Jun 3

Jun 3 Fernweh~9: Venezuela

fernweh

/ˈfɛʁnveː/

farsickness or longing for far-off places

This fernweh visit will be to Venezuela with the accompaniment of Gabriel, a beloved friend from my old humanities class. From our two quarter long online classmate-ness, I have collected a couple of pretty vivid memories of Gabriel. One of them was at the end of the fall quarter, when Gabriel was presenting his journey away from his home to where he is now. A strong sensation of walking away from the arms of the people he once relied on. A rush of building the same shelter in a place he is a foreign of. Yet, there was no regret or any feeling that will evoke sadness within you. It was what had to be done at the time, you understand. I couldn’t relate more. I couldn’t relate more, indeed that, the next day, coincidentally, I talked about the people I call home (even though they are nowhere close to physically hosting me) and the attempts to strengthen my belongingness. Gabriel congratulated me from the chat box. At the time, I did not know that I needed that affirmation to not feel solitary. These feelings were shared experiences, he reminded me.

Now, I want to use this space to thank Gabriel by at least creating a virtual space that memorialises his home. I know that we carry a part of what we think we left behind. I hope fernwehs can help us share our emotional loads, forming a hub of homes…

Enjoy experiencing Venezuela as a home, from the perspective of Gabriel...

SK: What does it mean to you when I say “Venezuelan clothing”?

Gabriel: It means lightness; it means fresh; it means "NOT WINTER". In Venezuela, because of our geographical location, the temperature in the Capital ranges from 17 degrees to 30 degrees. The coldest temperature I ever experienced in Caracas was probably 14 degrees Celsius, and the hottest probably 36 degrees Celsius. I really miss that, and that is why when you ask me about Venezuelan cloth, the first thing that comes to mind is literally "the lack of"; the privilege of not needing to wear one thousand layers of clothing just to keep your body warm. As my grandfather, who lived in Spain the first nine years of his life, would say, "freedom from the subjugation of clothing" (in spanish: libertad del yugo de la ropa)

SK: How would you describe the traditional clothing in Venezuela?

Gabriel: Very similar to what I said before. In some cases, a blender of multiple cultures and traditions, and in other instances, purely or predominantly influenced by indigenous tribes. When I think about my traditional cloth, the first words that come to mind are nature, rhythm and music, unique elegance, and history of oppression.

SK: There is a positive correlation between the history and the clothing. Are there any specific historical challenges that the clothing was exposed to?

Gabriel: Yes, indeed. It would take me ages to explain the entire history, but long story short, after the Europeans slaughtered, transformed, and exploited all the indigenous tribes and native communities in Venezuela, wearing native's clothing became a sign of poverty, less class, ignorance, lower strata. It is really nice that nowadays native's clothing has a special place within certain commemorations or traditional days; however, it was not always like this (and Venezuela still faces big discrimination against indigenous-looking people and tribes; in short, racism).

SK: How would you describe today’s clothing? Are there any major contributions to fashion, such as designers, trends, labels, weeks…?

Gabriel: I am not a fashion expert, not even close, so I wouldn't be able to tell you. Nonetheless, due to the economic crisis that Venezuela has been facing in the past decade, our capacity to "export culture" and have a real impact in other industries has decreased exponentially. You should talk with older Venezuelans that may know more about this topic and who might have lived through the oil boom in the 80s and 90s

SK: In the other interviews, our friends mentioned that here some of the people have preconceived notions about their nations’ clothings. Have you ever experienced anything similar? Or, how do people perceive your nation?

Gabriel: Not really, People many times have "preconceived"worse things, like my intellectual capacities, or my access to food. I can only remember one old person that I, unfortunately, met in Spain who asked me with a very malicious tone, "do you still use 'taparrabos' in Venezuela?". Taparrabos is what indigenous people used to wear (or still wear) when they were in their native communities.