Caridad’s Diary

Ever since I arrived at the office where I met Rafael, I was warned that people here steal. However, I was very surprised that a place which was connected to such an important government figure would hire people who engaged in this illicit activity.

It’s been a year this month since a great percentage of the Venezuelan people voted in favor of opposition legislators instead of the government. The government, in order to celebrate this beautiful gesture in their favor, has decided to give Venezuelans an unforgettable Christmas.

I walk into the first metro station in Caracas. Or the last, depending on how you’re looking at it. Trains on Line 1 are in one-piece, that is to say, you can walk from the first carriage to the last carriage without having to leave the train.

It’s 7 AM in the morning and my partner Yolvik wakes me up with a shout: The bags have come! Normally, I’d be really annoyed if I was woken in this ungodly manner, but the announcement of the famous food bag….

The last bit of soap falls from my hands into the sink hole and I say a few curses under my breath, without being in too much of a bad mood, because I’d used the last bit of my annual quota of grief the day before.

When I left the home yesterday in the morning, the sky was cloudy and a joyous breeze made me think that some kind of magic would engulf the day; something special could happen.

It’s been quite some time since I last felt like writing. I feel like it’s the closest thing to rolling around in a pile of shit. I hope you’re not offended by my language, including the editor who I hope doesn’t censor me. But it’s a lot more honest than beating around the bush.

I step off the subway and, next to the National Assembly building, I see a truck fitted with loudspeakers and a stand where they are taking signatures against the Amnesty Law [approved by the legislature but being fought by the executive].