There are friends with whom one can argue until hoarse about politics, soccer or religion. However, despite the conflicting opinions or thanks to them, the bonds that unite us to those people are stronger than ...
There are friends with whom one can argue until hoarse about politics, soccer or religion. However, despite the conflicting opinions or thanks to them, the bonds that unite us to those people are stronger than the differences. And that is what the entire island of Lanzarote should remember about José Saramago.
Like almost everyone, especially those who stand out as he did, he had staunch defenders and also detractors. And it is normal that many did not share his political ideology, his defense of communism or even his vision of the Catholic religion. But what no one should dispute is that he was a genius of letters, who achieved the highest distinction that a writer can receive. And one cannot doubt his commitment to the causes he considered just, nor his love for this island.
Sometimes he was critical, yes. Critical of those who do not understand that a person arriving from another area of Spain or another country can love this land as much as any Lanzarote native. Critical of those who, under the discourse of the homeland, hide the law of money. With those who have had no qualms about filling their pockets at the cost of corruption or cement, without worrying in the least about the future of the island. Do they love Lanzarote more than Saramago?
The affection shared for something or someone also ends up uniting. And Saramago's love for Lanzarote united him with many neighbors who truly love this island. But at the same time, it distanced him from those who only love themselves, and those who are bothered by those who come to remove blindfolds or do essays on blindness. Those who intend to anchor the island in other times, and continue with the chickpeas and flags to maintain power. And that clashes head-on with culture.
You may not share all his ideas, but there is certainly no doubt that Saramago invited people to think, to stir consciences, to shake up what was established. And for that, sometimes you have to shout. Because neither history is written with whispers, nor are changes in society achieved with soft messages in a low voice. He himself said it: "It is time to howl, because if we let ourselves be carried away by the powers that govern us, and we do nothing to counteract them, it can be said that we deserve what we have."
And Saramago howled. He howled against the United States, against capitalism, against the inequalities of a world he hoped to change. And he also howled sometimes in Lanzarote, against the ruling class. Against those who decided not to even poke their heads out of the wake. From all over the world they were looking at that burning chapel that was installed in Tías, but on the island, there were absences of political parties and public representatives so obvious that it is not even necessary to name them.
Saramago was not in his land, but even so, for many here he was not a prophet either. Perhaps it is because to a large extent, it was his land. It was the place where he chose to live and die. And just for that, any public representative should thank Saramago for his choice of Lanzarote.
And it is that even beyond his cultural or ideological figure, he was also a personality who captured glances and admiration, and his presence turned the island into a showcase. Therefore, it would be foolish not to consider, at least, the fact that a Nobel Prize winner for Literature who will go down in history, chose this island, leaving those names united forever.
Saramago was not an optimistic man, because he affirmed that reality gave no reason for it, and because he considered that only from pessimism could one aspire to change the world, and he made it clear with phrases like this: "I would like to write a happy book; I have all the elements to be a happy man; but I simply cannot. However, there is one thing that does make me happy, and that is saying what I think." And that is the consolation of those who loved him, and the misfortune of those who would have preferred him to shut up.
