Almost a decade ago Sandro Venturo, a Peruvian sociologist, published a somewhat premonitory text. He talked about the death of someone else, but above all about the emptiness that goodbyes leave. Also, that he hoped to leave before his children. “My arrow is already separated, like everyone else’s. Meanwhile, I humbly receive the extension of this contingency,” he said. He died last Sunday, news received with sadness by those who knew him in person, but also by those familiar with his intellectual work.
“More than 20 years ago I learned about a very creative campaign to stop a Canadian mining company in Piura. It was a campaign that talked about that without lemon there is no ceviche. I was very struck by how this sociologist had used a symbol of everyday life to literally bring to the table an environmental and political problem,” Gustavo Rodríguez, a novelist and publicist who founded Toronja Comunicación with Venturo, told El Comercio. This creativity brought them closer, made them partners and then friends.
Paola Ugaz, a journalist who met him in the academic field when he was an Anthropology student at the PUCP, was also his friend. Venturo at that time, always with his leather bag crossed over his chest, and with a dark polo shirt and jeans ―his armor for work, for life―, promoted a Visual Anthropology workshop in his role as a sociologist; He brought academic work closer to people through short videos. It was the beginning of the 90s, when working in both their professions in rural areas was dangerous because of Sendero. Hence the studies focused on cities. He helped process difficult information easily, which is fundamental in social sciences.
/ PERCY RAMIREZ
“Nothing he says can do justice to his charisma and intelligence, nor to his optimism, that species so rare in culture. No one has been easier to love, Daniela [Rotalde]. And that’s why now I have no way to hide this damn sadness,” said the poet Jerónimo Pimentel, on Facebook.
“He is a very sensible man, very slow,” says Ugaz, in the present tense. Years after her university days, they got together again, but around La Mula, a journalistic project where she was editor. Venturo, in the role of his friend, always offered his common sense at the service of whoever needed it. “He was very supportive, he was always there, very attentive. It is incredible that, looking back, I have known Sandro for so long… and that is, carpe diem (seize the day), one of the lessons he leaves us,” she added.
In an article for this newspaper in 2020, in the middle of the pandemic, the sociologist talks about that very Peruvian characteristic of celebrating expectations before facts, valuing the promise over its fulfillment, like the proclamation of independence, celebrated more than the Battle of Ayacucho. In the end, he pointed out what Peru needs: “A society that is fertile land for all types of seeds. A country where everyone’s fortunes are made.” And Venturo was a realist with rampant optimism.
“He was very aware of the contradictions we have as a country and I learned a lot from him in the years we worked together. But even though he knew the enormous burden we carried as a society, he did not stop working to improve it at least a little,” Rodríguez said by phone, sad. The last time they both saw each other, they said something that is sometimes lost in everyday contact: that they loved each other very much. They also made plans.
While several minds emigrated out of Peru in the 1980s, Venturo is among those who stayed, said Ugaz, who would like to see more Sandros. “He stayed despite everything, he was helping here and I think that is a great legacy for those who come.”