Only when I heard unusual noises next to my house, still before daybreak, did I remember that yesterday they were holding elections for delegates to the People’s Power. The doorway of the house next to mine was restored as a school in order to open from seven in the morning. Without need of knowing the votes, I knew it would turn out that the same delegate was re-elected, who I think is going for her third or fourth term. She is a single mother who adds this additional burden to her work and raising a teenage son, because no one else wants the post.
The nomination assemblies around here were meteoric; hardly any took longer in search of an impressive alternative candidate. My attention was drawn also to the fact that from my neighborhood, in all the places where I saw candidate photos, there were two, in contrast with previous years where there appeared a sizeable group of pictures with their corresponding political biographies, but — and this is characteristic nationally — no candidate reveals a plan, outlines a job, displays a concrete program on being elected.
As I stopped believing in the project of the government years ago, I do not vote. Yesterday, my neighbors from the polling station will have detested us a little (a little more?) because through our fault they kept the college open until the closing deadline. I am one step beyond those who void their ballots or leave them blank, but this year, my son for the first time, was of the requisite age to choose. He has just entered the university as you already know, that’s why I thought he would feel compelled to vote. It was treated as a very personal decision that we did not influence. He decided not to do it, but not for the civic reasons of his mom and dad: As it is a right and not a duty, it does not interest me.
At some point that indifference will stop. That will be when he feels represented, or feels that his vote can make a difference.
Translated by mlk.
October 22 2012