The Venezuelan Eclipse

So many years had passed since the country had been fixed that the thought of what it had been seemed like a nightmare that had never occurred.

Forty years ago, the country was a disaster. A place dammed by it’s very own blessings. Corruption had swallowed the treasures of a land endowed with beautiful coastlines and splendorous flatlands. Under the surface lay one of the biggest fortunes in the planet.

And here lay the alpha and the omega of the story I have come to tell. It all started and ended with the black gold that lay under Venezuelan soil. The first oil well was discovered in the late 1800s. Long story short, thief robbed a thief that robbed a thief and like that for over a hundred years...until the river of wealth dried until it cracked.

Millions fled, until the country collapsed. By 2021, the country was in moral and financial ruin. A country dead. In a country with the world’s largest oil reserves, there was no gasoline.

And so the years passed in a futile back and forth toggle between two uninspired parties, with one always ruling - until finally a small window opened. The destitute country started to allow some foreign investors. While thousands of studies had been done about the mineral wealth of the country, most of the research had been lost.

It was rumored that there was one man that had all the information about all the potential oil reserves in the country registered with Cartesian coordinates, cubic volume and forecasted cost of extraction, amongst other details all carefully written in a little black book. The whereabouts of this man were unknown, it was only known that he was somewhere in California. The man had fled to the United States as an illegal immigrant. Unable to work, he had dedicated himself to study the geology of Venezuela since the beginning of time.

The sage man could do more with a few colored pencils and a map than a 3D computer with a slew of engineers. He knew everything, how and when the sea had recessed, how the plates had crashed and receded, leaving spaces in the earth for gaps and the formation of porous sands to trap the oil. All this colorful information was hand drawn in a little black book somewhere in California.

It didn’t take too long to figure out where he was. In a rotting jail cell in Caracas, a former colleague of the sage man, revealed his name and location. From that point on, politicians and business men were on the hunt for the black book. The problem was not that they did not know where to find oil in Venezuela, the problem was that they needed to know the places with the highest likelihood and largest volume of oil. It was also believed that in the book there was information about oil wells in all of Latin American and the rest of the world.

Finally, they arrived at the place where the book was kept. It was with his son. His son was a painter in San Francisco. Two men arrived at his house, one from the Venezuelan government and the other from a foreign investment firm and made him an offer for the book.

"Twenty thousand dollars?"

"Do you find our offer too little?.We want the book to celebrate your father's legacy..."

"I know very well what you want it for. Neither of you is a historian. I know what you want it for and I am not selling it to you. No book, map or wealth can help you. While you might appear from a new era and a new flavor, you are both made from the same putrid meat that has ruined the country. Forget about it"

"Sir - I think you have misunderstood us. It is true that we will use it for the exploration and prospecting of the minerals in the country and our intentions are the development and revitalization of the country. Are you opposed to these goals?"

"No, I am not. But you are. And that is why you are not getting the book. Do your own research." And with that he closed the door.

For these well dressed barrators, this was far from finished. They were prepared to stalk him till the edge of the earth. They would hunt voraciously to steal what they coveted, their hungry was fed by stealing what was not their to keep.

One day he returned to his house and he found everything torn to pieces. Windows broken, canvases torn, furniture flung about. It was expected and nothing did they find. By this point the book would always be with his person.

* * *

Far, far, far away he went with the little black book. He drove from San Francisco to the last place they would be ever think to find him. His family apartment in Maracaibo, Venezuela. He had not been there in over twenty years. Far and wide, the barrators searched for him, but it never occurred to them to look in Maracaibo.

He went there because he needed to hide - but he also went there because his intuition told him that it was his duty was to be there, in Maracaibo, with the book. He was born in Maracaibo and had heard of its riches but had scarcely enjoyed them. The apartment was an ideal place to paint with a wide balcony illuminated by sunshine and bare walls to rest large canvases. He painted and enjoy the sunshine but after a few months this life became monotonous.

One day he decided to open the book. If he dammed hypocrites and barrators for wanting to buy it, was it not worse that he had never taken the time to open it? He treasured it and had crossed countries to keep it safe but he had never stopped to read the book. He opened the book and it read:

Maracaibo y Venezuela. The Caribbean Ocean. It is a story for the children of Venezuela and of the world. It is literature for everyone. There were no Indians or Spaniards. Nor Venezuelans.

There was no one.

There was only a mass of Earth burning. There was no Columbus. There were no Romans. Not even a man existed on Earth.

It was only a piece of Earth burning from the fire of what is called Venezuela and the rest of the world.

And then it cooled down.

He dedicated himself to teach this story to the youth of Venezuela. They had only seen that the result of this story was a black pulp that had been used by corrupt and inept beings. He started teaching at a small school in the outskirts of the country. On the first day that he told them the story of planet earth, the class was fascinated and in their eyes he saw a pride that he never they had never felt, the pride towards the very ground they touched.

And so he added to the story and told him about the plains of Apure and about the orchestras of Gustavo Dudamel. About everything that they could be and that they already were. For years, months and decades he did this as these children became teenager and eventually adults. They became individuals of great character and low profile. However, the country remained in darkness but behind the sooty grey clouds a piercing gold light seemed to emerge. The world became curious of Venezuela.

With that curiosity, came a very wealthy philanthropist who had heard of the teacher. He requested to sit in on his class one day. The man he heard teach was young in spirit and had ashy hair from the passing of time. Amazed, he said to him:

"You! You! You should be in front of them all speaking. From this school you have created, everything you created, men that lead abroad, artists from Tokyo to Paris, the salt of the earth who has brought my curiosity to your classroom. "

The philanthropist continued: "I want to donate twenty thousand dollars to your campaign."

- "What campaign?"

- "Your presidential campaign that should start tomorrow"

- "Are you kidding? I am an old man and politics is not my place in this world."

- "Yes you might be old, decades have flown by while you passed the time in this classroom. And while you have grown grey hair, your students have grown legs. Do you not know where your students are now?"

- "No, I don't know....all I know is that they are not here"

- "They are here and everywhere. How do you think that I have arrived here? I select the winners of the McArthur prize. We follow the world's most brilliant mind secretly and three of my shortlist finalists all came from here. It's unheard of."

- "I am very happy to hear that but it is not for me"

- "You do not have much of a choice. Either you do it or the barrators will find out where you are. I do not want to hurt you but wether you take the money or not, chase politics or not, everyone will know who are and where you are. Take the twenty thousand dollars and spread your name thru all Maracaibo announcing a public march. Your students are bosses in many places and will give free days to their staff."

"And what shall I say?"

"That will come to you..."

"Won't the barrators that chase me, come and kill me?"

"Just trust what I am saying, everything will fall in its place. Take the money and do what you have always wanted to do."

* * *

And so the teacher that once had been a boy lover of long lonely nights made the decision to take the twenty thousand dollars. It was more money than he had made in all these years as a teacher. In those years he had taught over 1000 students and they were everywhere.

He did as told and went to all the newspapers and canvassing services and made a call to a local march. He spent every penny in making his name known.

On September 21st was the day of his march. His students had organized the rest. They had set up stages, food and water for the attendants, and everything was ready.

"Will you remember the 21st day of September? Today you will, today we will walk together, and dance in march to end these decades of grey days."

So it happened, in a surreal scene an entire crowd of people started to dance in a forward motion. As the crowd grew and moved from the Western city of Maracaibo to the capital, the dancing crowd grew and grew as a river of people, flowing and pulsing. As they crossed the plains they were buttressed by galloping horses. As they approached the capital, the march was something never seen, a march of millions of dancers flanked on all four sides by horses. Above, they were protected by technology, as thousand of flying drones rose like swarms miles ahead of them to torment and confuse any opposing armies far before they could meet the march.

It was the story that he had told all of his students, the story of the dancing people that would save the world. He had told them that all of the millions of years of planet earth were working towards this glorious moment of synchronized dance and technology, a unique moment where everything aligns like an eclipse. And so this pulsating march moved forth in fury and harmony towards the capital and surrounded the capital bringing the ruling class to its knees.

So on that day he met and said to the crowds:

"Rest well today, and tomorrow, because on Monday we will set to work!"

Raising the little black book he said:

"For so long we have been searching for the the black gold in the depths of the earth, but not for the bright light within our hearts. How meaningless oil seems when we have found the power of our souls! The whole history of the earth, every grain of the sand on the earth and every drop of water in the ocean rejoices to see that after years it has created beings that have found their light. Rejoice as the first people to have established peace not thru war, but thru education, dance and harmony. We have found the soul of our country"

And thus so, the country of a thousand blessings came to be the country that it is now.