Published via Ecency

Maturin.

As I mentioned yesterday, we did everything we could here to shore up the beam that was most affected in my home, but amid all the worries and stress, my mother and I decided it would be best for her to go to the city of Maturín while I stayed here taking the necessary steps to shore up the beam so it can hold out a little longer until the situation calms down somewhat and we can take better action. After watching the news, we’ve realized that nearby towns, especially those along the coast, have borne the brunt of this earthquake—with landslides that have left more than 1,000 dead and well over 4,000 injured. I’m citing these figures based on data from the morning of Saturday, June 27.

But setting that aside for a moment, I can tell you that today was also a wonderful experience, spending time with such big-hearted people who have a genuine desire to help others—to help a fellow Venezuelan, to help one another. Just as there are people doing wrong, I also know that there are many of us Venezuelans who are part of the change and part of the positive culture this country needs to keep growing.

I'll get right to the point because I need to vent my frustration.

I swear, I wish you could hear this in my own voice—with this cry of despair—as I ask what the hell the security team, the National Guard, and the Bolivarian Police are doing in this situation. Where is their brain? Where is their heart? And where is their mind to act the way they do?

Surely, in the photo, you’re just seeing a guard taking a break or surveying the area, but it’s quite the opposite—it’s a clear example of the stupidity of these agencies and these people: a guard holding more than one pair of gloves in his hand and an empty water bottle, which means he took more supplies than he was supposed to, since one pair of gloves is supposed to be given per person, and obviously he’s not the one distributing them—just as the water is meant for the people who are still underground beneath the rubble—but these people came only to spread terror, to impose their rules, and to dictate who can help and who cannot. This is something that, honestly, as a Venezuelan, I disapprove of, and I know that many of us can also find various videos and other content on social media. I’ve just been sitting here, resting, and watching how the situation is escalating and it’s getting worse and worse. From here, we’ve seen cases of children being sold online on a website where toys are sold—they post photos of stuffed animals or toys, and in the description they list the children’s age, height, and in some cases even their age in months—a situation that’s quite devastating for many of us.

And to all of this, I want to add these photos—some of the few we were able to take today—since, honestly, we were swamped; there were so many people here in Maturín seeking help, including my mother, my aunt, my cousin, and my other aunt—and, of course, myself.

I want to clarify that I created a collage from this photograph; I used the original photo, but it was a guest post as part of the d u o project.

I'm attaching this screenshot, taken directly from the chat with my mother, showing that these photos were taken with her phone and sent to mine via WhatsApp.

I am very grateful to all of you for everything you’ve contributed, for all the support and help you’ve given us—even those words of encouragement are sometimes enough to calm my mind, take a breath, look ahead, lift my gaze, and keep moving forward and fighting. Truly, thank you so much to everyone for standing with us in this situation, because I’m not alone—the help you send me also goes directly to everyone affected, no matter how small —whether it’s a cookie or a juice—because we know there are many here with far greater priorities than my broken roof. I can’t ignore the fact that the roof could indeed collapse, and there are also the normal vibrations caused by the mines near the house, but believe me, this is irrelevant when I see so many children in parks while their parents were buried under the rubble and their bodies still lie there, dead and rotting. I send you my deepest condolences —that’s where our hearts are torn to pieces.