Paddling Across the Caribbean for Freedom and Justice in Puerto Rico
The Prisoner and the Kayaker
by CARMELO RUIZ-MARRERO
The Kayaker
When I first saw Alberto de Jesús’ daredevil protests on local television, I was reminded of the 1985 film Turk 182, in which Timothy Hutton plays a graffiti avenger that repeatedly makes a fool of New York City’s mayor and eludes all of the city police’s attempts to capture him. De Jesús, whom we all call “Tito Kayak”, represents a new breed of activist, one that combines originality, style and extraordinary courage. He could be a professor emeritus at the Ruckus Society and also teach the folks at Greenpeace and Code Pink a thing or two about penetrating security perimeters, hanging banners from unusual places, and pulling off incredible escapes.
In 1999 De Jesús made history by camping out alone in the US Navy firing range in Vieques with the aim of putting an end once and for all to the war games and target practice that had gone on there nonstop since World War Two. At first, people called him insane, but his insanity caught on. Half a dozen people joined him, then dozens. The protest went on for weeks, then months. More camps were set up by political parties, labor unions, churches, and independentista organizations, and the whole affair snowballed into a phenomenon that turned Puerto Rican society upside down, and even received support from activists in the US and other lands, like Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Rigoberta Menchú, to name just two. In May 2000, federal authorities raided the camps and arrested hundreds, but the protesters failed to quit.
In November 2000, De Jesús, with the cooperation of about a dozen supporters, got on top of the Statue of Liberty and hung a “Peace for Vieques” banner from her head. This was a repeat of an almost identical action taken in October 1977, when activists draped a Puerto Rican flag on Lady Liberty’s forehead as they called on the Carter administration to free the Nationalist prisoners which had been in jail since the 1950′s. The campaign eventually succeeded, and in 1979 the last Nationalists in prison received a presidential pardon and were received as heroes in Puerto Rico.
When they saw him on top of the Statue of Liberty in 2000, US law enforcement authorities saw their chance to put De Jesús away- they were just aching for the opportunity to make an example of this real life Turk 182. At that time he happened to be under probation after having been repeatedly arrested in Vieques. He spent a year in Manhattan Correctional for violating his probation. For one year, both De Jesús and Oscar were prisoners of the USA.
In September of the following year, two jet liners crashed into the World Trade Center, only three or four blocks away from where De Jesús was doing time. Many activists feared that the 9-11 attacks, with their inevitable sequel of repression and war, would be the end for the Vieques movement. But that turned out not to be the case. After the initial horror and shock, the protesters regrouped and regained the initiative. And four years after De Jesús’ lone stand in the firing range the impossible happened: the Pentagon got fed up with the never ending protests and left Vieques. Nonviolent protesters had routed the world’s most powerful naval force. It was a gigantic victory for anti-colonial forces and peace-loving people all over the world. The Puerto Rican people thus have an enormous debt of gratitude to Tito Kayak.
But he did not rest after that. He continues his work for ecology and human rights, both locally and internationally. De Jesús had first become a public figure in the late 1990′s through his direct actions against the passage of ships carrying reprocessed nuclear waste between France and Japan through Caribbean waters. In 2000 he traveled to Japan, where he was hosted by anti-nuclear activists and had the opportunity to express his concerns to the Japanese authorities, which of course did not heed him. In 2007 de Jesús hung a banner from the Las Américas bridge, which crosses over the Panamá Canal, to protest the interoceanic traffic in nuclear waste. The nuclear horror of Fukushima in 2011 proved De Jesús right.
Also in 2007 he went to the West Bank to express his solidarity with the Palestinian people. During his visit he climbed up the Wall of Infamy being built by the Israeli state and put up a Palestinian flag on top, in plain sight of baffled and flabbergasted Israeli snipers. Tito knew full well the danger he was taking on, and had no illusions that his US citizenship would shield him from Israel’s murderous military. The cold-blooded murder of US activist Rachel Corrie by the Israeli Defense Forces four years earlier was fresh in the minds of everyone who accompanied him that day.
Tito Kayak has done this and so much more, so many other actions that deserve at least a passing mention, from death-defying stunts to protest successive Puerto Rican governments’ neoliberal policies, and standing tall against police brutality in the months-long 2010-2011 University of Puerto Rico student strike, to speaking to school children about the importance of recycling and environmental protection, and forming groups to clean up litter in beaches. All these actions and feats, both great and small, have earned him great esteem from the Puerto Rican people- except from some lumpen elements who have nothing but smoldering contempt for him, some of whom openly declared on Twitter that they wish he had sank and drowned in his kayak during his Antilles trip.
There is a certain mystique that surrounds the figure of De Jesús/Tito Kayak that fascinates his admirers and enrages his derisive critics. Just who is he? Local right-wing newspapers, such as El Vocero and Caribbean Business, allege that Tito Kayak’s finances are a mystery, and have even hinted at funding from Hugo Chávez. But his life is a mystery only to wannabe journalists who do not bother to do basic research. Alberto De Jesús is a working class man, a blue collar hardhat who makes a living as an electrician. He is not a man of long speeches, in fact he has not given many speeches in his life. He is not a writer, although he is certainly a reader. Upon first meeting him, people are amazed that this leftist boogeyman, this international troublemaker, is actually a regular guy, an unpretentious everyman who loves a good beer and hanging out with friends as much as the next guy.
The kayak trip through the Antilles, with all its hazards and hardships, was all for Oscar. Even though imprisoned in the USA, his presence was very tangible and real in the Caribbean. He was the real protagonist all along. In solidarity with Puerto Rico’s self-determination and in the spirit of anti-imperialist Latin American unity, Venezuela’s government joined the call for Oscar’s freedom and gave concrete support to Tito Kayak’s trip. The Venezuelan Navy fleet, the diplomatic corps and state media- particularly Telesur, La Radio del Sur and the CCS Caracas newspaper- provided critical support.
In early July, Venezuela hosted the 18th meeting of the Foro de Sao Paulo, an umbrella organization that brings together much of the Latin American left. The Puerto Rican delegation, composed of the Nationalist Party, the Socialist Front and the Movimiento Independentista Nacional Hostosiano (This organization’s name defies translation), intended to garner international support for the nation’s anti-colonial struggles.
The effort was successful as Puerto Rico’s colonial case was mentioned in the meeting’s final statement, the Caracas Declaration:
“Left-wing parties gathered in the Forum and all social movements are responsible to deploy all initiatives within our reach so as to turn the issue of Puerto Rico’s independence into a central item in the United Nations agenda. It is unthinkable that in the 21st century there are still colonial enclaves in our region and the world. We join in the demand for the release from prison of Puerto Rican political detainee Oscar López-Rivera, incarcerated in US prisons for 31 years now, whose sole “crime” was fighting for his land’s independence.”We do not doubt that Tito Kayak’s lobbying activities in Venezuela prior to his departure the previous month, his media outreach and his rapport with the Venezuelan people, had a lot to do with our success in getting Oscar mentioned in the Caracas declaration.
In mid-September, Tito finally arrived in Puerto Rico, ending his epic voyage by landing in a protest encampment set up in Isla Verde beach, near the international airport (http://pr.indymedia.org/news/2012/09/52681.php). The camp was set up in 2005 by Tito and other concerned citizens, organized as Playas Pal Pueblo (Beaches for the People), to physically obstruct the illegal invasion of the public Isla Verde beach by high-rise hotels, and to call attention to other equally harmful and illegal encroachments of hotels and other private developments in Puerto Rico’s beaches. The story of this camp, continuously occupied for seven years, where protesters have set up organic gardens and solar panels under the constant threat of eviction by the police, is one of the great underreported tales of this Caribbean nation.
Looking back on those three months of danger and extreme endurace- with obstacles ranging from searing sun and treacherous currents to seemingly insurmountable funding and logistics challenges- Tito winces and describes the whole undertaking as a nightmare. But the real nightmare is the one that Oscar has been experiencing for 31 years. Freedom for Oscar. Freedom Now.
Carmelo Ruiz-Marrero is a Puerto Rican author and journalist.
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