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Mundos del Trastoque

Presences that Made History at the World Conference of the Peoples – Part 1

Lea la versión en castellano aquí

These are my eyes and flavours during the three days thousands of persons attended with the word in the mouth telling let’s say less and do more.

Not only did I gaze with external eyes, internal ones traveled those worlds we leave in the shadow, even though it’s there where realities are constructed, de-constructed and transformed.

Here, the first glance, for there were many.

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There, many were passing on echoes of major decisions taken by the times we are living and which Mother Earth impregnated on us speaking together with heavens and further on, saying: we have to change course. They resonated behind two words: climate change.

But those words were just the crystallization of flows made concept that could not withstand prisons nor chains and were trying to run free. And thing is there were many Mothers Earth, many natures, many courses, many worlds and each one looked at them with their eyes… like the presences of each one irradiating his/her own colours always different from the others. An entire concert of fractalities looking for its course, like life itself.

Those presences were the first ones to bring me multicolored flavours, with a long-lived look, burdened with unbearable silences, dragging along the miseries and marginations we usually avoid. They are the presences of resistances which are stronger than those denying histories of their existences. They are the tired feet that walk perpetually for all of us, looking for life and not the leftovers of survivals.

For those presences, which halt the breath when you find them because their deep greatness annuls the pettiness of speech, saying a lot was not as important as to insure the swerve through the roads of restitutions. And they didn’t say much, and they let others speak, and yielded their places to restlessness, and just being there knew that behind words and frays were them, as always, sustaining life.

They were everywhere, silent, sitting under the shadow of trees, covered under their colours, next to crowds. They were the greater.

And if they spoke, they pronounced with simplicity life’s forcefulness, almost drawing it through her course:

“We have to return ourselves to Nature”

“Let’s be consumers of what Nature gives us”

“The worst thing is… hunger”

“We are imperfectly humans”

“We come making the word walk, in Colombia we are many against war and military bases, picking up the mechanism of resistance”

“Here we decide and no one for us”

“Today we are recuperating ourselves”

“We have come to speak together with you”

“Here we show what is happening to us and how we are changing”

“They are not listening to us, brother”

“Let’s join together, call them, we have to deflect”

“We do not know where to go, we do not understand their language”

“If it does not say that, they are taking us out of it”

“The dictatorship of communication does not allow us to speak”

“Thank you Bolivia for calling us, thank you for you have looked at us”

“Harmony does not only speak of love, it is much more”

“Now nothing can stop us”

“It’s not easy to converse when everyone thinks different”

“What you do, you are doing it  to me too”

“Now, what do we say to them? Let’s get organized first”

“We are going to take Cochabamba to our towns”

“So have we spoken from the South and it is been listened too”

“Sister, let’s hurry up, it’s happening”

“When you hear me, we’ll be harmonizing”

They have spoken. And did it without insulting, attacking, denying, transgressing… emerging life not darnel, inviting everyone, even those who do not look at them.

And they left after three days, slowly, through roads and shortcuts, with one more step on the bag of long struggles to be themselves, knowing they did history, not the one written down, the one that is felt because they are part of it.

Those presences made in those three days, without monopolizing the scenery, the new history with other ways of life, with the restitutions of Shifting Times .

Being Pluralities, Historical Evidences of Multidimmensionality in Our Times .

And those presences will take the flows of other histories, the ones yet to come and will walk them through our streets.

I intensely wish that with the other eyes, those that speak just enough, everyone has the honour to look at them.

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I have seen more, much more… essences, visibilizations, de-visibilizations… I have seen life running rampant.
More to come.

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