In El Callao, dawn never comes suddenly. It announces itself slowly, amidst the humidity rising from the forest and the low voices of those already standing. The country wakes up before the sun, as if sleeping too much were a luxury. The streets are still half empty, but someone is already walking towards the mines, someone else opens a rusty shuttersomeone else is just waiting for the day to begin, without expecting too much.
Here, in the south-east of Venezuela, almost a thousand kilometers from Caracas, he has lived for twenty-five years Don Giannino Prandelli, priest from Bresciarecently turned seventy-one. A birthday that began at dawn with news that swept across the country like a silent shock. “I realized it around five,” he says. «I saw the images, I read about the nocturnal explosions, then the capture of Maduro. A quick intervention, prepared, but arrived like lightning.”
In El Callao, neither shots nor bombings were heard. Here the voices arrive first, then the messages on the phones, then the silence. The uncertainty, everyone says. The uncertainty that settles in homes like the red dust of dirt roads.
Don Giannino opens the door of the parish every morning. It is not a symbolic gesture: it is a way of saying that, despite everything, life continues. The church is a fixed point in a country that changes without ever really changing. “People were already tired,” he explains. «The holidays are over, the money is over. When the news arrived, many had already decided not to move.”
The military patrols the streets. They’ve been doing it for years. They monitor, observe, defend the interests of state mining companies and keep clandestine gangs away. “There were no reactions here,” says the parish priest. «No demonstrations, neither of joy nor of protest. People have learned not to expose themselves». It’s a form of survival. In Venezuela, showing too much can be costly.
Politics is everywhere, but little is said about it. It divides families, friends, neighbors. «Even in our community», says Don Giannino, «there are supporters of the government and the opposition. My job is to be everyone’s father». It’s not easy, in a country polarized to the core. We need measure, listening, silence. Sometimes it’s best not to say.
El Callao lives on gold. Gold that shines underground more than on the surface. The mines attract young people from all over the country. They seek luck, they find difficulty. The work is hard, dangerous, often informal. «There were difficult years”, recalls the priest. «Armed gangs, clashes, deaths». Today the situation is more controlled, but the risk remains. Last October, a tunnel filled with water: fourteen men drowned. «It happened here», says Don Giannino. «People know it. But continue.”
A fragile economy grows around the mines. Stalls, small businesses, sellers arriving from cities where money no longer circulates. Something is still moving here. «During the holidays», he says, «the miners manage to buy food and clothes for their children. It’s little, but it’s something». A very delicate balance, which everyone fears losing.
The real fear today is not geopolitics. It’s inflation. Prices go up every day. The exchange rate between the bolívar and the dollar is ruthless. «Those who don’t have dollars”, explains Don Giannino, “are left behind». The elderly are the most affected. Pensions that do not reach a dollar a month. Surviving is almost an act of faith.
For this reason, one hundred and twenty meals are served in the parish every day. From Monday to Friday. Rice, legumes, something hot. But above all a chair, a table, a word. “The eyes of the elderly say more than words”, says the parish priest. «There is gratitude, but also tiredness». The Church here does not make proclamations: cook, listen, stay.
In other areas it is called community olla. Here is a table that holds the country together. Other parishes do the same, in different ways. «It is the Gospel in concrete life», says Don Giannino. A Gospel without rhetoric.
The Venezuelan Church walks in balance. The bishops invite calm, prayer, not to be carried away by fear or enthusiasm. «The risk», explains the priest, «is getting sick inside». Psychologically, spiritually. This is why we insist on the community, on the training of lay people, on volunteering. «If you only look at what doesn’t work, you’re sick. If you look at what you can do, you find strength.”
Nine million Venezuelans have emigrated. A silent exodus. Those who stay do so by choice, due to lack of alternatives, out of stubborn love for their land. «Many would like to return», says Don Giannino. «But caution is needed. We must not provoke a system that has the potential to be very cruel.” Patience, he repeats. Paciencia.
When he talks about the future, the priest does not make predictions. Talk about principles. Dignity of the person. Legality. Peace. «Violence solves nothing» he says. “We need real attention to the poorest.” It is a simple, almost disarming message in a world that seeks quick and muscular solutions.
In El Callao the sun rises high and the day resumes. Someone goes down the mine, someone waits for lunch in the parish, someone simply resists. Don Giannino continues walking through the town, entering houses, listening to stories, blessing without making any noise.
When he says hello, even if on the phone, he does it as they do here after Mass or on the street, with words that seem more like a wish than a formula: «May God bless him and accompany him always. And they don’t give up hope».
