The dead of the way Andres Simon Moreno Arreche – Twitter: @Bluedragoonviet) independence gesta in Venezuela, which should rather be called mortuary intake, coated the roads of the patria proto with over one hundred thousand dead between 1810 and 1824; dead on all sides and not only of men in combat. Most of these deaths were cowardly assassinations of women, children and old men, sometimes entire villages, struck by the brutality of a match to blood and fire, between the locals and on account of a few whites vying for political and military control of an area in constant claim. One belonged to a bourgeois of white Creoles (such as Miranda, Bolivar, Sucre and Urdaneta) aspiring to assume those controls and reluctantly accepted as peers to mulattoes, clubbed and panels, other whites, the Peninsular, sought to retain for themselves the many prebends and incalculable profits received from the parcel granted by grace of his Majesty with military support from the Spanish Empire. More like a prolonged and bloody civil war that a military mobilization of independence, mortuary intake that broke out in the premises of the captaincy General of Venezuela, studded dead winding roads that interlocked towns, villages and cities. The consequences of the Decree of war to the death ordained by Bolivar in 1813 in nothing differed from the matazones ordering Boves in his path of blood and death by plain, heading to Caracas. ESA and not another is the description that rightness would that make the alleged glorious independence battles, that very few times were won with strategies and military tactics of the time, but were missed by the contrary because of his clumsiness or lack knowledge of the terrain and the mobility of their enemies. Oddly enough, anxieties of 21st century Venezuelans have not changed since then through these streets.
On the same land has been spilled the blood of more than 150,000 people in the past 11 years, only by firearms (add other deaths and will be surprised) and the Office of the dead is the most lucrative in this Venezuelan land. In the midst of an election campaign to choose 165 deputies to the National Assembly, a Sambo wields its lanzas coloradas along with the promise of destroying his enemies, while the roads dust rises, substantial, to welcome or bid farewell to these modern montoneros that as those, they go from village to village, hamlet in Hamlet, making promises and recruiting people at the point of ticket and food. When I see them pass or see them on television, all rojitos, all ready for battle, I can not evoke the voice of Presentacion Campos, the Butler of the Altar:.-look Nativity, come here..-A order, Chief. -What about this pod?-which?-Gua! It is having us alzao. -Very well done. Even when ibanos to endure-are now up, Nativity. Los de abajo that fits.