The high level of poverty puts pressure on the government before the elections

The market in eastern Venezuela is bustling with shoppers this weekend, hoping to find a bargain at the vegetable, meat and cheese stalls. Some take home plantains, cassava cakes, cornmeal or half a pack of eggs.

Teacher Cruz Brito stands across the street, amid the smell of fish that permeates the hot, humid air of Maturín. She has the equivalent of about 25 euros in her account and a single can of sardines at home. Her next paycheck is five days away, and she still has to pay for a purchase her eldest daughter needs for her studies. So Brito goes home empty-handed. Maybe she can have it written off at the nearby supermarket.

Eleven years after Venezuela’s complex crisis began, the days of food shortages are all but over. But with many earning less than $185 a month, families in both rural and urban areas are struggling to make ends meet. People are working second and third jobs, starting small businesses, opening currency exchanges and investing what little money they have in gambling. Without a calculator and a calendar, they rarely make decisions.

“I was already crying because I had nothing to eat.”

The uncertainty is adding to the ruling party’s fears for its grip on power in Sunday’s presidential election, where President Nicolás Maduro is being challenged by the most promising opposition candidate, Edmundo Gonzalez Urrutia, a diplomat.

In her own words, Brito is praying for a new head of state—and then for an end to her precarious situation. “I was already crying because I had nothing to eat,” she says a few days before the election, on the edge of the market in Maturin. “We didn’t emigrate—firstly, because I have my parents here, and secondly, because I believe in God and believe that we will get through this. But if not, then unfortunately I will have to leave with a broken heart, like all the others who emigrated.”

Government under pressure

The crisis in Venezuela has developed over the years. Maduro’s government can now even point to economic growth after the coronavirus pandemic. But wages and unemployment benefits have not recovered.

Public sector workers receive the country’s minimum wage per month: 130 bolivars, or slightly more, depending on experience, contract and qualifications. This amount has not changed since March 2022, when it was around 28 euros. Now it is only 3.20 euros. Workers also receive a monthly food allowance of around 37 euros. Those who also receive social benefits through the so-called Fatherland Card receive an additional 83 euros.

After working as an English teacher for 20 years, Brito earns the equivalent of 132 euros a month, plus the food subsidy. However, families in the South American country need at least 355 euros just for a basic shopping cart. This includes a liter of cooking oil, a kilo of rice, sugar, potatoes, bananas and ground beef, half a kilo of beans and at least a dozen eggs.

The normal salary is not enough

So Brito tries to earn extra money by playing games of chance on her smartphone in the evenings, doing translation work, holding lotteries and selling ice cream on the streets of Maturin. “Going to the supermarket, getting a shopping cart and just starting to shop – I don’t even know what that is anymore,” says the 47-year-old. “I used to buy a whole chicken, but now I don’t even buy half a chicken. I have to buy three eggs because I can’t buy a whole carton anymore.”

Private sector workers are hardly better off with an average monthly income of €213. In total, 80 percent of the population now lives in poverty.

Signs of prosperity disappear

In Maturin, a center of the oil industry, signs of the once-thriving middle class are everywhere: two-story homes sit on dilapidated lots with “for sale” signs, shopping malls are boarded up, and car dealerships have closed. The town’s long, wide streets were built at a time when virtually everyone could afford a car and gasoline was cheap. Today, owning a car, no matter how old, is a luxury.

Israel Gimon had to sell one of his two cars because of the crisis. With his pension – which by law must correspond to the monthly minimum wage – and a ‘homeland card’ he earns the equivalent of about 26 euros a month. Pensioners are not entitled to food aid.

Gimon, 66, worked as a construction manager for over 40 years and expected to make a good living from his pension. Instead, he now sells ice cream from his garage and repairs household appliances. In a good month, Gimon earns the equivalent of about 47 euros from the repair business. With his income, he has to support his wife, a daughter and his dog. “There are days when we have nothing to eat,” he says. “And once upon a time, I was upper middle class!”

RND/AP