Chronicle of Resilience & Wisdom

 

Chronicle of the fight against corruption, abusers of small powers, hypocrisy, usurpation

It's cold. Well, it is. Yesterday it was less. Well, it was. Yesterday it rained less. Well, it was. Yesterday the corrupt were quieter. More covert. More disciplined and more afraid that someone would discover their usurpations. Yes, yes. Today, they growl, they bark at that king who has some power, which has been given to them by competence, whatever it may be. Medals of praise in internal administration, medals of praise in the internal security of the government, in short, there are many medals. The medalists feel powerful and aqu' del rei can do what they want. My mother today had her breakfast (milk with barley and sugar with bread inside) chosen by her, because my mother, despite her limitations to walk, remains lucid and independent in the rest. Her decisions here at home still prevail. Unless you refuse to eat. Then there is no choice. You have to eat. And then, there is a menu that she chooses, within the available one. 

Yesterday it was pasta bolognese (I call it Bordeaux) but she says it's bolognese because she understands cooking better than I do. But I'm the one who cooks. Because my mother doesn't cook anymore. He says he never liked doing it. That it was out of obligation. I agree with her and understand her. My mother takes a bath today. Not yesterday. He refused.And she continues to avenge her will. Because she knows who she is, how old she is, who wants or doesn't want to, who she will do or not do. My mother is an intellectual. Because he continues to knit rugs from arraiolos and sweaters, he continues to make soups of very difficult letters, of words that do not exist and that are not even considered neologisms, of Spanish soup notebooks, between debates that he never misses and novels that he continues to watch. My mother knows what each member of the government stands for, she knows what she herself stands for and rebels against Ventura, because he is, according to my mother, a fascist and today, at breakfast she told me, all happy that he was being investigated.

Then we received a call from NOS, on the landline, and all of us who live here in this house and have had the NOS service for four years, we were surprised and happy, because we didn't even know what the landline ringer was. We never heard him play.I answered and they listened and wondered who it was. After all, it was NOS. And what did NOS want? They wanted my mother, Eva de Sousa Ramos, to go back to using the cell phone that she wanted to abolish and remove from the package, so she wouldn't have to talk to anyone or always be rejecting manipulative calls. My mother is not stupid, but there are many vampires who believe that she does not know what she wants. And that she is upset here in Penafiel. And if a few days ago, I posted the offense I received about mistreatment of the elderly, I reiterate, that I need social security to come here to this house, to listen to what my mother has to say to them. I think they should investigate the police, the abuse of the police, those who hold some power and consider themselves demigods on earth. Because NOT living with you means that my mother, suitable, eighty years old, not only does not want to fraternize with you, but also considers that it is too much abuse of the family to want to force you to do so. "No" is no. And it is not because she is eighty years old that she gives her power of choice to anyone. 

My wisdom remains. I talked to her about being with my brother in Porto. It's less cold, less isolated, warmer than here, you can see her friends, namely Júlia and Rosita, but she remains in the same register. That she doesn't want to and that it even seems that I'm trying to get rid of her. I explained to him that it was not. That I consider this cold and social isolation harmful to her and to us. He doesn't listen to me. Who knows, social security may change her mind. I think that being from the GOE, special forces, or being from China, a liberal dictatorship, will be the same, if it is through shady powers that try to control others. It doesn't matter what the degree of kinship of the abusers is, if it is her nephew, if it is an ex-son-in-law, if it is an ex-daughter-in-law or if it is any other degree of kinship, if it is her niece, if it is her sister.  It's ugly, shameful, and frankly useless. 

The rapists do not understand the word no and confuse it with the mirror of their arbitrariness. 

No is no. NOS clearly showed that there is abuse and attempted manipulation, it did not mention on whose part, but always reiterated the same, that my mother should (unsolicited advice) go back to using her old mobile phone number. My mother has a cell phone, she uses it daily for meditation videos and others. My brother is the only one who has her number, at her own request: You don't give my new number to anyone.  My mother's name is EVA de SOUSA RAMOS. It is not a robot or a clone. I'm her daughter. She writes a lot and keeps it, I write and publish. Because I am in favor of freedom of expression and anti-colonization. I am in favor of all moderate freedoms, but not in favor of censorship and dictatorships. I am anti-fascist. So did she. I am plural. So did she. I liked to see some kind of justice and less verbiage about democracy. I would like to see an investigation carried out against all those who exercise power, without being qualified to do so, within a democratic regime. I'm still into utopias. Because I am a poet. I was born this way. And I have struggled to be more pragmatic, colder, more distant, less generous, less compassionate. My negative feelings don't change.Only love and all the virtues that perhaps the abusers are unaware of can produce changes in me. And I could still add an endless number of things about the abusers in question, and I will do so, in the anonymity of names and only those targeted will know who I am talking about. But I don't shut up. Because I came to help make peoples' freedom of expression prevail. I'm an activist. And that's one of my missions with passion. Do not come to exercise corruption in such a way that your abusive exercise does not become visible. For I will denounce him. As my grandmother used to say, always be courteous, sensible, but not sheep. And I add Asterix: I'm just afraid that the sky will fall on me. Today lunch will be a nice chicken stew and dry rice to go with it. And to drink, a Pêra Doce, because my mother only likes the very good wine! My son Tomás, who is also a writer (what a family of writers) told me that I am giving too much information to those who have nothing to know. He is right. But I am not silent. Do you know why? Because I'm tired of carrying your injustice everywhere, of being a trophy in your dirty hands.

My name is Alzira Cristina Ramos Guedes. My tax number is 163108579.

Go find out from the Order of Psychologists who prevented me from practicing my profession in the degree I have. Go find out how many internships I did. Go find out who it suits me to be silent and invisible. Corruption is evident in all the institutions that are in the hands of the government. Those who are happy with corruption are enjoying it. Relatives, friends of relatives, friends of friends, are many friends of others.I'm not happy with the direction of the country. No, I am not a revolutionary, nor do I appeal to popular justice, but the justice of the courts and the divine, yes, I am a defender and I do not die without it being done, in my life and in the lives of many marginalized by this deeply inhuman and selfish society. Go there and find out who I was married to and who are the ones who carry my mother's blood, and from among them find out who pulls strings! My great-grandparents, my grandparents and my father didn't come to be more of the same. I follow in their footsteps. 

I came from shopping and listening to the radio. Demonstration in Lisbon. Peaceful. The people do not want violence. But he does not accept the dictatorship! Listen to what he says. Because when the people wake up, your pot runs out!