IN HONOR TO VENEZUELA
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It was the year 1930, back in Paris, the city Luz, the enlightened muse of the young writer ARTURO USLAR PIETRI, gave life to the episodes not described about our sad and glorious war of independence.
Simón Bolívar "El Libertador" had conceived his strategy through the "decree of war to the death", grouping and defining the combatants of that bloody massacre between brothers, that was his response to the atrocities committed by the Spanish hordes horribly led by vampires intoxicated with hate and racism, they were the Rosete, who passed their victims by knife to save cartridges, the Morales, the Canarian Yáñez and many infamous, who with his example filled the young soldiers of both sides with cruelty and effectiveness during the development of this unequal feat.
Thus, dear readers, brothers against brothers, the Republic was formed and Dr. ARTURO USLAR PIETRI reflects it as a translucent showcase in his magisterial work THE COLORED LANZAS.
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It was not long before, in 1936, a native Venezuelan writer from Puerto Cabello, illustrated us with a work of great importance since it contains the experiences of the new century20 where, for good and bad luck begins the exploitation of oil in the country, good for the appearance of the precious hydrocarbon but bad for the sad effect it meant for Venezuelans.
The first oil well in Venezuela was the Zumaque I, located in the Táchira State and from the beginning began the transformation of thought, action and hope of the entire Venezuelan people.
With the technology a new language entered the country, a varied immigration with new and varied customs, the social classes demarcated borders that were in process of passive tolerance, the modernism and the ambition of the politicians plotted a sketch of what would be the Venezuela of the future ... and they were not wrong!
Today Venezuela cultivates the harvest of what the sunny shoulders of its workers, criollos and foreigners who exchanged years of transient bonanza for a future mortgaged to the highest bidder for the current ruler, reading friends, I recommend reading the novel MENE from RAMON DIAZ SANCHEZ, check WILKIPEDIA.
DEAD HOUSES. This interesting literary account is strengthened by the description of a people suffocated between the intensity of Malaria and the voracious appetite of politicians, of those who abound in the midst of all social misfortune; the malaria seen as an opportunity for the official structure was and is stoically endured as if it were an undeserved punishment to the people who, ironically, are the ones who hold in power those who benefit from this tragedy.
MIGUEL OTERO SILVA described this injustice in his magnificent novel CASAS MUERTAS written in 1955 and today 63 years later, malaria eradicated 5 decades ago reappears as apocalyptic Ave Fénix to encourage the feeling of anguish and despair that silently deteriorates the spirit of the noble people who, as in the novel, is no longer called ORTÍZ, that town is now called VENEZUELA.
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That town, bright as the light of the sun, the light of God, is the land described by the unforgettable GALLEGOS RÓMULO in his immortal DOÑA BARBARA, that is the land to which today I try to animate, to stimulate and awaken with these lines, this land that as teacher Gallegos said: "propitious for effort as it was for the feat, land of open horizons where a good race loves, suffers and waits ...".
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Another famous Venezuelan writer tells us about the modernist effect that the 20th century gave us, I am referring to the unforgettable poet ANDRÉS ELOY BLANCO, who, in analyzing the EVOLUTION of our Creole Society, tells us: "man, the advent of the industrial revolution and much more, of the Capitalist System, man remained working and earning money, displacing the woman from the productive jobs, so that she would wear in her costumes, in her jewels and hairstyles, the trophies of her feat male
Few sowers, he tells us, we have for the field, to make the earth green, but many, unfortunately many, to inflate the womb of poor women.
Today with sadness we observe how the idle womb is rewarded with ephemeral perks that fill with illusions the battered once enterprising spirit of the thousands, millions of dreamers who longed to share the years of progress with a place to live and die with freedom and dignity, I believe surely, at least we will die with dignity.
We will wake up and we will pray to the creator God for the fulfillment of the prophetic words of our Father Simón Bolívar "El Libertador" on his deathbed: ** "If my death contributes to the cessation of parties and the consolidation of the union, I will calmly descend to the tomb"**.
.I end these LITERARY REFLECTIONS with a thought written in my poem COCO E MONO where I express my gratitude to God for sustaining in me the value most appreciated by my humble being: HOPE.
"... And when the wind blows at this garden
And a rain of love falls from heaven,
Our ashes water the soil
Green and patient of my Windward ".
GOD BLESS YOU
PSALM 47.1.2
All you people, shake hands, acclaim God with a voice of joy, for the Most High is awesome, the great King over all the earth.
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