December 2009, in a hall in the infamous 23 de Enero (“23 January”) barrio high above Caracas, Venezuela. This can be a daunting part of town, especially with its intimate links to the 23 January 1958 revolution that ousted the dictator Marcos Pérez Jiménez. Dangerous enough to have security patrols from a local community group created after street protests in 2002. So, although I am here on my own, there is also my minder. All hell seems to be breaking loose.
The noise is the sound of intense clapping, whistling, crying and cheering in this bare communal building, and all, from the youngest to the oldest, are enthralled at what they have just encountered. In fact, quite a number of the people are just staring at each other with a wonder in their eyes.
