I worked in a food processing plant. We had to work hard, a few of us were a team, a few women but mostly men. We discovered that one of us was sick. We stuck together and one day we promised to help him. He was bleeding a lot.
He stayed in a kind of bathtub and we brought food for him. Then there was a parade. It was necessary to be discreet but we could greet each other. That was where I saw the first one deny the sick friend. Later in the bathtub I was with him but far away. He asked some one else for help, could he take the garbage out. It was disgusting to touch it, but we wore gloves for our work so it was not a problem. But another one of the friends who had sworn loyalty refused to take it; he looked at him as if he were a pestilent. It was true that there was propaganda in the factory against him, I realised that the pressure was very big. But it was very painful to watch as, little by little, they were leaving the friend we all had sworn to help. I approached and asked him for the garbage. It was truly disgusting, but I also wore gloves. I asked him about the red spot in the bathtub. He said it had no importance and I helped him clean it. He wondered why I did this, to help him, I told him that the less evident it was, the better, because, maybe, even with all the propaganda against him, not all the people knew that it was him that we all were supposed to avoid.
In order to be able to help my friend I decided to become a journalist. I took the garbage out and now it was necessary to feed him. There was food I could take from skips. It was fruit and vegetables, but suddenly I found a plate with what looked like a velvet or a crab. I thought to take it to my friend and ran to tell him. Then I thought that the crab may well belong to someone because it was on a plate, so better not to tell him anything, just in case I could not take it to him.
I decided to bring him food like fruit and vegetables and ask about the crab. Just as I was going to bring the meal to him, I saw a thin brunette girl take the crab, it seemed that it was hers. Thank goodness I had not mentioned the small crab to the sick guy.
I wanted to go with a few to skip some food. For that we had to take some bags, which may have been garbage bags. We had to analyse them. I asked three or four of the guys who were coming with me to help me with the bags. It was a long walk. As we arrived to Taroneca I realised that one of them was not carrying the small bag I had given to him. He said it was very heavy, that it was burdensome to carry it, that the walk had been very long and he had thrown it away. I got mad, at least he could have told me and I would have carried it myself. I decided to keep the bags safe and we went through the skips. Lots of people skipping.
We tried to get into a skip where there would not be too many people. I remained with the bags, I did not skip but I was there until they finished. More people came to the skip where we were although it seemed that they had already seen it before. A car came, almost stalling. This was danger. None of us had a car. They got off the car and arrests and beatings began.
I tried to move away discreetly, as if all that had nothing to do with me, but I was also carrying those bags that could be mistaken so easily with food bags from the garbage. I decided to run like the rest of them, although that would mean to risk getting arrested and beaten up. We ran a lot on the flours side-walk.
There was a garbage container. It seemed that we had escaped them but more were coming ahead. We did not know that to do. I had the idea of hiding behind the garbage container and then negotiate them. But surely they would see me …
I remembered I could now act as a journalist. In fact it had taken a few photos of the guys as they were coming towards the dustbin. They were not very good photos but they were the beginning of my journalistic career. I joined Naush and we got some material although not much. We got something on the scandals in the factory where I had worked. We got some pictures and audio, maybe video. Naush was nude above the waist but it could be seen that he had gone tanned with a t-shirt on, in such a way that it he was wearing that T-shirt.
Naush stopped to speak with a girl who looked like the Canadian, but I was more keen to see if she had got a tan; it seemed she had, I remembered her completely white. I had seen some of the white in her skin and had the hope of seeing at least the albino parts of her skin. While Naush was speaking with the Canadian I noticed two journalists harassing a big shot. A third journalist haunted another one, by simply putting the camera at a very few centimetres from his nose. Since I was not obtaining anything with Naush I joined Junk TV, with whom I wasn’t going to obtain much more anyway.
Mr. George Marmalade said: “Well, we have not got that much so far, now let’s go for the personal shit”. The King saw us and called us ‘slag’, because we only went for the human miseries. I realised I could not defend myself too much since it was clear that I was with Mr. Marmalade’s team. But as we went past him I said to him: “what do you know… Juanito.”