Venezuelans describe the day after U.S. strikes : NPR

LAUREN FRAYER, HOST:

This afternoon, I called some Venezuelans whose lives changed when U.S. planes bombed military installations around their capital. One of these people is Helena Carpio. She is a journalist and lives in Caracas, about a mile from one of the air bases struck Saturday.

HELENA CARPIO: So I couldn’t sleep that night and I was awake. And all of a sudden I heard the windows shaking so hard I thought it was an earthquake.

FRAYER: She quickly realized what was happening.

CARPIO: After the third explosion, something else happened. And to be honest, I think many Venezuelans have had American intervention in one form or another on their minds for months.

FRAYER: President Trump announced Maduro’s capture hours later on social media. Carpio’s window was open when the news arrived.

CARPIO: All of a sudden, I hear this explosion of sound, and it was screaming combined with cheering, combined with caceroleando, which is this traditional way of protesting the Maduro government where you take your pots and pans in the kitchen and you hit them really hard with, like, wooden spoons and other utensils. And then, 10 minutes later, it got quiet, and it stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

FRAYER: The shock and, for some, the excitement after the strike didn’t last long. Carpio said she turned her attention to the most pressing topic: survival. There are power outages in parts of Caracas. She’ll need gas.

CARPIO: Fuel – fuel is a major concern. Will there be pumps open? Will you be able to find fuel? Will you have to wait in line for five or six hours to get it?

FRAYER: And the food.

CARPIO: Yesterday I waited in line for seven hours at a supermarket to eat. It was a pretty apocalyptic scene, to be honest. There were eggs all over the floor. Some shelves containing non-perishable products were empty. No one went to work at the supermarket that day. So there were – out of 20 cashiers, there were only three open.

FRAYER: Outside the capital, Venezuelans share the same concerns. Fabbiana Lamboglia is an energy analyst. She lives in Maracaibo, well west of Caracas. She was awake when the attack happened.

FABBIANA LAMBOGLIA: I was just talking with friends who live in the capital, and they start like, OK, I hear planes, I hear bombs, I hear strikes. And of course, I was very nervous about the situation.

FRAYER: In his town, the traffic lights work. She has power, but that doesn’t mean things feel safe.

LAMBOGLIA: To be honest, I don’t go out if I don’t have to. I just go out to get groceries and run errands. And of course I saw queues and also at gas stations.

FRAYER: Lamboglia says what happens next is uncertain. And she told us she was scared.

Do you have hope for the future, for change?

LAMBOGLIA: That’s a difficult question. We don’t even know who runs our country. It’s not clear.

FRAYER: Right now the uncertainty is huge and people want to wait and see, Carpio says in Caracas.

CARPIO: There is what we call tensa calma, which is a tense calm.

(SOUNDBITE OF MODERATOR’S “COSMIC”)

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