At the bus there’s some people reading a very pro- government newspaper called “Vea”. I hardly try not to focus my sight on the red headlines who announces the soon process of signing up for the PSUV (Partido Socialista Unido de Venezuela, in English: United Socialist Party of Venezuela), the newest Chavez idea of putting all his people under one single party. I have to admit I’m already prejudiced about the rest of the articles from that paper; statistics’ that show nothing but success of the government program, less poverty, more health care and so on; the words “anti-imperialism”, “revolution”, “Chávez”, “people”, “Socialism of the XXI Century” repeated over and over through the diary as if they were the only language possible.
A few minutes later I’m finally in class. But my lessons are about to be soon interrupted by an unusual object that appears in the Caracas sky, and makes all my classmates turn their heads to the window to look at it carefully. It’s not an alien invasion for us. We have follow it on the news: the installing process of three big white dirigible airships with the big red logo of the Caracas government that has cams of the highest technology inside; intended as the mayor (pro-Chávez) said, to be helpful on the fight against common delinquency. Although those dirigibles could be helpful to the fight against other things that bothers the government. But since I don’t want to be accused of “middle class paranoia”; I only limit my reaction to the first live encounter with that dirigible to make an ironic smile and slightly whisper to one of my classmates: “Big brother is watching you”-. Since he’s also an Orwell reader, he moves his head down; in a resigned gesture that sends me a straight message: “Indeed”…
After class, a professor gives us a lift back home. We just have left the university behind when we ran into an unusual traffic, even for Caracas that it’s a famous city because of the traffic trouble it has. About a half hour later we realize the cause of such an unbearable traffic coincides with our first stop: at one side of the highway is located one of the entrances of another university. That entrance is blocked and we can see some people running and smoke everywhere.
My best friend lives just near by and she is determinate to get down of the car and continue her normal way: “Its probably nothing, I’ll walk to the other side quickly, until I get to the subway”- She says after my desperate request to ask her to come over to my house until that mess which looks like a protest is over. The professor doubts about letting her and other students abandon the car; but we don’t have much time to discuss and decide. My friend opens the door of the car and immediately we hear an explosion: - Don’t worry – She insists- Like I said, we are going to walk to the other side”. The professor and I give up, at least we know that the explosion we just heard its only from a firework (since our ears are trained now to discriminate if the sound of an explosion comes from a firework, a tear gas bomb or a gun shot); and that allows us to let them leave the car and walk fast to the subway while we continue our way.
The professor finally leaves me just a few blocks away from my home. My neighborhood looks calm but I’m still worried about what could be happening to my friend at the other side of the city.
I decide to put on my headphones and clear my mind for a little while I take my probably final walk of the day. One song is playing, and it amazingly seems to translate literally all my thoughts and desires from the moment. The song it’s called “Nada Particular” (Nothing in Particular), a 1993 hit from Miguel Bosé who has just been released in a new and better version with Juanes. Singers who got nothing to do with Venezuela and the revolution. The lyrics say things like: “I walk with the anger tired of walking…they have asked me to forget everything; anyway, nothing in particular...” and the chorus can be translated to: “Give me an island in the middle of the sea, call it “freedom”
I enter my home and a few minutes later got a sms from my friend: “I’m fine, there were just a few students burning some stuff in order to protest about Chávez decision of closing RCTV” (the TV network). My sister immediately calls her husband: he was supposed to go somewhere and that university where the protest took place was in the middle of his way. He decides to turn back.
The lunch is served. I will probably spend most part of the afternoon studying, maybe I even get to the movies if I finish on time. But there’s still no egg in the fridge and this, is just another day of the “pretty” Bolivarian Revolution of Venezuela… It’s just another day of my life.
* SOUNDTRACK: Here's the song I was talking about, in its original version (means, not with Juanes)