The smoke was thick and black, and I could smell it-acrid and burning- blocks before I could see it.
¨What was Rosario like during the dirty war?¨I had cautiously asked my host aunt the night before. Norah is petite, with long brown hair that sways like a curtain as she spins around our kitchen making dinner every night.
¨Oh,¨She had paused, midway through placing a milonesa in the oven. She looked up at me, closed the oven door, and came to sit down next to me at the table.
Norah and I carry on conversations every night before dinner about everything. Harrison Ford, tango, Mormons, Isabel Allende, Chile, NAFTA, Italian, Christina Kirschner. But this was the first time I had dared ask about the la guerra sucia: The six year period of torture, murder, and ¨disappearances¨sponsored by the military government where 30,000 Argentines vanished from the streets.
Rosario was struck hard by the dirty war, and within two blocks of my school are two buildings that murdered students, human rights workers, and intellectuals. Every thursday, a group of mothers who´s children ¨disappeared¨ during the war march down Calle Oroño and demand the government releases information regarding their lost family. Norah was in law school during the war, and I knew this. But, it was a hard time to be an Argentine, and I didn´t want to bring up something she didn´t want to remember.
¨It was dangerous, and unstable.¨She said, taking a deep drag on her camel lights. ¨Soldiers would walk into our classes and shut them down for months at a time. We had nothing to do, no work, no school, we would just wait.¨
The cloud of black was rising from piles of tires, blocking off the road in all directions. Police stood on either end, hands in their pockets, eyes to the sky, apathetically viewing the sharp contrast of the clear, bright South American sky against the caustic buring rubber.
The dirty war finished over 25 years ago, with the election of a peronista into office. But the country never quite recovered, and in 2001, due to all the mishandlings of money and economic policy by the government, there was a spectacular economic collapse that made thousands of Argentines homeless overnight. There were violent riots in the streets, Pocho Lepratti,a popular Rosario school teacher,was murdered by the police.
The streets still carry signs of the period. Buildings are pockmarked with machine gun fire, and graffiti screams injustice from every available surface.
¨Luchás o dormeís, vos escogís¨ (fight or sleep, you choose)
¨Los menores no son peligrosos, son en peligro¨ (Minorities are not dangerous, they are in danger)
¨Pocho vivo!¨ (Pocho lives)
There is deep political mistrust here, and as Norah proves, deep political apathy in the older generation.
The current Argentine government is not well liked. The president Christina Kirschner has passed many enormously unpopular land reform laws, and the younger generation is not taking it sitting down.
The burning tires,the police, the signs, the drums, the yells, are common here. As Ashton told me the other day, half of her time in class is spent listening to announcements from political groups on campus.
Why write a whole entry just about Argentine politics? Because it´s impossible to walk down the streets here and not see that something is happening. The ¨political past¨ (as we think of it in The States) is the political present here. Everything is still changing, still falling into place.
I kept my head down as I walked through the protest and continued with my day. But like the burned rubber still clings to the bottom of my shoes, so do the ideas and passion of this revolutionary country.
¨What was Rosario like during the dirty war?¨I had cautiously asked my host aunt the night before. Norah is petite, with long brown hair that sways like a curtain as she spins around our kitchen making dinner every night.
¨Oh,¨She had paused, midway through placing a milonesa in the oven. She looked up at me, closed the oven door, and came to sit down next to me at the table.
Norah and I carry on conversations every night before dinner about everything. Harrison Ford, tango, Mormons, Isabel Allende, Chile, NAFTA, Italian, Christina Kirschner. But this was the first time I had dared ask about the la guerra sucia: The six year period of torture, murder, and ¨disappearances¨sponsored by the military government where 30,000 Argentines vanished from the streets.
Rosario was struck hard by the dirty war, and within two blocks of my school are two buildings that murdered students, human rights workers, and intellectuals. Every thursday, a group of mothers who´s children ¨disappeared¨ during the war march down Calle Oroño and demand the government releases information regarding their lost family. Norah was in law school during the war, and I knew this. But, it was a hard time to be an Argentine, and I didn´t want to bring up something she didn´t want to remember.
¨It was dangerous, and unstable.¨She said, taking a deep drag on her camel lights. ¨Soldiers would walk into our classes and shut them down for months at a time. We had nothing to do, no work, no school, we would just wait.¨
The cloud of black was rising from piles of tires, blocking off the road in all directions. Police stood on either end, hands in their pockets, eyes to the sky, apathetically viewing the sharp contrast of the clear, bright South American sky against the caustic buring rubber.
The dirty war finished over 25 years ago, with the election of a peronista into office. But the country never quite recovered, and in 2001, due to all the mishandlings of money and economic policy by the government, there was a spectacular economic collapse that made thousands of Argentines homeless overnight. There were violent riots in the streets, Pocho Lepratti,a popular Rosario school teacher,was murdered by the police.
The streets still carry signs of the period. Buildings are pockmarked with machine gun fire, and graffiti screams injustice from every available surface.
¨Luchás o dormeís, vos escogís¨ (fight or sleep, you choose)
¨Los menores no son peligrosos, son en peligro¨ (Minorities are not dangerous, they are in danger)
¨Pocho vivo!¨ (Pocho lives)
There is deep political mistrust here, and as Norah proves, deep political apathy in the older generation.
The current Argentine government is not well liked. The president Christina Kirschner has passed many enormously unpopular land reform laws, and the younger generation is not taking it sitting down.
The burning tires,the police, the signs, the drums, the yells, are common here. As Ashton told me the other day, half of her time in class is spent listening to announcements from political groups on campus.
Why write a whole entry just about Argentine politics? Because it´s impossible to walk down the streets here and not see that something is happening. The ¨political past¨ (as we think of it in The States) is the political present here. Everything is still changing, still falling into place.
I kept my head down as I walked through the protest and continued with my day. But like the burned rubber still clings to the bottom of my shoes, so do the ideas and passion of this revolutionary country.
(Photo courtesy Brynden McNew. Here´s his blog so I feel less like a thief: bmcnew.wordpress.com. Gracias nuevo!)
Very good insight Lizzie; good writing; thanks
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