justicia, verdad y malbec

Banging pots and pans, carrying signs and posters with pictures of their missing loved ones, shouting: ¡Que aparezcan con vida nuestros hijos! Every day until the end of the Dirty War, women known as Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo gathered in the place of the same name, begging that their children be returned, safe and unharmed, from the mysterious detention centers scattered all throughout Argentina. It is now 35 years later, and they have not given up. Every Thursday at 4PM, Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo continue their protest. Being a Spanish/Political Science/Latin American Studies major, it’s safe to say that I’ve done my fair share of research on the Dirty War and the Madres. (Actually, anyone who knows me at all will tell you that I take every research opportunity to approach a different angle of the Dirty War in Argentina. Weird interest, I know.) But today was THE day to go. March 24 is a national holiday in Argentina, commemorating those disappeared during the Dirty War in the 1970s-80s.

Abbie, Paloma and I met up early this afternoon and began our Día Nacional de la Memoria por la Verdad y la Justicia (what a mouthful!) by touring La Casa Rosada. La Casa Rosada essentially is the same thing as the White House, except for that it solely consists of government offices; the president lives in a separate house. It's free to enter La Casa Rosada and you can get a tour of the whole building, including the presidential offices where you can also sign a guest book. (I wrote ¡Viva la Argentina!...I wonder if Cristina will actually read it.)

We then plopped ourselves down in the Plaza de Mayo where thousands of people had gathered to celebrate today’s national holiday. Commemorating 35 years since the last golpe militar, people from ALL kinds of organizations—not just the Madres—gathered to protest for justicia, verdad, and igualidad. We had packed a picnic of tostadas integrales, jamón crudo, uvas, and Malbec (of course. I love being abroad in a wine country!). Soaking in the energy of the march was an indescribable experience. More and more people kept filing in from Avenida 9 de Julio; easily fifteen thousand marchers. We had some entertaining interactions with vendors and beggars, but it made for an all-around incredible afternoon.

After the march, we continued walking down Avenida 9 de Julio, against the traffic of the marchers so we were able see more of the partaking groups. From socialists to students to H.I.J.O.S., the diversity of the participants astounded me. We made our way to the Obelisco, a historic icon of Buenos Aires (which I shamefully had not gone to visit until today). There were marchers all throughout Avenida 9 de Julio, and it seemed like forever before the marchers began to dwindle down.

I came back from the march actually high on LIFE (and some Malbec). Such an incredible and eye-opening experience. As for now, I’m headed off to Córdoba for the weekend!



Chau,
audgentina.