From Tear World to Loveland
By Eva Feld
1.-
Not a week has yet gone by since I came
back from what used to be a tropical paradise, my homeland, Venezuela, a country
where three races -the white Spaniards, the Africans and the native Indians -,
melted to come up with a mestizo common idiosyncrasy; a place where calling
someone “negro” was just an affectionate nickname and where white people with
light colored hair were called “Musius” regardless of their origins. The word
dates back to the nineteenth century when there was a French loving president
whom was heard very frequently addressing any white visitor by the generic name
of “monsieur”
There was very little social
confrontation either, such as poor against rich, at least not on the surface. I
went to numerous popular parties where workers, employees and shareholders
danced together to the sound of drums and sang and drank to commemorate
religious festivities on the streets and plazas. Nevertheless, this doesn’t
mean that there was no injustice. Actually less than twenty percent of the
population owned more than eighty percent of the richness of the wealthy oil
producer country.
This fact, together with corruption and
much wrongdoing by politicians brought the outburst of a young officer fifteen
years ago. This man, Hugo Chavez, brought a new nationalist identity to the
Venezuelan poor and outlined for them a promised land, one that would become a
new reference to Latin America and the world, where there would be no more
homelessness nor hunger, one in which everyone would have access to all public
services including free education and
health. In the Venezuela, people would even be granted the latest technology
and would fulfill the dream of Simon Bolivar by becoming totally independent from the American Imperialist dominium.
The more Chavez talked (and he talked
gradually more and even more as his planning was failing to comply with his own
magnanimous imagination), the more he enchanted his followers who recognized
him as their leader by his language and also by his authentic mestizo looks. At this stage, he ignited hate toward anyone
who would think or look different, while at the same time, he managed to spread
the false impression of being politically and even philosophically progressive.
Hugo Chavez died a year ago and his
successor, a very narrow minded and short sighted follower was elected
president to fulfill the last wish of the now considered saint and almighty
commander of the Venezuelan revolution, Hugo Chavez. Hence, his incompetence
added up with an anachronism such as a pseudo-Communist economy in which the
productivity and the profit have been almost completely abolished and the fact
that almost 25.000 people have been killed during the last year due, among
other reasons, to the presumption that the criminals might be the poor
underdogs who also represent the constituency of the new regime.
On the other hand, the hatred embodied
against half of the population who antagonize the actual system is now creating
a boomerang crisis. Fifty percent of the population is fed up with crime,
inflation, verbal violence, intolerance, incompetence, economic disaster, lack
of progress etc. and many are backing what started as a student demonstration
on February 12 that has degenerated into a massive repression that has produced
so far at least forty casualties and several million dollars in military
mobilization as well as civil destruction.
2.-
Not yet five days have passed by since I
arrived in Cinci with my eyes still filled with fire and teargas. I am
readapting myself into being able to find everything I need in the supermarket without
having to stand in lines for hours to
buy limited items, as they seldom appear on the shelves. One day, maybe a
maximum of two liters of milk, the next maybe toilette paper, not more than one
package allowed; once every blue moon, corn flour which Venezuelans use to make
their bread every day and so on.
Yes in Cinci, I can buy as many soap
bars as I might want and choose which brand of cooking oil I prefer, but I
still miss talking to my fellow buyers on the long lines. Venezuelans are still
friendly and make jokes out of everything all the time. I still miss the chit
chat, the gossip, the tales and gags, the laughs and rages, the Venezuelan
sounds and words that express anger and fear, hope and despair.
Yes, I have come home to my family in
Cinci. My house is full with my grandchildren and I love hearing their chirps,
like free birds flying all around me. Sometimes I feel blessed when they land
on my lap and willingly accept me telling them a story in Spanish before they
take off and fly back to their electronic games or the television. I also
witness their parent’s hard life: work, commute, travel and drive their kids to
piano, karate, soccer, gym… My life also becomes busy with peace and progress,
with the joy of springtime, even if it is still cold for someone coming from a
tropical country.
Yes, I think I am adjusting to Cinci’s
pace, to see rabbits and squirrels, blue
jays and cardinals instead of parrots and other very noisy birds with
onomatopoeic names such as “guacharacas or guacamayas” in the sky. I am learning how to live without worrying
about reading the news because nothing really dangerous happens here, there are
no barricades nor is there teargas in the air; no helicopters are constantly airborne,
no “vigilantes” are violently undressing students at the university to
humiliate them -as the Nazis did with the Jews- nor do fifteen hundred people
take out to the streets naked to demonstrate solidarity with them and repudiate
the government.
Yes, I am finally indulging for missing
my well known trees such as the “Araguaney” with its beautiful yellow flower or
the “Bucare” with its big orange flowers that look like
fire for afar. I am also willing to
learn the name, shape and colors of the trees that are so beautifully blooming
in the so very cozy neighborhood where I actually live now in Loveland.
Cincinnati april 7, 2014
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