The Gold Rush (Venezuela)

Not infrequently, history repeats itself but, in our American lands, it is not repeated but it is vomited, like those of a drunk who passes drinks and ends up doing his grace or misfortune, the memory of the end of the year party or end of the year

The same happens Ay! with the massacres, massacres or systematic exterminations of the towns that acquire the geographical misfortune of occupying from time immemorial lands prodigal in gold, diamonds or any other mirage of wealth that caused - and causes - in the newcomers an inexplicable mixture of greed and cruelty.

The gold rush, to name the most common, has been the victim and tremor of literature, cinema and, of course, television and its many surprising derivatives - must we say it? - infinite to predict. But these fictions, increasingly refined and clear when representing reality, have ended up joining and fighting each other to take the trophy of what is really true reality.

Take for example what happened in the Pemón indigenous community of Ikabaru (Venezuelan Indians), where an attack by an armed group has been reported that, according to press releases, made a presence in that peaceful community with the intention of setting accounts with a band rival and, of course, seize the area and displace rivals.

To affirm and reaffirm their intentions, they felt the need to go beyond making a presence, cowering the community and subjecting it to an inevitable sense of fear that would reign over the population even when they, the malefactors, had left the surroundings. It was enough that the battlefield could show (or better, stage the past and the future) so that it would be known who was in charge there.

Better impossible, or rather worse impossible. So many scoundrels, malefactors, bandits of all color and cane swarm the lands of the gold rush. And the worst part is that this paradise of evil is between "protected and unprotected", equally by the hegemonic military power and, most of the time, more unprotected than taken care of and guarded by the weapons that the republic gives them.

If someone were to ask for that hypocritical shout of indigenous resistance proclaimed by Hugo Chavez, the answer would not be precisely enthusiastic. Indigenous resistance should be sought today in these small villages deprived of any hope of peace and justice, as well as of these conglomerates where not only the original peoples coexist, but also those who came to seek peace and homeland, without encouragement to enrich themselves.

None of that is possible today in those former and beautifully lonely lands immersed in their dreams and customs. Nothing can the original peoples against the armed and cruel powers of both the current government and its allies and partners. They are being razed by the presence no longer of the white man, but of their partners who raise socialist flags, of businessmen from distant Russian or Chinese empires, of guerrillas abandoned by history and converted into bands that subdue and exterminate the pemones and your brothers.

And all under the complicit surveillance of the state apparatus of a obscurantist, mafia and police socialism. For these people who have power (the noun people are too big) the need to enrich the blind in such a way that destroying one of the most beautiful territories not in Venezuela but in the entire world, such as Canaima, seems as normal as riding a disco in the National Pantheon, and dance on the bones of Bolivar. And passing over eight more dead, like those of Ikabarú.

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