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In September, 2017, Hurricane Maria devastated
the American island of Puerto Rico.
At the time of this writing 12 days after the hurricane,
almost 95% of the island's residents
are still without power,
and close to half don't have clean water.
Just months prior, we shot an episode there
hoping to capture the staggering economic crisis
that Puerto Ricans were already dealing with.
So now we have to ask ourselves,
can the island ever rebuild,
and what is our responsibility as Americans
in making that a reality?
♪ I took a walk
♪ Through this beautiful world ♪
♪ Felt the cool rain on my shoulder ♪
♪ Found something good in this beautiful world ♪
♪ I felt the rain getting colder ♪
♪
♪ Sha la la la
♪ Sha la la la la la
♪ Sha la la la la
♪ Sha la la la la la la
It's the American dream, right?
What so many of us work for,
sell our labor or pieces of our souls for:
an island in the sun...
Preferably one where they speak English
and the dollar is accepted everywhere.
Puerto Rico: it's America, right?
It's ours, and we've held on to it,
fiercely at times, since 1898
after taking it by force
during the Spanish-American War.
♪
♪
I want to take you
to one of worst-performing economies
in the developed world.
$73 billion debt...
The employment rate is only 35%.
Highest sales tax of any United States jurisdiction,
11.5%.
45% live in poverty.
Biggest municipal bankruptcy in U.S. history.
Over the last ten years, more than
5% of the population has fled.
But what's it like for Puerto Ricans,
for the people who live here,
whose families have lived here for generations?
Many have left for an easier life in the States.
More keep leaving... but not all.
What do you write about most of the time?
What do you cover?
Right now, I'm covering a lot of politics.
Journalist Hermes Ayala is one of those diehards
who's sticking it out.
The more I've done
investigative and political journalism in Puerto Rico,
the more I feel a responsibility to stay here
and help out my nation.
♪
So this is Santurce.
Somebody called it on the way over
the art district?
This is sort of an art district,
but this was a barrio that was founded
by freed black slaves, right?
♪
Going through tons of transformations,
like every working-class neighborhood.
Some people think that Puerto Rico
takes advantage of the States,
but it's a two-way street.
- Right? - You know?
Right there.
This is my friend Laura right here.
- Hi, Laura. - Hi.
- How are you? - Nice to meet you.
Like everyone here, Hermes
and fellow journalist Laura Moscoso
are trying to make sense of a situation
that seems Kafka-esque at best.
So dumb question. What is Puerto Rico?
It's not a state.
It's kind of like a colony, but it's not.
It's not kind. It is.
It is a colony.
It's an unincorporated territory.
"Unincorporated territory."
- Yeah. - Yeah.
So, you know, what's that? What is that?
We're still trying to figure out sometimes, you know?
Would you say the majority of Puerto Ricans
consider themselves Americans?
Or do they consider themselves Puerto Ricans or both?
I think that they consider theirself Puerto Ricans
with the privilege of having the United States citizenship.
Yeah, but it's kind of a half-ass citizenship.
Can't vote for president.
Nor Congress.
- Or Congress. - Anything.
You don't really have much voice
in your own destiny.
Exactly. You can only go to war.
That's the only thing that you can do with right.
Right. But Puerto Rico owes, what, $75 billion right now?
- 72, yeah. - 72.
I don't see statehood.
I don't see Congress or Senate ever...
Me neither.
Ever taking on a $72 billion debt load,
especially for a lot of people who speak Spanish.
Exactly.
What's the way out of this?
Oh, my God.
What about tourism?
It's an industry of services
to service the wealthy.
And then at the same time, you take $450 million
out of the university, for example,
so you're gonna have less educated people
willing to do any type of work...
To survive.
You are not really producing an economy
that a person can survive in, you know?
This is a country where people live,
where we do things.
And we have culture and literature and music
and produce intellectual, important work.
They are selling us as only a good resort
to have a piña colada in the beach and that's it.
We actually invented piña coladas, so...
Even though we are, like, getting over by...
- Vultures. - Yeah, a lot of vultures.
The people of Puerto Rico are good people,
and I think that we are gonna get past this.
The situation here is truly grave.
So how exactly did Puerto Rico find itself
so deeply and seemingly irrevocably screwed?
In the early '70s,
things were looking pretty good for Puerto Rico.
A tax incentive was introduced,
which helped lure dozens of major companies to the island,
employing significant numbers of people.
But when that incentive expired in 2006,
concurrent with a major recession in the States,
those companies packed up and left.
Thousands of Puerto Ricans followed,
looking for jobs that no longer existed on the island.
The tax base shrunk drastically,
creating a dire need for cash
to shore up basic needs and services.
So along came the municipal bond,
a big, fat IOU that appeared to be salvation
for a near-broke government.
They're sexy for investors, triple exempt from taxes,
and bond owners buying Puerto Rican debt
would have to be paid back before anyone.
That's anyone.
Hedge funds, or vulture funds,
as they are often referred to in these cases,
had profited from similarly desperate situations
in Greece, Argentina, and Detroit.
As the situation worsened for Puerto Rico,
you could buy up more and more bonds
for pennies on the dollar.
This was a fire sale too sweet to pass up.
And the resulting insurmountable debt,
it means drastic austerity measures
determined by an unelected board
who have near absolute power to raise taxes;
empty teachers' pension plans;
close down schools, hospitals;
basically squeeze every dollar out of Puerto Rico
to pay back the funds.
Every Puerto Rican is being made to feel the pain.
I mean, I know schools are closing, yes?
Last year, 240 schools closed.
- Last year alone. - In the last two years.
This year, there's a list of 300 schools
that are "in risk" of shutting down.
Born in Puerto Rico?
I was born in Chicago, Illinois.
In Chicago.
My family came back
mostly because our family was here.
Puerto Ricans want the family to stick together.
If you can live close to each other,
the better.
I decided to stay,
because I wanted my kids to grow up here.
Better times.
Better times, of course.
What changed?
The government took too much in loans
and couldn't pay them back.
So they kept putting taxes on the people,
the working-class people like me,
and we cannot pay them.
Like many professionals here,
Liza-Marie Cordova would probably have
an easier time of it in the States.
But she chooses to stay.
With the crisis here in Puerto Rico,
mostly I think about my kids.
Will they have the options to stay here
and work and have a family?
Okay, so where are we?
We are at Casa Vieja in Ciales.
This is a typical 1960, '50 grandmother's house.
And the food is grandma food?
It is grandma food, actually.
Those are corn fritters with ham.
Typical Sunday after Saturday party.
Hangover food.
Delicious.
Thank you.
So this is like a plantain soup.
Mmm. Ooh, that's good.
The specialty here is pastel al caldero,
pork marinated in bitter orange,
taro root, green plantains, squash,
and garbanzo beans slow cooked.
And morcilla, blood sausage,
one of my favorite things.
Is good?
It's fantastic.
Teachers here are being asked to pay into a pension system
that has been described as a Ponzi scheme.
You pay 10% of your income into your pension plan
out of every paycheck.
The money you're paying in now
is being used to pay...
The ones that are retired right now.
The ones who are retiring right now:
in a pyramid scheme, the top of the pyramid.
But by the time it gets down to you,
who've been paying in for your entire life...
There's no money left.
I worry about my future.
I don't know what I'm gonna live off.
I have two jobs in order to pay my bills,
have my car, have my house, pay for my kids' education.
Right.
There's no way, with one job as a teacher,
I can do that.
So how do you continue?
I know I could get paid triple in the States.
But I don't want to give up my country.
My kids see how their parents struggle.
Things can change if only one stands up
and decides, "I'm gonna do this."
Right.
But we have to empower those children.
We have to make them believe they can change it,
that there's a better life for them.
And I'm getting emotional,
because sometimes I feel that I've failed.
I cannot save all of them.
That's the truth.
But I can save a lot,
and that's my job.
So that's what I'm going to do.
I have hope. I have faith.
I'm taking a jump of faith.
It's Semana Santa, holy week before Easter,
clearly not a casual affair here.
This is a predominantly Catholic country still,
pounded in deep after 400 years
as part of the Spanish empire.
♪
Today the flag of the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico
waves proudly beside Old Glory.
American citizens all.
Puerto Rico has come into its own,
a real democracy.
♪
More than 100 years under the wing of the U.S.
has left Puerto Rico without any real economic engine
beyond tourism.
The old industries are no longer wanted, needed,
or are no longer economically viable.
Agriculture,
manufacturing,
trade
have all shrunk drastically,
and the island is dependent on U.S. exports
for just about everything.
♪
So where are we?
We are in Loíza.
After the liberation of the slaves in the island,
this is where all the Africans and the slaves get together
and establish themself.
Despite or many because of the economic turmoil,
Pedro Alvarez Cortez saw an opportunity
to make something.
We keep working the formula
until my grandmother say, "Whoa, this is very good.
Give me more."
Using the traditional work,
that what make us successful.
At a local beach in Loíza,
about 45 minute outside San Juan,
a crab shack that's one of his favorites.
Oh, my God, look at that.
- Outstanding. - Excellent.
What do we got here, land crab?
- Land crab, yeah. - And?
This is coconut arepa.
What do you think?
Bang them?
Yeah, just knock it and open like a lobster...
There you go. You see?
Oh, there we go.
They're very sweet, the meat.
They just leave it for a few weeks in the cage.
- Yeah? - Feed it with grains
to take away the flavor of the mangrove.
Why did you think sausage?
I had the experience as a child in Puerto Rico.
I knew the necessity... Right.
There was in the restaurant for good-quality sausages.
So I put my little kitchen to make the experiment,
and I worked over that.
Where were they getting their sausage before you?
Yeah, from the mountains.
From the mountains. Oh, under the table.
Yeah, but under the table.
They were not inspectioned by the USDA.
Can you use entirely Puerto Rican products?
I'm in the process.
I use the pork shoulder,
and there is nobody in Puerto Rico
that produce that.
Now, that's [...] up, right?
I mean, correct me if I'm wrong.
I mean, the Spanish generally brought pigs with them.
Yeah.
You can certainly raise pigs here, no problem.
There's the land for it.
Why is no one raising pigs in Puerto Rico?
90% of the pork meat in Puerto Rico
is come from the States.
Our prices is very hard to compete.
But that is changing.
We still have the resources and the talent.
That is the most powerful tool that we got,
the talent that... you know, to see an opportunity
and working forward to that.
We have a great generation of young agriculturists
that instead of going from the countryside to the city
to work in a bank or some big companies,
they're going back to the countryside, you know?
They don't need nobody to tell,
"Hey, you can do it."
They just make the click.
So there's hope.
Yeah, humbly, I can say me and my family are an example
of what you can do with the tools you got.
- Well said, man. - Yeah.
These are delicious.
- You can squeeze... - Yeah.
A little like that.
Yeah, believe me. That used to be my job.
I used to have to squeeze all the lobster legs
with a rolling pin.
Oh!
Puerto Rico is still unarguably rich in one thing:
natural splendor.
Beautiful views.
Unspoiled coastline.
But that, too, is in peril.
My name is Pocho.
I was born and raised in Aguadilla.
This space is so special to me personally,
because, yes, I'm a surfer,
and I've been surfing here all my life.
I want my son to be able to keep coming here.
It's so open,
so free of all of these pollutions,
all this mayhem.
Pocho and his fellow activists
have occupied Playuela,
trying to serve as human shields
against the encroachment of a planned development
that would transform this place into a massive resort
named, appropriately or inappropriately enough,
after Christopher Columbus.
This is a resistant town.
Just a hypothetical question.
If the beach is public, what's the problem?
The project.
It's not a building; it's a megaproject.
It's a five-star hotel, 120 villas, a mini mall.
"The biggest casino in the Caribbean"...
That's how they sell it.
And two parking lots four stories high.
We're talking, like, poof, poof, poof,
poof, poof, poof, poof, poof... you know?
It's not sustainable.
If they roll in the bulldozers right now
with a whole bunch of police, what do you do?
Civil disobedience.
We go stop in front of the machines,
and we'll give them time for the lawyers
to do their case in the court
and whatnot and whatnot.
Oh, you got some lawyers here.
Yeah, I got all the lawyers.
- Lawyers go to the beach? - Yes, man, hey.
The chef is making sancocho,
the stew of beef, veal, and sausages.
And there's some fresh-caught grouper
and red snapper.
There aren't many places left like this; that's the point.
That's worth something. Yeah, exactly.
The tourism business in the Caribbean
is going through a lot of changes.
In the short term, developers and construction
get paid a lot of money for pouring concrete.
But everybody's gonna be going to Cuba in a few years.
Why? Because it's unspoiled.
They haven't [...] it up yet.
So that's why we have to start talking the same language.
You said it, profit.
They talk profit, right?
Let's show them that there is profit
is nature unspoiled.
That reef back there provides us
with millions of dollars' worth of services:
fish, tourism, protection from hurricanes annually.
That produces a service to us as a community.
So if you all of a sudden destroy it,
you start losing money.
Could you conceivably settle for a revised project,
meaning, okay, no casino, no giant hotel?
An eco lodge for super-rich people.
In Nicaragua, they have a lot of these things
that are developed around communities.
Costa Rica, you know, and places like that, you know,
the government is conscious about the environment
and the amount of money
that that environment and the ecosystem brings
to the economy.
Do you have any faith in your government at all?
- No. - No.
We are a colony.
We are an island surrounded by water,
and we don't produce almost, like, 90%
of the things we consume,
which makes us needy.
It makes us a third-world country.
Third-world country which belongs
to the most powerful nation.
There's a lot of motivation
in the people of Puerto Rico right now.
It's not about independence or not.
It's about what is right, what the people needs.
It's coming out of the comfort shell
and realizing that if you don't do anything right now,
we're just gonna get run over.
Other Puerto Ricans who want to quit, they can leave.
I won't quit.
♪
Puerto Rico is, of course, easy to love.
♪
I sure do,
firstly because Puerto Rican culture,
as a New Yorker since age 17,
was part of the cell tissue
of the city I've lived in so long.
♪
There are many layers to the culture here.
♪
First, of course, were the Taino,
the indigenous peoples of the islands,
then the Spanish, followed by African slaves.
♪
This tradition probably goes all the way back.
Oh, look at that.
As old-school and as awesome as it gets.
A timeless classic,
something that's been good forever.
The baby's in the house.
- Pretty. - Beautiful, huh?
A great idea that will never be
anything less than great.
Put a pig on a stick, and turn him slowly, slowly
over a low fire.
Want some of the skin?
Oh, hell, yeah.
- Cheers. - Mm.
25 minutes up into the hills from San Juan,
an institution that celebrates pork,
the whole damn pig,
in ways that can only be described as spiritual.
He's a Puerto Rican samurai.
He's incredible.
Lechonera El Rancho de Apa is one of many such places.
But this one?
This one is special.
Apa Ramos has, for nearly 50 years of his life,
been perfecting the art
of the perfect slow-roasted suckling pig.
He starts work at 4:00 a.m.
It takes six hours on the slowly, slowly turning spit
to get it right.
Good knowledge, rotation, fire, time,
mastering the heat,
because there is no thermometer or anything.
And you can see, like, it's really crispy
because still really, really juicy.
Mmm. Mmm.
It's incredible.
Well, what's that? That looks...
- That's stew. - Right.
And it use all the inner parts.
It's one of my favorites.
Apa's sister, Rosa Maria,
begins her day making gandinga, a traditional stew
made from pigs' heart, liver, and kidneys.
That's really nice.
Now, how's business?
'Cause the economy has been tough.
Do lechoneras feel it,
or people are always gonna buy that?
Everybody has felt it:
the lechoneras, restaurants, food trucks, everybody.
But whole hog is, like, more a family gathering.
This is something so classic,
I think that they're the least gonna feel it.
Chef Xavier Pacheco
favors Puerto Rican dishes and ingredients
that have been largely forgotten.
When you go to another place and they tell you,
"Yeah, yeah, I went to McDonald's
when I went to Puerto Rico," that sucks.
I hate that,
because we have a lot of really good stuff here,
and it's our job to keep it alive
and show it to the world and say,
"Hey, we are more than a fast food."
We got to go back to farming.
'Cause you don't want to be buying everything from imports.
Of course.
In my restaurant, I started six years ago
with just two farmers.
Now we have more than 15, 16 farmers.
It's like a chain.
You go to many farmers, and you ask, like,
"This type of root vegetable."
And they don't have it,
because people stopped buying the local root vegetable,
because the imported one is a whole lot cheaper,
and that's all they have in their mind.
But if you go to a farmer and you tell the farmer,
"I'm gonna buy your product,"
the farmer is gonna start having the product.
"Pay more" is a hard argument to make
when people are struggling.
But if we don't change our mind, Tony,
I don't know what's gonna happen with the island.
Do people listen if you say,
"Look, it's not particularly patriotic;
"you're not helping your country
by eating at McDonald's or shopping at Walmart"?
Uh, yes.
Yeah?
But like I tell you, Tony,
we have a lot of different types of Puerto Ricans.
We have Puerto Rican that, "Yes, I love my island,"
but they don't think more ahead.
They simply think, "I'm happy with what I have."
The other type of Puerto Rican,
they know that it's gonna be hard,
but they want to grow, want to keep learning,
want to stay here,
want to develop what they have in the island.
This is a good argument for it, man.
This is incredible.
Yeah, yeah.
Could eat this all day.
In the "life doesn't suck" department,
this is way up there,
a means of conveyance I find quite comfortable.
Barefoot and a bit drunk, pleasantly burned by the sun,
lunch approaches.
If you need any prep done, any knife work,
just let me know.
Got to put some avocado in there.
- Got to have it. - Yeah.
First time using a knife?
Well, it's been a while.
You got talent.
Yeah, if this TV thing falls through,
I can always work at Denny's.
Man, looking great.
All these dishes are traditional Holy Friday food.
This one is salted cod marinated in coconut milk.
And then we seared it with some root vegetables.
And boiled eggs from our farmers.
Here we have the... Escabeche.
Escabeche, yeah.
So, like, five fish marinated or pickled.
It's fried local mackerel,
and then I roast all the vegetable
and cure it for at least a week.
Oh, the salt dish is good.
Coconut milk really takes that salty...
Mm-hmm.
Damn, who made that avocado salad?
It's awesome. No, the chef is awesome.
Eh, I don't know.
Vieques is officially within
the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico,
the main island a mere eight miles away.
It is phenomenally peaceful here,
but it hasn't always been that way.
For over 60 years,
the island was used as a bombing range
for the U.S. Navy and for training exercises.
The soil is rich with depleted uranium,
Agent Orange, and the kind of good stuff left over
after 60 years of explosives raining down on it.
Many see a clear connection between that recent history
and a cancer rate that is 30% higher
than the rest of Puerto Rico.
While the navy works to clean up what it left,
Vieques tries to deal with the financial crisis
in its own ways.
Chef Erica Boulogne grew up here
and has raised her family here.
♪
She invited me to a meal in her home.
Joining us are her mother and son, Carlitos,
her two nieces, and her best friend, Elda.
Now, where was the bombing range?
Pretty close here.
Two miles after this, maybe less.
This was part of the navy land.
When did the navy stop using Vieques
as a bombing range?
- 2003. - 2003.
Oh, that's not that long ago.
So you'd be eating lunch, and you'd hear, "Boom, boom"?
- Basically. - Yes.
Yeah, sometimes.
And still they detonate bombs.
This is leftover ordnance.
Yeah, this is, like, the cleanup process.
They gather the unexploded munitions,
and then they detonate them all together.
And the house move with the bombing.
It's like the middle of the war.
Adam, so you've lived here for how long?
- All my life. - Me too.
All my life in Vieques.
I've been drinking a fair amount of this lately.
This one is flavored with...
- Acerola. - Acerola.
All right, who's joining me?
Adults only.
- Salut. - Salut.
Mmm, good.
I'm not driving after this.
Lobsters
with mashed yautia and yuca from the garden,
conch salad, and coconut arepa.
It's really beautiful here.
This is not San Juan; this is much more lush and...
- Light, no fast food. - Born and raised in paradise.
Beautiful beaches, awesome sunsets.
The whole world wants what you have already.
How's the economy here?
Bankruptcy.
We are like the colony of a colony.
Basically, the biggest employer is the municipal government.
Wait a minute.
The number one employer on Vieques
is the government.
Yes, the municipal government.
- The local government. - Yeah.
We also have this dynamic
that people that study and make a profession,
10% come back, and that's a high number.
There's no jobs for them.
So our population is getting older,
and it's formed by retired people.
Right. Where they going?
Main island or United States.
What's the plan when you guys grow up?
What do you want to do?
I want to be a chef.
A chef?
Good for you. That's hard.
Your dream restaurant, where would it be?
- The main island. - You see?
Yeah, so in 20 years...
It's scary.
Who's gonna live...
- Not our kids. - Who will own Vieques?
I mean, who will be in charge?
Not locals. Not people that studied here.
The land is too expensive for the local people.
So this'll be vacation homes for wealthy people
from other countries.
- Yeah, yeah. - Basically.
- Yeah. - Who will save Puerto Rico?
Who will save Vieques?
It ain't gonna be Big Daddy America.
- It's ourselves. - But how?
How? I don't know.
I don't know how.
Life on Vieques offers the kind of freedom,
the kind of beautiful views
that have largely disappeared in the developed world.
But life can be difficult.
There is little agriculture or economy
to sustain the people who live here.
At one of the highest spots in Vieques,
the sea visible in the distance,
is Finca Conciencia, a small but sustainable farm
founded by Jorge Cora Peña,
intent on providing locals and area restaurants
with fruits, vegetables, honey, and medicinal herbs.
My name is Ana Elisa Pérez Quintero.
I live and work in La Finca Conciencia.
We run a productive and educational
agricultural project.
We farm.
We have the land and the resources
to produce food that is economically viable,
that is self-sustaining without a lot of investment.
It's liberating.
Jorge cooks lunch.
Mero, or grouper,
stuffed with lobster and white eggplant...
Wrapped in banana leaves and grilled over mesquite.
Mangu is mashed plantains with sofrito.
All right. That looks good.
And what's this here? And that's pitorro.
Oh, I know what that is. I'll have a shot of that.
Actually, we call it "lágrima de monte,"
like, "teardrop of the mountain."
Will I be crying afterwards?
Maybe.
It's very intense.
- Salut. - Salut.
How long have you had this farm?
How long have you been doing this?
Jorge started the farm around ten years now,
but the farm was originally part of the area
that the navy took.
Oh, yeah.
And so it's part of the rescues that happened
throughout the '80s, '90s.
Farming is difficult work.
- Yeah. - So why?
My mom would ask the same question.
She was like, "What are you doing?
Are you quitting your job that"...
In Puerto Rico, it's really hard to find a good job.
But I think that farming is the most practical thing
that we can do in the midst of a crisis.
It is something that is gonna create work.
It's gonna help the economy.
It's a blunt question,
but can you make money farming?
In Puerto Rico, it's still a challenge,
because, obviously, we get a lot of food
that's super subsidized from the U.S.
But there are people who are our neighbors
are like, "I'll pay more."
Like, how much is it worth, you know?
People really value the work
when they see that we're working for it.
It's part of a statement.
It's part of educating people.
Since our generation, supermarket, supermarket.
We were consciously stripped away from farming.
People were forced out of the country
to be able to work
in all of these maquiladoras and everything.
Kids here were completely disconnected from...
And my generation... From where things grow.
Like, we do an exercise with local schools,
and kids here draw a plantain growing like a lettuce.
I mean, the last thing in the world the States wants
is for Puerto Rico to become sustainable,
because it means you're gonna buy less stuff.
Less snacks, less Pepsi,
less American products.
We don't like that.
If we don't have our own food supply,
we can't even think about really being able
to govern ourselves.
Really, if we can feed ourselves,
we can free ourselves.
He says that the message in itself is you, no?
Like, to start with you,
to teach by doing, by the work, no?
♪
Hello. Hello, hi.
- Hola. - My friends.
- Hola, hi. - Nice to meet you.
- Hi. - Hello.
- Want some beer? - Yeah, sure.
It's so beautiful here.
- Salut. - Salut.
Tito Alver is a beloved singer-songwriter.
Picture with you.
Cristina Rivera Miro is his fiancée.
He lives on the outskirts of Vega Alta,
where he grew up.
I've been playing for 20 years now.
I write very specific songs
about my town, my country.
I'm not trying to sell any dreams,
but I tell everybody that we have it inside of us
to make it to the other side.
You want to come inside and meet the chefs,
if you want to?
In the kitchen,
they're putting together quite the feast.
How are you, man? My bass player and chef.
You've got someone in the band who can cook?
I know, right? On the road, it's not so bad.
Essential.
♪
Salut.
♪
Mollejas con guineitos,
sautéed chicken gizzards and green bananas.
All right, that's good.
Cod fish fritters.
- Incredible. - Amazing.
Carne guisada, a beef stew cooking since morning.
♪
Traditional mofongo.
♪
This is like a blue-collar food, you know?
And these guys do a nice twist to it.
And you make a living as a working musician?
- I do. - Just on the island?
But I'm lucky.
I'm one of the few ones.
You can play around the island,
but it's really hard to get heard.
Everything comes from the outside.
The radio stations don't support local music.
Do you have any faith in your political leadership?
- No. - No.
Every... every time I ask this question,
nobody pauses.
- We don't think about it. - They go, "No."
It's no hesitation. "No."
You know why, Tony?
What happened with us
is that you don't know where the blame is.
You don't know if you want to blame Washington for this.
You don't know if you have to blame our leaders for that.
Why would a bank front $70-plus billion
into an economy that had been in decline
for quite some time?
Did they ever really have any reasonable expectation
of getting their money back?
Or was this a cheap way of buying a country?
- Yeah. - Yeah.
Thank you.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
We need the money, so develop whatever.
We're giving it all away.
It feels like they're selling out the country
and they're pushing us out.
That's what it feels like.
What about move on, you know, go to Florida?
I still want to live here.
I still want to have that view.
I still want to...
Breathe this air.
We should get the chance to just be ourselves, you know?
I'd rather have us dealing with it
than being in no control at all of anything,
like we are right now.
We need to change the way we think.
We have been taught that we can't do it.
We are preconditioned to think
that we need that support of the U.S.
If we decide to be an independent country,
we have to go through a process of being on our own,
and we have never done that.
We have to start from scratch.
We don't have agriculture.
We don't have any economic... Production.
Production, anything.
It's gonna be tough,
and I hope that we can fight for ourselves
to inspire people, to give them strength to resist.
Obviously, music is good for that.
♪
Un, dos, tres. Ya!
♪
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