Thoughts from the exile:

Sometimes I feel like a foreigner to my own country's situation.

The other day I was reading news about Venezuela, and the picture described was so unreal, that for a second I wasn't sure if I really remember my life back home. I have memories of a place that doesn't match with what is described now by the statistics on papers, nor when I see my friend's Instagram. There are several realities coexisting in a moment when only magical realism can tell what is happening over there. 

So, we have a country whose capital city is considered among the top 3 most violent cities on earth, but people still go to the beach during Carnival. There is a shortage of food nation wide but I see friends on Facebook eating in restaurants. A dictatorial regime governs Venezuela through military coercion but I see snaps of a wedding party over the weekend. My immediate thoughts were: Aren't we in civil disobedience? Haven't more than 20 people been killed in riots so far? Has this always been like this? -. People tend to get used to some of the perks during crisis to make the best of it, I get that, but even for me the dichotomy that reigns my country seems too surreal.  The contradictions are too extreme and the stake too important to not try to make some sense out of it. 

I've been out of Venezuela for about 5 years now but I always could somehow explain what was going on over there. This is due to either my political science perspective trying to analyze what the next political move was going to be or just because I experienced these kind of contradictions all my life. I was able to put together how to have a "normal" life with all the bad news around. I mean, I come from an undeveloped [third world] country, I know what it is like to grow up in the middle of an adverse situation. We use the prefix "problems" to the words political and economy as if they are meant to be together. Only this time I have no explanations as to how my family and friends are doing, how everyone is still having a routine, a job, celebrations, vacations, etc. This time I feel as surprised and concerned as any other outsider. 

So I decided to ask everyone I could to describe to me what a "normal" day in Venezuela looks like. 

To understand this reality, I want to put myself in the shoes of someone living it. I told family, friends, colleagues and youngsters to briefly tell me about their life, in the most simple and graphic way possible, not the political analysis nor a romantic view of a revolution, just their normal agenda for the day. I want to picture how it feels to wake up in these conditions and still have a normal life, with expectations and goals like everyone else. 

This is one of the first ones I received:

Yo salgo a la calle a las 8am, como un día casi me roban ahora siempre voy casi corriendo.
Si no hay peo [problemas o manifestaciones] agarro un bus que me deja en una avenida, luego camino tres o cuatro cuadras y agarro otro bus que me deja en el trabajo. Voy con miedo a que me roben.
Entro a trabajar y me quedo ahí hasta las 5 de la tarde mas o menos.  Esta es la parte más segura del dia. Salgo caminando hasta la parada y veo las calles a veces limpias y a veces no.
Compro pan con Luis (si a la panaderia le llegó harina) y nos venimos a casa, con cuidado por la acera para que no nos roben.
Llegamos y lavamos los platos del desayuno, hacemos cena y mi almuerzo del día siguiente.
Luego a ducharnos (si no hay problemas con el agua) leer o ver una serie (si no hay problemas con la luz) y a dormir.
Ese es un día en la vida de un venezolano.

The translation would be: 

I go out to the street to go to work at 8 am, because one day I almost got robbed now I always walk fast.

If there are no problems (riots) I take the bus, I have to walk a few blocks and take another bus to get to the office. I do it with the fear of getting assaulted. 

I get to the office and stay there until 5 pm. That's the safe part of the day.

I walk back to the bus stop, sometimes I see the streets clean, sometimes not. 

I go with Luis to buy bread (if the bakery has flour) and we come back home, walking carefully on the sidewalk to not get robbed. 

At home we do the dishes from the breakfast, we prepare dinner and my lunch for the next day. Then showers (if the are no problems with water) read or watch TV (if there are no problems with electricity) then sleep.

That's a day in the life of a Venezuelan. 

It felt so simple and honest, the underlying fear of the everyday. 

My friend's words triggered in me the memory of the resignation to live among violence and injustice. There is a constant fear that replaces the common sense. We develop within our behavior some sort of paranoid radar, to always try to foresee any dangerous situation. And the best part is that it is considered as a skill, like our survival has made us evolve. We are smarter because we can escape from getting robbed instead of fighting the criminality. In the end it is just the capability my people have to adapt to whatever problem our country faces. For good and for worse, we are always  happy.  

Until when? 

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THE FOLLOWING PHOTOS CONTAIN A HIGH DISPLAY OF VIOLENCE

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                        SOS VENEZUELA