What Pinochet left us ...
PINOCHET IS DEAD. IS RARE BUT INSTEAD THINKING OF HIM, NOW I THINK WE LIVE IN Microhistory MANY PEOPLE AFFECTED BY YOUR MIND AND ILL SICOT.
Play a piece I wrote A FRIEND, Josefa Ruiz-Tagle ON HIS FATHER, tortured and killed after a military coup. JOSEFA THE KNOWLEDGE OF A GIRL, I KNOW THAT YOU HAD MADE MY PARENTS BECAUSE HIS FATHER had told me, BUT DO NOT talk. THAT SILENCE FOR MY TEEN, FULL OF FEAR AND SHAME REPRESENTS THAT WAS the Pinochet dictatorship. BLACK HOLE.
WOUND IMAGINATION Josefa Ruiz-Tagle
The Association of Relatives of Political Executions
I turned 26, the age my dad Eugenio when he died in the summer of 1999 in the resort of Calafquén. My son Lucas was then four months and practically filled my days of nursing tasks and play. The time I had used it to think and take notes on the impact it had on my life and my family violence in the recent history of our country. At first, I thought this year to deliver the results to my colleagues in the Graduate College of Cultural Criticism from the Universidad Arcis. However, the self-referencing has never been well regarded in academic circles and the same modesty which the text was greatest suspected: not only showed it there but it showed no anyone or took it out of my computer hard drive for almost two years until a few days ago I decided that was read in the context of a tribute to my dad organized by those who were his friends. Since that summer, things have changed a bit. The arrest of Pinochet in London triggered a flood of lawsuits in the Chilean courts and the adoption of a formula in the media to discuss "the issue of human rights." The silence from which this text is no longer the same, is another.
1.
write about all I have wanted to write in a time of withdrawal to private. It is a very personal stories, laments, social perceptions and cultural events. I write about painful thoughts, shame and silence pain. About the inadequacy and maladjustment. Writing
rescued the invitation to name "what happened"-and its aftershocks, "to find a language to express a lonely and irreducible reality, but that concerns the public world.
2.
Memory is a memory of something. The ability to remember and practice it. The injury experience of the imagination is rooted in the past, but does not address the "now" remember "before" remembered object. Flow of thought is subject to metamorphosis and weather. Circular, disappears into the hands of oblivion, only to reappear as long as a virus, cuando bajan las defensas del organismo. Como un trauma, se origina en el pasado y se alimenta de las heridas del presente.
3.
Hay quienes pensaron que al dejar de nombrar la realidad de la violencia ésta dejaría de existir y no repercutiría con su golpe sobre mi mente y mi cuerpo de niña. Pero no sólo al ser nombrada se hace efectiva la violencia, también existe en la omisión, el eufemismo y la mentira. Multiplica su potencial destructivo al dejar que el cuerpo sufra toda la sintomatología negándole a la mente un diagnóstico
4.
La violencia de los colegios, que enseñan la historia de Chile saltándose olímpicamente la de los últimos treinta años.
La violencia de los medios communication, which degrade terrible to equate the new finding in the discovery of bodies of the disappeared with the goal of the day, through the voice of Cecilia Serrano "to a happier issue." Because no one wants us to go to bed scared.
5.
did not grow up in an environment of absolute left nor ideological. In the school where I studied, full of little momiecillos, could feel that my family was different from what seemed to me "all" the other families, being marked by persecution and death.
had to lie on the recommendation of my elders. The world was dangerous and what had happened could happen again. My colleagues of course, six or seven years, and were potential spies for the murderers of my father would always be watching. Not to mention, that was the norm.
6.
The mismatch was not an issue of behavior typical ration of educational psychology, but a problem of conscience. The school did not help to understand a world of monsters.
7.
In the last Book Fair presented Silvio Caiozzi documentary "Fernando is back" on the recognition of one of the corpses found in the backyard 29. Each of the nearly 200 spectators live the experience of withdrawing from the public space-happy copy of the transition: the intellect and celebratory trivialized the market-which is the Book Fair and explores, through the pathetic story-the story of Fernando, the very painful relationship each has with the repression. Experience covered by the darkness of the room, as spectators, the alleged isolation of each front of the screen. When the film ends we are all crying. For Fernando, his mother, his wife and son. By country and the history we live. Ourselves.
When the lights come on hurry to cleanse us and silent tears. Sideways spied the reaction of others and hide itself. In what it takes to regain her speech we do not have words, we have no speech save us from silence. We do not know what to say. Just because we have to say something "terrible", "creepy", as has long been our imagination.
Silence is doing to little effect. We face makeup, getting ready to leave the room and return to the party Mapocho Station.
prefer not to talk, it is true, but we do not know how. We identify with the mother of Fernando, the woman who gave her penalty stroke and lost the ability to be understood.
8.
Silence, like a blanket covering the violence in our history, partly as Nelly says Richard "resistance to the law that requires the joint phonetic sense. "resistance is also a fatal destiny of the word in the market to become" a truth among others. "But it is also a product of modesty and blockade, the inability to name and the introjection of a standard molt. The lack of place to remember is the result of a feedback process of silence between the public spaces yrivados.
9.
Also as violence, as Francesca Lombardo "dismantles any notion of order, and measurement (. ..) so does every relationship improporcional "the imagination of violence is devoid of the ability to be reflected in simple language. Immeasurable becomes autistic colliding with the barriers that culture imposes on the expression and it is also impossible to account. "
10.
Silence becomes even more pathetic to know his fate: to be interrupted only by small lapses that are nothing but new material for oblivion. This happens, for example, when the word, which is a huge emotional effort, finds no answer and her voice still shaky, is destined to silence again, this time the social environment.
11.
At age 12 I was aware, through a series of documents, how my father had died. Documents literally hiding in my grandmother's house, found by my and aided by a radar. Still amazes me that I find occurred in a frame behind a photo, which appeared to me two years bathing in the tub. As if behind my angelic eyes had to hide something terrible.
was missing an eye. Nose were ripped. Had deep burns on his face. His neck was broken. Cuts and gunshot wounds. Broken bones to pieces. Were ripped out fingernails and feet. And I had said I was going to kill me and my mom.
Sentences read with horror resistance and were tattooed in my mind. With great effort I managed to silence its insistent repetition in thought. To enjoy everyday I had to lock the memory. This silence was projected on intrapersonal relationships: I did not say anything to anyone until years later and still I have repeated a few times.
12.
knowledge of torture gave me a lesson about the human heart with me forever.
13.
There is, in the case of the memory of violence, a war of word and meaning. Rather, it functions as a tyranny of meaning. A single voice rising, the consensus "on an area devastated by violence. Its success, and opportunism, is to have arisen prior to the recovery of the voice of disaffected social sectors, and have become inaudible its tenuous attempts to speak, upping the volume of its jingles.
14.
There is a continuous feedback between the silence as a requirement of consensus and constituent part of the pact that our democracy is founded and oblivion, as defensive form of mental block to try, with or without success, to avoid pain and morbid imagination.
In the silence and forgetting there is always the risk that the development front we unaware of grief with others and with ourselves with a new brutality. Who have piedrazos, beatings, suicides and murders. To return all the grief and rage as if they have not been doing anything but grow somewhere in the unconscious.
15.
dream I walked my grandmother, my grandmother and I, clad in mourning, the Atacama Desert. The sun on our heads shuffling makes us exhausted. Behind us is a robot that has trouble walking because it has wheels, smiling.
16.
The match is dragged across time, untouched, almost static, with only small variations in intensity. It is something that has happened (in my case and many of my generation) is something that happens, it happens in our minds and in our families, we become misfits among misfits in pretenders, the best, termite in the leg of the bishop's chair.
17.
"It's part of cultures know how to handle human death symbolically. Otherwise death would be eternal, unforgettable, be reproduced in relatives, each death would murder the whole environment (...)"
José Bengoa, Open Letter to Eduardo Frei Ruiz-Tagle
My grandmother mourns 26 years ago. He promised to end the mourning when the dictatorship ended, but did not. The duel is not over and the black, silent sign, comes to occupy the space left by the word.
18.
That has been a foreign machinery that achieved to the systemic failure of Chilean media on the relationship between military dictatorship and political and moral degeneration is, in part, symptomatic projection of intra-and interpersonal silence on public space in the form of demobilization.
19.
My grandmother told me that women who received testimony at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, she said that she and my mom were the first people interviewed who were not crying to tell her story. My grandmother was proud to have been able to keep his composure in pain, having never cried in public. His conscience "aristocratic" considered embarrassing public displays of affection and I was sent. If he could not mourn, it was better not speak at all, because one thing might lead to another and be exposed to immodesty.
20.
"You are the daughter of Brunner. Why, then your last name?
seriously in the face and a look that must always fall in the eyes of the interlocutor:
"Because my father died shortly after I was born. Brunner is my adoptive father.
- What did she die?
"I killed the military.
This little dialogue, I have repeated a hundred times, illustrates how I am obliged to communicate information to my terrible to anyone even think to ask.
21.
Being forced to interrupt my information about how terrible the way the mood of the talks post-dictatorial resent me, hate the way, I give a new twist to my process of mismatch.
22.
now as I write I make an enormous effort to overcome the shame. What seems obvious sentimental and my sorrows.
However, despite not feel "the guilt of forgetting" that speaks Mouli, simply because you can not forget, I feel, as we have seen, an accomplice of silence. If this seems an inappropriate place, I present my reasons for thinking that it is not so: any place is suitable. The mismatch is a central element of my story.
23.
girl told me when my dad was shot dead. The death certificate stapled to the family record book read: death by a bullet.
invented in the shooting my family or myself in which I invented in my imagination "Evening of Cinema", a squad of soldiers fired in unison about a man blindfolded. This act made all innocent because they felt would never know if it was his bullet that had killed the man. So in my mind was the system that was dropped on my father were uneducated face, that one was innocent and that only together they became murderers, who killed him.
When I heard the details of her long agony during detensión Air Base and Cerro Moreno Antofagasta Jail, I had to take my imagination to achieve represent (There was a simile in "Evening of Cinema"). Imagined, and still do, those torture sessions and all the possible faces of his torturers and murderers.
24.
Christian dogmas serve to explain the brutality with which they acted torturers and murderers, if the devil exists, they are your children and if the soul exists, they do not. But for secular thought the reality is less fabulous and more terrible, there is no God to blame, accusing him of being irresponsible. The brutality is nothing but a product of culture and nature, a possibility offered by the human condition.
25.
I see seven or eight years to read a magazine that described how a woman detenida por la DINA le introdujeron ratas vivas en la vagina. Me veo dando vuelta páginas y páginas de declaraciones de tortura. Me sudan las manos y siento cómo me sube la sangre a la cabeza. Ya no quiero leer lo que he escrito aquí, ni siquiera para corregir la ortografía. Sueño que bombardean el Arcis y se me abre la herida de la cesárea. No le hablo a nadie de lo que escribo y dudo de mi capacidad de mostrarlo alguna vez.
26.
Cuando nació mi hijo supe que él heredaría esta historia de violencia. Me puse a llorar porque supe cómo mi abuela había querido a mi padre y cómo mi padre me había querido a mi. Cómo cada uno desea poder proteger a sus hijos del sufrimiento y la brutalidad. Y como, de more or less radical, all fail. Someday my son
Lucas cry for his grandfather who died at age 26, feel angry, take sides and make it impossible to reconcile our society.
The children and grandchildren of the murderers and their friends inherit arguments to justify the crimes and our children will inherit the imagination wound.
January 1999, Calafquén
