We have learned to live with our hearts in our mouths, with permanent paranoia.
We learned to believe that something unfortunate can happen to us and we learned to spread that anguished perception so many times wrong.
Thus we learned to live. That’s how we learned to be. Locked up. Persecuted. Distrustful. Fearful. We learned to make others fearful.
We learned to be entangled. We put bars on doors, on windows, on walls. We place fences with discharges and even serpentine wires concentration camp model. We put cameras. We learned to film ourselves, to film and, if possible, to monitor the filming of our house via cell phone.
We learned to close the street door practically upon entering. We learned to code our names on our cell phone code, especially if it’s a mom or dad.
We learned to cut strange calls. And we learned to distrust anyone who asks us something on the street or enters the business. We learned to hold the wallet tightly if they touch our shoulder on the sidewalk.
We learned to distrust everything and everyone. Especially if he is morocho and wears a cap. We also learned to distrust the Police.
We learned to fear when a motorcycle passes by, when a car is approaching slowly or when some young people come along the same path. We learned to lock doors, put wallets under the seat, to “clock” through the mirrors when we stopped at the traffic light.
We learned to hold the wallet or backpack and store the cell phone if, at the bus stop, a motorcycle passes.
We learned to be alarmed every time someone strangers enters the building with us or enters the elevator.
We also learned to distrust if we see a “weird” face in our neighborhood. Weird face of what. Weird face for who. What weird face?
We let the neighborhood WhatsApp group overwhelm us. “There are guys with a weird face going around,” “an eye that is spinning on a motorcycle,” “watch out for a slow red car,” they write to us, or we write.
We learned to live with that the taxi is not chosen in the street. We learned not to get into strangers cars.
We learned to live with cameras that film us. We learned to enter a business in another neighborhood and have the merchant scrutinize us from top to bottom and follow our hands.
It looks in the eyes. We learned to distrust. To believe that by a certain face, cut or clothes can do us bad. Who are we to say it?
We learned to say that you have to walk and arrive carefully. To let us know when you arrive at your destination. We learned to look with a third eye.
We learned to be like this because something happened to us or we know someone who happened to him or someone who knows someone who knows someone who happened to him. And if not, we learned it through the media bombing, through social networks or, why not, through the analysis columns like this.
Reality shows that the street, that public space that ceased to belong to us, is the place where the greatest number of crimes are committed, according to specialists. Official statistics indicate that a crime is reported every 11 hours in the province of Córdoba and that one in three Cordoba fears being a victim of something bad.
One thing is reality. Another, what we believe in it and what we become.
We have learned to live - and to teach to live - with the heart in our mouth, with permanent paranoia. We learned to believe that something unfortunate can happen to us and we learned to spread that distressing perception so many, but many times wrong. There is nothing more wrong than what we learned to believe is real, when it is not so. It is the paranoia of the times we splash.