Dear readers I must share now what is in my heart, about this horrible inferno in my second country, Venezuela.
Once upon a time, back in 1947, from the far horizon of this big ship I was on, I could see Macuto, a small but busy tropical port. Even that far away, you could smell the gentle aroma of the mangos being shipped to the whole world, the dripping of sweat shining on big black men and mulatos half naked carrying sacks of mango to the ship waiting for their precious cargo, fruits that intoxicate your palate.

Luis Pochepzow the legitimate son of Anatoly with an Indian woman from the deep jungle of the Amazon
Leaving this Port you were not too far from Maiquetia, the airport busy with crowds of happy people, a city where people were coming and going locally and afar, many of them from or to New York or Miami. At that time it was so popular to go shopping in those cities, for the ones that could afford it. In the streets and cafes men were playing “El Cuatro guitar” songs like “Alma Llanera” and many other beautiful simple songs. A sense of the well being and happiness of success was everywhere .
From there. you arrived at this cozy city, surrounded by mountains, with spacious streets. It looked like the valley was always waiting for this city to be built there! The climate was perfect, with cool nights that carried the intoxicating smell of orchids and the sea that squeezes thru the canyon into the city of Caracas: ciudad hermosa, with a serene atmosphere, happy people making their way home, some from work, some from play, secure that nothing will go bad in the streets, so innocent. They are good people, protected by God, with open hearts they opened their doors and homes to receive us refugees and foreigners, with no suspicions or questions.

Anatoly on his Island in front of the mainland Canaima campamento. Where later that water took him to his death
I can talk forever about their beaches, valleys, llanos (plains), the Andes (cordillera), the mountains that you would not believe! Canaima, La island de las Perlas (the island of the pearls), Margarita, with waterfalls and unbelievably soft white sand, and the the jungle of the “El Dorado” where the dream of the Spaniards was never found but made famous. The mythic city of gold, but I tell you it does exist! I have been there, when it rains you can pan for gold on the sidewalk and collect as many pieces of gold as your patience allows. And the incredible Rio Orinoco that goes deep into the Amazon jungle, with those prehistoric mountains that man has not even set foot on yet. Except Jimmy Angel who crossed the peak of the mountaintops, when flying over them he discovered the 8th wonder of the world, Angel Falls. Descending and walking on foot, he arrived at what today is Canaima, where my brother lived for over 40 years and is buried there on his own island, which bears his name, Anatoly Island.

Ludmila fixing to put a big monument that she brought from Ciudad Bolivar by Avensa airline, placing the existing cross put by the people. She put it on a higher top, over another hill.
I have a lot of relatives buried on Caracas yet I don’t dare go, what is that about? Today my friends write and call to tell me that Venezuela, one of the richest countries in this world, has become an inferno with a man that is not fit as its president- un tal Maduro! May God be his judge.
I will not discuss him, I am not a politician but this man is a bad dictator and incompetent! In the past we had good dictators who made Venezuelans live in peace on the riches of oil and gold. Chavez was bad enough, but God has this happened again? We were denied a new president, Senor Henrique Capriles, a man who already has proven his political capacity. In my humble opinion I think he is educated and capable enough to lead us out of this inferno, but I can only pray for them. Amen.
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