Varados

Dear Steemians and Uloggers,

Yesterday, I had to go to the bus terminal of Cumaná (State of Sucre), the main ground terminal of the city, serving many counties around. From this place, a pretty busy terminal some years ago, buses and cars leave for places like Mariguitar, San Antonio, Cariaco and Carúpano, to the East; Santa Fé and Puerto La Cruz (State of Anzoategui), to the west or Cumanacoa and Maturín (State of Monagas), to the south. We are talking about distances as short as 35 minutes (Mariguitar) and as long as 4 hours (Maturín).

Source

As it has become customary now, I walked to and from the terminal. A 20-mins walk along a main avenue (Cristobal Colón/Perimetral), now renamed by Maduro as Carique Maraguey because apparently to give the name of an Indian chief to one of the crappiest avenues of the city, curtesy of the bolivarian revolution, is a big honor. Our Indian spirits must feel so much better now.

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The complications started when, after I had planned to have two of my daughters spend the weekend with me, after some months without seeing them, my 50+-year-old brother (who leaves in Cariaco) told me that he would not be able to come to Cumaná to pick up the cash I had bought for him (I wrote about it in the previous #ulog). He needs that cash to travel to Caracas (first station of his attempt to leave the country) and he was supposed to leave on Saturday.

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The only cheap way to send my bother that cash (given the fact that no acquaintance was around and you can’t trust the average Joe here) was asking the driver of one of the buses that covers that route to please deliver that envelop (at a fare’s cost). Only two buses go to Cariaco now (9:30 AM and 2:30 PM). I was so tired from working all night, that I could not go to the terminal in the morning and my daughters who were supposed to be ready to be picked up in the morning were taken to a doctor’s visit. So, around 1PM they asked me to go get them from the same place where I got my teeth fixed (a 2.5-mile walk) and I had to be at the terminal before 2:30.

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As fast as I could, I picked my daughters, walked with them back to my place, left them there and walked to the bus terminal. I got there before 2 PM. It was crowded. Not a single car or bus around.

As I waited for almost 3 hours I walked around looking at people, trying to figure out their stories and I furtively took some pictures that I think speak louder than words (as always, I apologize for the poor resolution).

At some point, a pickup truck passed by and even though the driver signaled that he was not going to carry any passengers, people ran after that truck as if their lives depended on it. Some of them actually got on, only to be pushed down later.

The weather got ugly and there was no report on the bus. “We are waiting for it” was the only answer from the “representatives” of the company (government-run as you can imagine), as if these people, who had been waiting since before noon (when the previous bus had left) did not know what waiting meant.

We are talking about lots of people who used to commute (sometimes twice a day) on a regular basis and for some of them, who still have jobs in Cumaná but live nearby this is a daily ordeal.

A government that is not only incapable of providing or guaranteeing something as basic as transportation within the perimeter of the city, let alone from one city to the next, but also capable of allowing a high number of its citizens to be subjected to this kind of humiliation does not deserve to be governing any more.

Every politician/government official directly responsible for these crimes deserve to be behind bars and every average citizen who despite being also affected by these calamities is still not only capable of defending this government, but also of attacking people like me for demanding their immediate ousting, deserves all my detestation.

I had to go back home. There was no news about the bus for Cariaco. After very waits some people got their buses to their respective towns. I felt sorry for those who did not have any choice but waiting. Home was too far to walk to. The rain was imminent and a 20-minute walk was not fun under rain when you walk shit-inundated streets with water as high as your calves in most places.

On my way out I saw a truck (which formerly transported cattle) get invaded by desperate passengers.

The rain fell on me when I still had 4 blocks to walk. I saw people rushing for cover. At this point I couldn’t care less. I accepted the rain as a reminder that I was still alive and strong enough to feel outraged. I let it wash over me hoping that the envelop inside my backpack did not get wet; also hoping this mess could to turn my anger into ideas to get away from here.

After several attempts to call my brother (communications collapse all the time) I was able to tell him I’d do my best to send him the money today, which I did (after another 3-hour wait, only this time there was no bad weather). Now he has to reschedule his trip to Caracas, another odyssey.

If any of you knows Jim Carrey, could you , please, tell him about this. This is what socialism/comunism does to the common folk they so much brag to defend and love.

Thanks for your reading. Looking forward to your comments.

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