What It’s Like To Live In The Chaos Of Venezuela
I would like to apologize for the effusivity of this words, but it’s hard to organize your thoughts when judgment has been blinded by such impunity and injustice. I’m speaking from helplessness, yes I am. Also from indignation. But do not misunderstand my speech with that of someone who hasn’t thoroughly thought of his words, or analyzed meticulously the situation. After all, living in a country like Venezuela ends up building you up in state of constant alert. Who better to confront the danger that’s stalking us? Who, but the Venezuelan, should fight this hard? We should, yes, we should. But is someone listening to us?
The recent events aren’t incidental, nor are they the product of a macabre plan orchestrated by imperial interests, fascists or the international extreme right-wing. Any epithet that the national government tried to foist to The Resistance is a despicable lie with the intention to detract from the true origin of the manifestations: our war against death and violence.
Many are yet to understand that peace can only be achieved through justice. And, in a stage where regular media, be it republican or democrat, is completely besieged, there shouldn’t be a doubt that the results will be violent.
It is a basic equation: a complete polarization that subsides in absolute despotism.
The truth is this: there is no ideological medium or political speech capable of excusing or legitimating the abuse that this country has been submitted to. Unfortunately, this abuse, is hardly known due to a prodigious measure of self-censorship by our own mass media. The INFORMATION is being BANNED, and its flow: AMPUTATED. That being the case, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to no one that what little information other countries can get access to is but a farce that has nothing to do with the reality we’re living.
Let’s synthesize:
We’ve been on the streets for a week. Some areas of the country have known hell and persecution. The states of Táchira and Mérida have seen the blood of their children flow at the hand of thugs protected by the government. Two weeks earlier, during the celebration of the Caribbean Series (an annual sport event), the state of Nueva Esparta has known repression from the police, and the government tried to justify it by alluding to the same old speech: it was us, the ones who don’t have the rightful monopoly of violence, the ones who are watching our brothers, friends, acquaintances die, the ones who cannot respond to the brute and irremissible force from the State, in the face of such primitive brute intimidation from the common crime. It was us, the dead, the wounded, the forgotten, who sparked the flame. We, the fascists, the terrorists, the conspirers.
Meanwhile, the political opposition, weak and corrupt, calls to calm. Cooling off the streets. Collaborating with the regime.
In my native town, Maracay, I’ve been witness to how a peaceful manifestation was dispersed by motorized criminals. The avant-garde, the bumper of the government. Shooting to the death with real guns. 9 and 22 calibers. Immediately after, once the panic was set loose, the police showed up screaming “Run, you bastards!” And with these words they charged against the people. Making them run. Making them moan. Leading them into hiding. Many took shelter in nearby buildings, the medical center, a casual bakery or streets with little traffic. Others weren’t so lucky and were severely beaten to the rhythm of pellets and tear-producing bombs.
In Caracas history repeated itself. The TUPAMAROS movement (named after Tupac Amaru), of communist nature, charged mercilessly against the students who were manifesting peacefully on the streets.
They lashed out democracy! More than one had their body covered in democracy! Bassil Dacosta died from so much democracy. As did 22000 other citizens, who in the last 365 days have been rotting in a tomb because they chocked in peace and calmness.
All of us are frightened. To deny it would be cowardly and vile. We are all frightened. The difference lies, I believe, in being able to confront it in any way possible. Even when the conditions are against us. Tomorrow, we will continue the fight. As we did today, as we’ve always done. This isn’t about political opportunists, it isn’t about demagogues.
The system is a parasite. We, the students, the workers, the dead, are the solution, the antibiotic, the medication.
They’ve cut down the power? Is it a coincidence? Sirens and screams can be heard.
How difficult it is to tell the story when you are part of it.