20

Starting is the hardest part, I’ve always believed. Whatever I choose to do falls under that statement, whether it is cooking meals for the week, going to work earlier, or writing, starting is always what takes the most energy.

But these ideas I’ve had for years have been wanting to come out for a long time. Some of them have, on Facebook posts, tweets, social conversations, and others, because I can’t escape the subject of my country and how its history and circumstances have changed my life.

20 years ago, on December 6th, Hugo Chavez was elected president of The Republic of Venezuela (as we used to call our country) with a loud need for change. I was 12 years old and knew little about Venezuela’s political history, just what school had taught us about Simon Bolivar, the Liberator, but not more than his accomplishments and how much we owed him (part of me is thankful I went to school before Latin American history met the freaking socialism of the 21st century, I was a lazy student back then…)

I have this vivid memory of being at my aunt’s house watching TV during the presidential campaign, seeing this guy on the screen talking about his wish to hold all the babies, hug all the grandmas, rescue the poor and make the rich pay. I remember my uncle asking why I was watching that, and me saying “no one would vote for someone who’s been in jail, right…?”

That was 20 years ago, before I knew much about Venezuela’s social wounds, past rebellions, the coup attempt of 1992, or the idea of populism and socialism. A lot has happened since then, and as I write these words from my room in Cairo, I think of how different my life would have been if Venezuelans hadn’t chosen the person who they thought would save them from a routine they were sick of.

I am not a historian, I don’t know much about politics, and I’m still trying to filter my sources of information. What I am is a person who always has a lot to say, someone who years ago found a way to express her ideas and emotions through writing, and someone who holds a deep hatred for a political ideal that broke my family apart.

As I listen to Coldplay’s X & Y album, I start writing about how Chavez and his regime changed my life and the lives of many I know. Because many hours of my day are spent looking at posts of people who are suffering for lack of food and medicine, reaching out to friends and family in the distance talking about our December memories, and trying to come up with more ways to help. I have a lot to say, and I will try my best to organize my ideas in a way that others can connect to them. English is the language that comes to my head as I think and write because those who speak Spanish don’t need to read this to understand where I come from. Nonetheless, I will translate because I can’t imagine writing all this without saying these words in my mother tongue.

I will try to focus, do some research to support my perspectives, and organize my thoughts as I compose the posts to come. I’ll try not to put myself in the same mindset I was when I wrote my masters’ thesis, when I used to write like there was no audience. Instead of doing that, I’ll listen to my very wise tutor as he said… “Ana, rewrite this, you can do better.”

Cheers