El asalariado (The wage earner) [ES/EN]

12 hours ago

portada el asalariado.jpg

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El asalariado

Todos los días sale con el sol a cuestas, abre los ojos con un desánimo que lo invita a quedarse, pero algo lo invita a pararse, tomar su bolso negro, desgastado por tanto trajinar, por tanto salir a buscar el pan con el cual comen sus hijos y esposa. No es si no por ellos que saca fuerzas desde sus entrañas, para seguir combatiendo, para seguir luchando, por aquellas personas especiales en su vida.

Solo sabe trabajar y cada ampolla en la mano es una herida de guerra diaria en la ciudad de la injusticia y la humillación. Todo esto es soportable, solo por conseguir los billetes que dan bienestar, seguridad y alimentos, para seguir subsistiendo en este mundo, dónde la vida es tan dura como la roca que golpea el rostro y causa un terrible dolor.

Todos los días camina por la misma ruta y una ruta que conoce como la palma de su mano. Ese camino lleva los miles de pasos, que ha recorrido durante 10 años de su vida y que es como una vida entera entregada a un mismo oficio, el cual odia hacer, el cual es la única opción que tiene para conseguir el dinero. Nada más importa, sus sueños rotos han muerto y fueron enterrados en el campo santo de la desilusión.

Su futuro se vio atado a ese camino, sin desvíos. Un único horizonte que se ve a lo lejos. No hay más, es una rutina de la cual ha hecho una vivencia soportable y con un sentido efímero, para que todo tenga sentido. Nunca quiso ese trabajo, pero es el único medio de subsistencia de los suyos y eso es suficiente para tener valentía y fortaleza para desafiar el día a día.

Sabe que su sueldo nunca lo sacará de pobre, solo lo hace sobrevivir, mientras sea joven y vigoroso. La miseria que recibe lo tendrá esclavo de un sistema que hace rico al jefe, con el sudor de su frente. Construirá imperios con su trabajo constante, pero solo conocerá la pobreza, donde le tocó vivir y de la cual nunca podrá salir, porque el sistema lo necesita, esclavizado, ganando una miseria, ganando lo apenas necesario, lo justo. Lo INJUSTO.

Lo único que le queda es su trabajo el cual realiza a diario, para recibir lo que los de arriba le da la gana de darle. Nadie pelea por el anónimo, nadie busca justicia, nadie sienten compasión por aquel que lo entrega todo en cada día de su existencia, laborando. Llueva, truene o relampaguee. El seguirá adelante pase lo que pase sin mirar atrás, sin protestar, sin voz, solo trabajando por los que ama y darles un futuro mejor del que él tuvo.

El sentido de su vida se mueve bajo un legado de protección y brindar herramientas para que los suyos brillen donde él no pudo, consigan los sueños que el sacrificó por ponerles un plato de comida en la mesa, para que se alimenten, un libro para que se eduquen y todo lo necesario para que no sufran como él lo hace cada día, bajo ese mismo sol, bajo esa misma luna, trabajando sin descanso y con la misma rutina de todos los días.

Duerme el sueño de los justos, cansado de tanto recorrer, de tanto construir, de tanto fabricar, de tanto ordenar. Duerme profundamente y en sueños goza de lo que no puede tener en lo real. Descansa el cansancio de tanto trabajo, la espalda duele, las piernas duelen, los brazos duelen, pero en ese instante repone fuerzas, que van disminuyendo con el paso de los años, aquellos años que no perdonan y pronto le cobraran el desgaste del cuerpo en la juventud.

Finalmente suena la alarma, el sol sale de nuevo, él se levanta, se frota los ojos y sigue su recorrido por este mundo, de nuevo a la rutina, de nuevo al trabajo, por un salario de subsistencia, por unos billetes que le darán privilegios, mientras los tenga en la mano. El trajinar no termina mientras exista la necesidad y tenga las fuerzas para seguir laborando por los que ama.

English

The wage earner

Every day he leaves with the sun on his back, opening his eyes with a discouragement that invites him to stay, but something invites him to get up, take his black bag, worn out from so much hustle and bustle, and go out to find the bread with which his children and wife eat. It is only for them that he draws strength from his guts to keep fighting, to keep struggling for those special people in his life.

All he knows is how to work, and every blister on his hand is a daily battle scar in a city of injustice and humiliation. All of this is bearable, just to earn the money that provides comfort, security, and food, to continue surviving in this world, where life is as hard as the rock that hits his face and causes terrible pain.

Every day he walks the same route, a route he knows like the back of his hand. That path carries the thousands of steps he has taken over 10 years of his life, which is like a whole life devoted to the same job, which he hates doing, but which is the only option he has to earn money. Nothing else matters; his broken dreams have died and been buried in the graveyard of disappointment.

His future is tied to that path, with no detours. A single horizon can be seen in the distance. There is nothing else, it is a routine that he has made bearable and given a fleeting meaning, so that everything makes sense. He never wanted this job, but it is the only means of subsistence for his family, and that is enough to give him the courage and strength to face each day.

He knows that his salary will never lift him out of poverty, it only allows him to survive, as long as he is young and vigorous. The misery he receives will keep him enslaved to a system that makes his boss rich, with the sweat of his brow. He will build empires with his constant work, but he will only know poverty, where he was born and from which he will never be able to escape, because the system needs him, enslaved, earning a pittance, earning just enough, just what is fair. What is UNFAIR.

All he has left is his job, which he does every day, to receive whatever those above him deem fit to give him. No one fights for the anonymous, no one seeks justice, no one feels compassion for those who give their all every day of their existence, working. Rain, thunder, or lightning. They will carry on no matter what, without looking back, without protesting, without a voice, just working for those they love and giving them a better future than they had.

The meaning of his life is driven by a legacy of protection and providing tools for his loved ones to shine where he could not, to achieve the dreams he sacrificed to put food on the table, to feed them, a book to educate them, and everything necessary so that they do not suffer as he does every day, under that same sun, under that same moon, working tirelessly and following the same routine every day.

He sleeps the sleep of the righteous, tired from so much traveling, so much building, so much manufacturing, so much organizing. He sleeps deeply and in his dreams enjoys what he cannot have in reality. He rests from the fatigue of so much work, his back hurts, his legs hurt, his arms hurt, but in that moment he regains his strength, which is diminishing with the passing of the years, those unforgiving years that will soon take their toll on his youthful body.

Finally, the alarm sounds, the sun rises again, he gets up, rubs his eyes, and continues his journey through this world, back to the routine, back to work, for a subsistence wage, for a few bills that will give him privileges, as long as he has them in his hand. The hustle and bustle does not end as long as there is a need and he has the strength to continue working for those he loves.

Fuente de la imagen de portada:
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