The dangerous motorcycle stunts that Nicolás Maduro has turned into a national sport

El Valle, a district in the south-west of Caracas, is one of the various parts of the city where middle-class neighborhoods made up of reinforced concrete buildings coexist with the precarious shantytowns clustered on hills. The district was a very dangerous place until a few years ago. The hills of El Valle were dominated by large criminal gangs that organized kidnappings and controlled the streets at night. Today, however, crime has receded: police raids have eliminated criminal elements, while many members of the underworld have migrated, due to Venezuela’s economic crisis.

Avenida 19 de Abril is one of the several major avenues that wind through those populated hills. A stranger cannot pass through without the approval of the neighborhood leaders. On weekends, the police still clash with criminals.

On one of El Valle’s corners, between the vegetable vendors and the soft drink stands, there’s a squad of very young motorcycle taxi drivers, offering rides for between $1 or $2. Half of them are also fans of doing stunts on their motorcycles, acrobatics popularly known as “moto-pirouettes.”

El Valle is one of the epicenters of motorcycle pirouettes. This urban activity — already in existence for some time — consists of performing stunts with various types of motorcycles on expressways, basketball courts, and vacant lots. It’s a popular practice among many young people in low-income neighborhoods. Repeatedly labeled as illegal and dangerous in the past, the practice of motorcycle stunts has recently been declared a “national sport” by President Nicolás Maduro. This decree was made in the middle of the electoral campaign, in an attempt to cater to popular appetites.

Maduro has backed up his decree with tangible actions. The questionable stunts on motorcycles now have status under the state’s laws. The Bolivarian National Police even has an acrobatic squad in its motorized division, made up of some 200 officers. And the Movement for Peace and Life — attached to the Office of the President — is made up of urban stunt riders. These activists are subsidized and equipped by the government.

The squads of police officers doing complex stunts on their motorcycles was seen, for the first time, on July 5, during the military parade on Independence Day. Such activities have also been replicated at other official events, with state funding.

On the terraces of El Helicoide prison — one of the administrative headquarters of the Bolivarian National Police, today packed with political prisoners — frequent practices and exhibitions are organized, so that officials learn to master their motorcycle skills. Three months ago, the National Moto-Pirouettes Competition, promoted by the government, took place at the Poliedro de Caracas, the largest fair and concert venue in the city. There, urban legends such as Pedro Locura, a prominent exponent of the discipline, who is much-admired by the youth, stood out. Moto-pirouettes are popular in the ascending alleys of the large shantytowns in Caracas, such as Antímano, Artigas, or Petare, as well as in many medium-sized cities in the interior of the country.

Some news outlets have recently dedicated themselves to collecting stories about the multiple fatal accidents that take place across the country. Many of these occur while riders are experimenting with acrobatic routines on their motorcycles. This means of transportation is very common in poverty-stricken areas: it’s an emblem of the urban chaos of Venezuelan cities, whose use has been encouraged by the Maduro administration for many years. There have been massive imports of Chinese-made motorcycles, while factories have also been constructed locally to produce affordable models.

There’s been much talk about the risks and costs of enduring serious traumas from motorcycle stunts and crashes, especially given the precarious Venezuelan public healthcare system. The content has caused a stir on social media, resulting in rising complaints about the frequent unbridled behavior of certain motorcyclists on Caracas highways late at night. These include motorcyclists who stand up on their motorcycles, or “pop wheelies” on the highway.

Denis Jaimes is the head of the Precision Unit of the Motorized Division of the National Police. He’s in charge of 220 officers who specialize in acrobatics. He lives near the Intercommunal Avenue of El Valle, at the entrance to the hill, in a humble house. He downplays the danger of his discipline, telling EL PAÍS that “once you get the hang of it, nothing can happen to you.” On his phone, he proudly displays photographs of some of the most demanding routines he’s capable of doing. In several of them, he can be seen photographed with Interior Minister Diosdado Cabello, who served under Hugo Chávez (1999-2013) and is a powerful figure in the Maduro administration. Jaimes is a Chavista militant, but he’s not hyper-political. This is probably because he lives amidst citizen discontent.

Officer Jaimes justifies the creation of the brigade for tasks that require action in intricate spaces or narrow streets. He’s been teaching a specialized class for years and is well-known among his neighbors. Jaimes began his police career as a motorcycle cop. He explains: “We have divisions for acrobatic work in [the cities of] Maracaibo, Maracay, Nueva Esparta, and Puerto la Cruz.” He also affirms that the brigade under his command “is the most popular one in the [National Police].”

“Some people criticize the government, [but] people like motorcycles,” he shrugs. “The kids here love it, they always look for me so we can find a piece of land and practice. Soon, we’re going to organize an exhibition in the Cerro Grande area.”

Jaimes calls on the gathering crowd — the young people who know him — to tell the press what they think. “I really like practicing routines with the motorcycle, I’m learning on a piece of land near my house,” says Luis Jesús Franco, 21, who earns his living as a delivery man. Like some of his colleagues, he practices on the motorcycle without a helmet or other protective equipment. He seems to expect the question about the danger. “Nothing has happened to me. I’ve been learning and it’s what I like to do on the weekends.”

“I’m 16. I have my own bike and I spend my time doing motocross and stunts. It really relaxes me. I like the adrenaline rush it gives me,” says Luis, a local resident. “Once, my leg was starting to burn, but it didn’t get any worse than that. I like to do wheelies, I know how to move around on the seat to get into positions. I don’t even think about [danger] when I practice.”

Many boys his age — and even younger — get organized and look for experts in the field, like Officer Jaimes, to take them to places where they can practice, or get them into competitions. “I think that, instead of criticizing us, what people should do is support us, help us,” says 17-year-old Angel. “[The number of] accidents will go down when people are taught properly and when we’re given space to practice what we enjoy.”

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