Madres que Marchan

This last week has been a bit of a roller coaster of emotions. Based on all the handy pamphlets I've been given about the different stages of culture shock, this seems to be par for the course and right on schedule to boot. Knowing this doesn't make it any less frustrating, though. I've basically been oscillating between really exhilarated and energized (usually when I'm in the midst of some cool new experience) and really antsy and bummed out (usually when I'm sitting alone at home with nothing but homework to do). The homesickness has started setting in a little bit too, which is also to be expected. Luckily the cool experiences this week have scored high on the exhilarating scale and I've been feeling less down in the last few days, so hopefully I'm moving out of the roller coaster stage of culture shock and into whichever stage comes next...I can't remember what it's supposed to be. I'll have to check my pamphlet.


The main exciting-experience-of-the-week was La marcha del 24 de marzo. It begins with a brief history lesson. From the mid-1970's to the early 80's Argentina was under the control of an extremely oppressive military dictatorship. Anyone who opposed the government (or seemed like they opposed the government, or appeared to be friends with someone who seemed like they opposed the government) ran the risk of silently disappearing off the streets. And it happened to a lot of people. It's estimated that approximately 30,000 Argentine civilians were "disappeared" during this period. Considering the circumstances, showing any signs of opposition ran a serious risk, but one group in particular took this risk and fought back hard. This group was made up of the mothers and grandmothers of the "desaparecidos" or "disappeared". They started occupying El Plaza de Mayo (the main square around the capital building) demanding to know where their children had gone. They became known as Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, and they didn't end their efforts after democracy returned to the country in 1983. To this day the Madres gather at la Plaza de Mayo every Thursday afternoon. At this point, almost 30 years after the end of the dictatorship, their expectation isn't so much to find their lost children as it is to make sure people don't forget what happened. Their was a big push after the dictatorship ended to not talk about the previous 7 years and just move on with life, but the Madres have made sure that doesn't happen. Because of this, March 24 is the official day of remembrance of the dictatorship and tens of thousands of Argentines gather in the city center every year to march in honor of the desaparecidos and their families.


Which brings me to this Saturday and my "exciting experience" that brought me out of my slump. I know, this wasn't the most cheery prologue and you're probably wondering what happy direction I could possibly be going with this, but what I saw was pretty amazing. So one of the many reasons why I love the folks at FLACSO (my exchange program on the Argentine end) is that they do not subscribe to the general message I got from every piece of preparation material back home that I should in no way go anywhere near any kind of political demonstration in any foreign country. Instead, I got an email from the FLACSO staff inviting all of us CIEE students to join them in the march. So about 25 of us showed up to the designated street corner at 6 PM on Saturday afternoon. I was expecting a fair number of people to be milling around the area getting ready for the march. Instead I was met with deafening drums and people chanting and an ENORMOUS collection of people taking up blocks and blocks of several major avenues downtown. This was about an hour before the march actually started. These are a couple shots of how things looked when I first got there.

All of us CIEE students were pretty blown away by how many people were there. There were a lot of political and student groups, but also a lot of lay people who just  see it as their responsibility to keep history alive. It was all incredibly emotional and really amazing to be a part of, although I did feel a little strange being a foreigner at an event that was  about an experience that was so intimately argentine. Still, I feel very lucky to have been a part of it. We started marching around 7 PM and reached La Plaza de Mayo around 9 PM. One important aspect of the march is the banner that the Madres foundation created. It's a blue piece of fabric probably several hundred feet long with pictures of all of the reported desaparecidos. Volunteers carry the banner over their heads throughout the entire march and then lay it out at La Plaza de Mayo when they arrive. By pure happenstance, I was right next to the banner with a couple of my friends towards the end of the march when the crowd started getting swept in opposite direction and the suddenly the banner ripped right in half. Everyone in close proximity jumped in to pick up the loose ends that were now dragging on the ground and before I quite knew what had happened I found myself carrying the banner the rest of the way to La Plaza de Mayo. When we arrived we stretched the banner out on the street and everyone stopped and applauded. It was a really surreal experience but incredible experience.

I knew that there were going to be speakers and things once we got to La Plaza de Mayo and I anticipated it to be some kind of solemn candlelight vigil. Not even close. The plaza resembled a summer music festival more than a memorial service. A well-known percussion group was playing on a stage, there were food vendors everywhere, the city had somehow rigged up smoke machines and the entire place was lit with purplish stadium lighting. Leave it to the Argentines to turn a solemn remembrance march into a rockin' party. I spent the rest of the evening sitting with some friends on the grass, watching the percussion band, listening to the Madres speak, and drinking yerba mate.