A man from the village of Neguá,
on the coast of Colombia,
managed to rise up in the sky
and back he told:
said that he had contemplated, from up there,
the human life
And said we are
a sea of little fires
The world is that, revealed:
a bunch of people,
a sea of little fires,
There are never two of the same fire
Each person shines with self light, amongst the others
There's big fires and little fires and fires of all colors
There's people of serene fire, that doesn't even feel the wind,
and there's people of crazy fire, that fills the air with sparks,
Some fires, silly fires, don't iluminate or burn
But others...
others burn life with so much desire
that you cannot look them without blinking,
and who approaches ignites.
I would like you to talk, Eduardo,
of Latin America, how do you see it today and how you see the world today
Well, its a little complicated
answer a question that covers Latin America and moreover the world
I'm glad that you're not going to ask about Jupiter, Mars, the Moon...
I guess that on our region we're living a very interesting period, beautiful
very creative, very fertile
Difficult to understand, sometimes,
mainly when you look from outside and from above
Things that we truly understand
the things that we can understand with the reason and feel with the heart,
are the things we're capable of looking
from inside and from below
If we look from above, with the charactheristic arrogancy of our democracy teachers
from United States or from Europe
and if beyound looking from above, we look from outside, we don't understand anything
And don't understand anything for a reason, for a very important reason:
It's that we're the region of the world that, probably, its the most diverse of all
It's the home of the human diversities
And this, that for me is a virtue, seen from outside and above is considered a serious defect
Why? Because if you don't fit in the model from above and outside
believe that is democracy, so here there's no democracy
And the truth that proves that here democracy exists
is that this is a kingdom of the contradiction and the diversity
where its mixed and sometimes disagree, all the colors, the smells and the pains of the world
There was a north-american poet, a woman, that died some years ago
she was called Muriel Rukeyser
She said a sentence, that for me, always seemed splendid to me, she said:
"Yes, Yes fine, this thing that the world is made of atoms...
the world is not made of atoms, the world is made of stories", she said
I believe that yes, the world must be made of stories
because its the stories that we tell, that we listen, recriate, multiply
its the stories that permits to transform, the past in present
And, also, permits to transform the distant into near
what's distant into something close, possible and visible
How was these losses and how did you face them and overcame them or not?
The deaths?
Losses in general
Losses?
The losses of things, I confess that never really matered to me
But the losses of people yes, they hurted
and, in some cases, lefted a little hole very difficult to fill
But, well, this world is built like this
its a fabric of encounters and missing
of losses and gains
and the best of my days is the one I didn't live yet
each loss corresponds to an encounter that I still didn't have
And luckily the reality is generous and doesn't fail on this
Indeed I write to celebrate it
and celebrating it I denounce everything that prevents us from recognizing
on others and ouselves
the multiple colors of the terrestrial rainbow
We are much more than what people tell us we are
The fear threatens
if you love, you'll have Aids
if you smoke, you'll have cancer
if you breath, you'll have contamination
if you drink, you'll have accidents
if you eat, you'll have cholesterol
if you speak, you'll have unemployment
if walks, you'll have violence
if thinks, you'll have anguish
if you doubt, you'll have crazyness
if you fell, you'll have solitude
One of the most beautiful indigenous stories from Latin America
tells that the maya's gods tried lots of times to create the woman and the men
because they were very bored, the gods, and they wanted to have someone to talk to
So, they made us from lots of different ways and failled, it was a disaster
until they found a way that we were what we were, made of corn
The maia gods made us from corn and that's why we have all the colors, like the corn
not the transgenic corn nor the quimic that is being sold to us right now
But, before they get to the corn, the maias god tried, for instance, to make the woman and men of wood
and they were just perfect, but they had a grave inconvenience: they didn't breath
and as they didn't breath, they didn't have words to say
because from the mouth nothing was coming out
and I always tought: if they didn't breath, they also didn't have dismay
To have breath, you must have discouragement
In order to raise you have to know how to fall
in order to gain you have to know to lose
and we have to know that life is like this, and that you fall and rise lots of times
and that some people falls and never raise again, usually the most sensible
the easiest to get hurt, the people that most pain feels to live
the most sensible people are the most vulnerable
And in exchange, these motherfuckers
dedicate themselfs to torment the humanity, live very long lifes, they never die
because they don't have a gland, that actually is very rare
that its called consciousness
and its what torments us through the nights
Sleeping, saw us
Helena had dreamed that we're in a queue
a long queue in an airport, like any other airport
and each passanger was bringing under their arms, the pillow where they had slept the night before
and the pillows were passing, one after the other, through a machine
that read the dreams on the pillows
It was a machine detector of dangerous dreams
for the public order
The XX century, that was born announcing peace and justice, died bathed in blood
and left a world much more unfair than the one it had encountered
The XXI century, that also was born announcing peace and justice
is following the steps of the last century
On my childhood, I was convinced
that everything that was lost on Earth, would go to the moon
however, the astronauts didn't found on the Moon
dangerous dreams, or betrayed promisses, or shattered hopes.
If they're not on the Moon, where are they?
Would it be that they got lost on Earth?
Would it be that they hide on Earth?
And are waiting, waiting for us?
I would like you to talk a little bit about Montevidéu
About how it is to live in Montevideu and about how you see Uruguai
Montevideu is a city that I choose
besides is the city where I was born
but one is not condemned to choose the city where he was born
and I choose it because its a breathable and possible to walk
ie, its still possible to breath and walk on the city of Montevideu
Its two hard luxuries to find in today's world
and since I was little the teacher would tell me
breath, Eduardito, its important!
And you walk a lot?
Yes, I do, I'm very much a walker
Actually, I walk a lot the life, I really like to walk
And you have a walking routine?
No, what I like is to walk on the border of this that we call sea
but in fact is kinda river/sea
on the border of the water, I walk for hours
and this way I save a fortune in psicanalyse
I would like you to talk a little bit about something
that I know its very important for you,
the friendship
yes, friendship is a form of love
And like I was saying before, I think it exerts on the base of honesty
because the other friendship, the one of "I love you very much" and "how beautiful you are"
its not the true friendship
Friends, when they're true friends, say what has to be said
and this concerns people and the colective processes too
So, friendship is sometimes difficult
on this base, because it crosses complicated periods
But, when we love for real, on love, on friendship, you love the lights and the shadows
of each person or each place
Wich you think it is, today, on this world, the role of literature, the role of art?
The truth is that is very difficult to give an answer that doesn't seem
pedantic or arrogant or that it doesn't seem that I attribute to the artists
a privilegied role in the world
Like if God kissed us on the cot and chose us to save the others
I don't believe on this at all
Don't believe in any type of aristocracy, either the talent one
specially when the aristocracy of talent is auto-elected
because its us, the literates, the artists in general
that in the human zoo habits the cage of peacocks
So we're continuously complimenting ourselves
for our beauty and extreme intelligence that we have.
And I disagree with this
I think that the exercise of solidariety, when trully practiced, on the every day life
is also an exercise of humility
that teaches you to recognize yourself on others
and to recognize the greatness hidden on the little things
which implies to denounce the fake greatness on the little big things
in a world that confuses greatness with little big
Not long ago, in an interview that was made with me in Madrid
a journalist told me:
"Reading your books I feel
that you have an eye on the microscope and the other on the telescope"
and I thought it was a good definition of my intentions
of what I would like to be writing
be capable to look what is not looked, but deserves to be looked
the little, the minuscule things of the anonymous people
the people that the intellectuals usually despise
this micro-world where I believe feeds for real the greatness of the universe
and at the same time be capable of contemplate the universe
through the keyhole, ie, from the small things being capable of looking the big ones
to the great misteries of life
the mistery of the human pain
but also the mistery
of the human persistency on this mania, sometimes inexplicable
to fight for a world that is everyone's house and not the house of few
and the hell of the majority
and also other things
the capacity of beauty
of the most simple people, sometimes from the most plain people
that has an unusual capacity of loveliness
that, sometimes, its manifested on a song, on a graffiti, in a silly conversation
the one that kids have
what happens is that us, the adults, get occupied transforming them in ourselves
and then we destroy their lifes
but, we have to see what's a kid, no?
are all pagan...
Not long ago, I suffered a tragedy, my fellow died
Morgan, my dog, my companion of walking
that accompanied me also writting
because, when I was losing my hand, I was writing for 18 hours already
with his leg told me: "Lets go, lets go,
life doesn't finish here, on books, come, lets walk together"
and then we went the both of us
and he died
and I had been feeling a very bad music on my soul
and, really, talking about losses, the loss of Morgan was very important for me
it ripped a piece of my heart
and well, I was very sad
and I went for a walk here, on the neighbourhood
and it was early, early morning, I couldn't sleep, so I got dressed, and went to walk
and I stumbled a little girl, she must had two years, no more than two.
that came playing on the opposite direction
and she was greeting the grass, the little grass, the little plants
"good morning, little grass", she said:"good morning little grass"
ie, on this age, we're all pagans,
and, at this age, we're all poets
later the world occupies itself to belittle our souls
that's what we call growing, developing
I freed myself from the hug, go out on the street
and on the sky, already clearing, it draws, finite, the Moon
the Moon has two nights of age
me, one.
Is there still space for utopy in today's world?
Yes, in the sense that gave her Fernando Birri
in a sentence that, unfairly, its atributed to me
In one of my books I quoted his sentence, saying that it was his
but people atributed to me, poor Fernando, but its his
We were togheter at the Cartagena das Índias, a beautiful coast colombian city
and we did a lecture together on the university
a little on the style of the nephews of Donald Duck
each one started a sentence that the other finished
and at the end, one of the students rise up and asked him, not me
"What's the pourpose of utopia?"
and he answered the best way
I never heard a better answer
he said that he asked himself this question every day
what's the pourpose of utopia? Assuming utopy serves for something...
He said: "See, utopy its on the horizon
and if its on the horizon I'll never reach it
because, if I walk ten steps, utopy is going to walk ten steps
and if I walk twenty steps, utopy is going to put itself twenty steps further
in other words I know that I'll never, ever, reach it
what's the pourpose?
For that, to walk"
Eduardo Galeno was born on Uruguay in 1940
On childhood wanted to be a football player
In 1971 published "The Open Veins of Latin America"
Currently he walks every day, while writting Helena's dreams