Maritza01pd2018 Identity Portfolio

Maritza The Start of a Protest Can Begin With a Coca Cola Truck

The Start of a Protest Can Begin

With a Coca Cola Truck

The Start of a Protest Can

Begin With a Coca Cola

Truck

By: Maritza

Ambushed by a group of angry

protestors, the driver of the red

and white Coca Cola truck looked very concerned.

Almost like he was watching a horror <ilm and his

favorite character was about to die. Two men grabbed

the door handle and jolted the truck door open, as they

gripped their hands <irmly on to the driver’s arms. The

infuriated protestors forced him out of his vehicle, and


lead him away from his truck. “Que hacen?” meaning

“What are you doing!” or, “Locos!” which also meant,

“Crazies!” people started to holler from their cars. The

poor man looked stricken. I wondered what was going

to happen next. There was

much anger that you could

feel the tension in the air. A

whirlpool of questions

entered my mind but I could

only remember one, what was all this chaos worth?

My plan for today was just to pick up my two kids,

Maritza and Gregory. I did not think it was going to be

such a dilemma to pick up my two young children.

Venezuela had a lot of problems. The biggest problem


was a political rift in the military and government. If

you were Venezuelan, you were either for the

president, Hugo Chavez Frias, or against him. The

country was divided in two.

Everyone stuck in the line

of traf<ic in the middle of

downtown Venezuela was

focused on this spectacle

with the truck driver and the malicious protestors

(luckily nobody noticed the blond American ducking

down in her red jeep). Two cars away, I watched all of

this unfold and felt very nervous.

Suddenly, orange <lashes caught my eye. I turned

my focus to the truck. “Ahhh!” I shrieked in total shock.


The smell of gasoline <illed the bright afternoon air, as

yelling and honking disturbed what would have been a

peaceful day. The sight of the Coca Cola truck on <ire

gave you the hint of what the protest was against,

“Americans!”

“Bajense! Bajense,

mis amores!” I yelled to

my two loves, Maritza

and Gregory, as I turned

towards them with a

petri<ied look. I reached to put both their heads down

low in their car seat. Protests, kidnappings,

assassinations, crime and violence all started to

escalate after Hugo Chavez was elected president. My


blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin would tell them

instantaneously, that I was a foreigner. Immediately, I

glanced behind my car to see if I was blocked in. I

noticed no one was

behind me yet!

Shifting into reverse, I

barreled our car

backward down the

street until we turned

down into an old barrio.

Although I was cautious, I pulled into a

neighborhood that normally posed a risk to our safety,

but at the moment, it was a better place to be than the

main street. I realized our whole world had just


turned upside down; I drove into a river of water to

cross a <looded irrigation ditch, risking the possibility

that the car would become stranded mid-‐stream. The

water was high, coming up to the middle of the Jeep,

which made the current powerful. Drowning with my

two kids was not an option to me. The only question in

my mind was how do I save us? This was getting more

frightening with each moment. “My two babies, how

will I keep them from harm?” I fretted.

“Vroom, vroom!” the car went as I pushed the

pedal so we had more power. Finally, we got through

the high river, and drove away. After a half hour of

meandering, I stopped the car, rolled the window

down and gave the group of children playing soccer a


warm smile. “Saben

donde esta la

carretera?” I could

muster the calmest and

most <luent Spanish I

could.

“Sigue derecho, cuando llegues a la esquina de la

casa azul, ve a la izquierda y allí esta la carretera,” a

young boy replied with an enthusiastic smile. I

reviewed the direction in my head on how to get to the

main road. It didn’t seem that complicated. I soon

found it but had to continue to drive for another half

hour before we arrived home.


The children had no idea what danger we had

escaped as they leapt out of their seats and ran over to

swing under our mango trees. Sipping rich, creamy

homemade cocoanut milk shakes as we took in the

sweet smell of ripe mangos, all framed by the sun

sparkling through the leaves in the magni<icent

afternoon made us forget the earlier problems.

Venezuela can be a perfect paradise, but you must

have the stomach for it.


Author’s NoteThis story is about my mother living in

Venezuela and being in a protest against her country. Before becoming a president, Hugo Chavez was a military officer working for the country. Sadly, after the election, there became a separation in the government and the military. One side was for Chavez, another side was against the new president. The country was, and has been unstable for many years do to this split. This was to do with politics and the economy. While my mom, Joanne, was living in Venezuela, she had experienced things that she never thought she would be a part of. When I was born, (August 20th, 1999) in the capital, Caracas, my mom didn’t go out much. Then when she had my brother, occupied with her new job as a mother, she wasn’t paying attention to the news or what was happening in


the country ( my mom was also learning Spanish at the time and it was hard for her to read the newspaper or watch the news). When she started to notice things around her, there was a large difference in the country. My family decided, after Gregory completed his first year, we would all would move to Maracay. Maracay, being far from the capital, would have less of an aggressive environment.

When I turned five years old, my parents decided it would be best if we moved out of the country altogether. My father started traveling more often and it was not safe for just my mom and us to be alone, with the high risk of: kidnapping, murder, etc. Moving to Miami, Florida was the best option. When we left, Venezuela decided to start confiscating people’s passport and keep them hostage in the country. A close friend to my parents got his passports taken away and was unable to leave the country until years later.


-‐


Interviewing What was the problem in Venezuela?The problem was happening progressively and it was mostly safety issues.

When did you see a change or when did the problems start?When we got married they had the elections, the year of 1998.You could see most of the issues in the year 2000.

When did you move from Venezuela?We moved the year 2005 to Miami, Florida.

How was everyone around you? Were they aggressive, scared etc.?Everyone around us was fine and friendly. However, outside of where we lived, people were wound up and you could not talk about politics.


What are some reasons of why you moved?• When we were at a party four houses down,

someone tried to break in our house. They jumped over the sharp, ironed gate that protected out house and tried to get in through the air-conditioning without the alarm going off. Luckily, the alarm was installed in the air-conditioning.

• The day after my mom had loaded a gun, we hired a guard so he could protect us. Well a friend of ours who worked for the police, came over to check out if we

• Another time, I was with you and Greg coming home from school but on our way there, people decided to protest and set a Coca Cola truck on fire. They were protesting against the Americans. L


• One fun thing to do though is when there were house protests, people use to get big pots and wooden spoons, go outside to their balcony and bang on them. Because babies love to make noise I would give you and Greg a wooden spoon and a pot so you could bang on it.

How would this problem in Venezuela impact you?It was a hard time, your dad would send us to your Grans in the USA and we wouldn’t see your father for a long time. Your Grandmother and Grandfather were so happy though, because they got to make memories with you.

What did you think about everything that was happening?It was a real shame. Venezuela is beautiful and tropical.

Did you have a hard time settling in Miami, Florida?


Yes, because there was a hurricane; you and your brother missed five months of the school year and we came in speaking only Spanish but school only really spoke English. So I had to teach and help you while your teachers gave you as much help and support as they could.

Have you seen your old friends since you left?No, that’s why it was hard moving because you’ve lost them. L

Have you ever gone back to Venezuela, just even to visit?

No, its still very dangerous and they could take your passport away once your in the country. It happened to a friend of your fathers once and he had to get a fake passport to get out of the country.


Reflec%on

What specific challenges did you face during this project?It was difficult to tell it in one person and add enough detail to create an image in the reader’s mind. Some8mes I would run out of details and would have to ask my mom the story again. I believe she told it to me seven to eight 8mes.

What did you learn about your family member? (personality, character…)I had heard the story before but I, myself, got to see the movie. What I thought was unbelievable was that my brother and I were there. Also, my mom reminded me of what Venezuela was like and I remember some memories.

What did you learn about yourself (as a learner, as a family member)?I found that I know what ques8ons I want to ask. I know the right ques8ons to ask at the right 8me and as well, I was able to read the person’s emo8ons.

How have you grown? (as a writer…)


This was a challenge and I believe, yes, I have grown as a writer. I love to start with dialogue and with this narra8ve it was tricky to even add dialogue. Some of the things I found were hard, but I was able to resolve at the end.

Why do you think doing a project like this is important?It prepares you for more interviews in the future. It shows you in what order you should do things and how to plan accordingly. The specific moment had to be found, that was tricky because the person would only tell you an amount of things or if you wanted a specific moment you had to find it and ask about it.

What part of this process did you enjoy most? Why?I really like to review it and make sure it’s good. The edi8ng stage I really enjoyed because I always wasn’t to improve my wri8ng and so when I find errors I feel overjoyed. I am always striving to improve and when I find my own mistakes I see I know where i went wrong.

What part of this process did you least enjoy? Why?The beginning of the narra8ve. I was very confused on how to start and how to write my narra8ve. It worried me because I was coming out of my comfort zone and was kind of freaking out. There were details but not much of a historical fact and then there was the issue with the dialogue.


Bibliography-My mother

-‐http://www.studyspanishlatinamerica.com/

latinamerica/detailprof.php?pais=VEN

-‐http://it.123rf.com/

photo_2908654_illustrazione-‐di-‐sventolando-‐la-‐

bandiera-‐venezuelana-‐vicino.html

-‐http://www.tiwy.com/pais/venezuela/

apartaderos/verfoto.phtml?carretera_transandina

-‐http://www.skyscraperlife.com/city-‐versus-‐city/

27705-‐maracay-‐vs-‐tijuana.html

-‐http://saveecodestinations.com/tag/cancer/

-‐http://www.tecnicasfotogra<icas.com/caracas-‐

venezuela-‐vt3029.html


http://www.studyspanishlatinamerica.com/latinamerica/detailprof.php?pais=VEN




http://it.123rf.com/photo_2908654_illustrazione-di-sventolando-la-bandiera-venezuelana-vicino.html








http://www.tiwy.com/pais/venezuela/apartaderos/verfoto.phtml?carretera_transandina




http://www.skyscraperlife.com/city-versus-city/27705-maracay-vs-tijuana.html




http://saveecodestinations.com/tag/cancer/

http://saveecodestinations.com/tag/cancer/

http://www.tecnicasfotograficas.com/caracas-venezuela-vt3029.html




Maritza01pd2018 Identity Portfolio

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