I was only sixteen years old when a very interesting character decided to run for the presidency of Ecuador. My family was going through some rough times—my parents divorcing—and chaos basically ruled our days. I seem to remember distinctly things being bad. I certainly would hear how the country was going down the drain every single day from the grownups.
His name, Abdalá Bucaram, the son of a Lebanese immigrant. His rise to power was amazing to see, unpredictable some would say. Looking back, however, it seems to make a lot of sense to me. The economy was tanking, the middle class was disappearing, and the president that preceded him was an aging man whose administration was almost solely addressing the military conflict with Peru.
The people felt forgotten, left to die with no future to look forward to. It was in this ripe soil that the unconventional demagogue would rise to fame. "El loco que ama"—the crazy man who loves, his moniker.
Abdalá’s campaign worked. His promises to destroy the oligarchy, the powers that be. The strategy to divide the country into the haves and the have-nots, a recipe cooked in cauldrons of hell itself.
A short-lived reign, if you can call it that. Filled with scandal, self-enrichment, and embarrassing situations that left all Ecuadorians wondering if the whole thing was a poorly written sitcom.
Shortly after attaining power, Abdalá thought it would be a great idea for him to go back to one of his old passions: music. He then organized a big event, even hired an international act to be his backing band. A packed stadium filled with government employees who were forced to attend or risk their livelihoods—ticket sales deducted from government payrolls.
His presidency lasted months. Abdalá was declared mentally impaired to continue by Congress, yet these days I’m of the notion he would fit right in. These days he would know “how to play the game.” To scream witch hunt and blatantly deny every single act of corruption, even if the evidence was rock-solid.
Listen—I’m remembering all this for mainly one reason. All my life I’ve been told that the US was the example to follow. That America was the epitome of democratic values, of decorum. A country where everything works. I was also told that Banana Republics were laughable. Their leaders ridiculous, unprepared, and unserious.
It may be the cynic in me controlling the keys I press, but I wish I could go back in time and tell my English teacher how wrong she was, how wrong she will be.
Because Banana is where this road leads.