Work starts early for the fishermen of Chichiriviche de la Costa, a remote village on the Caribbean coast of Venezuela, some two hours of unpaved driving from the capital Caracas. On Thursday, Eduard Ulloa, 47, was at the shore before six in the morning, ready to prepare his boat for the day's catch. A US strike on a Venezuelan speedboat allegedly carrying drugs that killed 11 people just a couple of days ago has created big waves in the world of geopolitics, fueling suspicions in Caracas that Washington is trying to topple the regime of President Nicolas Maduro – a man accused by the US of trafficking drugs (a charge he vehemently denies) and on whose head a $50 million bounty rests. That deadly strike, which followed the deployment of several US warships to the Caribbean on what Washington says is an effort to combat drug cartels, took place on the same seas on which the fishermen of Chichiriviche ply their trade every day. Yet, unlike their president – who has responded to the US deployment by mobilizing some 4.5 million militiamen to defend the country from what he has described as the "biggest threat seen on our continent in the last 100 years" – these fishermen seem untroubled. "Nothing has changed for us, everyone is chill," Ulloa told CNN. Just a few hundred people live in Chichiriviche, and some 70 families depend on fishing for their subsistence, so not taking the boats out is unthinkable. All the fishermen agree: As long as the government doesn't issue orders to the contrary, they will continue as normal. "You can be a little worried," said Ulloa, a father of three, "But one way or another we must go out, otherwise what are we going to eat? This is our daily bread." Ulloa was among dozens of men that day who boarded their small glass-fiber boats in groups of three, armed with nets and lines to hunt for tuna, snapper and groupers to bring back and sell in Caracas. For many Venezuelans, there is a far more immediate concern than their government's troubles: Millions of them earn just a handful of dollars a month, barely enough to survive. The Venezuelan economy has long been troubled by chronic inefficiencies and historically subject to hyperinflationary cycles. Despite a brief boom in business that followed the pandemic, in recent months a slump has set in once again. The minimum wage is now worth less than one US dollar, although the government – which sits on the world's largest oil reserves – complements it with extra handouts and subsidies. On the streets of Caracas, word of the US strike is on everyone's lips, but beyond being a popular talking point most people here are keeping calm and carrying on – while doing their best to stay afloat. "Tension is surely there, but I'm busy working and trying to make my products, so I don't think about it," says Gilberto Salas, an ice-cream maker in the central Caracas neighborhood of Chacao. "My mind is set on working and the nation moves forward by working: I simply hope for a future when it's companies and entrepreneurs who come to our shores," he added. But the prospect of American firms and businessmen coming to Venezuela's economic aid any time soon – at least, outside the booming oil industry – seems dim. The US has imposed financial sanctions on Venezuela, which date back to the Barack Obama administration and have grown under Trump, freezing government assets and prohibiting economic transactions with the country. These sanctions, the US claims, are meant to target rampant corruption and human rights abuses in the country, as well as its leaders' undermining of democracy. However, while the measures have done little to lessen Maduro's grip on power – he was recently returned for a third consecutive six-year term in office following a widely discredited election – they have deepened the economic problems facing ordinary Venezuelans, with Maduro claiming the sanctions are really part of an "economic war." What was once the fifth-largest economy in Latin America has suffered chronic shortages of vital goods and soaring inflation under Maduro's watch – pushing millions to flee, including thousands who have trekked north to the US' southern border. Rather than attempt to mend relations with the US, Maduro has dug in his heels by cozying up to one of its biggest competitors, China. On Wednesday, just hours after Chinese leader Xi Jinping showed off his country's military might in a massive military parade in Beijing, Maduro welcomed the Chinese ambassador on to a stage in Venezuela, where he inaugurated a monument to the Chinese victory against Japan in the Second World War before boasting about the close ties between the two countries. And, while Maduro is yet to comment on the boat strike specifically, he did not pull his punches against the US. "Today, imperialism launches a new offensive. It's not the first and it's not going to be the last. Just another offensive, but Venezuela is standing (...) We are good people, people of peace, but let it be known: We are warriors, fierce when they mess with our land, our history and our rights," he said, fists in the air. Twelve months after Maduro's disputed victory in the presidential election – a vote in which the government did not publish a final vote count, and which prompted a vast international outcry – the government's repressive machinery continues. The Maduro government cracked down heavily on the protests that broke out following the vote, as it has in previous bouts of unrest, using security forces that have long supported Maduro and his predecessor, the late Hugo Chavez. They have repeatedly detained dissenting voices, including protesters, activists and a former presidential candidate. In Caracas today, military police in balaclavas and without insignia regularly patrol the streets. On Thursday morning, opposition party Vente Venezuela denounced the detention of Julio Velazco, a local activist involved with the campaign of Maria Corina Machado, the main opposition leader who is still in hiding after the authoritarian push that followed the election. Velazco's whereabouts are still unknown; authorities often wait days to address reports of what are popularly known in Venezuela as "forced disappearances," a spokesperson for the party told CNN. CNN contacted the authorities regarding Velazco's case and received no answer. The government routinely fails to respond to media inquiries about "forced disappearances." According to PROVEA, a human rights group that has been active in the country for more than 30 years, such "forced disappearances" have become so common they've become "institutionalized." Between September last year and May, the group documented 23 cases in which community leaders and opposition activists had been in hidden detention for months before either being released or presented to a court to formalize an arrest. Amid such a backdrop, many in Venezuela are understandably reluctant to comment when asked for their views in front of a rolling camera. When the camera is off, they tend to be far more open. "If the Marines would land on the beach and take Maduro out?" a young Venezuelan man whispered to CNN as he looked to the sea, "We are going to welcome them with open arms." — CNN
