It was a tough night, one she remembers as the time when she most regretted being poor and leaving first grade because her family was large and she had to work. That man was Jorge, and he's now my friend. She emigrated to Colombia, hoping to find work as a hairdresser and send money to her family.
But reality changed her plans. When she arrived in Maicao, a Colombian city in the La Guajira region closest to the border with Venezuela, she was offered a job as a waitress in a bar. Her story is typical of many Venezuelan woman who migrate to Colombia looking to earn hard currency help relatives back home struggling to make a living with a drastically devalued national currency and tight monetary controls.
She prefers to work alone because no one tells her what to do. She likes the freedom and does not want to feel captive, she said, like other Venezuelan women who are run by pimps who guarantee their housing, food and security. But the women lose the right to decide how much and how they want to work. Her small hands had short fingernails, with no loud colors or appliques. Her eyes, with minimum makeup, were framed by fuchsia frames.
She said that with a smile, because she likes to be known as a flirt. She also takes care of her skin, eating a lot of fruit and vegetables and avoiding all alcohol. She was a hairdresser in Barquisimeto, Venezuela's fourth largest city. Cutting and tinting hair and straightening curls earned her barely enough to cover the basic necessities for her and her daughters.
They had nothing left over, but they also missed nothing. That's the way it used to be. She had to provide for the daughters, 4, 6, 8 and 10 years old, by herself. She also had to help her brother, jailed for trying to hold up a bus, and her year-old mother, who now takes care of the four girls. It was a heavy responsibility. One day I had no money to feed my daughters, and I went into a panic.
