The Foreign Service Journal, April 2013

42 april 2013 | the foreign Service journal As was often the case in Central America during the 1980s, Washington’s plans did not work out quite as anticipated. An Inspired Invitation I flew out to Limón early the next morning in a Costa Rican Civil Guard airplane, dressed not as a tourist—as I had been advised—but, conspicuously, as a Foreign Service officer, in my usual suit and tie. There I tried to locate my quarry, still not quite sure about my mission or how I would carry it out. As I anticipated, Means, a 6’2” American Indian man with long braids, clearly stood out in a town populated primarily by the descendants of African slaves who worked in the nearby sugar cane fields. So I only had to ask a few questions of locals to determine that he had checked into a hotel near the center of town. I asked the hotel clerk for his room number and, with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, went and knocked on his door. After a few moments, a gruff, clearly annoyed Means opened the door and asked what I wanted. I immediately identified myself and said I’d been tasked to inquire about his intentions. Before he had a chance to slam the door, I had the inspired idea to invite him to breakfast; much to my surprise, he accepted. Over eggs and pinto de gallo, an initially suspicious but increasingly forthcoming Means explained that he was about to set off with a small group of other Indian activists, including the Nicaraguan opposition leader, Brooklyn Rivera, to travel by fishing boat to the eastern Nicaragua coastal region popu- lated by Miskito Indians. The Miskitos had long bristled under central rule of the Spanish-speaking mestizos in the Nicaraguan capital of Managua, and had at one time opposed the right-wing regime of Anastasio Samoza. When the Sandinistas deposed Samoza and attempted to reassert control over the Miskito coast, relations became frayed and the indigenous groups took up arms against the revolution- ary regime. Means, a longtime critic of the U.S. government and advocate for progressive causes, intended to take what he called “an information-gathering trip” to assess the situation for himself. I wished him well and attempted to return to San José before the New Year holiday began. It took most of the day to arrange a flight (there was not yet a modern road from Limón), but I finally was able to get the Civil Guard to fly me home later that evening. The none-too-pleased pilot was pulled out of a New Year’s Eve party and, with his open champagne bottle in hand, drove me to the airport. Against what should have been my bet- ter judgement, I stayed on the little two-seater plane even after it ominously stalled on the runway. After a few swigs of cham- pagne, the pilot was able to jump-start the aircraft and, some- how, flew me back home. I dutifully reported what I had learned to the ambassador. Bad Timing A few weeks later, I discovered that colleagues of the CIA station chief had arranged for Means and his companions to bring along a radio transmitter so they could communicate with agency personnel during their journey. To evade Sandinista surveillance, the agency had instructed Means to speak only in Lakota, the language of the Sioux tribes of America’s northern plains. But as a flummoxed station chief informed me soon after the travelers set out, Means apparently didn’t speak Lakota. (I don’t know whether he really couldn’t, or simply chose not to.) Thus, the best-laid plans of America’s spy agency and its unwitting Foreign Service co-conspirator came to naught. Toward the end of January 1986, the agency got word that Means and his party had been pursued and even shot at by the Sandinistas during their journey. There were sketchy reports that some of the travelers had been wounded and would soon be coming ashore in Limón. So it was not surprising that the ambas- sador would again dispatch me there to locate the beleaguered travelers and arrange a press conference for Means to tell his side of the story. His anticipated demonization of the Sandinistas was expected to be a real propaganda coup for the U.S. I succeeded in meeting up with a bedraggled Means, who had apparently been grazed by a Sandinista bullet, and others in his party who had suffered more serious injuries. Means was livid and eager to tell the world about what he consid- ered the Nicaraguan regime’s treachery and oppression of the Miskito Indians. A hastily arranged press conference soon followed in San José, during which he and other Indian leaders did just that, much to the delight of the Reagan administration. Means even implied that he supported the ongoing U.S.-backed war to oust the Sandinistas. Stephen J. Del Rosso was a Foreign Service officer from 1982 to 1991. He is currently the Carnegie Corporation of New York’s director for international peace and security.