Earlier in #CaracazoWeek, we published a complete translation of PROVEA’s 1989 report into the events of the day. That’s a valuable document, but long, so we thought you might appreciate the greatest hits, an annotated walk through of their conclusions, highlighting the bits we forgot to remember. PROVEA’s recounting of the main causes of death…
The wake up.
With a terrible headache I woke up nude into a tiny and dark room. All my underwear had been cut and my shirt without bottons but my skirt was the only thing that reminded intact. Later, I tried to get dressed as I could. My shoes and my hand bag had been stolen, my wallet only had my identification items and my personal card to pay the public transport for a month. Curiously, I wondered why they were interested in taking my used lipstick, because my mini makeup bag had desappeared as well as my used spare pantyhouses. Even my false jewelly: A necklace, wrists as well as the wrists in right ankle, earrings and all my rings for the fingers of my hangs and for my feet too.
It was situated in Malasaña. Several people were living in every room, because I was lucky to have an individual bedroom. Families: the couple and their children were living in little rooms. An old lady from South America offered me some of breakfast: A piece of bread and a cup of coffee without milk. She was very kind to me because she gave me as a gift a t-shirt to hide my chest and a pair of Hawians sandals for my feet. It was winter and the was cold, but I go to the street in that way.
At the police station.
Despite my clothes, I went to the closer Police Station to write an application against who had raped me. The fact was developped in Madrid and so I go in a Police Station there, due to the territorial jurisdiction. Then, they called to take an ambulance of the SAMUR. All the public clerks were very kind to me in the Police Station as well as the Hospital.
Tomorrow I’ll tell you the doctor’s diagnosys and my failure in the process against that delinquent.
Previous to be raped-
For Saturday, August 6, 2016. Translated by Javier Liendo. Signing an ecocide For Nicolás, the Organic Law for Indigenous Peoples and Communities isn’t worth as much as coltan, gold, or diamonds. The tribes who inhabit the region of the Orinoco Mining Arc haven’t given their informed and voluntary consent, and haven’t exercised their sovereignty…
a través de Signing an ecocide — Caracas Chronicles
In her party.
We were celabrating the party before of the third wedding of my best friend, two weeks previous to this. After the dinner, we went to a Bar to have the previst final drink in Gran Vía.
All we’re in our later fourties and so we didn’t enjoy the night the Madrid a lot. We decided to say goodbye and everybody were at home early. While I was waiting for the taxi, a young fellow from South America inveted me to have a drink with him. I refused his invitation because he was very ugly. He started to say arguments in insulting way, he said the white ladies don’t want to have drinks with Indians. A great scandal was developped and so I accepted the invitation.
In the bar.
Previous to have the drink, I got a headache due to the music of those contries of South America: Bachatas, merengues,… and the worst of all, THE REAGETON.
A last I raised the glass and I started to have the liquid. Meanwhile he bored me with his empty conversation, what’s more, he wanted to be my boyfriend because I was the most beautiful girl he had never seen.
Suddenly, circles appeared in my mind and I collapsed down. I didn’t remember more about that.
En la parcela de la seguridad jurídica de licitantes, existe el derecho al libre acceso a la justicia, cuando impugnan actos dentro del procedimiento de contratación. Le corresponde al Estado consolidar una administración garantista, bajo un subsistema jurídico de medios de impugnación, donde se desarrolle la justicia licitatoria, cuyo campo de actuación se ubica en […]
“Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in”… I keep saying in my mind after glancing at my to-do list. I’m not in the Hunger Games, but suddenly I feel like the paper in front of…
My small house is in a residential area no far to Madrid. It’s in a estate with twenty houses with car park and common garden. There isn’t either swimming-pool or tennis court. We’re in the field. No Coughs stops there, the following bus stop is a six hundred feet from my house and so, I have to take my car, a Peugeot 106, to take the closer underground station, in Mostoles, three kilometres from house. However, it doesn’t matter these disadvateges becuase I live in the field.
There are only four rooms in two floors of thirty square metres: One living – room with a short kitchen and only one bathroom next to the bedroom. I forget to mention the tidy yard.
Furnitures and gadgets.
The furniture is basicly reduced in number: Two tables and four seats. One of the table is my desk where there the computer with a multi-function office printer (Fax, telefone, scanner and printer) All my cases files are on the floor. Only one bed where I had to sleep on the floor, alright, I mean in a campaing bag, at the first years, until I could save enough money to can affort to buy a bed and the mattress. In the kilchen, there isn’t either a fridge or a microvawe horn, event there is not a gas cooker. Everyday I buy the diary food in a supermarket at the entrance of the residential estate. Neither I have central heater. However, my house isn’t cold at all because large windows make the sun light come into and so the sun rays heat my house that is oriented to the west.
Several parties with my relatives, non only my parents and brothers but also my three nieces and my nephew, can be celebrating there. The cock barbacue and my ice box help to get the meat fried and the drinks were colds. My guesses enjoy a lot due to the nice music sounds in my computer. Several songs are stored there.
Despite this situation, I’m the happiest person in the world because my relatives and my closer friends, many of them from my childhood, live roughtly close that so we haven’t lost the contact.