What the blackout left

In Venezuela on Thursday, March 7 there was a death blackout, where he showed us the abyss -which means that-, he has no other concept; that we have called fund thoroughly. He pointed out his path, his beginning and not his end. He grabbed us by surprise in a flurry of emotions, in which we hid in hope, hatred, and faith; in the turmoil of two months of conflict. He taught us without euphemisms the complexity of our inequalities. The well-to-do of always and the one of now, realizing to us of which the one that less suffers is because it has been able to surf in the galloping poverty, but also the old poor man and the new poor one of this criminal revolution.

We Venezuelans could see inexplicable contrasts. For example; the one who drank water from Guaire and ate rotten meat. We could see the one who washes dollars, and extracts food, gasoline. Also the one that sells drugs, or the one that saved the state corruption "his drop of oil" and bought water, ice, and whiskey in foreign currency. We saw the one that bachaquea and sells his idea of collectivity. The inert, the resilient and the pessimistic. We enclaustro on the stage of the nineteenth century, forgotten in the most remote hamlet, or in the poorest film. The blackout of 5 nights in the dark subjected us to the disappearance of cyberspace, where we have learned to have family, friends; to have life. In the home of barefoot Venezuela who walks sadly around the world. Where some have been born, as we did among the innovative extension of electric power.

Dark darkness, frightening fear, amazement of a rich country, outraged and defalcado. It is the astonishment at the cruel lie of the usurper, who plays at the compass of the psychiatrist who insists on systematic dissociation. While some ran to commit suicide, and others ransacked by hunger or vandalism, the tyrant spoke with burlesque malice of Tony Stark and John McClane. Imposing from the official discursive, the buried lie.

We Venezuelans ran, we suffered, we died, and we lived again. Between fear, anguish and frustration, we feel the courage of the majority who could offer a helping hand by going to the hospital to cook for others, giving water, comforting the desperate, giving all their action to the common good, beating their immediacy in the Christian faith, in citizen consciousness, and in family learning.

When I saw this last I said; It's worth fighting on.

Written by Jhon A. Romero.-