Ecuador chooses president against backdrop of gang violence

“The entire town feels like it is in a pandemic, locked up without being able to go out and enjoy our lives due to violence.”

That is how “Jorge” – not his real name – feels about his neighbourhood of Guayaquil, a city in southern Ecuador.

His father, Marcos Elías León Maruri, was kidnapped there by the Los Tiguerones gang.

A person is killed every two hours in Ecuador and seven are kidnapped daily, according to government figures.

That’s why security is the top issue for voters ahead of the first round of the presidential election on Sunday, in which incumbent Daniel Noboa is being challenged by 15 other candidates.

Whoever wins will be tasked with restoring security to the country, which has gone from being one of the safest to among the most dangerous in the region.

The surge in violence is partly down to Ecuador’s location, and the soaring demand for cocaine in the drug’s biggest markets like the US, the UK, and Europe.

Much of the world’s cocaine, from coca leaves grown in Colombia and Peru, leaves the continent through Ecuador’s ports, and powerful gangs battle to control this lucrative route.

Many of these gangs also engage in kidnapping for ransom.

Mr Maruri was one of their victims.

Hours after he was seized, Jorge received a text. It read: “I have your father. How much will you pay for the life of your family?”

The next morning, he received a video showing his father tied up with his finger being cut off.

The gang initially demanded $100,000 (£80,000).

Jorge didn’t have it and began negotiating: “They wanted $30,000 or they would cut off another finger.”

Jorge scrambled to offer them $5,000 and his television, PlayStation and car.

Just as the captors had agreed on a handover, police called him. They’d found a corpse resembling his father.

“They had left my father’s body with his finger in a bottle tied to his hand – as a mockery.”

Jorge’s life has since unravelled. He rarely leaves his home, now plastered with CCTV cameras he anxiously monitors.

His wife and daughter have fled the country. He doesn’t go to work any more because the gang know the location.

The current government under President Daniel Noboa has responded to the surge in violence by militarising the streets, giving police heightened powers to use force and raid buildings, and by building new maximum-security prisons.

Jorge supports these measures but criticises the justice system.

“The government is working hard against corruption and equipping the police a lot. But it is of no use if the justice system sets them free. They care more about their rights than ours.”

While some, like Jorge, back Noboa’s measures, others feel they enable human rights abuses – a key tension in this election.

I put this to Major Cristian Aldaz, from the Federal Police, during a raid in the violence-wracked city of Durán, as heavily armed security forces detained a man accused of kidnap and murder.

“Human rights, yes, but what about human rights for good people? We’re in a war. Mafias use machine guns, grenades. The militarisation aims to establish peace,” he says.

Polls still have Noboa as the front-runner, but he has lost some ground in recent months to his main rival, Luisa González of the left-wing Citizen Revolution movement.

On the campaign trail, González has promised human rights training for the security forces – although she also expressed support for the militarisation and tougher policing, including pledging 20,000 new officers.

There is one case, in particular, that has made many Ecuadoreans fear the indiscriminate use of force by the security forces.

Last year, four teenagers were seized by the military over an alleged theft when coming back from playing football.

Their mutilated, burned bodies were later found.

Sixteen soldiers have been detained and charged with the boys’ “forced disappearance” and are under investigation for murder.

They deny this, saying they eventually let the boys go.

The bedroom of two of the boys – Ismael and Josué Arroyo – is typical of that of many teenagers: littered with clothes and football posters.

Their father, Luis, clutches their football boots with raw grief. It’s like he cannot believe that his sons’ feet won’t fill them again.

“Ismael wanted to fulfil his dream to be a professional footballer. A dream taken away by these soldiers,” he cries.

The only identifiable remains left of Ismael and Josué were a finger and a foot.

Luis’s anger and upset at the soldiers is clear.

“It’s not like they caught and executed four dogs. They took four children away. Then went home for dinner.”

“We want justice,” he adds. “Children continue to be taken by the military and the government does nothing.”

The anger the case has stirred may well lead some people to try and punish President Noboa at the ballot box.

Luisa González, the woman hoping to defeat Noboa, has demanded justice and government resignations over the boys’ deaths.

Some voters argue that Noboa’s policies are just not working.

A public transport worker in Durán, who didn’t want to be named, says gangs are calling him to extort money even from within maximum-security prisons.

He describes how gang members force drivers to pay “vacunas” (Spanish for vaccines, the term used to refer to the daily extortion fees) to avoid attacks.

“There are colleagues who have already gone bankrupt. I haven’t worked since they almost killed me,” he tells me.

Other critics point to a poor economy, with particularly high youth unemployment making young people vulnerable to gang recruitment.

Slow responses to last year’s drought also worsened hardships across the country, which relies on hydropower for 80% of its electricity, with power outages lasting up to 14 hours.

One of those affected was Christian Guerrero.

The 40-year-old, who lives in a poorer neighbourhood of Guayaquil, says the constant blackouts broke both his refrigerator and his TV.

He agrees with the opposition that there’s “no plan” to prevent further outages.

The election comes about a year after President Noboa militarised the country through emergency decrees.

For Carlos and Laura Ipaneque it’s also about a year since their son, Carlos Javier Vega, was killed.

He’d panicked at a checkpoint when he heard gunshots and drove off, instead of stopping, causing the military to shoot him dead.

His parents illustrate the lose-lose dilemma many Ecuadoreans feel.

They live in a gated street, their house surrounded by metal bars, terrified of gang violence.

“Crime continues, robberies continue, kidnappings continue, extortions continue,” Laura explains.

But some now fear the crackdown too.

“I don’t want other people to have the pain that we have,” Laura says through tears.

For many voters, this election hinges on whether they see the problem as worse than the cure.