By Gustavo Borges
“You have to transfer eleven thousand bolivars to the Clap account. A carton of eggs and a chicken, please send a capture or text message to the whatsapp group”.
Three hundred and twenty families receive this message through different media in the neighborhood: whatsapp, text messages, phone calls, word of mouth, from window to window, in the corners. Old women even knocked on the neighbor’s door, passing the news.
-Wake up pal, the protein has arrived.
-And when it is going to happen? Now?
-No, they will let you know when they get downstairs, you have to be aware but you have to make the transfer now.
The barrio activates itself in an enviable process of popular communication so that no one is left behind. There shouldn’t be a single family from the hill, the stairs or the “planada” left without protein that night. Local Supply and Production Committees (CLAP) do not joke around in the barrio and they are the barrio itself. It’s going to rain and it’s eight o’clock at night. The three hundred and twenty families in that territory have already been notified by that time.
Rossana looks out the window of her “rancho” looking down the alley, towards what they call the avenue. The kid that she carries, almost naked because of the fucking heat, is distracted with the night lights from the barrio in front of ours. It will rain. – “Fuck you Trump goddammit, the blockade and all this shit – this is true, I’m not making it up – why do we have to be going through this. The barrio is going to get wet. It will start to rain exactly when the chicken and eggs arrive. Damn you Trump ”- The old woman scrubbing in the kitchen listens to her. “Look, mija -stop fucking around and with that drama, and stop cursing. With Trump, blockade, downpour, and maybe now the thugs will begin with their party but I will go downstairs to look for that chicken and those eggs. You know how much an egg carton is worth, a chicken? Set you back at least 300,000.” “No kidding, mama, it’s true.” I imagine her mentally: “Damn Trump, Damn Trump a thousand times.” But the young woman is about to cry out of outrage. The message arrives: “Go down stairs to find the protein, let everyone know.”
The drops start to sound on the cardboard roofs. It’s eleven o’clock last night.
Translated by JRE/EF