The calls I’ve stopped making to my mum

If before I wrote about the calls I’ve started making to my grandma since the beginning of the isolation, today I want to talk about the calls I’ve stopped making to my mum – because of the calls she has been giving to others.  Hold on, I’ll explain.  My mother is a doctor. Palliativist. SheContinue reading “The calls I’ve stopped making to my mum”

Daniella Reina: “When you decide to migrate for good, you have to close all your doors”

“I want to leave Australia. I think that before all this happened, I used to see Australia as a country of opportunity and I saw it as ‘yes, I can stay’. My partner is from the United States, so we always had the discussion of, when I graduated, would we stay here or go toContinue reading “Daniella Reina: “When you decide to migrate for good, you have to close all your doors””

Nico Betancur: From Medellin to Sydney

“I think we, as international students, are always up to something and then the coronavirus comes and says ‘no, you can’t do anything’. And the government won’t help you and you have to keep paying the bills and keep going on with life as usual, and that’s not easy,” says Nico Betancur, a Colombian studentContinue reading “Nico Betancur: From Medellin to Sydney”

Alicia Granci: “Sí, soy argentina” (Yes, I’m Argentinian)

“It’s crazy that right now we’re almost like prisoners. We’re not prisoners but we can’t go out the way we used to. It’s contradictory. As far as my family is concerned, being an international student, we are a sort of used to it because we know what it’s like to be away from our lovedContinue reading “Alicia Granci: “Sí, soy argentina” (Yes, I’m Argentinian)”

Gabriel Villalba: the certainty of a coup d’état in Bolivia

“What the world needs to know is that in Bolivia we don’t live in a democracy,” is one of the things Gabriel Villalba told me when we talked in a rooftop café in La Paz. From up there, there was a tranquillity that looked nothing like the streets we had just crossed to get toContinue reading “Gabriel Villalba: the certainty of a coup d’état in Bolivia”

Bolivia: reflections on democracy between protests and whispers

In October 2019, Bolivia made headlines around the world. After questioning the legitimacy of his third re-election, then-President Evo Morales was removed in a movement that the history books had taught me was a coup d’état. Army in the street, truculence, repression. Even so, I read editorials from international vehicles stating the opposite. And inContinue reading “Bolivia: reflections on democracy between protests and whispers”

The calls to my grandmother (and the certainty that she speaks my language)

I’ve been calling my grandma more often.  She’s always lived far away. But I never called.  Maybe because something in me always fed the hope that at the end of the year we’d see each other. And then I could give her the tightest hugs and lay my head on her lap while she strokedContinue reading “The calls to my grandmother (and the certainty that she speaks my language)”

Canarinhos refugiados em Pacaraima project: building Venezuela’s future from Brazil

“If you want to know what a country’s future looks like, look at the children. They’ll give you a good idea,” was one of the first things Miriam Blos said to me when we met at the Casa da Música in 2019. A year later, in the same place, the phrase couldn’t make more sense. Continue reading “Canarinhos refugiados em Pacaraima project: building Venezuela’s future from Brazil”

La Gran Sabana: about the things a crisis cannot destroy

“Tú no puedes comprar las nubes, tú no puedes comprar los colores, tú no puedes comprar mi alegría, tú no puedes comprar mis dolores” (you can’t buy the clouds, you can’t buy the colours, you can’t buy my happiness, you can’t buy my sadness), the chorus of Latinoamérica by the group Calle 13 echoes inContinue reading “La Gran Sabana: about the things a crisis cannot destroy”

“De Arepa en Budare”: Luisa and those who still resist in Venezuela

“Never, ever, even with the terrible situation we’re living in now, I would leave my country. I am Venezuelan, as we say here, ‘de arepa en budare’*”. It is one of the first sentences that Luisa tells me while we have a coffee at 6 in the morning, amidst the tranquillity of La Gran Sabana.Continue reading ““De Arepa en Budare”: Luisa and those who still resist in Venezuela”