We didn’t knew about the “Cacerolazo” and while we all were having dinner and watching TV, our neighbors started to annoy us with the sound of spoons hitting saucepans. My mom and I quickly ran into the kitchen and took whatever we need in order to protest, while my sister was taking her baby to the back of the house. After we protested on the balcony for a while, we decided to go out of the house and do the same on the sidewalk.
My street is an extremely quite and lonely street; so usually for big “cacerolazos” in my neighborhood I have to walk some blocks till the main avenue to find some people to protest with. This time, we didn’t feel like walking so we just stood there; in my front door, with the company of some random car passing by and the neighbors that annoyed us at first: an old couple who lives in front of us. Just four people and the rest of the houses quiet, like nothing; probably just watching TV and wondering when those crazy fanatic protester neighbors were about to shut up.
People might wonder many things about this little crazy action, the questions may be centered on the effects that such a tiny protest can have. What’s the purpose of four people hitting kitchen tools at 8 Pm in a street of some distant neighborhood in Caracas? What do we plan to get with it? Why are we still hitting the same saucepan using the same wood spoon as we did back on 2002? (And look at the results!).
Those lonely protests might sound sad and pathetic for many and I don’t have any argument to defend myself from such accusations because the truth is that, they are right: those protests have no effect at all what’s so ever. And then, why we still do it?
Probably because we need to, because we can’t fight against the horrible things that are happening even if we’d like to do that but we have to somehow proof to ourselves that we are still resisting, and not just crossing our arms in front of the TV. The “Cacerolazo” my mom, the old couple and me made today felt more like a crying or like a scream not expecting to be heard, than a protest.
And still, the government will close RCTV (or the little that remains of the network) again next Wednesday, probably. Several proposed constitutional reforms are touching our feet while we are getting used to the lack of white sugar and the adventures to get some meat; while our friends are leaving or planning to and the streets looks more insecure than ever, but you might end up in jail for saying something about it.
Then, the minute we start a “Cacerolazo”, even a lonely one; all the misfortunate events passed by like a flashback or a menace hunting you. You answer back hitting the sauce pan even harder and you feel a little bit safe, not of the madness coming but from the possible indifference and resignation kills all the integrity you have still inside. Then, I ironically think that none “Cacerolazo” will ever be able to end the pain, but it works as some unusual therapy: breaking all over again a wood spoon because of so many hits is your way of saying “I’m still here after all”.
This is probably hard to understand for a lot people here and abroad and I’m not expecting anyone to get it. Don’t look for any sense or logic on this issue, but rather, notice that for get throughout this, is important to have at least the illusion of resistance, even if it’s just an illusion.