The clock struck the early hours of Saturday morning when, across various points in southern Gran Canaria, from the Arinaga dock to the clinics and logistics centers of Maspalomas El Tablero, an unusual air of hope filled the air. For hundreds of Venezuelan workers residing on the island, as well as for their colleagues—caregivers, warehouse and logistics staff—and for hundreds of Canarian friends, the news circulating on mobile phone screens in WhatsApp and other messages was not just another piece of news: it spoke of the end of the dictatorship in Venezuela.
The news, confirmed by international agencies, confirmed that the leader who had ruled the Caribbean country for more than a decade had been captured in a military operation, which many interpreted as the end of an era marked by political and economic crisis and the exodus of millions of Venezuelans.
In a cafeteria in an industrial park near Vecindario, a group of workers—many of them with families still in Caracas, Maracaibo, or Valencia—celebrated over coffee and pastries. “Finally, man! After so many years of fear and sadness, this gives us hope,” said José, a warehouse technician who came to the Canary Islands fleeing hyperinflation. Others nodded in agreement, some with trembling voices, remembering friends and family who hadn't been able to emigrate.
In the home care centers, where numerous Venezuelan caregivers support vulnerable families on the island, the atmosphere changed dramatically upon receiving the news. “I’ve been waiting for this day for years,” said María, adjusting the nightgown of an elderly client. “My brother is in Caracas… I don’t know if I’m dreaming, but for the first time I feel like I might be able to go back someday.” Tears of emotion mingled with smiles and phone calls exchanged with loved ones.
In the stores, the sound of barcode scanners seemed to amplify the murmur of celebrations. Many workers, both Venezuelan and Canarian, were sharing headlines and news links in their workgroups. The possibility of profound political change in Venezuela—and the promise that millions of exiles could return home—felt like a breath of fresh air. “I never thought I’d see anything like this in my lifetime,” confided Luis, who delivers goods across the island.
But amid the hugs and jubilant comments, there was also reflection: the fall of a dictatorship doesn't mean the end of all problems. “We know the road ahead will be hard,” said Ana, a caregiver who supports an elderly Swedish family in Playa del Inglés. “But this is the first step so that our children can dream of a better future in their homeland.”
Meanwhile, the news of the capture of the Venezuelan leader has been celebrated by international political figures who speak of "the beginning of a new democratic era," although it has also generated debate about the methods used to achieve it and the international implications.
In the south of Gran Canaria, however, the majority of the outcry was one of restrained joy and shared hope: the feeling that, after years of pain and forced exile, a door could open to rebuild not only a country, but also the family and cultural ties that have been strained for so long by distance.
