On Easter, Venezuelan barrios and villages choose a prominent political figure, build a doll, and burn it to mark the end of the Holy Week. The press usually covers it because the custom registers who the population is blaming for its problems. This year, Guaidó had his baptism of fire, along with Maduro and Trump.
Photo by Gabriela Mesones Rojo Hello darkness, my old friend I’ve come to talk with you again Paul Simon 20 days ago, Venezuela spent four and a half...
At Caracas hospitals, every one of the innumerable problems is getting worse, while colectivos and security forces threaten everyone who is trying to help or even get some answers about the extent of the crisis.
This is Caracas before Night 4 of the blackout: a ghost town where behavior is increasingly similar to those of apocalyptic novels and movies. Ordinary citizens feel completely abandoned by the State and have no clue of what to expect. The US dollar takes over the survival economy, cash only.
Venezuelans stranded on the other side of the closed Colombian border are torn between the desire to see their families again, and fear of regime violence.
The battle for humanitarian aid at the Venezuela-Colombia border affected people on both sides, physically and spiritually. Anger, frustration, chaos and a glimmer of hope, this is what we saw from the field.
Venezuela Aid Live brought up the best of people, regardless of which side of the border they come from, while it helped to make our problems visible to the world. But the event, from that marginalized, strange place, also showed the strength we Venezuelans have built, even under the threat of war.
Desiré Cumare, a nurse from Maracao, at the southwestern tip of Caracas, saw how the regime’s death squad killed his son kicking his head, “just because we can”. They also sacked the apartment. “It’s a war on us.”
Genuinely harrowing stories are coming out of Petare, Caracas’s biggest shantytown. As the poor begin to protest, the National Police’s death squad —FAES— has launched an unprecedented rampage.
Camaraderie, friendship, happiness and beauty can flourish after the worst of circumstances and in the dirtiest of places. The Guaire river may split Caracas in two, but it brought these young Venezuelans together.
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