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The stubborn fence of blood

If these two weeks before the elections do not pass quickly, the country will go crazy. Well, he’s probably already freaked out. The fact is that, if the atmosphere is not depressurized soon, people will have no choice but to change their breakfast coffee for blood.

And the afternoon chocolate for more blood. Hot blood will come out of the showers. Colombia will be zombie land, the tombs will be truly resting places. We will have to import Mexicans so that they can teach us to be friends with Catrina, with her smiling bones, with her dancing look.

There is no where to choose a news that talks about life. From morning to night we are supplied with a charming stream of murders, break-ins, dismemberment, bombs, criminal gangs, stabbings in exchange for cell phones, bullying children and adolescents, false positives, armed stoppages, beach hitmen, explosions, ajúas, in Finally, a menu that would fascinate Frankenstein.

The language is as poisoned as its referents in reality. The electoral campaign has unleashed insults, fake news, accusations, threats, “I’ll hit you in the face, queer”, “you don’t know who I am”, votes, curses. The candidates shield themselves between shields, they disappear from the squares, none of them is safe from their past life.

Any citizen in the street belongs to the enemy side. Everyone knows who is being pointed to when speaking of “foreigners”. The immigrants are corner ghettos who rest for a while between the irons of their bikes with hideous little motors and their snake-like motorcycles.

Those threatened know their fate: “I know they are going to kill me,” says the mayor of Frontino on the front page of the Antioquia newspaper. The people in the huddles have Gaitán’s murder on their lips and think that this time that Bogotazo would stay small.

From the verb to the deed, this is how the massacre began and this is how it continues. From the fear of the throne, this is how the promoters of dripping information, of language with machetes, of combustible speeches take advantage of the restlessness. From despair to the couch, that’s how psychiatrists and psychologists can’t keep up with patients. From anxiety to depression, this is how children and very sensitive beings commit suicide.

The fleeting charm of the signed peace and of the rows of buses and canoes that brought the riflemen from the jungle quickly changed into shreds. Shatters returned hope. Again the blood leaked from the flag and covered rivers, trails, minds, arms. There has been no hemostatic to put the tatequieto so much red trail.

That is why many do not know who to vote for. The aspirants have done mutual harm to each other. That is why only at the last minute will a high percentage make a shaky decision, will try to wash the blood of the future. If the situation has a future. If it is that the hemorrhage allows to erase the fogs of the brain and the rage of the heart.

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