march 24 2010
"There are much more people than last year," Ana tells me, as we sway among the multitude of people crowded in Plaza de Mayo, the political heart of Buenos Aires. "People are more mobilized this year, there is a greater feeling of activism, fighting for human rights." Today is the anniversary of the last military takeover in 1976, and masses of people gather each year on this date to remember the thirty thousand "desaparecidos" who disappeared during the oppresive regime. I wanted to see what a march looked like in Argentina, and feel closer to the issues that I hear so much about in the media and in every day life in Buenos Aires. Organizations like Abuelas de la Plaza de Mayo y Madres de la Plaza de Mayo (Grandmothers and Mothers of Plaza de Mayo) are groups that are fighting for justice and working relentlessly to uncover truths about their loved ones who were disappeared, prosecute and punish those who did the dirty work, and reunite the children of victims with their biological grandparents. Since, I had no previous reference of how many people attend the march, I had to take Ana's word for it, but leaving subway station Peru a few blocks from the plaza, you could feel that there was a good turnout to say the least. The noise of drums and chants in the streets was disorienting, I held on tight to my friend and tried not to get swept away by the current of people that surrounded us. Once we were able to maneuver ourselves under the Cabildo building and stand relatively comfortably amid people waving banners for peace or promoting a political party or simply expressing an idea with some colorful profanity, I was able to reflect on the spectacle. Lots of young people marching, sipping the ubiquitous mate between cheeky political chants, laughing, representing a cause or just enjoying the energy of being part of something. Elderly ladies wearing T-shirts or bearing flags with the name of someone disappeared, joined together pumping their fists in the air and singing Olé Olé, Olé Olá, and what I interpreted as the hymn for the Abuelas y Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. The crowd was a mix of people of all sorts- young couples toting toddlers on their shoulders, dreadlocked rastafarians, turists with cameras, vendors grilling meats and preparing sweets- a mishmosh of many colors, sounds, smells and tastes. My friend Ana doesn't agree politically with the majority of the banners and signs we pass, but that's the point. Those who make it to Plaza de Mayo on March 24th go because they believe in something, and no matter what that may be, they are accompanied by thousands of others who are also standing, for their own something. In my home town of Rochester, New York, I have never experienced what I did today. People are looking for change and take advantage of public events like today to voice their opinions, hoping to make a difference, like my friend Ana, who traveled an hour and a half each way to join me. I was overwhelmed, on one hand physically by the sheer amount of human beings sharing my personal space, but also by the positive, moving, contagious activism in the air. Being a part of an event much bigger than myself was unnerving but also comforting, and the feeling of leaving my comfort zone to experience and be part of something strange and new is wonderful. Hopefully this snapshot of my time in Argentina will inspire someone else to go stand in their respective Plaza de Mayo and be part of something.
