OSCAR MEDINA
EL UNIVERSAL

Desolation is perhaps the best word to define that exact moment. At the agreed time, one minute to 24 hours on May 27, people in the lobby of private television station RCTV -turned into a gigantic TV set for the day- went from hopeless euphoria to be smashed by the hard reality: the logo of newly create public service Venezuelan Social Television Station (TVes) replaced RCTV's image in television monitors. Channel 2, as it was known for 53 years, was over.

The last images broadcast from RCTV headquarters in downtown Caracas showed people chanting the Venezuelan anthem with anger and tears. The verse they stressed the most was "Oppression must die."

Comedian Elisa Parejo -a veteran with comedy show Radio Rochela, the oldest in the world- approached RCTV senior officers Marcel Granier and Eladio Lares, who were spending together their last minutes on the air. Parejo hugged them both and burst in tears, hiding her face in her arms. She sang in tears, like many other RCTV stars did, such as host Camila Canabal and actress Cristina Dieckman.
 
Then a silence you would not like to live again came. It was the silence of hopelessness, the silence of a group of people that saw themselves as a family, the silence of RCTV workers, who as of May 28 have to accept the fact that they were ripped of their common space.

It feels weird walking amid this crying crowd of people hugging each other and trying to cheer up each other, but who cannot find a way to relieve their anger -because they are pretty angered too. Photographs shoot as they please: they had never seen so many beautiful and sad women at the same time and place.

As a backdrop, grieving whispers are disrupted by someone shouting some slogans against power. There are also sirens combined with the roaring of a lion -the symbol of RCTV. But this time, the roaring sounds rather mournful: like a wild beast with a bleeding wound.

Mariela Celis, a radio and TV host, comes in with her eyes red. She says everything is so weird and she cannot understand anything; she claims this is dictatorship. "I am afraid," she adds. And it is understandable.

"We are the best"
At 11:20 p.m. RCTV news show El Observador press room there was a dramatic silence. It could be said that the beginning of the end started there. Reporters broadcasting live from different places in Caracas were the first ones to bid farewell.

In the press room, everybody shouted and applauded, while coordinators and anchors made the last broadcast of Venezuela's oldest news show.

El Observador staff was the first to understand that there would be no last-minute salvation. Young reporters looked devastated as they hugged each other. Then RCTV director Daniela Bergami showed up and told them she was proud of them.
"We are the best," they shouted.

Someone else has the remote control
The faces of Granier Lares looked imperturbable all night. They were barely smiling, but they showed no sadness. At 11:33, Lares arrived in the lobby. Some minutes later, Granier is there too. At 11:42, everybody sings "A shouting heart," which virtually became RCTV anthem. Cameramen and photographs are videotaping and shooting the two senior officers, trying to find a grieving expression, but there is none.
 
Cristina Dieckman surprisingly conducts a fervid prayer: "Oh Lord, only You have control over our lives." Another video footage about a friend that is leaving is broadcast on RCTV.

Then the Venezuelan National Anthem was broadcast. And it was actually the end. "For now," said some people.
 
Translated by Maryflor Suárez R.
msuarez@eluniversal.com