Departing at Dawn

22 Singing

135 22 Singing One big party had begun for Argentina on May 25, 1973. The Peronist government assumed power and immediately called for the release of twelve hundred political prisoners held by the preceding dictatorship. The uproar surrounding Cámpora’s brief appointment as president12 was accompanied by much activity at prison doors, where those who had fought against the last military governments were being freed. Suddenly , they changed into popular heroes whose companions and family members, along with huge numbers of ordinary citizens , were waiting for them. Those were moments never to be forgotten. As the prisoners emerged, the crowds greeted them singing: “They are leaving, they are leaving, never to return. . . . First Enacted Law: liberty for the fighters.” The demonstrators even climbed onto the tanks the army had rolled out into the streets in honor of President Cámpora; people took pictures of the tank drivers, who were all smiles because this time they were not having to fire into the demonstration .Farfromit—thistimethecrowdwasembracingthem. In photographs taken of those moments, it looks as though the people have an army and the army has a people to serve. There 136 was an end-of-war feeling, with a celebration of freedom, of triumph over silence, of a whole new era beginning for everyone, of kinship in every hug because everybody was part of a new humanity that this land deserved, forever and ever, amen. Bertahadbegunherclassesattheuniversityandwaspressing her first textbook against her breast, or opening it to smell the fresh paper; her mother worshiped it as if it were God the Father. Trinidad went to look for her at her house on the morning of the twenty-sixth, and yelled to her from outside that there was still plenty of celebrating in all the streets of Argentina, and for her to come out and go to Villa Urquiza to wait for the prisoners there to be released. “Come on, Negra!” She called. “Let’s go, crazy girl. Today is a day that will go down in history, so come on and celebrate with the people!” Berta felt herself being reborn during those days, though she did not know why, and Tucumán became soft and golden like oranges. The two friends had been born in 1955, the same year as the military takeover—the so-called Libertadora— and now they were eighteen, the perfect time to be presented with this new national opportunity that began unfolding, like a white flag on which they thought the best time of their lives would be written. Tucumán was teeming with people at every corner as young and old alike came out to chant the phrases, songs, and even individual words locked up for almost a whole generation . Flags and posters intermingled with the colors of the sea- 137 son that should be called fall but that lasts only a few days in that narrow climatic region. Doña Amalia had no interest in the celebrations because of too many bad memories piled up while she kneaded dough for empanadas. So, mixing the ingredients, with her head down and a serious tone, she called out a warning to both girls: “Be careful!” When the girls left, practically running through the streets toward Juan B. Justo Avenue, she just watched them. Once she was alone, she exclaimed to herself: “My goodness, Manuel Rojas del Pino, if you were here now! You would have already hit the streets with these two . . . but remember how many times I told you? Peronism always begins well and ends badly. Out of the frying pan into the fire.” Doña Amalia was one of the few people in Matadero not succumbing to that wave of euphoria. Alone with her peeling plaster statue of San Cayetano, the blesser of bread, who held a tassel of wheat in one hand and the baby Jesus in the other, she realized that because of all the excitement of the day she had forgotten to offer parsley to the saint. She picked up a handful and placed it in the glass flower vase in front of him. Fixing her gaze firmly on that protective image, the statue standing on her kitchen shelf among the coffee cups, she implored him: “San Cayetano, you who intercede for workers, have pity on those poor people who always end up being the victims. They believeinthepeoplemakingspeechestothemandtheydowhat those people try to get them to do. Have compassion for those...