pity searcher, sharing story

A while went on since last time I could put some words on written thoughts. Time has turned faster somehow. Most of the hours I’m supposed to work I’m actually working, maybe that’s why…

A couple of months ago I’ve got some minutes so I could play writer. Well, the ones I’m taking for writing this come from a duty I’m delaying because my boss had to leave and, for now, she’s not behind me watching my screen. The problem, and it actually bothers me, it is this sort of sense of responsibility I cannot just get over, so there’s a voice telling me this should not be longer.

This might be a reason, a reason why some of us won´t focus more on the things we like to; these things we usually dedicate lots of thoughts. I had in my mind a couple of great things to tell, and I just forgot them, completely, I’m just using this time, as started saying, to put some words of written thoughts…

An important politician has escaped from the country, he’s now in Spain and there are these low quality fake news on saying, more or less, that he, from abroad, will claim the presidency of Venezuela as the leader of the coalition we call Oposición. So you can see even the fake news have lost quality, just like the government, which never had but this is different; our media is pretty much replicating arguments very few people believe and now so many just quit being interested. The face of many look like when hearing a bad joke which end is already known; by everyone, because it’s been told too much. I mean, people are not only bored but also tired and offended and those feelings together weighs quite some. In my case for example it’s on my shoulders, I’m always needing to have a seat, like carrying a back pack …

I’m back two days later. This is a process but I’ve found some to say: I still have a car. I say still because it is something nowadays. I know I should sell it but I have this hang on sort of feeling that won’t let me, so I’m leaving my bonuses on it. I know I sound selfish, too much I, me and my and this is not a pity searcher writing, it isn’t, this is more like sharing story writing.

I took the subway yesterday because there were no available buses, which it’s interesting in a city that it’s not entirely covered by the underground transportation. Many people rely on buses; cabs became too expensive, too expensive for someone who’s just going, for example, to do a shift at an everyday job, so, given the circumstances, you could see a lot of people standing, not for, but at; bank entrances, ATM machines, bakery stores and now, bus stops too. This could be why we’re all pretty much used to not being so strict with the timekeeping. We’ve finally become the jokes we once told each other to make fun. Few years ago we said such a behavior belonged to Venezuelan’s way, now it is the consequence of all these measures and responds… El Metro, that´s how we call our subway, was crowded; always, now with many more people to whom a deodorant and a perfume are simply unaffordable; you all get the idea of this: the breathing, the heat, the smelling, the disappointment, perhaps the sadness or maybe some anger but wrongly conveyed; you could notice and also feel it: how the environment and people’s mood actually talk through the expression of their faces, and that’s when the moment stopped…

The moment became memory; at least I would like to with these words, this post. I saw hope, I saw a girl with hope on her face. I didn’t talk to her, I didn’t stare at her either, just felt her that way, so I told myself why not being hopeful too. In the end, the situation won’t get any better with the anger and I’m pretty much tired. I’ll try to be more interesting next time. Thanks!

at least it wasn’t cash…

There’s no cash for everyone and if there is some left, it never last enough due to the prices. Venezuelans can withdraw five thousand bolívares per day, this is, today, the equivalent of twenty cents of a dollar, therefore; in order to get a “whole dollar” in cash, a person must go to the ATM daily at least five days straight, which means it might take a week to get a dollar.  Math aside, almost everything worth more than five thousand bolívares, so we move from this to that with debit cards, yes, debit cards because nobody in a store, not in a small one, actually accepts credit cards; but this is not to imply now. I went to a gas station store to buy this coolant fluid for cars and I’ve found it, which is a joy nowadays, but they were out of POS and I had to pay thirty thousand in cash, meaning six days of bank visiting. I kept walking. Two blocks after I’m watching a car parts shop, got in and they had the POS working but, you can guess, no fluid, so I went on, probably three blocks, asked again: no luck. Finally, A block away from the last sight I´ve found it, again the joy and the lady in the store tells me she must slide the card again because the connection fell down, I said no problem; I was amused, so I paid my shop and came back six or seven blocks to reach the office, got to my work station… about three four hours later I had to transfer some money, and there it’s when I noticed the purchase were charged twice… no further words for it; I was tired enough to walk again those blocks and explain something it wouldn´t be solved the same day, I just accepted because of weariness; I´ve lost that money. I said to myself: at least it wasn’t cash…

People have a lot of passion to tell and so little will to do so, these days at least. I’m feeling tired of such bravery in words at its lack of actions. Everyone who approaches is always suggesting, which sounds more like commanding, what to do or not to. This is no help, not at all; but after one figures out how to deal with, for example the fact I got charged twice for the same purchase, these “sayers”, obviously say: I told you… and perhaps because I’m losing my mind with so much lacking, I told myself again: at least it wasn’t cash…

Now anger is all around

I was feeling guilty because I went out twice in the same week for a lunch. What does that mean? During the days of strongest protests restaurants and discos were open, with customers, and you don´t need to know someone who may have been at, you don’t. You just need to check for a while your social network accounts: people praising the dissidence during the day and shaking drinks when the sun leaves it. 

I didn’t bring this up to expose those people for a judgment, I’m saying this because it is important to understand that such things happens because we simply are not used to be involved – consciously – in politics. Now we are. Some might say we’ve been since Chavez got elected, but I refuse to it because we were able to spend a partition of dollars per year and with that people went abroad and came even with more bolívares than before. So while this was happening, while the airport were full and shopping centers got crowded, the political conscience was more like the taste for music… but not everyone. Everything that implies disagreement with the government laid on the middle class mostly, and the middle class isn´t growing anymore.

We became the newly poor, like some chavistas are newly rich, especially those with access to preferential dollars. What’s that? The dollar controlled by the government which exchange rate is the lowest and privileged too, but it is practically forbidden for regular people, especially for newly poor. So new poverty is like a complain feast, everyone has a daily story of how extraordinary it is to do something normal. Like the magical realism of literature: finding bread in a bakery, medicines in a drugstore, getting money from an ATM in ten minutes, and so on. Little by little Venezuelans will be the only ones who understand such an exceptional normality.

But not every poor person is actually newly poor. This is important, many people were already poor before the twenty first century socialism and, yes, a very significant group of those gives all support to Maduro because he’s supposed to keep going on with the Chavez legacy. At least that’s what the propaganda wants you to believe. So you have to be poor to actually understand it, and it is a problem for the government: there are more poverty, yes, but also more hate…

You see, if you used to be middle class you don’t take nicely, nor peacefully, the fact that bread became unaffordable with current salaries, and the only chance to get it it´s by doing a two hours line to get the special poor edition of the bread, which is normally called: regulated.  It is a real issue for the newly poor, but let’s talk a little about the other poor: not all of them feel bad at this situation, many of them actually enjoy it even make it profitable.

Old school poor spent decades collecting resentment due to their status. Let’s take an example: a credit card used to be a middle class instrument; forbidden to the poor. Restaurants: owners kept the right whether or not let someone in. Private schools, which continue being very popular: personnel analyzed the parents’ jobs to see if the kid could be in; not because of the money entirely, but the position. Besides that; services: no cable, no phone, no electricity, different food, different brands for product, a whole social class separation… until the revolution arrived and empowered them… spiritually at least and it was almost enough. Everything started to change but not for the poor, but the middle class as I said at the beginning.

Now anger is all around