Critical Times

For the second time this week the streets of Caracas are on fire. Last Saturday, hundreds of thousands, perhaps well over 2 million red wrapped masses of humanity streamed through the five main central city roads: Avenida Mexico Y Universidad, Avenida Bolivar, Avenida Lecuna and Avenida Urdaneta. Tributary lanes also brighten the gray concrete with government gifted coloured hats and shirts of pure socialist red. The expressed hopes and cries of passion from comrades, of all ages, for their hero, Chavez, filled the corridors of the city of 6 million (population).

Mobs, like a wild beast with millions of arms and legs, carried painted and printed banners proclaiming Revolution! Tee shirts impregnated with ink images of Chavez, Che and Fidel grew on the sweat of hungry bellies filled with hysterical laughter.

Tonight victory is near with the voting coming to completion the daily contradictory gossip spewed from the numerous right-wing newspapers and TV stations seemed but passing gas from the expiring, contemptuous Capitalist structure. Our brigades, Australian Venezuelan Solidarity Network, apartment is directly opposite the Government palace. With a few streets barbed off, armed AK-47 military personnel control various positions about the grounds and streets. During the right-wing coup of 2002, which failed after 2 days and only supported by the current US administration, there were opposition snipers shooting from the hotel very near us. An US American girl, not part of the brigade, hitched a ride back with us from our 7 hour return trip to the world’s largest oil refinery, Punto Fijo. Checking in to our hotel, in a room directly across and that “shooting level” with the government building, aroused suspicion from Venezuelan Intelligence Service. The police spent a few hrs with her. Carrying only a photocopy of her passport, and being slightly obnoxious prolonged her interrogation. She was released with out incident.

The evening progressed with frequent glances by the growing crowd at the large TV screen, checking for election results. The streets of Caracas were declared alcohol free. Not a chance! Freelance vendors struggled to keep up with the purchases of the jubilant bystanders. With the obsession of winning, maximum numbers of people continued to pack out the roads and footpaths. I returned to my room, one and a half blocks away to gather some rain gear and take a short rest, then return.

Massive fireworks ignited anywhere, lasting many minutes at any one time. Very friendly people approached the 5 “Gringo’s” from the brigade. Jovial faces with laughter in their eyes warmly greeted us. Although our Spanish was somewhat lacking, many leaned closely, tried to converse and gave us a bottle of International Friendship beer.

Premature, imaginary win filled the air, red colour, brown faces of hope everywhere. The opposition skin colour tends to be a lighter brown to white and middle to upper class with greater economic monopoly and monetary influence. Filled with enduring contempt for tonight the social revolution is about to be brushed ten thousand times over their bleached capitalist dreams. In their thoughts the very name socialist is a synonym for these gangsters loss of freedom. From people’s banks, the communal councils, community radio and TV stations too many new universities “50 more to follow”. These are being erected to educate street doctors, social workers, educators, to mention only a few programs. The drought that exists of professional workers for all the communities will be filled. All social and political structures are being democratically altered, re-written.

I tugged exuberantly at a comrades red sleeve, as the palace gates were being opened. The barbed wire street barrier had recently been moved. Quickly we scrambled toward the narrowing pinch of space as the massive tidal wave of political interlocking minds and bodies swirled through the entrance. Five in our group tentatively secured a fabulous position slightly left of the balcony. The red clothing, cigarettes, colourful flags, white bags of pop-corn, fireworks carried by roving populations endured increasing rain. Noisy outburst of horns, multi-layered voices, powerful exploding skyrockets and the shrill sound of thousands of whistles filled the moist night air.

Two massive TV screens danced with colour messages. The brief silence, then the first and final count of the night, a 62% victory and all 24 states voted Chavez. A pivotal moment of historical significance had just occurred. The re-election for the 6 term of a true socialist; not only in name but most importantly deed. The festive voters squeeze themselves into the already overcrowded street, the pavement wet and dangerous with rolling empty beer bottles. The crowd was tolerant of the new comers but a fall could have created a serious challenge for anyone on the ground. At least our deliverance into the courtyard, flanked by palace walls and quickly assembled networks of metal cranes for the TV stations cameras, protected us all from the many motor cycles punching their wheels through the crowds we face and feared earlier.

Chavez appeared on the balcony jutting out from the white palace wall, the Hero of the socialist revolution of the 21st century. The smile on his face was the outer expression of all assembled peoples hearts desire for a dignified future. Looks communicated the sentiments of the majority, the lower class, of years of being second class citizens. Chavez, a new point of reference, for the next 7 to 14 years, has obvious connections with the younger generation. Now to finish what he started 7 years ago, establishment of participatory democracy of all levels of society.

The flocks of followers were even allowed to join and embrace the armed guards on the tops of the surrounding buildings. President Chavez stood in the cleansing rain punching the air to emphasize his words with all of us. The crowd jumping and singing, with triumphal shining in their eyes.

In a sense we all have to earn our future, Chavez certainly earned his re-election and the love of his people. This was an historical night and the new dawn augurs momentous change for Venezuela and potentially the world!

By Greg Kleis
Christchurch, New Zealand
Member of the December 2006 Australian Venezuelan Solidarity Brigade