 atras
Para
mi momento, no me sentó bien Brasil, al
desconcierto que ya llevaba, se me sumó un
zapping acelerado de "puestas en escena" quién
es quién?. Contemplaba un "grotesco" para
turistas. Subiendo por una calle de Río, una
persona que no conocía me sacó los lentes de
aumento que llevaba puestos, los arrojó al piso
y los pisoteó, más arriba estaba lo que no debía
ver, la favela. En un principio me sentí mal por
la agresión, pero luego entendí que podría haber
sentido una "investigación crítica y
extranjera", es una lógica, pero hay tantas!
(más las ilógicas!).
Estaba
muy lejos de eso, solo estaba caminando
erráticamente en una introspección necesaria
para mí. Estuve un tiempo más probando algunas
técnicas y materiales, pero tampoco quería
quedarme allí.
La memoria me trae imágenes como el barrio
"rojo" donde todo se ofrece en la calle como
mercadería en la feria, el ritmo permanente,
hipnótico, colores estridentes, olores fuertes y
mezclados; todo parecía escapado de un film de
Fellini, pero era verdad. Algo entre lascivo y
rancio con calor e insectos nos hizo partir.
En
San Pablo tomamos un tren que cruzó selva:
paisaje atractivo, matices... cuando el tren
aminoraba, entraban aromas deliciosos,
comenzábamos a disfrutar. Duró poco, también
entraban "tropillas" de mosquitos de todo tipo y
jejenes, digo así, porque los sentí como búfalos
aéreos enfurecidos, no paraban de picar. A los
lugareños no se acercaban, pero hacían nubes
alrededor de los turistas. Empecé a levantar muy
fuerte fiebre, no había en todo el tren
antídotos o alcohol. Me estaba hinchando y
deformando, quedé tirada en el asiento cubierta
con lo que podía, pero picaban atravesando todo.
Un
turista apiadado de si mismo y los demás,
lamentándolo, destapó su whisky para
desinfectarnos las heridas, la fiebre me duró
los tres días de viaje a Bolivia, por muchos
años no me picaron los mosquitos.
El
terreno se presentaba ante mí como una "danza"
de piedra, no podía dejar de mirar esas
montañas, las vetas de color y sus misteriosas
formas como prueba de una energía subyacente y a
la espera.
El altiplano era imposible mirar por kilómetros,
lloraba aún con lentes negros, después me
explicaron que entre los granitos de arena
habían partículas de estaño y plata que a los
rayos del Sol producían esa "fosforescencia"
insoportable.
Largos dos años caminé entre Quichuas, Quechuas,
Aimarás y población mezclada, especialmente con
chinos, todos conservan sus lenguas, sus mezclas
y se entienden. Parece ser que el Movimiento,
las transformaciones y las metamorfosis llegan a
todas partes, somos protagonistas, estamos
inmersos en ese "ritmo" vital. En la producción
artesanal también se ven las repeticiones
heredadas y los que modifican con su actualidad.
Noté
que me estaba energizando, cierta serenidad y
alegría aumentaba en mi, observaba más
detenidamente cada cosa, estaba más presente.
En
Lima Perú, conocí y me incorporé a una comunidad
pequeña de gente de diferentes partes del mundo
que hacían actividades artísticas, artesanías,
música y yoga.
|
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At
that moment in my life, I didn't really like
Brazil , in addition to the confusion that I
already had a fast succession of "¿ who is who
?" scenes were added to me. I observed a
grotesque for turists. Going up a street in Rio
de Janeiro, a stranger took my magnifying
glasses off from me, threw them down onto the
floor and trod on them. Up there was what I was
not allowed to see, the shantytown. At first I
felt bad at the agression but then I understood
that that person might have felt he was being
investigated in a critical way by a foreigner.
That
was a logical point of view, but there are so
many views! (and there are more ilogical ones
too!)
I was very far from making that kind of
investigation , I was just wandering in a
necessary retrospection to me. I was there some
time trying some techniques and materials , but
I didn't want to stay there either .
Memory brings me back pictures like those of the
red district where everything is on offer in the
street like goods in a market. The constant
rythm hypnotic, strong colours , strong smells,
everything in a mixture ; it all seemed taken
from a Fellini film , but it was real . A
mixture of lasciviousness and rancid taste with
hot weather and insects made us leave from there
.
In
Sao Paulo we caught a train that went through
the wild forest with attractive landscapes and
shades ... When the train went more slowly we
could smell delicious fragances , we were
starting to enjoy it. But it was short, because
we also had the visit of lots of mosquitoes of
all kinds and black flies, I express myself in
these terms because I felt them as enraged
flying buffalos which didn't stop biting . They
didn't approach the people from those places but
they gathered in clouds around the tourists, I
started to have a very high temperature, there
were neither any antidotes nor any alcohol on
the whole train . I was swelling and going out
of shape, I lay down on the seat covered with
what I could have over me but they still bit
through the blankets .
A
tourist feeling pity on himself and the rest of
us , regreting it opened his bottle of whisky to
disinfect our injuries. The temperature lasted
for the 3 days that took our journey to Bolivia
, after that experience mosquitoes didn't bite
me for many years .
The
land was introduced before me just like a stone
dance, I couldn't help looking at those
mountains, their different colours and
mysterious shapes as an evidence of the
underlying energy in expectation .
It was impossible to took at the Altiplano (
highlands) for many kilometers long. Tears
rolled down my face, even wearing dark glasses.
I was then explained that among the sandy rocks
there were small particles of tin and silver
that in the sunlight produced that unbearable
phosphorescence.
I spent two long years among Quichuas , Quechuas
, Aimarás and a mixed population , especially
with Chinese people . They all keep their
languages, their mixtures and they understand
each other. It seems to be that Movement,
transformations and metamorphosis reach
everywhere, we are the main characters ,
inmersed in that vital rythm . Inherited
repetitions and changes with the passing of time
are also seen in handmade production.
I
realized I was achieving new energies . some
calm and joy was growing in me, I observed every
and each thing more in detail, I was more aware
of things.
In
Lima, Perú , I met and took part of a small
community made up of people from different parts
of the world who were involved in artistic
activities , arts and crafts, music and yoga. |
