2023-10-27 05:00:00
As I walked, I looked up at the empty sky shortly before dawn and saw six black ducks flying in formation over the silver surface of the Rio Grande de la Magdalena. I imagined that same sky saturated with multicolored and bustling birds when that impure current was the crystalline Karakalí, as the Caribs called the Great Cayman River. I knew immediately, suddenly, that the tone of this Friday’s column, its mood, would be dominated by nostalgia, that its writing itself would be an exercise in nostalgia.
Naturally, the inevitable childhood memories began to arrive, memory at its finest. I then missed the abundant grasshoppers, green, brown and yellow, that I found on the way to school, when they were called “paco pacos” and would jump in all directions just by shaking the green grass a little with the toe of my shoe. I assumed that the pesticides had killed off those cheerful grasshoppers, which were surely the food of many birds and lizards that have now completely disappeared, forgotten, which is even worse.
I remembered the little “chirrío”, that jewel with jet-black plumage, whose fine ringing cheered up childhood and the thickness of the pastures. In a barbaric way, we have wiped out the creatures in our environment, because, to begin with, the cement itself has devoured our environment, as a sign of progress. One found colorful sardines in any neighborhood stream, now professionals must juggle so that the fish survive in the polluted and oxygen-depleted waters.
Just a few decades ago, one of children’s favorite pastimes was catching butterflies with their hands in a neighbor’s yard. Nobody sees a butterfly on the street, nobody appreciates its miraculous flight. Today, if a child wanted to see a butterfly, he would have to talk to Mauricio Babilonia or ask his father to take him to the butterfly farm located between Galapa and Tubará, a reserve that confirms that the elegant winged worms are in extinction.
Except for vermin and humans, the only animals that thrive today are those we raise for food or as pets. And the latter, unfortunately, face a modern form of abuse: pampering. The wolf, do not forget, provided protection at night and contributed to the hunt. In exchange he received food. With agriculture, we stop being nomads. Settlements began, granaries to store grain. In this context, the wild cat is domesticated to control the plague of rats and mice attracted to dry grain.
In our days, both have been stripped of the very meaning that led to their domestication. Today they neither take care of the house nor eat mice, their primary function is to help us cope with our loneliness…
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#exercise #nostalgia #Orlando #Araújo #Column