To start with a story: my aunt bought my grandmother a new kitchen. They asked me for help installing it and I obliged. On my way to the hardware store - I needed a couple of screws and a drill bit - I saw a pair of cops armed with AKs run into a store. The kind of store that sells home appliances. Then I saw them run out in my direction, looking over their shoulder, and yelling at the rest of their squadron to run.
I wasn't wearing my jogging shoes. But I bolted too. Two blocks and straight into the hardware store. They eventually got into their humvee and skidded off. There were no gunshots.
I bought my supplies and walked home.
Later in the day, walking home, I crossed through the town square. There was a mass going on in the middle of it and a crowd rocking the baby jesus. The father kept praying as the crowd moved the baby in sync to an orchestral ave maria. Army men dotted the town square and we all prayed as the manger's spotlight was occupied. Though normally this was something done at midnight, with a much bigger crowd, and candles and fireworks. Today we did it in the middle of the day. No fanfare. Just business as usual.
This is what it feels like to live in occupied territory.
It's funny, you really start worrying when the hotel owner stops you before going out in the morning. Though we're regulars at this hotel - a turn of the century house, remodeled to service the 20th century traveler, along with 5 inch thick board ups in the windows and bullet proof glass to prevent attacks - I wouldn't say we're VIPs. We were offered a security escort today.
So now, we've had our Christmas Eve lunch (not dinner).
And all the while I'm wondering why the government doesn't do something about it. How is it that this para-military, pseudogovernmental organization has all the cards. And by cards I mean bombs.
Felipe?
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