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2002-12-23 : 8:01 p.m.
Thirteen Listening to: U2 (Best of: Cd 1) �I can�t believe the news today It was December, 1989. My father had barely begun his job working with Eastern airlines. And for the first time, through connections and rebates� at least one of my parents, would have the opportunity to return to their native soil� And it would be my mother�s turn�after a decade of exile� and she would decide to take me and my little brother as well� But the strange feel of what was to come for me� the experience that would define my shape and view of politics and it�s relevance to my existence�began to creep in the most subtle of ways� The phone conversations, the comments, between them� or anyone needing to comment or share� �Are you sure it�s safe?� �Will Andres be okay with an American passport?� �Is it to soon?� I was only twelve� and didn�t know what to make of all this� all these secrets� I had been kept in the dark about, for so long� (and it continues to this day). Where are the answers to such key questions: �Why don�t I know my cousins? My uncles? My aunts?� I never knew. I don�t know. The detailed truth. All I knew, was that I would be spending my 13th birthday� and the turn of the decade there� And I also knew, And although they used money as an excuse� I knew from the tones of their voices they were lying� And it really wasn�t that Daddy did not have enough money to go� (the tickets were much too cheap under the circumstances�) But I knew, that too was a lie. And for some reason, a fearful reason� he could not go. ******** The flight was direct. Eight hours. We arrived in the early Chilean hours� about 5:30 a.m. We flew into Santiago� where the only grandfather I had met up to that point would be waiting for us. A tall blue eyed� stunning older man� Seeing my mother, fall into tears as she hugged her father� was odd� and distressing in a way- I cannot put into words� Because, I too, do not know entirely- the pit from which they climb out from. I remember the stillness� the cold air� the heavy dew� The airport, was unlike any airport I had ever seen� huge and beautiful� but empty and isolated� A doorway to the rest of the world� but with an undisclosed key� It was eerie� and it made me uncomfortable� We packed up the car� and went on our way� into a foggy highway� trickled with the occasional and random automobile� As I sat in the back� the tone in their voices� in my mother�s quiver� made me turn the volume down entirely, on my headset� as I tried to listen intently on their conversation� I was able to grab tid bits of it� �Papi�� my mother would go on� �Until what time is the curfew in effect?� �They�ve recently lifted it�� he would answer. I was a bit confused at that age� a curfew? In a city? For what? (How little did I know.) And the strange tension, just made me feel uncomfortable and scared� but I didn�t know why� or even where it was coming from� In no time� as we drove on the highway� I then noticed my grandfather, noticing me looking out- by way of his rear view mirror� �These fields produce some of the greatest and finest red wines in the world�� And with that one line, he went on to give me my first education on fine wines� that would last for a solid 15 minutes� �You should know these things�� he�d add. ��because it doesn�t matter where you live or that you were technically born elsewhere� You� are a Chilena� esta en tu sangre�(It's in your blood.)� Hearing those words, evoked the strangest feeling� I had never until that day, been given a clear designation of what �I was�� and the responsibility it implied. It was shortly after that point that my grandfather would take the turn that would lead off the highway� and onto the emptiest of streets� We arrived at a red light� There was silence in the car� in the air� and even from the few two or three cars that waited with us� and then� In an instant, as the light turned green� and we began moving� We were driving into something� or something was driving into us�(?) My heart was racing� my brother began yelling �mammy�� Then I just stared at the faces running� screaming� yelling� passed every wich way... �Viva Chile! Viva Chile!� "They" were happy? The flags were huge� cloaked on people� bicycles� huge masts� being run by two to three boys� �Alwin!� �Alwin!� My mother asks in a yell� �what is going on?� My grandfather�s response� with a chuckle� �Oh yes� it happened over night, while you were on the flight� Alwin won the elections�� �Alwin?� I asked. �Yes�� my grandfather answered. �YOUR new president. Your new �Elected� president.� I went on to learn� But the history lesson came and comes in pieces� and this moment and what more I would come to witness� was more than a lesson on politics� It was a lesson on how: intertwined politics and existence are� That moment, electrified me, consumed me, frightened me� I played my walk man the rest of the way home� �And the battles just begun ********** I would learn a lot� from my grand father� I would learn a lot from Gabriela� my cousin� (two years older)�I would learn a lot from Maggie� (five years older)� Maggie and Gabby impressed by my emotional and intellectual maturity� kept me at their side� and taught me politics, in the way a 'rebel' would survive� They would decide to take me to� Ponce de Leon� a plaza� where all the rockers, punks� and social outcasts would commune to smoke cigs and to discuss� Politics� But I was sworn to do one thing� To NEVER say I was American (unless they themselves gave the okay� it was something taht they feared could be "over heard"), and if neccesary, they would give me a signal to play mute� (you see, my spanish accent at the time� was a bit piss poor� and they feared that the �wrong people� could discover where I was from�) And these "wrong people" I was told about, were called the Paco. �The police�� but the police here� was in fact the military� and at this time� American�s were not liked overmuch� (And having already spent ten years as an American� I just as well should have been born one�) There was no difference� And I would learn that their power� their hold, would end at the stroke of midnight� as the first official president would take over January 1st, 1990� The first 'official' president, in almost seventeen years� Only two days prior� I had just turned thirteen� whereby I had finally learned to smoke a cig properly� A damn parliament no less� And as the new adult in town� they wanted to share my voice, my ideas� my theories� my stories of America� with those they knew. To the rest of the like punks and metal heads� But again� and again� Maggie warned me� and reminded me of the signal and the plan to play mute� You see� I would come to hear about countless of stories� of how the �pacos�� would conduct sweeps� and beat and arrest young men and women� For sometimes simply walking� and being at the wrong place at, at the cliched- wrong time... They feared and hated these Paco�s, like my American young friends� feared and hated their �suppressive� American parents� If they only knew� If they could only see� We would be sitting at the plaza� talking� As I was being introduced left and right to many different folk� Eventually he went on and socialized with others� and we all kept talking amongst ourselves with our added friends� When I abruptly, heard a crash� A bottle had been broken� I turned and the military was coming from all directions� but no one moved� Maggie just grabbed my arm and Gabby�s� But no one moved� No one said a single word... This one Paco� began swearing at the young latino man� with the long hair�that I had just mentally professed my love to� �Your disgusting!� the paco would yell� �Do you want me to take you in! Do you?!!� �No sir� No� I�ll leave� I�m sorry sir�� the young man pleaded� and pleaded� The paco kept pushing him back� and yelling and instigating� while other paco�s just watched and banged their long black nights sticks against their palms� While others quietly marched around� and slowly began to creep in � with machine guns on hand� The Paco� finally grabbed a bottle� and broke it against a cement bench� �You piece of shit� you're all filthy piece's of shit� disgusting!� the paco yelled and yelled at him� �I�m going to arrest you�� And in a moment of quivered bravery� the young man stopped moving back� and said: �You can�t.� �Oh no?� Said the Paco� He dropped the broken bottle� picked up another one� and threw some of the liquid that was inside, all over the young man� and proclaimed� �Public intoxication!! Lewdness!!� And in that instant� another Paco� hit the young man from behind with his night stick� and as the young man buckled forward� the paco swung his arm back� in an aim, for what I knew would be his head� And in that very same instant� before I could see the final impact... people began screaming� maggie grabbed my head� and physically forced me to look away� as her and Gabby yelled at me to "run�" "Apura! Apura!" (Hurry! Hurry!) And so we ran� Until we made it home� When Maggie would only then tell me� �and to think� you�ve only seen just a little bit�It�s actually better now�� Better? I will never forget him� and I always wonder what happened to my young beautiful man, in a black Metallica shirt� ******************** Some kids at the age of thirteen, get a party as a right of passage into adulthood� and proclaim them masters of their new found �adult� fate� I instead, learned that I had a responsibility to the rest of the world� That my only party� Was my �luck�� Thirteen� is my �lucky� number� My number for enlightenment. I find freedom in thriteen... and multiples of thirteen... �I can�t believe the news today |
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