Author:
Publication: BBC News
Date: March 11, 2001
Humphrey Hawksley in Paraguay finds
a record of neglect of the indigenous Indian population
Nestor Flores, a Paraguyaan Indian
tribal leader, trekked 300 miles to see what was happening about the government's
promise to build a school for his village.
It was a humiliating place to end
up - on a broken plastic chair, in the ground floor entrance and garage
of a run-down government building known locally as the INDY - the Paraguayan
department which handles the affairs of indigenous Indians.
Nestor was a chubby Buddha-like
man in his late 40s, and with him were a dozen other leaders from all over
Paraguay, wasting away their day waiting for a meeting with Mrs Olga Rojas
de Baez, a ferocious blonde Paraguayan in charge of the INDY.
Nestor had been there for 10 days.
The others for as long as three months, and when Olga walked through to
go to her office, their eyes didn't meet.
There were no greetings, no "I'll
see you in a minute," from her.
There was no shouting of abuse from
them, or even pleading for an appointment.
There was just a complete silence,
as if it was the natural way for the Indians to wait, for the Paraguayans
to ignore and for nothing to happen.
Myth and reality
Upstairs, Olga's air conditioned
office was decorated with sketches of Indians, the women bare-breasted
and the men in head-dresses with spears.
She gave us a colourful woven bag
and insisted we visit an Indian handcraft centre.
"Sure," I say, "but first tell me
why the Indian community isn't integrated properly into society."
Without drawing breath Olga says:
"It's up to them to take the first step, and they won't do that because
they don't like to get close to Paraguayan culture."
"But what I don't understand," I
went on, "is why you head this department and not an indigenous Indian."
"Oh an Indian couldn't do that.
The Indians don't have the university education. I don't know any accountants
or economists among them."
Then even Olga thought she might
have over-stepped the line and added, "It's not that Indians don't have
access to education - it's that they don't use it."
When the Spanish Conquistadors began
conquering Latin America 400 years ago, the Paraguayan Indians were among
the most welcoming and Paraguay one of the first places to be colonised.
Paraguay also took a lead by writing
land and other Indian rights into its new constitution in the early nineties.
Which begs the question, though,
why, shortly after our interview, Olga was sent up to Washington to defend
herself over allegation of human rights abuses against the Indian community.
Empty promises
The answer probably lies in a hospital,
opened three years ago, on the outskirts of Asuncion.
"Go there," Olga had insisted effusively.
"We built it completely for the Indians. It's always full. A fantastic
success."
When we arrived, we found Olga herself
had never even visited.
Beds were empty and rusting, mattresses
rolled up and damp from the rain and humidity.
No doctor was there. Just one Paraguayan
nurse, disgusted with her own government for failing to supply medicine
- even bed sheets.
Upstairs, we found Carmen Martinez
who was back with her two-year-old daughter, Maria, for the second time.
She had hydrocephalus, where her
skull had expanded because the cranial fluid hadn't properly drained.
"I've been asking for help ever
since she was born," says Carmen. "All I know is that Maria needs an operation
and then she'll be better."
Yes, Maria does need a simple, routine
operation, but now she might not get better.
While in Paraguay we did try to
find a doctor to come out and give us an assessment, but couldn't get one
to come to the hospital.
Back in London, we asked an expert
to look at our pictures.
Eighteen months ago Maria could
have been saved; now she's definitely brain damaged and living in terrible
pain - you can tell by the way her eyes move.
And in another six months, without
help, she could be dead.
Maria wasn't a third-world child
caught up in war or famine. She was victim of something more complex -
political neglect.
