Quise preguntar y me confirmaron mi sospecha: los extranjeros de mi ciudad estaban progresivamente desapareciendo… pregunté y pregunté y sólo supieron contestarme que a muchos se los habían llevado porque ya ni hacían falta y había riesgo de imposición de cultura o religión. Protesté, protesté y protesté… Miré a mí alrededor y sólo vi personas de mi propia etnia. Todo extrañamente monocolor, gris…aburrido…ya no podía escuchar las palabras y sonidos tan característicos…todo me chirriaba… ¿A dónde se los estaban llevando? ¿A sus países, donde suele haber tragedias? Los nativos me miraban con cara de loca…yo, a veces les acusaba de racistas y xenófobos… La autoridad pertinente, no sin cierta razón, casi me lleva detenida por defender algo que se salía de sus normas. Pero me daba igual. Yo insistía en saber donde estaban… (continuará)
I wanted to ask and they confirmed my suspicion: the foreigners of my city were progressively disappearing ... I asked and I asked and they only knew to answer me that many had taken them because they were no longer necessary and there was risk of imposition of culture or religion. I protested, protested and protested ... I looked around and saw only people of my own ethnic group. All was strangely monochromatic, gray ... bored ... I could no longer hear the words and sounds so characteristic ... everything was squeaking ... Where were they taking them? To their countries, where there are tragedies? The natives looked at me with a crazy face ... I sometimes accused them of racist and xenophobic ... The relevant authority, not without some reason, almost stopped me for defending something that went beyond its rules. But I did not care. I insisted on knowing where they were ... (to be continued)
I wanted to ask and they confirmed my suspicion: the foreigners of my city were progressively disappearing ... I asked and I asked and they only knew to answer me that many had taken them because they were no longer necessary and there was risk of imposition of culture or religion. I protested, protested and protested ... I looked around and saw only people of my own ethnic group. All was strangely monochromatic, gray ... bored ... I could no longer hear the words and sounds so characteristic ... everything was squeaking ... Where were they taking them? To their countries, where there are tragedies? The natives looked at me with a crazy face ... I sometimes accused them of racist and xenophobic ... The relevant authority, not without some reason, almost stopped me for defending something that went beyond its rules. But I did not care. I insisted on knowing where they were ... (to be continued)
Storytelling by Patricia López Muñoz
Técnico Especialista en Inmigración
Técnico Superior en Animación Sociocultural
Monitora Deportiva de Actividades para Personas con Discapacidad