Día de la Memoria

March 24 is a national holiday in Argentina, el Día de la Memoria por la Verdad y la Justicia, or the Day of Remembrance for Truth and Justice. El Día de la Memoria is the anniversary of the coup d’etat in 1976 that brought the military dictatorship into power, and recognizes the victims of el Proceso, or the National Reorganization Process. El Proceso was a political project which sought to eradicate subversives: the military junta essentially waged a massive extermination campaign, murdering those who expressed, or who were suspected of having, leftist political views. 50 % of the victims were union leaders, and 25 % were university students. The victims are called ‘los desaparecidos,’ the 30,000 Argentines who ‘disappeared’ between 76’ and 79’. The majority of los desaparecidos were abducted from their homes during the night, tortured, and murdered. Many were tranquilized and thrown out of planes into the ocean.

It is hard for me to believe that horrific chapter of Argentine history occurred little more than 30 years ago. Going to the parade really emphasized that el Proceso is not just something of history, but rather continues to be very much alive and present in the Argentine consciousness. The fear and the chaos and the loss which defined the years of the military junta persist through the memories of those who loved and remember los desaparecidos. Epitomizing this effort to remember are las Madres de Plaza de Mayo, a group of woman whose children 'disapeered' during the dictatoriship. Every single Thursday las Madres gather in Plaza de Mayo and walk for a half an hour to commemerate their missing children. This is a picture of las Madres' emblem in Plaza de Mayo. Each madre wears a white head scarf embroidered with the name of her child.



On the 24th, I headed to Plaza de Mayo. Plaza de Mayo is the main plaza in front of la Casa Rosada (Argentine equivalent of the White House), and the center of all political action in Buenos Aires. I got off the subway to the booming sound of cannons, and when I walked up onto the street I was blown away by thousands of people marching in the street. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. Argentines of all ages, men and women, families, students, businessmen: it seemed like all of Buenos Aires had come out to recognize los desaparecidos. I found out later that day that there were 90,000 people in attendance. It was so loud I could hardly hear my friend standing right next to me.



First there was a parade, with every kind of performance you could think of (dancing, drums, singing) and then the people just flooded the street and began marching and chanting. The streets were packed, and I could hardly move up the sidewalk. One group in the parade carried a seemingly endless banner (four blocks long!) with the photos and names of los desaparecidos. It was a powerful image, and gave me chills to look at the stream of missing faces fading into the distance. Both a serious event and a celebration, el Día de la Memoria is a day of reflection and mourning, as well as a holiday to rejoice in Argentina’s new, brighter future. I am beginning to understand how fundamental the memory of el Proceso is to the Argentine identity: the passion with which they express their views and opinions (in politics, sports, and everything for that matter), as well as the value they place on living well and cherishing time with friends and family are a cultural reaction, or negation of a time when free speech and self-expression were impossible.