The next article is well written – about the sad realization many are not getting the needed health care not related to the virus. To me this is the truth we should be speaking of, not the cases based on a 97% false positive test. But we continue as a country to rely on those tests which tell us nothing while creating a great deal of fear. This is beyond my ability to understand as there is no logic involved. But again, I only post what I have found interesting for those reading to find their own way through this. It is my wish to encourage healthy debate and a more critical way of looking at the information out there.
https://www.rt.com/op-ed/521016-continued-lockdowns-ticking-time-bomb/
It has been a difficult week, so many people here have gotten their injection, my ability to feel what happens to them weighing me down. I am so sad most of the time now, it is difficult to face getting dressed to go anywhere, let alone to my job where I must face so many with reduced capacity. But I don’t have to leave my home to feel their presence, I can feel them when they enter the store below my apartment or walk by the building I live in. It is the short tempers, the lack of respect for someone else’s choice and the arrogance their choice is the only right one which makes living in this town right now difficult. I have come back to a world I do not understand, nor do I want to.
There is a rally happened this past Saturday, a fight for our freedom to choose. There are many here who feel this is not wise. I beg to differ – if not now, then when will be a good time to fight for our rights? Little by little our world is shrinking, our right to voice our opinion being threatened.
My father fought for the people particularly in South America, but worldwide until his dying breath. Until 2017, many were still afraid to speak his name or support his revolution due to the inhuman repercussions. Still one must be careful, this was the power of his fight for freedom, truth and the right to live a good life. It still frightens many.
He was betrayed by many including the people he was fighting for. Punishment from from the Bolivian army, behind many decisions I’m sure, something many may have regretted after his death, however the name Che Guevara lives on, despite the traitorous actions of many. I know first hand what happens to those punished for supporting this man – I was a victim of their torture simply because I was his daughter. It began at the age of 2 when they found where I had been hidden. Those who sheltered me died in very tragic ways, something I was forced to watch.
I could not attend this rally because of work, but I was there in spirit because what I fight for here, I fight for the people of South America, Cuba and the world. Freedom! If we lose the fight for our freedom to choose, it is my fear it will never be regained. I am rejuvenated to see the crowds attending the rallies, it gives me hope to see I am not alone anymore in my fight for freedom which began with my birth. I know better than most what it means to lose the right to choose, to lose the person I was born to be based on someone else’s fear. It is satisfying in some regard to realize fear did not kill my father, but rather kept him alive in the hearts of many worldwide, mine included. His fight continues as our revolution in North America begins, although many in this country may know not who Che Guevara is. We are fighting for the same reasons he took up his rifle so long ago.
When I think about my journey to Ecuador during these difficult days, I find I am amazed at all that happened to me. The people I met who changed my life, my perspective and gave me courage to live a better way. In particular I have been thinking about my walk from Cotacachi as I headed back to Apuela with Señorita Mali. I had not eaten in 3 days, had no water and no food to take with me when I stepped out the door inhabited by the abusive man living there. There was little choice as I searched for an open vendor to buy anything from. With all the roads closed, no delivery trucks allowed through, my concern grew. Knowing I would have a very difficult time climbing the Andes with my heavy pack and satchel, I could not imagine how I would survive this adventure.
The miracle of finding Jenny and her family, something which still makes me cry with gratitude, as it was indeed the helping hand of “Spirit” which led Jenny’s mother Marina to me.
The humble meal she presented me that night as she apologized for its simplicity, could not have been more satisfying, there was simply no words for me to express my gratitude in english, never mind Spanish. Laying awake that night, under the many blankets, Mali safely beside me, I could not imagine where I would have slept had I not been taken in by this beautiful, amazing family.
For the 4 days following, until a ride was arranged for me to return to the valley, I watched a united people gather in protest quite literally outside my door. They sang, played football with their homemade plastic soccer ball, ate off a blanket lain on the road, and kept peaceful vigil as they maintained their right to fight against the rise in gas prices. I was encased in a world of poverty, sharing an experience which could only ensure my understanding of my fathers fight when I was only a child. When the majority (and this is worldwide) lives under the thumb of the minority who hoard the majority of wealth for their own purpose, there is very little the poor can do to fight back. To assume however, they have no power, no strength or no courage is a mistake often made by those who harvest the resources from the poorer countries. This is because it is a lack of courage which makes a man steal from those who have so little to begin with. Only a coward can take what does not belong to him, rather than extend a helping hand to ensure all are taken care off. It is a fear driven act, a weakness in the core of ones being which substantiates crimes against humanity in order to secure wealth and comfort selfishly.
The home I fled from that day was occupied by a couple who lived in fear of the strike which had shut down the country. They believed there would be violence on the street and all gringos would be killed or beaten if out alone. They did nothing to stop me leaving, yet made an attempt to in-still their fears in me. Completely unsure of how I would manage this feigned act of bravery, but knowing I could not be under the same roof as this man who assaulted me, I made my way through the streets. Interestingly enough, I met only the kind and gentle people I saw everyday, my confidence grew with each wave or smile – their amazement I was walking to Apuela on my own something they could not disguise.
For the first time in my life I began to really feel alive. Living with this family, who tried to convince me to stay with them, I learned so much about true humility, unconditional love, giving with no expectation and the beauty of a connected family. This family taught me more about life in 4 days then I learned in a lifetime. It is this crisis we face here which has taught me to reflect on the beauty of my experience then.
I lived with people in a country who understand oppression, they have lived under the thumb of the elite since the Spanish arrived on their shores, although those who suppress them now are far more cruel. If anyone living in North America thinks things will get better after living with this situation for a year, you really need to get your heads out of the sand. Can you see any sign whatsoever things are getting better? You are living a lie if you think this is going away and I can only feel great sadness because of it.
What happened to “we are in this together”? Does this only apply if we all agree to follow the leader over the cliff? We are in this together, but some of us are fighting back so we can avoid that cliff and all we want is for those not fighting back to allow us the freedom to choose our path. We did not stop you from taking yours, please show us the same respect. All I ask is for you to say to yourself once a day……”what if they are right”……..
