By Karl Heiland '10
Last Thursday, our group arrived in "the Paris of South America:" Buenos Aires. We navigated through narrow allies to find our hotel, the Sheltown. A city tour had been planned for us, but due to a lack of time, our tour guide elected to show us the focal point of Argentine politics, the Plaza de Mayo, or, the Plaza of May.
Travelers and vendors lined the plaza. On an adjacent street, people from a ghetto of Buenos Aires took part in a thundering protest against the policies of the government, while policemen nervously stood by.
The Casa Rosada (pink house) serves the same function that our White House does. As our tour guide explained, the two feuding parties of Argentina were once represented by the colors red and white, and to symbolize the unity of the country, pink was chosen for the building.
Sunset at the Casa Rosada
The front balcony of the building has been the favorite place of Argentine presidents to give speeches. It might be most famous for a certain speech given by Eva Peron, one of the boldest women in Argentine history. As the president's wife, she forged her own identity as a champion of rights for the poor and for women's suffrage. In 1951, she decided to run for vice-president of Argentina. Not soon after, she stood on the previously mentioned balcony and revealed to the public that she was dying of uterine cancer and had to withdraw her bid. And so comes the famous line, "Don't cry for me Argentina."
Our group was fortunate to see the plaza on a Thursday. Every Thursday afternoon, a group of women slowly circle around the central monument in the square. Since we arrived towards the end of this procession, I only saw five of these women; however, their image has left a deep impact on my consciousness.
Most looked to be not much more than five feet tall. Their heads were covered in white napkins and laminated pictures hung from their necks. The faces on these pictures were young and smiling. People in the plaza approached the women and exchanged words, sometimes embracing them.
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Argentina was under the military rule of Jorge Videla. Any citizen who was thought to have even the smallest connection or interest in left-wing politics was taken away; some pulled off the streets in broad daylight. About 30,000 people disappeared, most of them college-age, and most of them now executed. The women in the plaza are the mothers of these children. After all these years, they still demand to be reunited with their children and for imprisonment of those responsible for these crimes.
This is where, I'm hoping, my Argentina experience will be allowed to continue in the next year, through my connection to the mothers. The group who trained the regime responsible for these murders was based in the United States, the School of the Americas in Birmingham, Alabama. People in the United States knowingly taught these officers the best ways to torture and kill people, people who were my age. Their consciences were clean because they knew that these techniques would only be used on those with "liberal" ideologies. A Brophy group goes to Birmingham and protests every year. Next year I want to be there, with the memory of the mothers in my heart.
Las Madres del Plaza de Mayo
Last Thursday, our group arrived in "the Paris of South America:" Buenos Aires. We navigated through narrow allies to find our hotel, the Sheltown. A city tour had been planned for us, but due to a lack of time, our tour guide elected to show us the focal point of Argentine politics, the Plaza de Mayo, or, the Plaza of May.
Travelers and vendors lined the plaza. On an adjacent street, people from a ghetto of Buenos Aires took part in a thundering protest against the policies of the government, while policemen nervously stood by.
The Casa Rosada (pink house) serves the same function that our White House does. As our tour guide explained, the two feuding parties of Argentina were once represented by the colors red and white, and to symbolize the unity of the country, pink was chosen for the building.
Sunset at the Casa RosadaThe front balcony of the building has been the favorite place of Argentine presidents to give speeches. It might be most famous for a certain speech given by Eva Peron, one of the boldest women in Argentine history. As the president's wife, she forged her own identity as a champion of rights for the poor and for women's suffrage. In 1951, she decided to run for vice-president of Argentina. Not soon after, she stood on the previously mentioned balcony and revealed to the public that she was dying of uterine cancer and had to withdraw her bid. And so comes the famous line, "Don't cry for me Argentina."
Our group was fortunate to see the plaza on a Thursday. Every Thursday afternoon, a group of women slowly circle around the central monument in the square. Since we arrived towards the end of this procession, I only saw five of these women; however, their image has left a deep impact on my consciousness.
Most looked to be not much more than five feet tall. Their heads were covered in white napkins and laminated pictures hung from their necks. The faces on these pictures were young and smiling. People in the plaza approached the women and exchanged words, sometimes embracing them.
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Argentina was under the military rule of Jorge Videla. Any citizen who was thought to have even the smallest connection or interest in left-wing politics was taken away; some pulled off the streets in broad daylight. About 30,000 people disappeared, most of them college-age, and most of them now executed. The women in the plaza are the mothers of these children. After all these years, they still demand to be reunited with their children and for imprisonment of those responsible for these crimes.
This is where, I'm hoping, my Argentina experience will be allowed to continue in the next year, through my connection to the mothers. The group who trained the regime responsible for these murders was based in the United States, the School of the Americas in Birmingham, Alabama. People in the United States knowingly taught these officers the best ways to torture and kill people, people who were my age. Their consciences were clean because they knew that these techniques would only be used on those with "liberal" ideologies. A Brophy group goes to Birmingham and protests every year. Next year I want to be there, with the memory of the mothers in my heart.
Las Madres del Plaza de Mayo
