The Bureaucratic Symphony: When Paper Drowns the Music
In a plot twist that not even the most imaginative soap opera scriptwriter would have dared to propose, a project that aims to bring classical music to Chiapas childhood finds itself trapped in the clutches of that mythological entity feared by all: the Mexican Customs. Because, of course, what could be more dangerous to national security than fifty used musical instruments, charitably donated from neutral and always punctual Switzerland?
The initiative, baptized with the pompous name of Youth Sinfonietta Chiapas and promoted by the brothers Ana Catalina and Rodolfo Peña Sommer – flutist and pianist respectively, trained abroad, which already makes them suspicious from the start –, has run into an insurmountable obstacle: common sense. Or, rather, the total absence thereof. After “many efforts, contacts and hours of work” (things of naive people who believe that this is enough), they managed to put together a batch of 50 instruments. We are not talking about weapons smuggling or endangered species, but about lute violins, flutes and clarinets built by a renowned master. Clearly subversive artifacts.
The Absurdity Made Norm: Donation as a Threat
Rodolfo Peña Sommer, the co-founder of the project, had the audacity to declare with total impudence: “These instruments do not represent money, nor business, nor any profit.” Serious mistake, Mr. Peña Sommer. In the wonderful world of customs bureaucracy, everything must have a price, an invoice, a tariff code. A non-profit cultural donation is simply too abstract a concept, too… pretty, to fit into its grid forms.
The situation has escalated to the surreal point where the authorities have threatened to destroy the shipment. Yes, you read that right. Not by auctioning it, not by donating it to another institution, but by reducing it to splinters. Because what better fate for a handcrafted violin than to become sawdust in a government warehouse? It’s the cycle of life, Kafka version.
“We are not asking for privileges, just common sense and sensitivity,” implored the master pianist. That’s the problem, dear Rodolfo. You are asking for pears from the elm. You are asking for the rarest ingredient in any administrative labyrinth: human logic. Don’t you know that “procedure” is above purpose? That the correctly completed form is worth more than a child’s future.
Faced with such absurdity, those responsible for the project did the only thing left to ordinary citizens in the face of the unstoppable machinery of the State: to make their misfortune viral. And, oh surprise, it worked. A wave of support and solidarity – that cheesy and unprotocol feeling – flooded the networks. Even, they tell us with astonishment, “government personnel from the state of Chiapas have approached us to investigate the case.” What a noble gesture. Investigate a case that they themselves have created. It’s like setting a house on fire and then volunteering as firefighters.
Meanwhile, those fifty instruments lie in a kind of customs limbo, awaiting their destination. Will they be freed to fulfill their noble mission? Or will they end their days crushed, in an act symbolic of how bureaucracy can pulverize beauty, culture and opportunity? The clock is ticking, and the scores of those Chiapas children are still empty. Because, apparently, in this country it is sometimes easier to get a gun than a violin.
Don’t you find it incredible that bureaucracy can do more than solidarity? Share this story on your social networks so that more people know about this absurdity and together we give a voice to those who fight for education and culture. Explore more content related to the absurdities of public administration and how they affect social projects.
