Landing in Caracas just before last November's elections for governors, mayors and legislators, I found a city ravaged by ten years of the Chávez regime, pocked with the colourful posters of grinning candidates. Caraqueños - as Caracas inhabitants are called - have been torn apart by a low-level civil war of chavistas (as his supporters are called) versus opposition, with campaign posters standing in for gang colours. A preponderance of red means you're in a chavista area. Red portraits of Chávez himself painted on the walls means you are not in the Country Club any more, Toto. I drive until the posters turn blue, green or yellow.

Chávez has held a Wizard of Oz sway since he burst on to the political scene as a putschist general with his failed coup in February 1992. His one-minute TV appearance to call back his troops would make him a cult hero and change Latin America forever when he said his quest for social justice was unsuccessful "por ahora" ("for now"). But prevail he did at the next election, riding a wave of anger and riots all the way to the presidential palace.

In his decade as president, Chávez has parlayed socioeconomic resentment into near-invincibility. But the chinks in the armour were there for all to see in December 2007, when he lost a referendum on the constitutional changes that would have extended his dictatorial powers to rule by decree, suspending civil rights and effectively making him president for life. He quickly turned defiant: "For me, this isn't a defeat. This is por ahora."

Whether it was or not would be determined on 23 November, and no one was taking any chances. Chávez delivered fiery speeches every day, broadcast live on all six state TV stations before oceans of red. Ignoring his rants, the opposition toiled on. But would they be able to win over the throngs of chavistas?

Chavistas come in four broad categories. First, there are the poor ones. These are the ignorant and desperate hordes, filling the TV screens at every Chávez rally with a sea of red shirts that the rally organisers bribe them to wear with a combination of money and alcohol. They earn more by attending a rally than they would with an honest day's work, if they could get it. Regardless of their poverty, they continue to revere Chávez like a personal god or conquering hero, for he looks and sounds like them as he rants against the wealthy.