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 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 flowers 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
