From the moment we are born, we always hear that hope is the last to be lost. According to this sentence: we can lose everything, but we must never lose hope, optimism. This as a guarantee of being able to cope with the situation and to have the encouragement that unfavourable situations will change and that the unattainable will become a reality. Although the story behind this phrase comes from the myth of Pandora, which opens a box and lets out of it all the misfortunes of the world, except hope, it is normal that we think it is a popular phrase or self-help, as it is used very often by everyone.

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The fact that a person loses hope, can be considered as something terrible and negative; losing hope is inconceivable in this age in which we are sold the premise that we must be optimistic, hardworking and positive, since it is the only way to overcome the daily vicissitudes. For example, a person who is ill, even terminally ill, is obliged not to lose hope that he or she will be healed. That is his salvation chart. To hold on to it is to know that there is the possibility of a recovery and a miracle. Hope helps her to cope with the illness, gives her the illusion of a speedy recovery. It sounds a bit fanciful and maybe deep down it is, but no one dares to doubt the miracles that a hopeful attitude can bring.

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Juan Rulfo, a Mexican writer and one of the greatest in Latin America, is the author of an extraordinary story that I always remember and that I sometimes share with my literature students, entitled "Es que somos muy pobres" (We are very poor). This story is about a family that, as a result of a river flooding, loses everything, but especially loses a cow, which is the hope of the family so that the youngest daughter can have another future. From the beginning of the story, the narrator, who is a member of the family, tells us about the hopelessness that comes to the home:

Here everything is going from bad to worse. Last week my aunt Jacinta died, and on Saturday, when we had already buried her and our sadness was beginning to subside, it began to rain like never before. This gave my father courage, because the whole barley harvest was being sunbathed in the field. And the downpour came suddenly, in great waves of water, without giving us time to even hide a bundle.

And it continues with the same tone of lament and loss:

And only yesterday, when my sister Tacha had just turned twelve, we learned that the cow my father had given her for her saint's day had been taken by the river.

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The importance of the cow lies in the fact that it is the only good that the girl has and that the father has bought it for her so that she does not have the same fate as her sisters, who have become prostitutes because they were poor. When the family sees that the cow dies, they cannot help but think that Tacha will also become a prostitute, and with that, not only will she remain poor, but the family has also lost hope of getting out of poverty. One of the interesting things about this story is the description of the river as the trigger for lust, fate and misfortune. With the flood it takes everything away, even the illusion of a new and better life.

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In Venezuela, the country where I live, for some years now a part of the population has fallen into pessimism and despair. The lack of supplies, inflation, currency devaluation, insecurity and many other evils make some Venezuelans feel that we are fighting a monster with a thousand heads and that there are no options for winning the battle. We feel that there is no light in this darkness and that this abyss has no bottom. The government and the opposition are a problem and we have no hope that this problem will be solved. In the face of this, resignation, daily fatigue, and demoralization are growing. We have been cornered; like castaways, we are adrift. We urgently need a light; like the sick, the hope that we will be saved. Otherwise, we will remain like Tacha and her family: surrendered, with no hope for the future, nor a positive change in our lives.

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