By: Jehiely Balabarca
Saturday, Jan. 3, 2026, arrived quietly, and then all at once.
It was 2:05 a.m. in Venezuela (6:01 UTC) when the beginning extraction started. By 3:39 a.m., it was done. By the following morning, one of the most important interventions in the history of Caracas had been executed.
Before dawn, messages began to circulate across phones and family group chats. Some of the earliest public reactions appeared on social media platforms, including Instagram, TikTok and Facebook, where Venezuelans shared videos capturing moments of urgency, uncertainty and disbelief.
Reports of explosions in and around Caracas city started to circulate. Rumors spread that U.S. forces were operating in Venezuela. Some headlines went further, suggesting the detention or removal of President Nicolás Maduro.
According to Reuters and The Associated Press, explosions were reported near Caracas, and U.S. military and intelligence activity in the region increased, though American officials declined to confirm claims regarding regime change or detentions. Venezuelan authorities denied any change in leadership and framed the events as external aggression.
For Venezuelan students at Southern Adventist University, Jan. 3 was not simply another geopolitical development. It was a moment where headlines collided with their memories of a place already shaped by years of political and humanitarian crisis.
International coverage of the night’s events reflected a range of interpretations. Venezuelan state media outlets, including the state-run broadcaster Venezolana de Televisión, described the developments as an act of foreign interference, dismissing reports of leadership capture, according to The Associated Press. In the United States, some conservative commentators framed the reports as a long-awaited response to an authoritarian government, while other international outlets, including The New York Times and Reuters, focused on the legal, ethical and geopolitical questions raised by U.S. involvement.
On social media, the conversation expanded rapidly, with opinions multiplying. Expectations emerged on various platforms regarding what the moment meant and how Venezuelans should feel about it.
For Angélica Espinal, a sophomore digital communication major, the news arrived before sunrise.
“For me, it was very hard to believe,” Espinal said. “There have been multiple unsuccessful attempts in the past to stop the regime, so when my mom woke me up at five in the morning, screaming that the U.S. was in Venezuela and they were trying to capture Maduro, to me it seemed too good to be true.”
Her reaction carried something many Venezuelans recognized immediately: hope, carefully held.
Espinal said what troubled her most was not the uncertainty of what would follow, but how quickly decades of lived reality were flattened into a headline. As coverage evolved, she observed that some media narratives became increasingly polarized, either condemning President Donald Trump’s actions or framing the moment as the fall of President Nicolás Maduro. She added that similar debates and pressure campaigns surrounding Venezuela had also intensified during previous U.S. administrations, underscoring how long the issue has remained politically charged.
“It’s disappointing because it doesn’t show the full picture,” Espinal said. “We’re talking about decades of people suffering because they can’t have basic necessities, families separated, mass immigration and many other things that Venezuelan people faced every day. Reducing such a complex situation to a headline minimizes the long-term impact it has had on millions of people.”
She added that her feelings toward the moment were not one-sided or absolute.
“Two things can be true,” Espinal said. “The way the U.S. has handled the situation raises skepticism among many and makes one question the role of the U.S. in the future of Venezuela, but at the same time this is the first time in many years we’ve seen a light of hope that there will be change in the country — and that there is actually a chance that we could go back to Venezuela.”
When asked to describe her relationship with Venezuela today, Espinal didn’t hesitate to share her thoughts.
“I feel distant from my roots,” she said, “and I yearn for connection.”
For Nolwin Guilarte, a senior digital communication major, the morning of Maduro’s arrest was overwhelming from the outset.
“At the beginning [the 3rd ] of 2026, I went to sleep around midnight, not knowing what had started happening in my country,” Guilarte said. “By 6 a.m. I was awakened by my sister telling me that Caracas had been bombed all night and that Maduro was captured by the U.S. government.”
He explained that the moment was difficult to understand.
“Waking up with this news was a lot to take and a truly shocking moment,” he said. “I could barely process what was happening that Saturday morning.”
Guilarte said that for him, the reports triggered more reflection than celebration.
“For Venezuelans all around the world, it felt like a unique moment,” he said. “The politics and humanitarian struggles that have been part of most of my life, and my family’s, felt like they were finally over, after more than two-and-a-half decades of resilience.”
Before long, his initial sense of possibility gave way to uncertainty.
“Even though I know it was good news for the people of Venezuela, I wasn’t sure about the consequences,” Guilarte said. “I kept wondering what doors this might open — not only for Venezuela, but for the rest of the world.”
As the day went on, clarity did not arrive for Guilarte, whose social media feed became saturated with conflicting narratives.
“My social media was full — just news after news from different outlets,” he said. “Venezuelan state media called the attacks an aggression, while some diaspora communities celebrated the end of Maduro’s rule. The coverage was heavy, with a lot of questions and no answers.”
What unsettled him most was how quick others were to make assumptions.
“To my surprise, I saw people outside Venezuela, and even some Venezuelans, reacting with confusion or criticism of U.S. actions, often without knowing anything about Venezuela,” he said. “This event showed me how deep perspective and context matter in how news is received and remembered.”
For Biangel Guilarte, younger sister of Nolwin Guilarte, a sophomore business administration major, the moment resurfaced something deeper than politics.
“I don’t believe U.S. media fully reflects my experience,” she said. “People outside the situation can’t completely understand what living in Venezuela is like.”
She said public conversations often feel detached from lived reality.
“I think many people talk about Venezuela without really understanding what’s happening,” Biangel Guilarte said. “I wish they took the time to understand the situation better instead of forming opinions based only on the news.”
She went on to explain that her frustration is tied closely to identity.
“Honestly, I want to feel proud because Venezuela is my country,” she said. “But it makes me sad how it’s often interpreted as a poor, communist or socialist country, especially since it wasn’t always like that.”
Before its economic collapse, Venezuela was once one of Latin America’s wealthiest nations, driven by vast oil reserves that made it a major global exporter, according to the U.S. Energy Information Administration. That history, students said, is often absent from news coverage.
“Venezuela was more than just a home to me,” Biangel Guilarte said. “It was my life. I had to leave it behind, knowing that even if I return, it may never feel like home again.”
In the weeks following Maduro’s arrest, analysts and international organizations cautioned against simple conclusions. According to the U.S. Congressional Research Service, Venezuela’s future remains uncertain, shaped by political legitimacy, humanitarian access and international diplomacy. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees continues to document one of the largest displacement crises in the world, with more than 7.7 million Venezuelans living abroad.
For Venezuelan students at Southern, the story is not about choosing sides. It is about holding contradictions: hope and fear, relief and unease, while witnessing how the world perceives a country they once called home.
