Back in Venezuela

When you come back to Venezuela after several days away, you feel two things as you set foot in Maiquetía airport: first, great happiness at being back on our own soil to continue the fight alongside our fellow Venezuelans; and second, a certain unease about what the coming days, weeks or months will bring.

Someday I will study psychology to see if I can understand the way we feel things. I don’t know if it was because I had missed coming home (I was gone for twelve days), but for the first time I was deeply moved when I heard the passengers applaud as we landed. That had never happened to me before; this time I felt a great deal of love in that applause.

It seems that those days in Rome, where what I did was pray intensely for Venezuela (in St. Peter’s Square with the Pope at the vigil for Peace, before every saint I found in every church, and even in the square with the statue of Simón Bolívar, which I made a point of visiting), swelled my heart with even more love for my country.

I missed Caracas so much that I compared the Tiber to the Guaire River; I would look out from the balcony at six in the morning to watch the cars, and everything looked deserted, because over there traffic starts around eight. I looked for mountains (longing for my Ávila) but saw only ruins, history, something marvelous no doubt, but not what we are used to here. I missed the birdsong!

Over there, life moves slowly; everything is taken calmly. They live at something like 33 revolutions per minute, and we blow past 100. There, time stretches enormously, especially if you are an early riser. I will never forget one of our morning meetings, when they told us their workday started at 9:30. When I heard that, a picture of a normal day in Caracas flashed through my mind: we get up at 4:30, and by 9:30 we have already run a sort of marathon, one we don’t stop until about ten at night, when we collapse into bed (literally!) after a “high-impact” day.

A Venezuelan priest who has lived there for several decades told us he didn’t understand why his brother (the pastor of a church in Caracas), on the rare occasions he wrote, always seemed to be in a hurry. I explained that here we do everything in a hurry, hoping the day will be long enough. There are so many things to do, and so many problems to solve in a single day, that life flies by.

My husband and I also spent time with two Venezuelan parish priests who were there taking some courses, and it seemed like a dream to be able to sit down calmly with them over coffee and talk about our Holy Church in peace and quiet, without anything or anyone interrupting us. These priests also told us that after about ten days away from their parishes they too begin to feel desperate to get back. Somebody please explain this phenomenon to me!

We are definitely happy with the life we have been given. The happiness of many Venezuelans does not depend on a slow, orderly, 100% planned life. Our happiness lies in our love for our people, in hard work, in living to serve, in the immense hope we have that, through our prayer and constant struggle, someday we will have a Dignified country for our children and grandchildren, even if our “quality” of life is lower, for now.

The fact is that I missed my Venezuela very much. As my husband said to the officer who stamped our passports at Maiquetía: “The best part of a trip is always coming home.” That wonderful feeling of turning on your phone the moment you land to call your loved ones and say: “We just landed; we’ll be in Caracas in about an hour.” That is priceless!

The welcome at home was wonderful. Hugs, kisses and little arepas were waiting for us. Mind you, we were without electricity for several hours and there wasn’t a drop of water in the tank, so we had to go out and buy big jugs. Here we are bathing with bowls of water, but organizing everything to celebrate this weekend’s birthday. Water or no water, we will celebrate one way or another, because we have to celebrate and give thanks to God, who gave us life in this Land of Grace!

I ask God and the Virgin of Coromoto to give us strength and joy even in the greatest difficulties. Long live Venezuela and our beloved fellow Venezuelans! Nothing compares to loving a country like this; that is why coming home is always the best part, in spite of everything!