“Juat’s A Convenshun?”

Sometimes, hearing from Cheíto becomes a reality check… a needed one.

I had not seen so many flashing lights since a bad electrical storm over the Okeechobee Swamps some years ago. This morning, in a 3 block stretch, there were enough police cars to ferry half a city, all with their “party tops” full a’blazin… Then, as I approached the perimeter road, there came a blazing procession of motocops, followed by an array of black SUVs and trailing vans... all with their lights flashing to impress, like there was no tomorrow.  

I guess with the party convention in town, this was to be expected. Especially when this was not the “other guys” convention, but the ruling party’s convention… nothing but big wigs and big guns (almost literally) in town.

After I came back home, there were some things to be done but, as soon as I got into it, the phone rang. Almost didn’t answer, but I did…

- “Hey compadre… JUAT'S GON ON’?”

It was none other than Cheíto, coming back to life after a long absence…

- “Cheíto” I answered… “Man where have you been?”

-“Jus’ workin’, ju knoe… hey… I heer ju hav a convenshun out dere…”

-“Yes, that we do” I answered him and, after a few seconds of silent reflection, he came back with …

-“Man… I dun wanna soun dum’ but… essackly juat’s a convenshun?

I tried to explain what in a political time and near elections, a convention is… about party showcasing… about how thousands of people travel to participate and to support their respective chosen ones. How these feasts impress and impact the decisions of many people… and how the organizers hope to be able to convince others to support them, if they liked the show well enough.

After we talked and I tried to explain as well as I could the ups and downs of the “convention business”, he was silent for a while and then said to me…

-“Ju knoe Rafa… I dun unnersten hou thins’ work in dis kontry…” he reflected some more and continued:

-“Thins ar reely bad now… I meik less mony now… becuz ther is less to do… ju knoe my princesa gos to church skool becuz the odder one is to far…” “to meny frens’ ar losing ther houses an’ dun’ have no yobs an’ no mony…”

I tried to say something but he continued on…

-“Ju nou tel me that a bunch of peeple cum and hav big partee wid’ restaurantes, esspensiv hotels, wid poliss people from odder touns, airplains, food, lotta nois and music… big places…”

A bit of silence…

-“Hou much mony dis cost?”

-“I don’t know” I said to him… which happens to be true…

-“Hou meny peeple ken use dat mony to eet? Hou meny niu teechers ken be paid?  Hou many ol’ peeple ken be help’?”

As I was going to try an answer the unanswerable, he went on…

-“Ju knoe… if’n dey keep they promises… it mebbe OK” … “But dey nebber do… we en’up payin for all dis an allus en’up makin’ less mony”

-“Rafa, my brudder… I luv dis kuntry… da bes’ in da worl”… “but I dun unnerstan’ why dis peeple meik thin’s so har for us instead of makin’ thins better”

With this, and a very quiet “bye” he hung up the phone, leaving me to wonder about the many thousands of “Cheítos”, from many different parts of the world who, in coming here, have put their faith and future in the hands of leaders who more often than not, forget about these working people. About how much they are hurting and how much they are the backbone of this country.

How can I explain to someone that faith must be put in the system and not the person who happens to be at the helm at any given time? A system that has survived less than stellar performances in the past. Then again, I am left to wonder just how many times that system can continue to rebound from the many abuses it receives.

One can only hope and work as hard as possible to assure these rebounds do happen.  

Be Well … Be Back!!!

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