by Hugo Perez
I don't know if I'll end up calling you this, I think more and more that the name is not the most important thing but we can talk about it at another time. Right now my hands on the computer keys are wet with tears. And I want to tell you about a first time, which for me is an important time because it's the first time I feel that you are in a march with us. I'm writing you to fulfill the request of all those who are still i nside their mother's bellies and are saying, "Write this, she needs to know about it." Surely you will read this when you read about what heppened to us on "the 20th".
Here it is: we were practicing our songs in the building of the chorus of the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, when a few compañeros arrived to tell us that in the Plaza, while everyone was preparing for the Resistance March, more than 100 police with dogs, sticks and shields (the kind that look like the ones the Romans had, but transparant) came to stop the march. We looked at one another and an idea occcurred to someone: let's rehearse in the Plaza!!
We arrived with Jorge the director and the other singers. Hebe from the Mothers of the Plaza was there, along with a handful of compañeros, facing the men in blue (there seemed to be more than 200 of them). I have to tell you that I was a little frightened for your mother, and for you, but I knew that we had to be there.
Someone asked Hebe if we could sing there, while the gendarmes encircled us with awkward steps, and well, though she didn't quite understand what was up she said: fine. And with a lot of emotion, strange and powerful, we began to sing: "Keep calm" from Parodi, "victorious people" "we're still singing" "Let's go"...the whole repertory. The
Circle of police closed in, we sang with more and more force and even danced. "It's the song against repression" shouted Hebe. At one point there was scuffling and tension, I asked your mother to move aside. We sang for more than two hours!!! We repeated ourselves, we invented, I don't really know how our throats held up through it all. How can I explain to you the happiness on our faces? The group had gotten more compact, the circle couldn't get any smaller.
People began to join us in singing, "the plaza belongs to the mothers and not to the cowards." It hurt me a llittle to see how they held on (azuzaban) to the dogs. For the dogs and for us. Sticks, guns, shields, dogs, helmets, and hate...against a hundred people singing.
I'm sure that I will tell you more stories with all the changes that memory produces.
Now I'm going to share this with the people in the neighborhood assembly, in the community garden, in my other groups of university companions and friends, who are all compañeros on this path towards a better world for the generation that is to come.
P.S. This was not easy to write.