I met Zuazua in it Communist Party from the early 90s. More than 30 years ago. I say it like this and I feel the vertigo of the passage of time, the relentlessness. Unlike other places, in OviedoFor the most part, those of us who met were militants drawn from the middle strata of the population: teachers, independent professionals, white-collar workers,… Zuazua no, Zuazua was a worker proud of his condition.
While I was trying to understand the Marxist categories, the unfolding of class consciousness (the “class in itself”, the “class for itself”), Zuazua already embodied them. It came from the anti-Franco struggle in the grassroots Christian movements, from the union struggles in the pit, from the founding of one of the neighborhood associations with the most silent demands. He came from Ventanielles, a neighborhood of workers and social fighters. It came from class solidarity.
Zuazua quarreled in meetings. I did it because I had deep-rooted convictions, and sometimes meetings and people, as you know, deviate from the objectives. Also, from the beginning, he was distrustful. You have to be minimally distrustful when you come from clandestine or semi-clandestine struggles, it is simply a matter of survival instinct.
However, Comrade Zuazua’s tough, almost sullen appearance was only a fragile shell. If you managed to cross that thin line of self-defense you reached the person. A smile from Zuazua, his approval of something you had done or said, was an enormous reward, a militant prize, a Lenin medal. Something like if the entire working class suddenly smiled at you and gave you their approval with a slap on the back. The immensity of his smile was a true reflection of the greatness of his heart.
A smile from Zuazua, his approval of something you had done or said, was an enormous reward, a militant prize, a Lenin medal.
Zuazua was a good person. And good people make their closest environments, their neighborhoods, their families better. Windowstrapped between two roads, in physical and social depression, as the geographer writes Sergio Toméis aware of what he owes Zuazua. So much so that his fight transcends these days to new neighborhood demands promoted by himself, already affected by the disease, and by those who were his companions (and companions) on adventures in the Los Ríos Neighborhood Associationtoday embarked on new platforms to request a new Parque del Este, to improve the quality of life of the neighborhood and its inhabitants.
I’m getting carried away, and this is not a meeting of the Communist Party or a neighborhood assembly, and furthermore Zuazua will not be able to ask to speak today as he used to to give his reply.
It is not possible to understand Zuazua without his great family. And I don’t just mean that in a numerical sense. Dora, loyal companion. Koty, Jorge, Eva, Sandra, Noelia, his sons-in-law, his daughters-in-law, his granddaughters,… They are people who are always there when you need them. They are rich people because they offer everything they have. He has everything who gives everything.
They have learned it at home, and the values learned are projected at every crossroads of life, so it will always be easy for them to find the right path: the one that Zuazua, commander in chief also in his family, would have chosen.
I conclude, honored that Zuazua, and his family, have allowed me to address these words to you. It has been very difficult for me to break the silence and get here without breaking down.
I don’t know if you know that Zuazua is a surname of Basque origin. It means: your house, your home. Don’t be sad, be proud. He has completed his work, with solidarity as a construction tool: his neighborhood always in struggle, his supportive family, his comrades whom he now leaves without shadow but with long-lasting light. It is up to us to follow in his wake.
Goodbye, dear Zuazua. See you always comrade.
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