April 11, 2003
by M. Gabriela Delgado
Yellow, blue and red were the colors that I saw that day in the streets. People were familiar with these colors. A lot of them had flags, whistles, and they sang many songs. Everybody was walking in a peaceful way, I could see happiness, joy, and the hope that everyone would be “safe” that dark day. “
Around me I saw many families, and some of them had little children. There were pregnant women, grandparents, and people with some physical problems, but all of them were singing, laughing, jumping, walking, playing, and showing love for their country. I remember in a clear way how all those faces changed in the blink of an eye. Later, when we heard a shot in the air, these same people looked scared, worried, and pale, and they began to walk away fast. Some of them began to run. In that moment, I began to feel numb inside, and the only thing that I felt was the hand of my father on my wrist saying, “nos vamos ya! nos regresamos a la casa!” (We need to walk quickly- it’s time to go). I could not hear anything. I felt strange, and I didn’t know about what happened. After that I turned around, and I saw my mom and my sister were in front of me walking fast, and my grandfather trying to walk fast as well. My father told us not to look back, but as a teenager that was the first thing that I did, and I saw a boy who was bleeding. The sleeve of his shirt was red, and people were running and walking faster.
After we finally turned the last corner we began to walk again, and I could tell that everyone else was scared and shaking as well. Later we arrived at home “Al fin llegamos! prende la television!” (Finally we arrive! Turn on the TV) said my mom. We turned on the television, and saw how people were shot by some men on the top of a bridge. I could not believe the images that we saw, and how the people were running and screaming. When I saw the news images on television, I began to wonder how a nonviolent demonstration had ended with so many injuries and deaths. April 11, 2003 was a day to remember for all Venezuelans because we never thought demonstrating against the government in a peaceful way would end with bloodshed and so many broken souls. After that day, the people exploded in anger, burning like fire, looking for justice, but that justice never came. Two years later, my family and I moved to the United States with broken hearts and souls. When I’m talking about broken souls, I mean the deepest feeling of sadness, worries, and strange emotions. I knew that coming to live in the United States wouldn’t be easy, but at least we were going to have a different future. I cannot explain with simple words how I felt, but I know that that day something changed inside of me. During that time I was fifteen maybe sixteen years old, and today there is another generation of students who are fighting for freedom. The young people finally woke up and saw that their choices and freedom were taken away by a socialist government. Now, I know that the battles that we had in our country made us stronger. Also now I know that life in The United States is not easy either. Here we need to fight, but the differences are that we fight for our present and future, not for our lives.