2023, hopefully!

How awesome the word Hopefully, at the time of omens.

It comes from the Arabic and means “and God willing”. At this time, I will use it to propose reflective toasts. In our case, “hopefully” means not only what we dream but what we will do with our dreams. Beware of transferring responsibilities to our gods and goddesses. Some hopefully fell by the wayside, faded; others persist, sharpened. As always, it is recommended to have a Malbec nearby. Wine is the only homeland that has masts for all flags. Here they come, here are our toasts:

Hopefully the crowing of the roosters will warn us tomorrow. It will be a sign that there is a rooster. And a tomorrow. And that the song keeps happening!

May hypocrisy, pettiness, pulling the carpet, chicanery, speculation cease to prevail in our actions. Or could it be that each new year only means the actualization of hatred?

Hopefully, when it comes to supporting or condemning vaccination, we stop thinking about political gain. Let us learn that all viruses that existed and may exist can be defeated by making freedom synonymous with solidarity.

Hopefully we will stop transforming everyday hysterical paranoia into an ideology. Such ideology – it is obvious – has a nest in obscene neoliberalism.

May our society be outraged and convene in crowds and with candles, even when the young man killed is brown skin. The wearing of a dark face gives away our racism, our subcutaneous xenophobia.

Hopefully we will stop using democracy as a condom. Democracy is the way we are. Be very careful with those who had a good time in dictatorship and continue having a blast in democracy.

Hopefully literacy will be an absolute priority. And that the illiteracy that so many media sow ceases to be naturalized.

May we have the crucial courage to go one step further and overcome “tolerance of the other” with “respect for the other.” (If we were to achieve this, the famous human condition would finally be more human.)

Hopefully in this triumphalist homeland we will stop considering that whoever is not world champion of something is a failure, that is, a dumbass.

May we learn that hope is not a comfort, nor a childishness, nor a declamatory foolishness: it is a right and it is a job, it is an obligation at least. Let us not allow ourselves to have hope pinched. Those of us who are well-eaten and read cannot afford the tremendous luxury of discouragement.

Hopefully we will not squander what the Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo have been teaching us. That memory is the hardest form of hope. And that patience is not resignation.

May our communicators, artists, and intellectuals if, by these coincidences of life, they have an “idea”, they do not lose “knowledge”.

Hopefully, beyond the pandemic that does not finish leaving, we stop kissing each other from the mouth to the outside / without daring / without risk / without courage. Because it’s a crime not to kiss. Hopefully we throw ourselves headlong into every kiss / inside / well inside / more inside.

May we stop confusing noise with sound, impunity with heroism, indifference with prudence, resignation with patience, drabness with sea level, makeup with countenance. Oh, and let’s not confuse forgetfulness with reconciliation.

May we value those who have clean hands because they never wash their hands.

May solidarity not just be a spasm and digestion may not be our only civic activity. Let’s not fall into the comfort of walking through life just being burping intestines.

May we listen with the ear of the heart to the hungry: to those who hunger for books, justice, work, memory, hunger for dignity and bread. Of bread of every day and of each night. For everyone.

May we not lose sight of the hunch of the grapes, the blush of the peach, the frankness of the olive, the pride of the onion, the cordiality of the oregano, the deep emotion of the basil, the sincere courage of the garlic.

Hopefully we are well aware that the sun needs collaboration, it cannot do everything alone: it needs our heat traffic.

Hopefully we will stop being that conatus of country that replaced the satisfaction of feeling the best in the world by the pathetic pride of being the most inexplicable in the world.

Hopefully we will look at what the finger points and stop looking at the tip of the finger.

Let’s hope that the pigeons stop bragging: they are no more pacifists than the cordial sparrows.

May we learn, at last, that fate cannot be bribed.

Hopefully, when we say that “the Malvinas are Argentine”, we will not forget to ask ourselves: “And Argentina, whose is it?”

May we notice that we already have four social classes: the upper class, who are alive in fear; the middle class, who are furious with fear; the poor, who do not have time to be afraid, and the broken, who can’t even be scared shitless, because for that something must be in the gut.

Let’s hope we don’t forget that ethics starts at home. And the ethics of syntax, not to mention.

Hopefully we will stop blaming the blow from a stone, the stone.

Hopefully Maradona will not take long to resurrect. He can, for sure.

Hopefully we will get out of the chronic comfort of considering that corruption is a thing of politicians. Corruption is the best part of these payments. But beware, that the misfortune of the many is but a fool’s consolation.

Hopefully, for the Argentine Hamlet, the question ceases to be: “To seem or not to be.”

May every morning, when we leave our house, we do so with our hearts set. And let us not lose shame.

Postscript. No matter how downhearted we are, let us not fall into the pit of discouragement. Do we the well-read and well-read have the right to lower our arms?

Let’s continue uncorking the deep Malbec. That like bread, should not be missing on any table. That is, it must be in every table. Like bread. And let’s not forget that wine is the only homeland that has masts for all flags. And health. And hallelujah. And Huija!

Published in Pagina 12 newspaper on December 30, 2022

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