Friends and Bitter Coffees: Eviction - Ken Scamander (2017)

Writing is a worthy passion, in fact, any passion can become worthy and coherent if you dedicate enough time to it. When I was 10/11 years old I wrote my first story, I was passionate about it, no more than music, but I was notoriously interested in becoming a better writer, creativity was running away from me but I never stopped pursuing it, in fact, I still pursue it today, that's why I want to show a work I wrote in the past, it was called "Days of days", a rather absurd title so I allowed myself to change the name to "Desahucio" and I changed some of the outline, my intention was that it would be a play where each dialogue rhymed, it didn't work too well because my classmates were not so willing so I will reedit it with the intention that on some occasion this will be performed again, preferably in a theatre.

It went like this:

They arrived at the place, crestfallen, they were lifelong friends and getting together was the only thing that filled their souls from time to time in the face of a situation as complicated as living in Venezuela, they sat down and each ordered a coffee, it was a huge expense for their pockets, but this occasion was worth it. Anne Marie, Christian, Agustín, Raúl and Antonio.

This time they didn't even greet each other when Christian asked:

Have you never felt, I don't know about the whole world, but at least here where we live, that life begins where we have lost our way? And I don't want to sound depressive, because I would love to make it a kind of national complaint, the way that only, I think, in this land we talk about beginnings as the end.

Agustín replied to the sound, saying:

You are not quite right, because throughout my life I have known different governments, different wars, and still I cannot explain to myself what has happened to Venezuela. They have allowed themselves to be dazzled by a man of fine words and a sad past. They let themselves be fooled by a disguise of a poet where a vile soldier was hiding.

Anne Marie, who was a sensible girl, wanted to intervene:

And what a strategy the man used, talking about sharing while hiding the envelope. But well, he taught us not to trust anything and that a liar also knows how to use his words well.

Antonio, who was beginning to get stressed, exclaimed with obvious anger:

You are wrong, yes it is true that it took me a long time to understand him, to analyse him and to prove him right, but I have found the truth that sunk us, have you never read the famous and macabre Doctor Chirinos? Well, he found the secret before me, first of all, because experience and life taught him that the difference between us and the rest of the world is that we are a people lacking in love, and that is how we have suffered and fallen many times into socialism. We allow ourselves to be fooled by any illusion. We suffer because we are sober and some alcohol makes us different.

Raul, who was of few words, exclaimed quietly:

We are damaged but our grace does not lie in that alone. We are pulled by those who talk of progress.
A lot of harmful and insincere men. They talk about fighting insecurity, hunger, pain while they blindfold the working sector.
They are talking about building while taking away the carpenter's tools.

Anne Marie, who was not a good listener, ran over the previous speech and said: "And it will never be enough:

And it will never be enough, you know, because even if 20 years from now we achieve the only common dream of this nation, how do I ask my son to stop his heart from racing? With the scrape of a motorbike, the shot of the co-driver or just his brake.
How do I demand that my children go out into the street with their smile? How do I explain that there is no danger?
How do I tell them not to fear the breeze when it is as fast as a shot?
How do I myself avoid being dissatisfied with the lifetime of tranquillity that has been taken away from me?
How do you want me to look at that filth that damaged and to this day still asks to be called a soldier?
How do you give back that which is impossible to give back? How do you take away a person's trauma when his son was shot good morning with a gunshot?
Whatever we try to do, it won't be right for us.

Antonio, in a calmer way, gave in to Anne Marie's reason and said:

There is definitely no turning back, people who decided to steal, to stop studying and raising, there is no turning back, they live with the decisions they make thinking that it was all they could achieve.

Anne Marie, who was not too humble, told him:

Because that's all they have managed to see! They are told that capitalism is bad, ignorance is bad and nobody ever tried to eradicate it completely, do you know why? Because both are impossible to eradicate.

Agustín, who wanted to stop that discussion before the mugs started to be thrown, used passivity to say:

And the more time goes by, the more people die, the more they take malicious aim at the forehead. The more heart attacks there are, the more politicians ask not to be stepped on and talk about dialogue without knowing about the law. Giving a piece of meat to malnourished children while taking pictures with an Iphone 12. I worry about not being able to correct, while everything is harder. We are rich in mind, says Maduro. We are a country of heart, says the "red" poet who sold out. And the little is salvation, the one who leaves hell knows very well that any place can be God.

Raúl agreed with him and wanted to give this conversation a break:

But, with all that, there is always a point where even the hope of getting out of here alive is lost among so many disappointments and broken dreams, Venezuela creates lives without expectations, empty shells, children who are already born dead and others who die at 16 and won't be buried until 65, where the dreams of our children, of ourselves, die at the point where our life should be beginning, not ending.

Christian intervened after a while of listening, something particularly rare for him, who has never known how to keep quiet:

And ends as it begins, begins as it ends. A bunch of graceless and empty people want to make people believe that equality is the magic. Personally, I find it depressing that they want to make the people feel if they themselves do not feel. We are a nation that needs quick help, but not just monetary help. We are a nation that needs to open our hearts. We are people playing ball alone while looking for a goalie to brighten the loneliness, a bunch of broken pieces dancing alone believing that politics still tells the truth.

Anne Marie, who was still a bit hyperactive, asked for the floor again:

If I may, I must comment that it seems to me that before trusting the world, you have to trust people. Maybe Venezuela is not exactly a country full of love, but we can start with a little song, until we get to a notebook. Start with a look until we get to a moment. To start at the exit, to turn the focus. We mainly need to change the perspective.

Christian, who looked exhausted, wanted to end the conversation:

What lies we have eaten up, and we ourselves crying among 5, looking for culprits instead of healing ourselves, we are wounded. Trying with a poor and vain pretence to pay with words the debts of the heart. We know that everything will be better, that we will walk out the door and think more about reason, and if not, at least we will know that we tried. To get to a kilo we need to go gram by gram.

Agustín added a point, which seemed like a sharp and final point:

And this is how a meeting culminates in a group of stressed-out parents who just want to go back to the past. Swearing that we were wrong and wrong to say we were wrong. Let them know that anger expires and pollutes, that a smile changes a life, that time only passes, weighs and treads, and that we must die on a star or in some lighthouse in the distance. We need love, we need to be whole. First we need to learn to love, then we will go for progress.

There was a spectral silence, some fear could be seen on the faces of the people around who thought there would be a fight at some point in this discussion, the same people who came without greeting left without saying goodbye, waiting for next month to meet again, all going home not knowing what they would eat, but certainly fuelled by anger...

Ken Scamander, 2017.

~~PD: I'm going to turn this into a series of 5 dialogues between friends, my plan is to touch different points in Venezuelan society, making reference not only to itself but also to its intervention with other cultures in Latin America today, expect more of what I dare to call "Acquaintances and bitter coffees", they will be series of a single image, I hope in the comments to know the opinions of what symbolize each one. ~~