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INCIDENT IN PATAGONIAIn the line of The Secret in Their Eyes (2009) and The Official Story (1985), this page-turner touches a contemporary and ever pressing subject: The consequences when a repressive power takes over a country Available here: Amazon.com |
Fragment of Chapter VIII:
The traffic was frantic, as usual, and after the long hiatus in the quiet, provincial streets of Bariloche, the sounds, smells, and speed of the wave of cars racing through the broad avenues were a breathtaking experience for her. Nevertheless, Alicia smiled pleased, standing in line with other passengers at the colectivo 60’s bus stop on Avenida Callao, trying not to miss anything around her.
The popular “60” had the longest route of any colectivo or small bus line, and it ran from Plaza Constitución, one of the two commuting train terminals in the city, right north, to the delta of the Parana River, in the lush and green borough of El Tigre.
Alicia got on the bus and paid for the ticket. Immediately she took her change from the driver, who quickly and efficiently managed to hold the steering wheel with one hand while displaying between his fingers pesos bills sorted by value in a fan. The right hand dispensed the ticket, received the cash, and gave the change. Alicia had always marveled at the skill needed to do so many tasks simultaneously, as the maneuver involved driving and checking the traffic around as well. In her experience and the passenger’s consensus, those young men were mainly moody, tense characters. But amazingly, the collisions and accidents were scarce considering the risks involved.
She sat in one of the few available seats; the trip to Plaza Italia would be short. There she was to meet Susana’s mother. During the morning, after several phone calls to Lita from public phone booths, she had arranged to meet Sonia, who did not want Alicia to come to her home for security reasons. So it would have to be a furtive afternoon encounter at two-thirty in the Botanic Gardens, a public park in the neighborhood of Palermo that she had not visited since childhood.
Alicia got off the bus, strolled to the corner, and waited for the pedestrian light to cross the wide Avenida Las Heras. Palermo was a pleasant locale, home to several parks and wide-open spaces, wealthy households, and lately, ritzy apartment towers. It was only two-fifteen, so the extra time allowed her to enjoy the familiar places.
The Botanic Garden ground was just across the avenue from where she stood. Farther north, she could see the sturdy and understated entrance to the Sociedad Rural, where the proud estancieros, or cattle ranchers, showed and auctioned their best pure breed animals once a year. It was a renowned month-long fair, and she even got tickets more than once, on sunny Sundays, to visit the event with her friends, enjoy the traditional foods and hear more about the way of life in the vast cattle ranches, mostly placed on the fertile Pampa. A form of life that had defined the country’s customs and traditions for over a century, elevating the rancher life and power to almost aristocratic status and dignifying everything that had to do with the possession of green, fertile lands and its maintenance.
Alicia sauntered, letting the other pedestrians pass her by. It was a good feeling to be at ease, not dreading that somebody would be following or checking on her. Sonia acted so secretively. Was she being followed? Maybe not, but it was natural that the whole family would be terrified after Susana’s disappearance.
Looking over her shoulder, she crossed the imposing iron gates of the Botanic and walked a hundred yards by the shady and lonely park toward her right, as Lita had instructed. A woman clad in a wool hat and a grey coat came out from a side path to meet her. They stood briefly in front of each other, assessing their identities. Then, as soon as Alicia recognized Sonia, she walked briskly toward her. They looked at each other for a moment, and Sonia, shaking her head, opened her arms.
“Alicia, hija....”
Alicia ran to her embrace, and they stood there, weeping in silence for a while. Then, finally, Sonia let her go, firmly guiding her by the arm.
“C’mon, let’s walk toward that wall over there. It’s quiet, and at this time of the day, nobody comes through here. Office workers are back at their desks. Maybe a few children from schools, that’s all.” Her voice was confident and firm as Alicia remembered her. Not at all like the voice of the terrified woman that had answered the phone days ago.
They sat on a wooden bench, and soon a few pigeons flew around, waiting for food. Alicia did not know what to say and remained silent, overwhelmed with emotion.
“You know, it’s pretty dangerous for you to be around us now. I mean, around the relatives of those who disappeared.” Sonia was holding one of Alicia’s hands, and her touch was warm and soft. Alicia’s small and bony fingers felt comfortable in those firm and reliable hands that reminded her of her mother’s. Sonia’s eyes were red, and then Alicia realized that she looked old, wrinkled, exhausted. Yet, there were evident traces of her daughter’s looks in her face; the bony cheeks, the still youthful mouth, the color of her eyes. She hadn’t seen her for at least a year, but Susana’s mother had aged remarkably, and she was sure that it all had happened in the last few weeks.
“How is Don Roberto doing?” Alicia always called Susana’s father with the old, respectful don before his name. Twelve years older than Sonia, Roberto Machevsky was at sixty-five, an energetic, hardworking man that had retired only ten months earlier and was still waiting for his first check doing small part-time jobs. Alicia knew he would be devastated by Susana’s disappearance.
“He had a mild stroke, and we had to rush him to the hospital, but now he is doing fine, back at home.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. You know how I love him. I hope he recovers soon.”
“I know. It was hell; I had to take care of him while I was going around searching for Susana. Lita was a great help to us. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Anyway, he is doing better, and it was only a mild stroke. He recovered well. He has been stricken by what happened, but we are going to be okay. You see, we have to focus on finding Suzy now.”
They talked at length, mainly about how they kidnapped Susana and the people Sonia had contacted. Unfortunately, there were only a few clues to follow, and she had started knocking on doors early on with no results. Alicia had many questions about Susana, for which the mother did not have answers. Sonia pointedly asked many details of the last days she spent in Bariloche. Alicia gladly talked about it, mostly in tears, remembering how confident her friend had left for Buenos Aires. She also told her about their worries of being followed, which were never confirmed. Alicia pulled out from her purse an envelope with the pictures she took in Bariloche and said, “I thought you might want to have these.”
Sonia slowly went through every picture, pointedly, crying quietly, and Alicia found it hard to watch her. So she stood up and slowly circled the bench, stretching her legs, while the pigeons fluttered about giving way as she walked. When Sonia secured the envelope in her handbag, Alicia returned next to her.
“Thank you, dear. I know how much you love her. Thanks for coming here, for your words, for your help. I’m just starting to understand what’s happening. I’m learning where to go. I’m positive we will find her. and she will be back with us.”
“Of course, Sonia, I’m sure of that. We will find her. She’s not alone.” Then, shaking her head, she added, “If I only knew what to do to help her. Tell me about you. You said earlier that you went to the police department and other offices.”
“It won’t be easy. First, we went crazy. We went everywhere, police, lawyers, and synagogue, anybody that could help us. To make a long story short, nobody would listen. One police detective even told me that my story could not be true because those disappearances were no longer happening in this country. He said that those things might have happened before, while the “special forces” were subduing the guerrilla, but not now. It wasn’t happening any longer. That she most probably had eloped or run away for some reason I did not know. Or joined a guerrilla group and gone underground.”
“Is that so? It’s incredible.”
“He even said something about parents that would not teach their children to abide by the law. I was so disgusted and insulted.”
“Amazing. Did you present a habeas-corpus to the judge?”
“We sure did. That was the first thing, but the lawyer from the human rights group helping us told me not to expect miracles. The judges have to ask the military for information about the people kidnapped. Still, because the response from the Armed Forces Command is always that they do not have anybody in custody, the tribunals end up refusing to take the requests for habeas-corpus in.”
“They don’t have anybody in custody?”
“They have them somewhere, of course. But because the judges are friends of the military, there is no hope,” she paused briefly to wipe her tears. “The newspapers don’t write anything about it. These murderers keep denying any crimes are happening. The tactic of denying and lying has worked well for them. Still, the families should unite and fight back. I have joined a group of mothers, and we meet in Plaza de Mayo.”
“I was about to ask you. I have heard many rumors about the mothers. Are they still working? We don’t hear anything down there. At home, it’s almost impossible to get news.”
“I know. The Mothers are well organized, and they have helped me with all types of support and contact with human rights organizations. They are respected all over the world. Except here. We go every Thursday to walk, to demand our children’s freedom.”
“Sonia,” Alicia sighed, choked with emotion, “You are brave. Some of the Mothers have been kidnapped and killed.”
“It’s not bravery. It’s desperation. Who cares what they might do to me if I can help my daughter? I would give up my life a hundred times if I could if that brought her back safe. So we are not going to stop walking and demanding until they free them safe and sound.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the few pedestrians strolling under the poplar and cypress trees on the central pathway.
“Have you tried your rabbi? Maybe the religious authorities can do something.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “They are afraid and do not want to get involved. They say that they will see what they can do, but they don’t do much. The Catholic Church here doesn’t do anything either. The military is killing priests, who minister to the poor, and the Church does not respond to our pleas. Either they are afraid or are friends with the government. I don’t know.”
“What an uphill battle, Sonia. Don’t lose hope. I’m sure something will happen, and things will change,” Alicia said, hating herself for not being able to muster more than formulaic sentences before a mother’s grief. “This must be so hard on you, Sonia. Are you sure you want to keep talking about this?”
Sonia managed to smile briefly. “Dear, do you think there is anything else on my mind lately? I need to talk. Sometimes I think my head will explode, and my chest will burst into pieces. The worst part is not knowing what happened. It is killing us.”
“Yes, I know.” It was precisely Alicia’s feelings, and she held her arm, placing her head on Sonia’s strong shoulder. Then, after a few minutes, Sonia said, “I hope you’re right. As long as she is alive,” she said, bursting again into tears. It was painful for Alicia to watch her, and she did not say a word until she calmed down.
Sonia composed herself. She put her wet handkerchief in the handbag and took a clean one, and forced a smile, motioning her head toward a small pile of fresh, ironed cotton handkerchiefs.
“Lately, I travel with plenty of extra ones. I cry all the time, all over the city.”
Alicia nodded in silence. Sonia stood up, and Alicia followed her. She strolled as if saddled with a heavy weight on her shoulders. Alicia took her by the arm, and they walked toward the park exit.
“Along with the things I gathered at Susana’s apartment and took home, there is a navy blue duffel bag with your initials embroidered inside. I don’t know why they did not take it too.”
Alicia felt as if somebody was pushing on her chest.
“It’s mine,” she sobbed. “I lent it to her at home, to carry chocolates and gifts...”
Sonia patted her arm. “I know, dear. She brought them home that same day when she came to see us. I’ll return it to you when we meet next.”
“That’s fine.” They walked for a few minutes in silence.
Sonia sighed and said, “Alicia, I want you to come on Thursday to Plaza de Mayo. I don’t want you to approach us. Just take a book or a magazine and sit close by the pyramid, as close as possible. I want you to witness a march. It will be good to have you near. Afterward, don’t talk to me or wait for me. Just leave. We will meet an hour after the march breaks at the cafe on the corner of Rivadavia and Pasco. You can take the subway across the street to get there.”
Alicia was overwhelmed by emotion. “Sure I will, Sonia. I’ll be honored to be close to the march, close to you.”
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The traffic was frantic, as usual, and after the long hiatus in the quiet, provincial streets of Bariloche, the sounds, smells, and speed of the wave of cars racing through the broad avenues were a breathtaking experience for her. Nevertheless, Alicia smiled pleased, standing in line with other passengers at the colectivo 60’s bus stop on Avenida Callao, trying not to miss anything around her.
The popular “60” had the longest route of any colectivo or small bus line, and it ran from Plaza Constitución, one of the two commuting train terminals in the city, right north, to the delta of the Parana River, in the lush and green borough of El Tigre.
Alicia got on the bus and paid for the ticket. Immediately she took her change from the driver, who quickly and efficiently managed to hold the steering wheel with one hand while displaying between his fingers pesos bills sorted by value in a fan. The right hand dispensed the ticket, received the cash, and gave the change. Alicia had always marveled at the skill needed to do so many tasks simultaneously, as the maneuver involved driving and checking the traffic around as well. In her experience and the passenger’s consensus, those young men were mainly moody, tense characters. But amazingly, the collisions and accidents were scarce considering the risks involved.
She sat in one of the few available seats; the trip to Plaza Italia would be short. There she was to meet Susana’s mother. During the morning, after several phone calls to Lita from public phone booths, she had arranged to meet Sonia, who did not want Alicia to come to her home for security reasons. So it would have to be a furtive afternoon encounter at two-thirty in the Botanic Gardens, a public park in the neighborhood of Palermo that she had not visited since childhood.
Alicia got off the bus, strolled to the corner, and waited for the pedestrian light to cross the wide Avenida Las Heras. Palermo was a pleasant locale, home to several parks and wide-open spaces, wealthy households, and lately, ritzy apartment towers. It was only two-fifteen, so the extra time allowed her to enjoy the familiar places.
The Botanic Garden ground was just across the avenue from where she stood. Farther north, she could see the sturdy and understated entrance to the Sociedad Rural, where the proud estancieros, or cattle ranchers, showed and auctioned their best pure breed animals once a year. It was a renowned month-long fair, and she even got tickets more than once, on sunny Sundays, to visit the event with her friends, enjoy the traditional foods and hear more about the way of life in the vast cattle ranches, mostly placed on the fertile Pampa. A form of life that had defined the country’s customs and traditions for over a century, elevating the rancher life and power to almost aristocratic status and dignifying everything that had to do with the possession of green, fertile lands and its maintenance.
Alicia sauntered, letting the other pedestrians pass her by. It was a good feeling to be at ease, not dreading that somebody would be following or checking on her. Sonia acted so secretively. Was she being followed? Maybe not, but it was natural that the whole family would be terrified after Susana’s disappearance.
Looking over her shoulder, she crossed the imposing iron gates of the Botanic and walked a hundred yards by the shady and lonely park toward her right, as Lita had instructed. A woman clad in a wool hat and a grey coat came out from a side path to meet her. They stood briefly in front of each other, assessing their identities. Then, as soon as Alicia recognized Sonia, she walked briskly toward her. They looked at each other for a moment, and Sonia, shaking her head, opened her arms.
“Alicia, hija....”
Alicia ran to her embrace, and they stood there, weeping in silence for a while. Then, finally, Sonia let her go, firmly guiding her by the arm.
“C’mon, let’s walk toward that wall over there. It’s quiet, and at this time of the day, nobody comes through here. Office workers are back at their desks. Maybe a few children from schools, that’s all.” Her voice was confident and firm as Alicia remembered her. Not at all like the voice of the terrified woman that had answered the phone days ago.
They sat on a wooden bench, and soon a few pigeons flew around, waiting for food. Alicia did not know what to say and remained silent, overwhelmed with emotion.
“You know, it’s pretty dangerous for you to be around us now. I mean, around the relatives of those who disappeared.” Sonia was holding one of Alicia’s hands, and her touch was warm and soft. Alicia’s small and bony fingers felt comfortable in those firm and reliable hands that reminded her of her mother’s. Sonia’s eyes were red, and then Alicia realized that she looked old, wrinkled, exhausted. Yet, there were evident traces of her daughter’s looks in her face; the bony cheeks, the still youthful mouth, the color of her eyes. She hadn’t seen her for at least a year, but Susana’s mother had aged remarkably, and she was sure that it all had happened in the last few weeks.
“How is Don Roberto doing?” Alicia always called Susana’s father with the old, respectful don before his name. Twelve years older than Sonia, Roberto Machevsky was at sixty-five, an energetic, hardworking man that had retired only ten months earlier and was still waiting for his first check doing small part-time jobs. Alicia knew he would be devastated by Susana’s disappearance.
“He had a mild stroke, and we had to rush him to the hospital, but now he is doing fine, back at home.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. You know how I love him. I hope he recovers soon.”
“I know. It was hell; I had to take care of him while I was going around searching for Susana. Lita was a great help to us. I don’t know what I would have done without her. Anyway, he is doing better, and it was only a mild stroke. He recovered well. He has been stricken by what happened, but we are going to be okay. You see, we have to focus on finding Suzy now.”
They talked at length, mainly about how they kidnapped Susana and the people Sonia had contacted. Unfortunately, there were only a few clues to follow, and she had started knocking on doors early on with no results. Alicia had many questions about Susana, for which the mother did not have answers. Sonia pointedly asked many details of the last days she spent in Bariloche. Alicia gladly talked about it, mostly in tears, remembering how confident her friend had left for Buenos Aires. She also told her about their worries of being followed, which were never confirmed. Alicia pulled out from her purse an envelope with the pictures she took in Bariloche and said, “I thought you might want to have these.”
Sonia slowly went through every picture, pointedly, crying quietly, and Alicia found it hard to watch her. So she stood up and slowly circled the bench, stretching her legs, while the pigeons fluttered about giving way as she walked. When Sonia secured the envelope in her handbag, Alicia returned next to her.
“Thank you, dear. I know how much you love her. Thanks for coming here, for your words, for your help. I’m just starting to understand what’s happening. I’m learning where to go. I’m positive we will find her. and she will be back with us.”
“Of course, Sonia, I’m sure of that. We will find her. She’s not alone.” Then, shaking her head, she added, “If I only knew what to do to help her. Tell me about you. You said earlier that you went to the police department and other offices.”
“It won’t be easy. First, we went crazy. We went everywhere, police, lawyers, and synagogue, anybody that could help us. To make a long story short, nobody would listen. One police detective even told me that my story could not be true because those disappearances were no longer happening in this country. He said that those things might have happened before, while the “special forces” were subduing the guerrilla, but not now. It wasn’t happening any longer. That she most probably had eloped or run away for some reason I did not know. Or joined a guerrilla group and gone underground.”
“Is that so? It’s incredible.”
“He even said something about parents that would not teach their children to abide by the law. I was so disgusted and insulted.”
“Amazing. Did you present a habeas-corpus to the judge?”
“We sure did. That was the first thing, but the lawyer from the human rights group helping us told me not to expect miracles. The judges have to ask the military for information about the people kidnapped. Still, because the response from the Armed Forces Command is always that they do not have anybody in custody, the tribunals end up refusing to take the requests for habeas-corpus in.”
“They don’t have anybody in custody?”
“They have them somewhere, of course. But because the judges are friends of the military, there is no hope,” she paused briefly to wipe her tears. “The newspapers don’t write anything about it. These murderers keep denying any crimes are happening. The tactic of denying and lying has worked well for them. Still, the families should unite and fight back. I have joined a group of mothers, and we meet in Plaza de Mayo.”
“I was about to ask you. I have heard many rumors about the mothers. Are they still working? We don’t hear anything down there. At home, it’s almost impossible to get news.”
“I know. The Mothers are well organized, and they have helped me with all types of support and contact with human rights organizations. They are respected all over the world. Except here. We go every Thursday to walk, to demand our children’s freedom.”
“Sonia,” Alicia sighed, choked with emotion, “You are brave. Some of the Mothers have been kidnapped and killed.”
“It’s not bravery. It’s desperation. Who cares what they might do to me if I can help my daughter? I would give up my life a hundred times if I could if that brought her back safe. So we are not going to stop walking and demanding until they free them safe and sound.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the few pedestrians strolling under the poplar and cypress trees on the central pathway.
“Have you tried your rabbi? Maybe the religious authorities can do something.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “They are afraid and do not want to get involved. They say that they will see what they can do, but they don’t do much. The Catholic Church here doesn’t do anything either. The military is killing priests, who minister to the poor, and the Church does not respond to our pleas. Either they are afraid or are friends with the government. I don’t know.”
“What an uphill battle, Sonia. Don’t lose hope. I’m sure something will happen, and things will change,” Alicia said, hating herself for not being able to muster more than formulaic sentences before a mother’s grief. “This must be so hard on you, Sonia. Are you sure you want to keep talking about this?”
Sonia managed to smile briefly. “Dear, do you think there is anything else on my mind lately? I need to talk. Sometimes I think my head will explode, and my chest will burst into pieces. The worst part is not knowing what happened. It is killing us.”
“Yes, I know.” It was precisely Alicia’s feelings, and she held her arm, placing her head on Sonia’s strong shoulder. Then, after a few minutes, Sonia said, “I hope you’re right. As long as she is alive,” she said, bursting again into tears. It was painful for Alicia to watch her, and she did not say a word until she calmed down.
Sonia composed herself. She put her wet handkerchief in the handbag and took a clean one, and forced a smile, motioning her head toward a small pile of fresh, ironed cotton handkerchiefs.
“Lately, I travel with plenty of extra ones. I cry all the time, all over the city.”
Alicia nodded in silence. Sonia stood up, and Alicia followed her. She strolled as if saddled with a heavy weight on her shoulders. Alicia took her by the arm, and they walked toward the park exit.
“Along with the things I gathered at Susana’s apartment and took home, there is a navy blue duffel bag with your initials embroidered inside. I don’t know why they did not take it too.”
Alicia felt as if somebody was pushing on her chest.
“It’s mine,” she sobbed. “I lent it to her at home, to carry chocolates and gifts...”
Sonia patted her arm. “I know, dear. She brought them home that same day when she came to see us. I’ll return it to you when we meet next.”
“That’s fine.” They walked for a few minutes in silence.
Sonia sighed and said, “Alicia, I want you to come on Thursday to Plaza de Mayo. I don’t want you to approach us. Just take a book or a magazine and sit close by the pyramid, as close as possible. I want you to witness a march. It will be good to have you near. Afterward, don’t talk to me or wait for me. Just leave. We will meet an hour after the march breaks at the cafe on the corner of Rivadavia and Pasco. You can take the subway across the street to get there.”
Alicia was overwhelmed by emotion. “Sure I will, Sonia. I’ll be honored to be close to the march, close to you.”
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