Protests in Alfonso López District Park in Bogotá, Colombia on July 28, 2024. Photo by José Montilla, used with permission.

Twenty years ago, in the streets of Táchira, a region on the border between Venezuela and Colombia, José Montilla played with his friends while the neighborhood echoed with the chant: “Chávez, corazón de mi pueblo” (“Chávez, heart of the people.”) Today, those same streets resonate with new chants: “No quiero bono, no quiero CLAP. Yo lo que quiero es que se vaya Nicolás” (“I don't want a bonus, I don't want CLAP. What I want is for Nicolás to leave,”) This contrast marks the painful journey of a nation in search of its freedom and dignity.

Now 27 years old, José watches the elections from Bogotá, Colombia, where he emigrated in 2018. “We all know that what happened in Venezuela was electoral fraud by the regime, which led to the protests and confrontations in the streets. Everyone knows the real results,” he says.

He closely follows the political situation in Venezuela. “I'm even more interested in staying informed about what’s happening in my country,” he explains. Maduro’s victory in the recent elections, despite 70 percent of the population opposing him, was a severe blow to José. “I cried when I found out about the fraud. My fiancée tried to comfort me, but I broke down,” he says.

On July 28, 2024, although he could not vote due to the regime’s restrictions, José participated in peaceful demonstrations in Colombia, just as he had done in Venezuela in 2017. Of the nearly 8 million Venezuelans who fled the dictatorship, only around 70,000 were able to vote. “Every vote counts, and it hurts that all we can do is watch,” he says.

“This fight isn’t just for a few, this fight is everyone’s,” José explains, noting that young Venezuelans abroad play a crucial role in this fight for democracy. Although they cannot physically participate in the protests, they can make a significant difference by disseminating information which can also help them stay connected to their homeland, he says. Despite the initial disappointment, José and his loved ones remain hopeful that this year they will finally break free from the dictatorship. “We trust in the plan of opposition leader María Corina Machado, who is a strategic woman, and in the election recount,” he says optimistically.

José remembers the difficult circumstances that led him to leave his country. “I dreamed of graduating as an architect,” he recalls. But the severe shortages of food and fuel led him to seek a better future elsewhere. “The only thing we could get [in Venezuela] was ground corn or cassava, which we ate for breakfast, lunch and even dinner, every day for several months,” José explains, emphasizing the gravity of the crisis he experienced.

Venezuela endured several decades of hardship. Hugo Chávez assumed power in 1999, and expropriated more than 1,200 companies, triggering the first wave of migration after the oil strike in 2003. After Chávez passed away in 2013, Nicolás Maduro took power, intensifying repression and causing further humanitarian crises, which led to millions of refugees. The opposition protests in 2017 and the brief rise of Juan Guaidó as an opposition leader in 2019 sparked more waves of migration.

José was born in 1997 and lived through all this history and inequality firsthand. Now, he feels a freedom that he never knew in Venezuela.

The streets of San Cristóbal, Táchira were flooded with people to welcome María Corina Machado on June 28, 2024. Photo by Vente Venezuela, used with permission.

Sacrifices and identity

José grew up in the Venezuelan state of Táchira. “Colloquially, we are known as the most ‘arrecha’ people of Venezuela, meaning the bravest with the strongest character,” he adds with a nostalgic smile. Leaving behind his studies, family and friends was a painful experience. “I have photos from university, taken on the day I knew I wouldn't return, showing me in tears,” he recalls. “Colombia welcomed me and opened many doors, allowing me to grow both professionally and personally. Plus, I found someone incredible who changed my life,” José shares with gratitude.

He arrived in Colombia with just a carry-on suitcase and, like many other migrants, faced numerous challenges. “I went from being a student to being completely alone, working as a delivery person day and night,” he says. Over time, he managed to settle down. “Despite not having a university degree, I’m now a professional in graphic and web design,” he proudly states.

To truly understand how a Venezuelan migrant feels, José recommends listening to the song “Me Fui” by Venezuelan singer Reymar Perdomo, which has become an anthem for migrants. Migration has brought him both challenges and rewards. He misses the food, customs and friends from Venezuela, but he has found new friendships in Colombia. “You learn to be completely independent, to rely on yourself,” he reflects.

For José, it is important to uphold the reputation of his country. “What you do abroad doesn’t just represent you, it represents all Venezuelans,” he says with determination. However, he has had to hide parts of his identity. For example, with his family, he can use words like “toche,” a very colloquial expression in Táchira with many meanings, but it is not understood in Bogotá, making it difficult for him to express himself.

José has kept some of his Venezuelan traditions alive in Colombia, such as making “hallacas,” a traditional Christmas dish. “My sister travels from anywhere in Colombia to make hallacas together,” he says proudly. He has also adopted some Colombian customs, such as celebrating “el día de las velitas,” the Day of the Little Candles.

Protests in Alfonso López District Park in Bogotá, Colombia on July 28, 2024. Photo by José Montilla, used with permission.

Reflections about the future

José reflects on how growing up under the Maduro regime has affected young Venezuelans like him. “Growing up under Maduro's socialism means growing up with scarcity, with limitations, without the possibility of building a life and finding a decent job,” he explains. Education in Venezuela has been severely impacted, creating a generation without critical thinking skills, where students could not even formulate their own ideas and opinions. “Many teachers left the country, and young people received education from military personnel and police officers, where indoctrination and political campaigns in favor of the government were part of the curriculum,” José shares.

If Edmundo González does not become Venezuela's new president, José fears that another six years of Maduro will only deepen these problems. “Continuing with this government will force many more people to leave Venezuela,” he says with sadness. “This government has destroyed a beautiful country.”

Looking back, José feels the weight of the sacrifices he has made but also recognizes the growth he has experienced. “Every loss is painful, but at the same time, it nurtures people’s experiences and thoughts,” he reflects. He remembers a moment in 2018, at the Bucaramanga bus terminal, on his way to Bogotá, with only 10,000 pesos in his pocket. “I forced myself to grow, and it was worth it,” he affirms.

For José, the hope for a free Venezuela is clear. “All I want for Venezuela is freedom so that those of us who are outside can return whenever we want.”