Nicaragua Lights Out in Managua

By John Moody/Masaya

Cradling a sack of grain under one arm and a bag of eggs in the other, a stout woman leaves the open-air market and climbs into a horse-drawn taxi. The elderly driver, a smile creasing his weathered face, tugs on the reins and utters a sharp "Vamonos!" as the black carriage with a torn leather awning rolls away. The scene could have come from Cabbages and Kings, O. Henry's collection of picturesque short stories set in turn-of-the-century Central America. But this is no quaint, fictitious land. This is modern-day Nicaragua.

All across the country these days, horse-drawn, hand-pushed and pedal- powered vehicles are reappearing, along with kerosene lamps, candles and firewood stoves. At the same time, many of the basic trappings of 20th century life, such as electricity, gasoline, running water and postal services, are declining or vanishing. Since 1979, when the Marxist-oriented Sandinista regime ousted Dictator Anastasio Somoza, much of the country's economic and industrial infrastructure has fallen into ruin. Under Sandinista rule, Nicaragua's foreign debt has risen from $1.6 billion to $7 billion, while real wages have fallen by 90%. Inflation is estimated at 1,800% for 1987, and some economists believe it could surpass a stratospheric 10,000% this year.

President Daniel Ortega Saavedra attributes such hardships to U.S. sanctions and the American-backed contra insurgency. In recent months, however, increasing numbers of Ortega's long-suffering countrymen are blaming their predicament not on outside aggression but on the Sandinistas. Says Carlos Huembes, president of a coalition of anti-Sandinista groups known as the Democratic Coordinator: "People are losing their patience, and people are losing their fear."

Last week the Managua regime unveiled a desperate strategy to tame Nicaragua's hyperinflated economy. The government replaced the existing currency, the cordoba, which was officially valued at 20,000 to the U.S. dollar, with a new cordoba pegged at ten to the dollar. The monetary shuffle, coupled with drastic price increases, left many of the country's 3.3 million citizens baffled and worried about their purchasing power. A gallon of gas that used to cost the equivalent of 16 cents, for example, now costs $1.50. Explaining the decision to change the currency last week, Economist Mario Arana declared, "Things were so grave that we had to do something. The question was whether to make it a shock or a gradual adjustment. We decided on a shock."

Instead of galvanizing the economy, however, the shock treatment appeared to be paralyzing it. By week's end there were strong indications that the currency would be discredited before the new notes lost their crispness. At an open-air market in Masaya, about 15 miles from Managua, women hawking rice and beans complained that the official price guidelines amounted to selling at a loss. One woman, who said her morning's sales totaled 50 cents, demanded, "Am I supposed to feed my family with this?"

The confusion over the new money only added to the stress of everyday life. Earlier this month, the government imposed a nationwide energy emergency. Thousands of workers were laid off amid production slowdowns at large factories. Government ministries now close at midday, and TV broadcasts are limited to four hours at night. Daily power cuts of several hours are parceled out to each region. In Managua whole neighborhoods are plunged without warning into darkness, giving the capital an eerie resemblance to the Rumanian capital of Bucharest, where government-enforced blackouts have been imposed for years.

Severe gasoline shortages compound the effects of the power cuts. Last year the Soviet Union signaled its displeasure with Sandinista waste and inefficiency by reducing oil deliveries. By Christmas, motorists were camping overnight in mile-long queues for the chance to buy 5 gal. of gasoline. Angry customers overpowered the attendants at some Managua service stations and helped themselves to the fuel.

Many agricultural products are becoming scarce. Although the government quadrupled the price of milk to reduce demand last November, both fresh and powdered milk are nearly impossible to find. Meat is generally available but too expensive for most tables. Even the country's largest export crop, coffee, has been endangered by mismanagement. Some 6,000 workers were dispatched last month to the northern part of the country to salvage what they can before millions of pounds of unpicked coffee beans rot on the ground.

Many areas seethe with bitter opposition to the government's conscription law, which requires two years of military service by all men over the age of 17. In Masaya two weeks ago, army recruiters dragged some 300 teenagers from their homes, according to eyewitness accounts, handcuffed them and, after checking their identities, impressed about 50 into the army. Over the next three nights, relatives and friends of the young men torched official cars, set bonfires and clashed with riot police. Said a local army veteran who was maimed fighting the contras: "I'll fight for my mother but not for the Sandinista front."

Such defiant sentiments seem to be spreading among Nicaragua's citizens. Three weeks ago, the Sandinista leadership was heartened when Congress cut off new aid to the contras. But contra-Sandinista talks were suspended late last week with no agreement, and most Nicaraguans no longer believe the country is headed toward peace and prosperity. The Sandinistas may have won a political battle on Capitol Hill, but back home they risk losing the war for hearts, minds -- and bellies.