The phenomenon of the "Venezuelan Diaspora" has been booming in these years. In fact, UNESCO has declared that the migratory crisis it represents is one of the most serious in the region.
Already just over 10% of the population of Venezuela has left in the last 3 years and it is expected that the trend will continue in this course, so reaching 4 or 5 million Venezuelan emigrants (classified as refugees) is one thing credible.
In this post I want to translate the testimony of a Venezuelan who is still in the country, it was a text that I shared on social networks and I would like you to read it so that you can see first hand the frustration that pushes these people to an irremediable exit: abandon their country of birth because they find it impossible to stay.
Roneld Pinto wrote on 06/12/2019:
And I'm still here
Every day is the same, listen to my friends and other people say the thing is rough crazy, you saw the price of the flour 12 lucas and without Vaseline did not put them, you have an infinity of friends outside who write you and tell you how they Go, the common factor is I am not rich but it gives to live and send some home for the old house, and there is the situation that the old woman is not so young and although you are lucky she is healthy, you are worried that she will get a flu because to buy an expectorant you have to rob a bank because the salary goes away in a kilo of cheese and a flour bread, and as always you end up in that corner stopped thinking, "and if I go away", and just after it enters your mind the sound of doom and you ask yourself thousands of questions how, what if I go away and I get sick a little? If I'm sick over there the old one? And like those thousands that include all your family and friends you do not want to leave alone because you know that you're always there to reach out to them, answer WhatsApp messages with a "Thank you brother but that trip is not easy", and you immerse yourself again in reality, Maduro that every time he speaks he breaks the table [NT: he does something that harms the population ] and the opposition that does not stop kicking that boil, every day is an ordeal, you do not find how to stretch the salary, pitifully and forced to wait for the hjp box of the clap that the damned these were invented to keep more from one who continues to support them, the days go by and you start to see your possessions thinking how much they can give you for your used things and your wife does the same with some other garment that still survives the crisis to support you, for more pain it gives you see that car you worked hard to buy and now you do not even have to change the oil, much less buy a new rubber, you realize and in the end it became an unsustainable load and it is even more profitable to sell it than you it is deteriorating more, the incredible is the courage and the unconditional and brutal support that only a woman can give, when she says "love, we sell the washing machine so that you do not go with the pure passage and so you can sustain yourself so days, "no matter what you have to wash your clothes and your children's hand, sometimes you tend to hate the night comes because the dinner dilemma begins, a small snack for you and your wife and a bigger one for the children who are in full growth, the time to sleep no longer exists because your mind keeps turning to options and does everything possible to avoid the possibility of emigrating but that option takes up more space in your mental cloud every day, another morning of go to work without even knowing if you are going to get a bus or you are going to touch a "trans railing" [NT: transported in open trucks to load materials, debris or garbage] of those new ones where the air conditioning does not turn off and if it rainsyou get wet more inside than outside, that podina again this bug, next to you is another Venezuelan like you who keeps getting up at dawn with the hope that "here something will happen, you will see", and so they pass the days and nights in this venezuela that collapses bit by bit, and before the inert gaze of many who once benefited from my beautiful country, how I wish I had a super power to kick the ass to each and every one of those corrupt they have my country made shit, I'll keep on getting up early to go to work and there's no choice but to continue preparing the game, wishing day by day that this situation will be fixed before that date so that I do not have to leave, while continuing to clear up doubts, how can emigrate ?, how do you leave your children, wife, mother and brothers alone ?, how much energy is needed to make that decision, and one day you are at the stop and get on the "trans railing" that will take you to your home , a wretch is riding with a gun and steal all those who are there, thank God you had nothing of great value but took the backpack with the container of food and work shirt and also took the identity card, in this shit out A card is as difficult as asking for nationality in the United States, fuck! even when we're going to put up with it, what fury they took away from me even the desire to write ...