El último concierto
Recuerdo que Diego, Travis y yo nos conocimos en la escuela. En esa época ya la situación del país estaba terrible, pero éramos muy niños para darnos cuenta. Fue en el liceo, cuando no solo nuestros compañeros comenzaron a faltar, también los profesores, que debimos sospechar que algo muy grave estaba pasando en el país.
En esa época, teníamos un grupo de gaitas que habíamos conformado para la competencia decembrina en el San Lázaro. Como habíamos obtenido el primer lugar, decidimos continuar amenizando fiestas en diciembre y haciendo algo de dinero, no porque lo necesitáramos sino para comprar licor, cigarro y salir de rumba.
Por las mañanas y tardes estudiábamos y por las noches tocábamos en clubes, cumpleaños y en cualquier evento al que nos contrataran. No teníamos descanso y hasta Travis, por un tiempo, pensó en dejar los estudios:
_Estoy cansado. No tengo vida y Yajaira me reclama diariamente que no le dedico tiempo - repetía Travis cada vez que podía, en forma de queja, de pensamiento, pero también de clamor porque parecía que encima de él estaba lloviendo siempre.
Una vez Travis me dijo:
_Rhys, este grupo existe gracias a ti. Tú eres el más talentoso, tú eres el que da la cara por nosotros. Yo me puedo ir y no pasaría nada - dijo asomando lo que tal vez muchas noches consultó con la almohada.
_Muchachos, me voy del país. Yajaira está embarazada y el dinero no alcanza. Me voy para Argentina. Allá los músicos que se han ido están ganando plata - dijo y luego agarró su guitarra y comenzó a tocarla. Diego y yo no le dijimos nada, porque a nosotros también nos resultaba cuesta arriba la cosa, solo que estábamos en otra situación económica.
Ese día tocamos los tres, como nunca, como cuando éramos jóvenes y hacíamos música para divertirnos. Improvisamos, gritamos, deleitamos al público hasta el cansancio. De hecho, cuando llegó la mañana, me sorprendí en uno de los sofás de la casa de Diego y le dije afónico:
_Diego, ya es de mañana, debo volver a casa, tengo que estudiar para el examen de mañana.
Ese día, Diego nos llevó en su carro a Travis y a mí a nuestras casas. Una semana después, Travis se fue a la Argentina y luego, a los días, recibí la llamada de Diego:
_Coño, chamo, el gobierno quiere apresar a algunos trabajadores de PDVSA, así que debemos salir del país - dijo y no tuve nada qué decirle, solo que le fuera bien y que me llamara siempre.
Ahora, cuando toco en cualquier evento y veo que cada día hay menos personas, me da miedo que sea el último en irme o lo que es peor, que llegue un día que cierren las fronteras y deba hacer como los músicos del Titanic...
La imagen principal fue creada por mí en Canva, y el texto fue traducido con Deepl Translate
HASTA UNA PRÓXIMA OPORTUNIDAD, AMIGOS
![Click here to read in englis]
The last concert
I never imagined that would be the last time we would sing together. Only later, when what happened happened, did I realize that I was the only survivor of that friendship that had been born thanks to our group.
I remember that Diego, Travis, and I met at school. At that time, the situation in the country was already terrible, but we were too young to realize it. It was in high school, when not only our classmates began to miss school, but also our teachers, that we realized something very serious was happening in the country.
At that time, we had formed a bagpipe band for the December competition in San Lázaro. Since we had won first place, we decided to continue entertaining at parties in December and making some money, not because we needed it, but to buy liquor, cigarettes, and go out partying.
At that time, Diego's father was a manager at PDVSA and had bought him several musical instruments, and although Travis had the fewest, his parents always made sure he had what he needed. It was when we entered college that we stumbled upon the harsh reality: the country's economic situation was chaotic, so our hobby had to become a job.
In the mornings and afternoons we studied, and at night we played in clubs, at birthday parties, and at any event we were hired for. We had no rest, and even Travis, for a while, thought about quitting school:
“I'm tired. I have no life, and Yajaira complains every day that I don't spend time with her,” Travis repeated whenever he could, as a complaint, as a thought, but also as a cry because it seemed like it was always raining on him.
Once Travis said to me:
“Rhys, this band exists because of you. You're the most talented, you're the one who stands up for us. I can leave and nothing would happen,” he said, revealing what he had probably thought about many nights while lying in bed.
It was at a party thrown by Diego's dad that Travis decided to talk to us:
"Guys, I'm leaving the country. Yajaira is pregnant and we don't have enough money. I'm going to Argentina. The musicians who have left are making money there," he said, then picked up his guitar and started playing. Diego and I didn't say anything, because we were also struggling with the situation, only we were in a different financial situation.
That day, the three of us played like never before, like when we were young and made music for fun. We improvised, we shouted, we delighted the audience until they were exhausted. In fact, when morning came, I found myself on one of the sofas in Diego's house and said hoarsely:
“Diego, it's morning, I have to go home, I have to study for tomorrow's exam.”
That day, Diego took Travis and me to our homes. A week later, Travis left for Argentina, and then, a few days later, I got a call from Diego:
“Damn, man, the government wants to arrest some PDVSA workers, so we have to leave the country,” he said, and I had nothing to say to him, except to tell him to take care and to always call me.
Now, when I play at any event and see that there are fewer people every day, I'm afraid that I'll be the last to leave, or worse, that one day they'll close the borders and I won't be able to leave...