2023-09-15 17:33:26
I remember that short interview with Hugo Chávez at the Convention Palace, in 2000, during the previous Summit of the Group of 77 in Havana. Today I can reveal that he was where he shouldn’t be, he was waiting for someone he shouldn’t be waiting for (moved by the desire for the scoop)… and he didn’t even know who he was going to approach.
We journalists had been warned that diplomatic protocol required an area reserved for the 40 leaders present. We couldn’t call them either. But three of us “undisciplined” stood outside the plenary session, waiting for the departure of some Head of State.
During the morning session, the press descended on several foreign ministers like a hornet’s nest, especially the Spanish-speaking ones; With these statements, many were satisfied. Of course, it would not be the same to count on the words of a president; That’s why we waited.
Around 6:00, after stalking all afternoon, one went out to have coffee and the other decided that he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone (with a remarkably long service record, even at Che’s side). So I stayed alone. For an almost recent graduate, nothing could be more important.
And then the doors of the plenary opened and President Hugo Chávez came out. I could say my eyes lit up and my heart jumped, but I don’t remember; I only know that I ran to him, recorder in hand.
I will never forget his smile and willingness to respond to the inopportune journalist who interrupted his break. Without any rush, he told me about the reason for the Summit and the challenges of the countries of the South; However, at the end, he moved to the side to continue forward.
I still didn’t have enough, so I got in his way, raised the recorder again, and asked a new question. Again the frank smile—truly frank—and the lucid, objective, accurate response. This time, he finished and moved to the other side… and I was impaled again.
It was the finishing touch. She couldn’t give up. And boy was it worth it! Without getting upset, as was his right in the face of such impertinence, she told me that phrase about “looking more at the Southern Cross than at the North Star.”
I had never heard anything like it. They had not founded Telesur, but Chávez was already creating what would become his slogan: “Our North is the South.”
You would think that this annoying journalist was also brave. No way! The hand on the recorder remained firm, at the level of the president’s lips; Meanwhile, his legs trembled as if he had a “microlocalized” earthquake of 7.5 degrees on the Richter scale. I never knew if he realized it.
After that answer, he grabbed me very tightly by the shoulders, as if in that grip he were hugging Fidel and all the people of Cuba; He told me something like “A hug, comrade!” He turned around and returned to the plenary session. I understood very clearly that in that sincere affection was mixed a “no f… anymore, my brother!”
I was very happy with my little interview – exclusive, too! – although I kept feeling some remorse for spoiling the moment of drinking coffee, going to the bathroom or perhaps stretching the legs of my great friend from Cuba.
Now the countries of the South meet again in Havana, in another Summit of the Group of 77. This time my journalistic work did not take me to the Convention Palace. Neither Chávez nor Fidel will go. But I’m sure they will be there.
#Chávez #impertinent #journalist