Grandpa’s country

Photo by Argenis Rodriguez.

I am one of the few young people living in my building. It has 88 apartments, distributed on 14 floors and 4 penthouses. You can find on each floor an older living alone, a couple of grandparents, and the rest of the apartments empty. Just on a few you’ll see a young family, or a single. And if you enter and take a coffee with these last ones, you’ll know that they are in the process of getting their paperwork done to leave the country.

This is not a thing happening just in my building, it is like that in the other next to this. Also, my last two friends that left here told me that it’s the same in their buildings. Moreover, if you walk in the streets and pay attention you’ll notice the same stats for the ages of the people you will see.

This country has became in a giant care home, except that they take care of themselves. Instead of receiving visits, they learnt how to use skype or facetime. They cannot do much with their retirement payment, so they rely on an allowance from their children outside of the country.

These grandparents are incredible fighters. Apart from the fact that they manage to get 18 liter-bottles of water and their daily staples into buildings without elevator most of the time, they also go out in each protest to defend what they built and are attached to. They do not want to start from zero in another land like our youth. They planted a tree in this land, had a son here and had already started to write their books about this place.

They do not stay behind and be safe at home while others defend them. As long as they can walk and rise a flag, they would go in the front row alongside the others warriors of peace clinging to the hope of dying surrounded by their offsprings. The ones they raised and the ones they only know through a screen.

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