Brazil rises from the dark night of almost four years in which Jair Bolsonaro poisoned the country with his hatred.
Brazilians wake up to shout in favor of democracy and against authoritarianism, while the extreme right-wing government of the Army captain seems to be taking its last breaths.
A manifesto against hate and in defense of freedoms, which will be read at a demonstration in São Paulo on August 11, has been signed by 800,000 people.
Former Supreme Ministers, hundreds of large industrial groups, judges, intellectuals, politicians, artists and thousands of people have joined this initiative until this Monday.
Brazil is tired of hate.
Bolsonaro's poisoned policy has not only dragged the country into an unprecedented economic crisis, but even disenchantment.
According to a
Datafolha
survey , 50% of Brazilians have decided not to talk about politics again.
Brazil is a country of contrasts.
Violence and social inequality also top global rankings, but it's not just that.
It has one of the largest natural diversity on the planet, it is an example of cultural and religious richness, of love for life and for the festival.
Its people are an example of coexistence and solidarity among the poorest.
In Brazil it is very difficult to feel alone or foreign.
The pianist Arthur Moreira Lima, considered one of the best in the world, has lamented that his country is losing that proverbial affection, clouded by the climate of hatred that the president has installed.
The country is ready to fire him in the next elections, but fears persist that Bolsonaro, supported by the military, will attempt a coup and a return to the old totalitarianism.
Given this, Brazil is waking up.
The Brazilian pianist, Arthur Moreira Lima, considered one of the best in the world, has lamented that the country is losing its proverbial "affection" clouded by the virus of the climate of hate that has been installed.
It is the cry against the fear that Bolsonaro, supported by the military, could attempt a return to the old totalitarianism and against which Brazil is reacting.
A few days ago, while walking by the sea in the small fishing town of Saquarema, 100 kilometers from Rio de Janeiro, I saw a group of people, dressed for a party, making an arch of fresh flowers.
A dozen chairs next to it.
I approached curious.
As if they had known me all my life, they invited me to stay for a wedding.
They offered me a chair and an elderly man approached me, who without preamble said to me with a smile: “I am the groom.
We are waiting for the bride."
I asked him why they didn't get married in a temple, and he told me with a smile: "What better temple than this magnificent scenery of nature?"
Later he told me that he was a Buddhist, that his girlfriend belonged to the Mormon church and who was going to marry them was an evangelical.
Pure ecumenism.
I asked him how he and his girlfriend reconciled sharing two very different religions.
He smiled again and explained to me that it was very easy, since each respected the faith of the other and thus enriched each other.
Without further ceremonies and without knowing who they were, the guests came to shake my hand with party gestures.
César Bernardo da Silva and María Mónica Vieira, during their wedding in the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro.
I left them when the ceremony began and I told myself that this is the true Brazil, the one with the affection that the pianist spoke of, the Brazil that I knew when I landed here 20 years ago.
That beautiful country, where people greeted me on the street like a friend.
The Brazil that shelters people from more than 90 different countries without discriminating against them and that knows how to enjoy the small pleasures of life.
It is Brazil that when my daughter came to visit from Spain, after having bought a couple of souvenirs in various stores, she asked me surprised: “Is everyone here so friendly?”.
She wasn't used to it.
It is the Brazil that shocked me when, during a trip to Rio, I stopped at a store to buy some cheese.
It was packed with people.
The clerk at the checkout, when giving me the change, told me, taking my hand: “Sorry I haven't even asked you if you're having a good trip.
I'm just overwhelmed with work today."
It is the Brazil in which if you sit next to someone waiting for a bus, they end up telling you about their life as if they had known you all their lives.
It is the Brazil that my colleague, the novelist Antonio Jiménez Barca, who was director of the Brazilian edition of EL PAÍS, knew.
Returning to the newspaper's headquarters in Madrid, to my question about what Brazil had given him, he answered me without hesitation: "the joy of living."
And it is that joy, that affection, that solidarity and capacity for acceptance, that sense of celebration even among the poorest, which is reacting today with its manifesto in favor of democracy.
It is the Brazil of the Buddhist César Bernardo da Silva and María Mónica Vieira, who chose the temple of the sea to marry and who, without knowing me, welcomed me at their party as if I were another family member.
It is the Brazil that is struggling to dispel the darkness into which a fascist policy is dragging it that corrodes culture, changes books for weapons and closes libraries to create clubs to train to use weapons.
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