Parade

Looking at the parade that celebrates Bolivia’s independence, with Evo Morales waiving from the balcony at the people looking at him down from the street, I dream. I dream of the day when at the parade that celebrates a country there are no military or weapons. Let march the people, normal people, people that makes the country. Let march clowns and shoemakers, maestros, other musicians, carpenters and bricklayers, bankers and lottery sellers. Let march poets and writers, ironmasters and entrepreneurs, those who study and those who don’t, housewives and their sons, fishermen and farmers, doormen and taxi drivers, referees and sportsmen. Let march architects, engineers, patients, doctors and nurses, firefighters and truck drivers. Let march the crazy and the insane, without them there’s no parade, let march politicians as well, don’t let them stick to the stands, let the military join the people, all of us who were made equal, because not only with weapons and wars are arsenals filled with. Let march the country, the whole country, made by people that fills it and builds it, in each day’s struggle for living and being happy. Let's show the World the whole country, everything contained in it, not just the gun that keeps frontiers as they are. Let's show all that makes that country unique, its arts, its struggle, its work, all the blood and sweat spilled each day, the proud of being human, and love, yes!, love. Why show hatred or rancor or racism or stupidity? Shall the national embrace the foreigner, as the distinguished guest he is, shall the doors be opened to those who want to know who we are. Enough of hatred and fighting, of stupid borders and wars, enough of all those limitations and prisons that take away our freedom. The World is ours, of us all! Let’s celebrate the country as the culture it is, not as some damn birdcage involved in barbwire. I dream of the day when at the parade that celebrates a country there are no military or weapons. I dream, but when will the day arrive in which I will not have to dream about it anymore?






Sucre, Bolivia, August 2009