Una anciana de unos setenta y cinco años, piel blanca, con un vestido largo de color amarillo, cruzaba la calle cuando un líder político que estaba de gira la miró y se acercó. Todos los flashes la invadieron. Ella, abrumada, no lograba coordinar hasta que el político la tomó del brazo y gritó: «Debemos ser solidarios, cuidar los unos de los otros. Comencemos por nuestros abuelos».
Los presentes gritaban, aplaudían y coreaban el nombre de su líder. Tomaron a la anciana y la sentaron en una esquina del escenario que se improvisó. Ella se puso incómoda, viendo que el tiempo transcurría y no podía irse a cumplir sus obligaciones.
Subieron un grupo de baile urbano y cuando iban a presentar a otro artista, la abuela se levantó, momento que el líder político vio oportuno para que ella diera un mensaje. Uno de los organizadores, la tomó del brazo, le susurró algo oído y la puso frente al micrófono.
La abuela temblaba y todos quedaron en silencio. No pudo hablar, casi lloraba. Los presentes, notando su ansiedad, comenzaron a aplaudirle y le gritaron: ¿abuela, tus palabras?, eso la volvió en sí, trató de alejarse del micrófono y bajarse del escenario. El político se le acercó y la anciana le dijo: «hijo, me disculpa, pero estas cosas no me gustan». El político le sonrió y le ayudó a bajar. La abuela lo bendijo y poco a poco se fue alejando.
Caminó, cruzó las dos calles siguientes y la avenida. Pensaba en lo que acababa de vivir. Al llegar a una casa de bahareque, entró y pidió la bendición a la anciana que estaba en la silla al lado de la ventana, besándole la frente, le dijo: «mami, perdona por llegar tarde a cuidarte».
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True solidarity
An old woman of about seventy-five years old, white skin, wearing a long yellow dress, was crossing the street when a political leader who was on tour looked at her and approached. All flashes invaded her. She, overwhelmed, was unable to coordinate until the politician grabbed her arm and shouted, "We must show solidarity, take care of each other. Let's start with our grandparents.
Those present shouted, clapped and chanted the name of their leader. They took the old woman and sat her in a corner of the improvised stage. She became uncomfortable, seeing that time was passing and she could not leave to fulfill her obligations.
They brought up an urban dance group and when they were about to introduce another artist, the grandmother stood up, a moment that the political leader saw as an opportune moment for her to give a message. One of the organizers took her by the arm, whispered something in her ear and put her in front of the microphone.
The grandmother was trembling and everyone was silent. She could not speak, she was almost crying. Those present, noticing her anxiety, began to applaud her and shouted: "Grandma, your words," that brought her back to her senses, she tried to move away from the microphone and get off the stage. The politician approached her and the old woman said: "son, excuse me, but I don't like these things". The politician smiled at him and helped him down. The grandmother blessed him and slowly walked away.
He walked, crossed the next two streets and the avenue. He thought about what he had just experienced. When he arrived at a wattle and daub house, he went inside and asked the old lady who was in the chair next to the window for a blessing, kissing her forehead, he said: "Mommy, I'm sorry for being late to take care of you".
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Traductor Deepl