Venezuela has become a country of infinite impossibilities. Having anything done is nearly impossible. It takes tremendous willpower mental sanity to keep going. As I struggle to keep my cool amid blackouts, phone and internet failure, and the occasional medical emergency that makes one spend the money one does not have, a poem by North American poet, Elizabeth Bishop came to mind.
(Another blackout as I write these lines)
One Art
By Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979)
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
(1976)
Source
For me, the art of losing is hard to master. You may call it denial, but it is hard to settle for nothing, to conform and give up. We have progressively and steadily lost every thing that we have worked for, everything that defines us at a given stage in life, every dream or aspiration for us or our children, any professional project; everything because of a corrupted parasitic and predatory failed ideology.
We may get over the loss of parents, which is part of the cycle of life. A lost key or a wasted hour may just upset us, but we can move on. We have certainly practiced losing farther and faster. We gave up traveling and, in some cases, that has actually brought disasters. We have been isolated from family and friends and many die every day alone and forgotten.
We are losing out houses with us inside. We see them wither, break apart, collapse even, without the possibility of fixing or moving out. We are losing our homes witnessing loved ones distance themselves out of frustrations, competing in a litany of aches and impossibilities.
Many have lost the country itself and miss it dearly because unlike the successful migrant who finds a foster home and settles, for many of ours, losing the country did cause disasters. Many face discrimination and rejection, or just the simple economic disaster caused by Covid-19; many have died in the most brutal circumstances without saying good bye to their loved ones, without offering closure, without knowing what hit them.
But, of course, I guess all things are ultimately "filled with the intent to be lost" and it is up to us to face those losses as training rather than disasters. After much resisting and avoidance, I accepted recently to teach an online advanced English class for a local academy. It has ended up being a Whatsapp class given the limitations with my internet service (can't afford the video calls/Zoom, etc). All kinds of complications have emerged and every day it is a struggle and a challenge to patience and sanity.
No amount of money that the employer could afford to pay can compensate the complications. That a teacher cannot even afford or have access to a decent internet service is already a humiliation. Add to that an occasional medical emergency or an electrical problem that requires hiring an itinerant line fixer (because the local electricity company does not have equipment or staff to take care of repairs) and facing a class with enthusiasm becomes a real challenge.
Today, out of the four students that are registered in that class, one reported problems with his phone, which prevented him from attending. Two just did not show up and have not yet contacted us to know why. They had no electricity last Wednesday. In the mean time, you have an institution that demands a certain amount of material to be covered in a fixed schedule that allows for no modifications. Extra hours may be needed, but extra payment is out of the question. Even if one loves one's job, there is no much that vocation can do in these cases, and losing one's vocation is indeed hard to master.