Leo died everywhere Raul Alfonsin, I guess the cold would have to react as unfortunate news to hundreds every day that passed before our eyes but we give the lower ball. At the end of the day I'm Uruguayan, I never had sympathies for the UCR (in fact I always had an almost morbid interest, especially because the Uruguayan-to PJ), and virtually all the political career since the carapintadas they twisted his arm in the Easter of 1987 seemed insignificant, or almost fault. But there are things that have to do with one, not with history but with the small chunk of it that surrounds us from time to time and becomes part of us. I was very young when Alfonsin became president of Argentina, but of fate had made me a fan teenager (or pre-teen) of the journal Humor, who became chair of my early political education, and acquainted me not only with the early work of famous comic characters and the humor in Argentina, but also to the infinite horror of the Southern Cone dictatorships, and the horror of torture, disappearances, censorship and repression infinite. I dare to say that humor left me, which I still have doubts to be really, but I approached their claims negotiable, knowledge of the brutality uncontrollable state terrorism and contempt as laughter and muffled forms of resistance. And Alfonsin, who was hero and clown of the magazine during those years confused and effervescent the end of dictatorship.
That's not what comes to mind when I read that Alfonsin died, not his courageous role as a lawyer in the dictatorship, there is the hope that he deposited over the enormous dignity to the start of his rule-of freedom unrestricted, the military trials and attempts to audit the foreign debt, but actually the beginning of his fall, his spiral toward infamy medium or inevitable relativism of merit, ie the terrible and magnificently for me Easter 1987.
On one of those chances, to be exact by a side effect of hyperinflation that made Buenos Aires had ridiculously low prices for Uruguay for several months, I was in Buenos Aires during the Easter uprising of the loathsome carapintadas Aldo Rico. In fact I was staying with two friends who like me were too young to travel alone but somehow we had made, in the Liberty Hotel Corrientes and Florida, the same where they were Zelmar Michelini and Héctor Gutiérrez Ruiz when they were abducted and killed. It was the first time traveling in circumstances similar and it was an enormous adventure.
One of these days we walked by Lavalle and a very eloquent porteño convinced us to enter a nightclub to watch a striptease show. Within minutes a highly trained turra managed to us to ask a series of foolish-price drinks at that age one is convinced of anything when you fondle the Poronga over trousers, and emptied our wallets to the speed which a jet of water passing through the fingers. Another day saw The Court, the first band of graceless Calamaro, Suipacha a bowling had been a church. That day we took about ten taxis, because each of us out as much as a gum in Montevideo; hear the Helen of Troy of John Cale in bowling and we sat around Charly García. They were tremendous holiday for people who had not yet reached 18.
But what I remember, as hard and intense that holiday was the lifting of the carapintadas and the circumstances in which we live, with my friend J. we met a couple of Buenos Aires in Atlantis, which had been called when we arrived. We did and we were invited to a beer near their homes in an area of \u200b\u200bBelgrano which is now cheta and elegant, but back then it was not. The day we landed there makeup Rico and fascists rioted in Infantry School Campo de Mayo, and all our plans are disrupted. One of the two girls was a member of the leftist timid Oscar Alende -the PI - but came from a family of left wing PJ pure luck that he had disappeared near the other was one of the rare members of the Communist Youth Argentina. Both had serious reasons to be nervous before a coup d'état, and both were much more beautiful and charming than any of the girls eventually went out in Montevideo.
And they were very nervous, and dissolved excuses for not being able to have fun out there, but in retrospect the reasons were clear and completely understandable. But also they were alone, the families of both had taken the Easter holiday in the north, or in Uruguay I do not remember, "and the two were left of housewives while the weak world of Argentina's precarious democratic civilization seemed to be coming down and things looked bad for two young militants. But the news about what was happening in Campo de Mayo were scarce and inconclusive, and at some moment a mutual friend-who had presented to us, with anesthetic spray composition was based on ether. The guy had discovered that by pulling some of that spray on a tissue and inhaling of course, is getting a brief and powerful effect, exactly like the Brazilian perfume launch. The effect of ether extraction takes only a few seconds but after that you are doing for a while, this effect is prolonged (sometimes too, because a drug is very difficult to control, and can produce strong and dangerous hallucinations) and then to be screwing around with the spray for a while, we were all a respectable place. I remember seeing a conversation in words materialize on my companions.
Then we went back to television but there was no news of the uprising, so we changed the channel, connecting to a kind of proto-illegal cable in which a video store apple transmitting films in exchange for a ridiculous fee. And they were going to Gallipoli Peter Weir , a film about the fateful landing of the Allies in the Dardanelles during the First World War (which are also facts narrated in the bleak 'And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda' of the Pogues) and saw-emptying bottles of wine from the parents of the hostess, "being very impressed by the final. It may be that we were all very sensitive, drugged, drunk or just excited, but when Mel Gibson despite his effort fails to prevent Mark Lee and his company charge against Turkish machine guns, the massacre, we are not talking a good time. How sad, what a failure despite all that effort.
more than 20 years ago that, all of which were cultural and social actors of this historical period radically changed or died. Looking back I have the impression that in those days began the collapse of the great wave of hope that the advent of democracy had brought to the Rio de la Plata, the commitments made by Raul Alfonsin, especially with the awful carapintadas Obedience Law Due, and the rampant economic crisis began to rear its ugly head ended with what seemed a brief golden age of the genocide trials, audit plans of external debt, uncover social and cultural, artistic experimentation, revelations of the past recent mass mobilizations. Alfonsin
reminds me Hugo Batalla, another man of conviction and unobjectionable behavior during the most complicated of dictatorships or dictatorship, because today is pretty silly considering the cluster of rogue military and economic groups represented as different from both sides of the Platform, which collapsed in political speculation at the end of his career. It reminds me of Wilson Ferreira Aldunate , ie semi-conservative politicians but high ethical authority in the key moments in their personal and collective histories were defeated in a noisy, being forever tainted by this defeat. The defeat of Alfonsin said, something that would confirm the victory of the vote in Uruguay yellow a couple of years later, the limits of democracy triumphant at the time it seemed an irreversible and unstoppable historical tsunami. Alfonsin's defeat made clear the undeniable weight of the praxis of arms and money to the idealism of the street marches. It is difficult to speculate whether, when Alfonsin did flags lowered liability in the event of a greater evil, for political speculation or simple cowardice in relation to both the weakness of popular forces and their energy, but when he did he began a time of ugly, shameless hijadeputez , corruption and cynicism. The time of Carlos Menem of readers Fukuyama, of idiots idiots baptizing all who were not on his knees, labor flexibility and advertising as a paradigm of whores. It is difficult for someone to rise above defeat and to leave a country in flames in the hands of horrible people, and it is hard to forgive that kind of defeat. But we will all be defeated in the end, if only the way it was today Alfonsin, and that is not what comes to mind. Leo
Critical a column of Osvaldo Bazán in listing the 80 names and could put the firm without any problems, the guy with the goatee, a contemporary of mine-not much larger same thing happens to me. Lee died Raul Alfonsin "and you start firing words, names and times on which the death falls like a stone Alfonsín final. Bukowski mentioned, the Round , the video-clubs, Camila Perisée to The Lost Republic, which were due to harvest coffee in Nicaragua, Grondona White to Prix D'Ami, a The endless story ... a lot of things in a collage that each of those who lived through those times could do the same with different variables, and ends "are watching in the '80s. Officially, our youth is dead."
never paid much attention to Bazán, but reading this column I can only respect him as well to define what I feel, that cold in memory, this invitation to get into the box everything that comes with the stiff, that blow against the background of rock, which exposes us to ourselves as we are now indisputable that we do not like something, and we stopped being something else.
But that's not what I think now as the news listed names of animals are saying about Alfonsin and democracy, but brighter things, I think Jorge Corona saying "what a disaster that Alfonsin! Why not go to Mar del Plata, to drown as your sister? ". I hate the absence of the strip The Rep Alfonsin, who thought about the president with a familiarity and even affection, unthinkable today to a politician. And I think in the Plaza de Mayo full and deafening, for that "some kids just wander, with ready-made bags to the port and return to Montevideo. We were at a crucial point in the history of the last half century and we walked hand in hand with two girls so beautiful that if you accompany us back to Uruguay, all of high school heartthrobs would be astonished to see us hit them at a considerable distance (but not so far that did not see us) of our favorite bar.
And then (today, 20 years ago today when I read about the death of Alfonsin) I'm in love, not just a 16 year old girl with a blonde and a red tuft, but an entire city, a sense of humor of an accent, some houses that open to a generosity that I know, the texts of Brecht you like so much to this member of the PI, the word "psicobolche" I just did mine with the aim of exporting to Pocitos and apply it to all my parents left friends, the joke irritating to many of defining as "the Argentine"-something that I'm still as stubborn, unpatriotic and inevitably, the City Council paved street and Penguin came in that she looks just drinkable but for me is the best I've ever tasted.
I'm happy and I do not even realize, because the noise is increasing and is now talking Alfonsin, and do not mean a damn what you say, but every time I applaud so it must be good. And I have the bag Give 'Em Enough Rope , the only record of The Clash I needed, and not hear "The house is in order, Merry Christmas", but I think she did, because it has the eyes filled with tears and put my arms around his chest. And I'm never going to be just as excited and feeling like being in the face of history, in his sounding board, thinking to catch, to listen to punk rock and thwart coups only very young.
And that happens to me by the heart within days of another Holy Week, nearly a quarter century later, as Alfonsin still dead on TV, and I selfishly grateful for the drag die as Proustian madeleine that whole kaleidoscope of images from some of the best days of my life, things that I have a miserable picture and yet fundamental part of the foundation of everything I am and all I can say. It may be that some of these things are as dead as political whiskers that time seems to stand on the side of good, or good. Or maybe not. I like to think not, because I do not like to lose the things of the heart. And I appreciate any encouragement at least I find the place where they were, and silhouettes that left people on the blankets huddled there. At the end of the 80 when I was a fool and not know it was all good.
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