37 results where found for «Little Doctors»


Morning Has Broken

Author:
Cat Stevens, based on a traditional Gaelic hymn; lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon
Testimony by:
Luis Cifuentes Seves
Place & date:
« At the time of the coup in 1973, this song was world-famous and frequently played on the radio. As transistor radios were quite small, many people were arrested with one of these in their pockets, and a significant number were not searched and confiscated by the military. This explains why, when we were in the National Stadium, we were able to listen to them, keep track of the news and listen to music. »
[...]
« I was particularly fond of this song and I still am. While I was a political prisoner in the Stadium, I was able to listen to it on more than one occasion on radios people lent me. I must say it brought me brief moments of peace and pleasure among all the horror, at a time when torture and murder were a daily occurrence. This and other songs became little oases of sanity in the midst of the criminal madness that ruled over us. »
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Beloved Friend (Amado amigo)

Author:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
« This song, written in my cell at the Puchuncaví Prison Camp, speaks to a friend and fellow prisoner; it could be any one of the thousands behind bars. »
[...]
« Breadcrumbs (migas de pan): These were the raw material we used in the interrogation centres for sculpting little figurines. This activity was important to the prisoners' minds occupied. In situations of extreme solitary confinement, when all contact with the outside world had been cut off, prisoners used these figurines to build a tiny bridge of communication with their fellow prisoners. A person in solitary confinement would place the figurine where others could see it, leaving leave a sign life. »
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Let’s Break the Morning (Rompamos la mañana)

Author:
René “Popeye” Cárdenas Eugenin
Testimony by:
María Soledad Ruiz Ovando
Place & date:
« Music was very important for us (my mother Sylvia Ovando, my sister Alejandra Ruiz and myself) while my dad, Daniel Ruiz Oyarzo, 'el Negro Ruiz', was imprisoned during the dictatorship, when Alejandra was seven and I was four. »
[...]
« This year (2015) it’s been Ayelén’s turn to teach 'Let's Break the Morning' to her niece Siomara, daughter of her brother Wladislaw Pavel. Thus, the granddaughter and the great-granddaughter of ‘El Negro Ruiz’ sing together 'Let's break the morning with our heart...', and little by little they become acquainted with a story that they will undoubtedly teach to the future members of the family. »
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King Ñaca Ñaca (El rey Ñaca Ñaca)

Author:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
« “Ñaca-ñaca” was an interjection we used at Camp Melinka whenever we wanted to signal and poke fun at any dark thought that might crossed our minds. That may be why it seemed the ideal name to give to the papier maché puppet that played the role of the mean king in the puppet stories we performed to entertain the children who came to visit their captive fathers. But Ñaca-Ñaca’s important role was more than that. The paper model was borrowed to perform the 'star role' in one of the cultural events we customarily staged every Friday. Events which, it should be pointed out, were attended only by captives and armed guards. It was a “Prisoners’ Show”, full of fantasy. »
[...]
« Ñaca-Ñaca  - the puppet - in his role as mean king, was certainly a third-class king, a dictator who enjoyed ridiculing his prisoners. These were none other than: Cinturón de Lana (Woolen Belt), Anillo de Metal (Metal Ring), Huesito (Little Bone) and Caballito de Mar (Seahorse). These were all allegorical figures that had great meaning for us as prime examples of the handicraft that came from the hands of our fellow prisoners. In this play Ñaca-Ñaca’s guards – his soldiers – were the Puínes, which directly alluded to the barbed wire. It would have been difficult to make it any clearer: what we were doing was a staged and metaphorical enactment of our own story. And we did it with a good measure of optimism, as shown in the fact that at the end Ñaca-Ñaca loses his voice – that is, his power - and he loses his mind. Thus the captives become free. »
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We Shall Prevail (Venceremos)

Author:
Claudio Iturra (lyrics) and Sergio Ortega (music)
Testimony by:
María Cecilia Marchant Rubilar
Place & date:
Cárcel de Mujeres Buen Pastor, La Serena, September 1973 - January 1974
« I was studying to be a chemistry teacher at the University of Chile in La Serena. I was 21 years old when I was arrested. I think I was picked up due to a specific fact. I was regularly sent copies of the El Rebelde (The Rebel) newspaper by train, in order to distribute them in parts of Region IV. »
[...]
« Music was always present: we were always walking around with a song in our voice. I think it was the only way to cope a little with prison life. One day a comrade, Lucía, arrived with a guitar. She always entertained us with music; with songs that we used to listen to before the coup, particularly those of the [Chilean] New Song Movement. We always sang “Venceremos” (We shall be victorious) by Quilapayún, in its original version. »
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Everything Changes (Todo cambia)

Author:
Julio Numhauser
Testimony by:
Carolina Videla
Place & date:
« My guitar accompanied me for the entire time that I was deprived of freedom. It was like a magnet. In the afternoon we would sing and play in the courtyard. »
[...]
« With the passing of time, you begin to remember. You see a before and after in life. Talking about it is a way to break free. We talk very little about these things. »
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How We Resemble Each Other (En qué nos parecemos)

Author:
Unknown. Popularised by Quilapayún
Testimony by:
Scarlett Mathieu
« In Cuatro Álamos, I was profoundly marked by the singing of a current detained-disappeared named Juan Chacón. He sang ‘En qué nos parecemos’, a love song from the Spanish Civil War. It remained engraved in me because that comrade disappeared from Cuatro Álamos. »
[...]
« I have memories of Londres 30 too. We hummed a little when the guard allowed it but I do not remember which songs. Everything is very faded. »
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