How I met Hugo Chavez and how I see his image fall

I wrote this post because in my "introducesyourself" a person asked me my opinion about Chavez.

Like many of the Venezuelans of my age, my first contact with President Hugo Chávez was through national television. In my case, I was 6 years old, or at least it is my first memory, when he were candidate for the presidency.

The Maria Gabriela of that moment only had the interpretative capacity that a 6 year old girl can have, however, I remember that moment was full of his appearances, although my brain contains more memories of the tragedy of Vargas, where that region suffered a lot.

The obvious change in the political life of Venezuela that year is undeniable, in this post do not intend to make judgments of value, but I can not deny that these lines are full of emotionality. I do not pretend to be, at least in this post, the fair voice that narrates the facts I lived.

After having seen the transmission of that interview on TV I have a mass of diffuse memories related to the figure of Chavez, typical of the childhood. As a child and later teenager I felt empathy with him, perhaps that empathy arose from the countless hours I saw "ALO President" Chavéz's televised program, or perhaps that empathy was simply inherited from some relatives who saw it as the image Of hope.

Any way, as in my near surroundings there were supporters of the movement that until now governs the country, there were also highlights detractors, like my grandfather who is my second father figure and a great reference since childhood.

The years passed and I was building my own criterion, now teenager. In this stage my vision of who was Chávez, besides being marked by his speeches, for the events that took place in the country for those years, was also clearly marked by my environment. Ultimately today I agree with Marx when running that the environment determines the individual; In my environment people of my age issued comments, already politicized. A feature of the new stage across the country, adolescents were also opinion-makers.

His remarks lacked solid arguments, they were simply comments on the air, against Chávez, but not against the ruler, the policy-maker, the President of the Republic, but against the individual itself. Banal criticisms that, with my new capacity of adolescent reasoning, far from getting me away from this figure, approached me to him... perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps by rejection for opinioners.

At the end of high school, a very happy moment of my life, the closure of this cycle, I decided to leave behind the "political comments" childish and ignorant of that environment, and I enter a new world: the Central University of Venezuela. I started my studies in economics, in a school that does not determine the current of economic thought belongs, is everything and is nothing. My empathy for Chávez was still present, in an even more radical setting against him, but unlike the previous one, with higher academic debates.

In this post I will not go into the political process that involves the figure of Chavez, would be infinite the content of it, simply narrate an experience of my life that will always be present and required a previous contextualization.

In September 2012, on the eve of the presidential election in Venezuela, I was at the most exciting point in my college life, starting to get out of the shell. In those days, Caracas was, as usual, immersed in a political campaign. For those days, my new friends invited me to the "Night route", this is a kind of festival that took place every Friday of the month and took, with some particular theme, some space of our beautiful and chaotic city.

That Friday I called my parents to warn that I would attend such an exciting event, their answer was that I would not go without them, and it was. I was there that night with my new friends, my parents and my younger brother... what a college life!
Still, I was enjoying a lot. The atmosphere was all youth, ska and rock. Between the fun and bustle my dad approached me and said "there comes Chavez" said to him a gentleman who saw the escorts...
That idea seemed crazy and impossible, as the president candidate for re-election in the morning was in Peru in a diplomatic event, "impossible" I thought and responded.

My father, faithful follower of the process, moved to the entrance of the square to be forewarned if the rumor was true, and against all odds, it was. From one moment to another everything became screaming, clutter, people running and massing. Me there, in the midst of it all, with my characteristic awkwardness. Between the sea of people and shoves divise to one of my friends who yelled at me: Help!. People were really euphoric. Meanwhile, we managed to unite our hands as a tool of support and possible escape from so uproar multitude. It is there where in my mind everything begins to get fuzzy in my memories, blows, stomping, screaming, crying, it was like a great rock concert but with a euphoria equivalent to seven concerts of that type in one. A strong blow hits my chest, it hurt, quite a bit. My immediate reaction was to turn around and shout a claim that came out of the soul. Just then, emitting my scream, I saw Hugo Chavez. Imposing, tall, different from the image I kept in my brain.

The emitted scream did not generate any reaction in the escort that followed against me and hitting my chest, even though I insisted that I just wanted to get out of there, and that my mission was not to reach Chavez,the opposite , go back to the outskirts of disaster. The apparently deaf and indifferent officer continued his onslaught when Chavez said: "Stop beating my girl! Don't you see she has not bad intentions! "
And while I was saying that, he grabbed my hand and pulled me next to him inside the safety ring. The shock was invaded me. So much to say, so much to ask, so much to talk about, a lot to complain about and I kept quiet.

"Are you studing my little girl?" he asked as we walked to the stage surrounded by security and the crowd screaming. "Yes, economics in the UCV" I answered still astonished. "Good! Promise me that you will continue to study and fight for your country! " he said, to which I responded," I promise".

I had the cell phone in my hand, and I wasn't able to shoot a picture. I was still in a deep shock, caused in addition to the unexpected and abruptness of the situation, because of how imposing Chavez was, but not in a bad way, rather, in a way that even today 6 years later, I can not explain. The vibe he conveyed when he spoke to me, when he looked to me, was simply indescribable.

That day I understood, that many of the decisions that were taken around him, under his command or simply in his presence, would be highly influenced by "THAT" that I do not even know that it is or how to describe it. But that is also what made the day of his death the country paralyzed and fell into lethargy, even its fiercest detractors were in a neutral state.
And it is the same that who did not know him at least on TV has not the slightest chance to understand, of what those who govern today cling to continue where they are, to blackmail countless people, to justify irrational measures.

Many of the bad decisions taken by Chávez have their consequences today, other bad measures are taken after his death and plunge us into a crisis, a crisis that takes with her a piece of "that" was Chávez.
Using his image, idolize him, misrepresenting speeches, away from reality, making him an unattainable God to be worshiped in infinite gratitude for achievements that are nothing but to a social debt that Chavez himself as Executor of the policies settled with the people.

Time passes, the emergency is pressing, and I see how "that" vanishes in the fog. I see the image of Chávez falling because it is being used as a shield against the repercussions of bad decisions. The responsibilities are not assumed.
In the end, and although this contradicts me, for what I sentenced indescribable, Chavez was simply a person, with excellent and terrible decisions taken and executed. He was not a god to idolize. The higher near the gods place their images, the more unattainable is the possibility that normal people replicate the good deeds that he did.

That's why I see and will see the image of Chavez fall, being now a shield against a thousand repercussions.
But I also know that I will never know how to describe and I will probably not see another person having "that" that characterized him.