Denver Catholic

15 DENVER CATHOLIC | SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER, 2020 gasoline shortages]; government officials and other groups paid by the government began intimidating pro- testors, even if they were protesting peacefully," Galviz said. "Protestors began barricading the streets to pro- tect themselves from the colectivos. [The armed groups] had 'sapos' [whis- tleblowers; literally, 'toads'] on every street, so they showed up at every protest and would browbeat people at gun point using the most vulgar lan- guage you can imagine. "We couldn't leave our houses for about four months because the gov- ernment imposed a curfew; in my city, San Cristobal, the curfew started at 1 p.m. The period of the barricades in San Cristobal was among the most disastrous of the country. The [armed groups] burned many things, and there were terrible deaths, including those of many student protestors… "A big group of students decided to camp out by one of the main streets of the city in peaceful protest, and at night the governor would send the military with their tanks to intimidate the students and the people living in the surrounding neighborhood. They would break win- dows, break into homes, chase students who ran away to hide… "All of this is to describe what we started experiencing in 2014, because it was one of the most tragic moments in Venezuelan history, without knowing what was to follow." After the country reopened, Galviz, who also has a graduate degree in education and was teaching at the local university, began a video campaign with some of his stu- dents to promote good values in society, "because the city was left in ruins." In addition, he started his Saturday news radio show that would later be the reason for his persecution. "We featured many relevant stories on the show. For example, people didn't know that many mothers, in order to feed their children, would travel all the way to the Colombian border, donate their hair and receive a few Colombian pesos. With the devaluation of the Venezuelan bolivar, that was a lot of money, and they could at least buy food for three days," he said. Galviz highlighted these types of stories for about three years, "causing people in the regime to grow in discontent." 2017 saw a resurgence of protests, closures, barricades and conflicts, "but this time the colectivos were a lot more violent," he said. The opposition organized the "Gran Plantón", or "great sit-in," in which, at a certain date and time, people would interrupt their activities and protest wherever they were. Galviz was in his home at the time, and many of his neighbors decided to protest outside. But then the colecti- vos arrived. "They already knew where I lived, so they took advan- tage of the situation," he recalled. "I went inside to warn my wife and my mother, who also lived with us. Two minutes later [the colectivos] were at the door yelling, threatening us and breaking all sorts of things. At that moment, I was thinking, 'They're going to kill us.' A thousand things crossed my mind that day." After the incident, he couldn't leave his house in peace: the colectivos continued to keep a close eye on his neighbor- hood. The situation forced him to take his family in secret and move in with his brother in another part of the city. These incidents left many scars in the Galviz family. His wife and his mother both suffered from nervous breakdowns, and he himself had to seek out help from a psychologist. "I tried not to show my weakness, but on the inside, I was deeply broken," he said. He was forced to change the content of his radio show out of fear and resigned a few months later. "I left the show because I couldn't sleep anymore," he said. "It was either my work or my family." Galviz was forced to find any means to provide for his family and buy his mother's medicine. "I started collecting recyclables and taking them all the way to the Colombian border, where they gave you just a few pesos, but enough to buy flour or rice," he recalled. "I would fill up and carry a big suitcase, and it was so heavy that at night my hands were torn and in a lot of pain." But the effects of the situation would bring more suffer- ing to the family. "My wife and I found out that we were expecting, and we saw it as a sign of hope. But the anxiety and stress of the situation caused her to have a miscarriage," he said. "We were heartbroken." Amid the pain, he was able to return to his position at the university, giving virtual classes, but he knew he couldn't keep it up for much longer: things were only get- ting worse. He received word from his neighbors that the colectivos frequently visited his old home, yelling: "We're going to kill you! You're going to die!" and all kinds of obscenities. ⊲ Photo provided The [armed groups] burned many things, and there were terrible deaths, including those of many student protestors."

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