most of the bridges were destroyed, and the driver would turn off the road to and down the steep sides of the gully to a crossing point. There he would pause, and then gun the engine to send the vehicle lurching over the rounded stones to safety on the other side.

At one such place, a pair of road workers, spotting the oncoming vehicle, hurriedly strung a rope festooned with rags across the road and demanded 10 cordobas (about 80 U.S. cents). Since the government did not have the equipment or resources to fix the road, the local community took the matter into its own hands, and the wihta (the Miskito Indian word for judge) authorized the collection of funds.

The destination that day was Bismuna, a Miskito Indian village on the coast, near the border with Honduras. The guide was Rodolfo Smith, an official with the local municipality. He sat squeezed in the middle of the pickup, shifting his legs each time the driver shifted gears.

Smith described how indigenous communities in this region retain much of their traditional political organization and autonomy in managing their affairs. Most have a council of elders, a headman, a judge, and other positions, all elected by consensus.

Historically, such communities have operated in political isolation. They have practically nothing to do with the local municipality, the regional government headquartered in Puerto Cabezas, or the central government in the capital of Managua. It sounds utopian–no overbearing government officials, no tax collector. But the reality is that these communities are desperately poor. If a child is lucky enough to go to school, he has no textbooks. A person can get sick and die without ever seeing a doctor. A farmer can grow a crop and have no way to get it to market. Without basic services and infrastructure, people in these communities have little hope for a better future.

Forging local democracy. But this isolation is soon to end. The people of Nicaragua's Atlantic Coast are demanding to be heard, and Managua has responded with a program to strengthen the regional government. In the process, local communities will be empowered as full-fledged participants in a democratic system of decision making.

The new IDB-financed program will give teeth to Nicaragua's Autonomy Statutes. This legislation, adopted in 1987, recognized the political rights of communities on the Atlantic Coast, but never provided the means to exercise them. The program will provide support for the two autonomous regions into which the Atlantic Coast is divided: the North Atlantic Autonomous Region, a Miskito Indian area administered from the town of Puerto Cabezas, and the South Atlantic Autonomous Region, a predominately Afro-Caribbean area administered from the town of Bluefields. In both areas, the program will strengthen the regional governments in the basic skills required for effective administration, including forging links with the municipalities in their jurisdictions. The municipalities, in turn, will get the training they need to handle money, raise taxes, provide services, and work with local communities and grassroots organizations. (For more on the program, see the link at the right.)

A case of worse practice. The road north passed through a wasteland of sandy soil mixed with rocks, in some places bare of vegetation. There were no people, no crops, and no cattle. There was little to suggest a human presence except for orderly rows of pine trees that stretched for kilometers. Someone clearly had big plans for this region. But something had gone wrong. Today, the trees stood skinny and poor. Many were dead; their needles turned reddish brown. In some places, whole swaths had been burned, leaving only forests of blackened poles. Tall fire-spotting towers now looked forlorn, their wooden supports festooned with vines.

People sometimes use fire to send a message.

Smith explained what had happened. These were the remains of an internationally funded project that the local people had not requested nor helped to design, he said. When the foreign technicians left, the plantations were abandoned. The people burnt them, sometimes to create pasture, sometimes by accident, and sometimes out of anger and frustration.

It was a dramatic example of the risks of carrying out development from the top down. Today, governments and development institutions have largely abandoned the paternalistic approach, recognizing the need to engage local people in designing and carrying out projects. In the new IDB-funded program, project proposals will come from the communities themselves, giving local people a stake in the outcome.

read more…

Date posted: July 2001

View all photos

Pillar of the community...

Local magistrate...