454 results where found for «A mi palomita»


We Shall Overcome

Author:
Attributed to Charles Albert Tindley
Testimony by:
Alfonso Padilla Silva
« When the concentration camp that operated for nearly five months at the Regional Stadium of Concepción was closed in early February 1974, hundreds of political prisoners were transferred to the Concepción Prison, a wing of which was turned into a concentration camp. On 19 February of that year, a trial process began before a military tribunal and seven or eight comrades including myself were transferred to the prison. »
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Zamba so as Not to Die (Zamba para no morir)

Author:
Hamlet Lima Quintana
Testimony by:
Ana María Jiménez
Place & date:
Villa Grimaldi, April 1975
« I want to recall a night at Villa Grimaldi. »
[...]
« At that point the guard stopped me and told me to stop buggering around with political ditties. That I should sing a cumbia or something by Roberto Carlos. I went dumb. Then they took us back to our cells, but before going in the guard said to me: “You’re stayin’ out ‘ere, for bein’ stubborn.” I spent a good while in the yard. I was afraid, cold, but I felt I had made a minimum act of resistance and that helped me. »
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Ode to Joy (Himno a la alegría)

Author:
original by Friedrich von Schiller (lyrics) and Ludwig van Beethoven (music). Free version in Spanish by Amado Regueiro Rodríguez, aka Orbe (lyrics) y Waldo de los Ríos (music), popularised in Chile by Miguel Ríos.
Testimony by:
Amelia Negrón
Place & date:
« Preparations for that Wednesday night became more intense. It would be a different night. We women prisoners had secretly organised ourselves, but more importantly, we had also coordinated with the male prisoners. I’m not sure whether it was our idea or whether the men had proposed it. That detail is irrelevant now. »
[...]
« But that’s how it was. Some continued in prison while other others returned to their homes or were sent into exile. Few women, very few, ever returned. We prepared the New Year’s Eve dinner in advance. We had to be ready for the chosen hour: midnight - not a minute more, nor a minute less. »
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Captive Quena (Quena cautiva)

Author:
Claudio Enrique Durán Pardo (aka Quique Cruz)
Testimony by:
Claudio Enrique Durán Pardo
Place & date:
Campamento de Prisioneros, Tres Álamos, September - December 1975
« I first laid my hands on a quena (Andean flute) when I was nine years old. It was resplendently fragile and lyrical. My passion for this instrument was immediate, or rather, the quena chose me. Five years later, aged 14, I had already become the quena player of a quartet in ​​San Antonio. »
[...]
« At 18, and still legally a minor, I was kidnapped, tortured in Villa Grimaldi, and then thrown into the illegal detention camps run by Pinochet’s military dictatorship. »
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After the War (Después de la guerra)

Author:
Sandro
Testimony by:
Nelly Andrade Alcaino
« The military officials in charge of the Tejas Verdes camp made us sing, and they gave us just one day to select the songs and rehearse. »
[...]
« Regimiento de Ingenieros de Tejas Verdes / Campamento de Prisioneros Nº 2 de la Escuela Militar de Ingenieros. »
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Casida of the Dark Pigeons (Casida de las palomas oscuras)

Author:
Federico García Lorca (words), Paco Ibáñez (music)
Testimony by:
Luis Alfredo Muñoz González
Place & date:
« According to scientists, memory and music processing are situated in a deep, ancestral part of the brain, where it is zealously guarded. Perhaps this explains why even after our bodies have been destroyed down to the bone marrow, when nothing is left of us but the murky eyes of death, music and song appear. »
[...]
« “No, they won’t kill you”, I told her. “That will be me, not you”. I told her this almost without thinking. After a long silence, La Jovencita said: “I feel very sad and very lonely. Would you sing to me … that song you sang the other night, the one about the doves?” My voice rose, as before, like it had a will of its own. When I finished, she said: “Thanks a million. I feel better now”. But that’s not the only thing that happened: from my left I heard hands applauding. »
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Free (Libre)

Author:
Nino Bravo
Testimony by:
anónimo
Place & date:
« While waiting in the grandstands to be interrogated for the first, second or more times, we would sing "Free" to those who were being lined up to be released. "Free" was a catharsis, a mixture of joy for those who were going and hope for those of us left behind. Unfortunately, the dictatorship and its civil and military henchmen employed the song for their own propaganda. »
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Zamba of my Hope (Zamba de mi esperanza)

Author:
Luis H. Profili
Testimony by:
Edgardo Carabantes Olivares
« Horacio Carabantes Olivares, my brother, was locked up in January 1975 at the Maipo regiment of Valparaíso, with a large group of male and female prisoners, all arrested by the DINA. »
[...]
« Regimiento de Infantería Nº 2 Maipo / Regimiento Playa Ancha/ Fiscalía Militar »
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Three white lilies (Tres blancos lirios)

Author:
Unknown composer. This song probably relates to European early-years pedagogy.
Testimony by:
Domingo Lizama
Place & date:
« They arrested me at my workplace in October 1973 . I was 31 years old and worked as a porter at a logging business in Chumpullo, near Valdivia. »
[...]
« First I was at a police station where they tortured me. They then kept me at a military base in Valdivia. »
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To Be Seventeen Again (Volver a los diecisiete)

Author:
Violeta Parra
Testimony by:
Gabriela Durand
« I was 18, and already I had been tortured on the rack several times. One day I was with some other comrade prisoners, and as sometimes happened, the guards put some music on. They used to put the radio on, playing popular tunes of the time. For us young people, the songs were a bit corny, but still we enjoyed them; they were a relief. We always kept absolute silence. »
[...]
« I didn’t want to sing, I was embarrassed. I’d always been told that I couldn’t sing, that I was out of tune. I was standing up, feeling a mix of fear and shame, but totally intimidated. I peered under my blindfold and I recognised Carlos, a comrade who had just been brought to the camp. All I could see were his feet, his hands and the end of his jacket's sleeve. That’s when I started to sing. It was as if I just surrendered to the music, feeling, at the same time, rage that they were making me do that. It was humiliating but it was also comforting. That was my take on that situation, and I sang. »
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