They Even Took Away Our Fear

“They have taken so much from us that they ended up taking away our fear.” That could be read on one of the banners our young people carried at one of the many demonstrations held these days in our beloved Venezuela.

I never thought I would live through what I am living through right now. When I was a journalism student I wanted to be a war correspondent, and I have never been afraid of death. Today I would like to trade places with my children so as not to suffer the anguish that one of them might be killed in the streets. But that’s not possible. What we are living is almost like what you see in movies, things you never imagined living through.

All of us Venezuelan mothers know that for years our hearts have shrunk, and we have started to pray, every time we say goodbye to our children, asking God to protect them from crime. We have spent sleepless nights waiting to see them walk through the door. And until they close it and slide the bolt, we cannot rest. When they were little it was very easy: you put them in the crib or in bed and, blessed peace!, but once they’re past 16 it’s a very different story.

You get used to many things. We have gradually got used to going through a lot of hardship, to suffering, to crying out of helplessness, to doing without even the essentials, to being very patient… That has made us strong, very strong! And today I realize that our children have absorbed all of it. Our young people are showing such impressive strength that I never thought I would see anything like it. But I think what you can never get used to is having a child killed. You can bear it with fortitude, but how hard that is, my God!

What I am understanding now is that my children, and many of Venezuela’s children, are not afraid of death either. Because they know that this life is a passage, and that afterward their great reward will come, because they have lived facing God and have sown good things on this earth.

On February 12, when my kids went to the rally on their own, they were especially excited. Two little bottles of water, a cell phone to keep in touch and take pictures, their ID card in their pocket and the grace of God: that was all they carried. I hugged them tight and said goodbye (once again) as if it were the last time. But this time was different, because they were going out to defend their Venezuela. Around two in the afternoon they came straight to the kitchen for lunch because they were starving. Minutes later, as we watched the RTN Noticias report and learned that a young man had died in the very place where they had been minutes before, I got a terrible headache. Then that channel’s signal was cut off. I went to bed early because I was exhausted, and I began to pray.

In the early hours of the 13th, when I got up to check Twitter, because it’s the only thing we have left to keep informed!, the first thing I saw was a photo of Roberto Redman with the words: “He loved the Ávila and his country, and he died for it.” I burst into inconsolable tears, because I felt he was my son, because now I feel all of Venezuela’s children are mine. So much suffering makes our hearts grow enormous. And as a friend I told about what I felt at that moment said to me: “Cry, my friend, for tears are the prayer of the eyes.”

To those of you who can read us today from every corner of the world through this wonderful medium, I say that it is not at all easy to be in our shoes. We are suffering a great deal, but at the same time we are happy, because we know that if we don’t fight for our country and “shout that it belongs to all of us” (as my Cuban friend used to say), we will lose it for good.

What impresses me above all is the courage our kids have shown. My husband and I have sat down with them several times to explain that protest is good as long as it is peaceful, and that they must be very careful, because the armed colectivos are armed to the teeth and shoot at anyone, any way and anywhere.

At first, being a mother, I tried to keep my kids from going out, but that’s impossible. A friend told me her son shouted at her: “I’m going out whether you like it or not; I have to defend my country.” They are tired, they are fed up! with seeing so many lies, so much incompetence, corruption and injustice; they are fed up with suffering and with seeing us suffer! They also see all our gray hair and “accelerated wrinkles” (as Henrique Capriles put it), which have come from so much hard work, so much pain, so much anguish.

To my beloved young Venezuelans I say this: today more than ever I am infinitely proud of your generation, which for me is unique in the world! You will be our salvation, with the help of God and the Blessed Virgin of Coromoto. And no fear, children of my homeland, because “If God is with us, whom shall we fear?”