450 results where found for «The Rain is Falling»


Song of the Disappeared (Canción del desaparecido)

Song by:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
Experience in:
« Several of my friends and comrades disappeared after being arrested. The dictatorship denied knowledge of their whereabouts but I knew they were lying. Many of these people had been in prison with me in the dungeons of Villa Grimaldi. This song was sung in a cell of Valparaíso Jail with one comrade keeping watch next to the door in case a prison guard approached. »
[...]
« The same soldier who imprisoned me »
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Let’s Break the Morning (Rompamos la mañana)

Song by:
René “Popeye” Cárdenas Eugenin
Testimony by:
María Soledad Ruiz Ovando
Experience in:
« 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. »
[...]
« The island is song »
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The Letter (La carta)

Song by:
Violeta Parra
Testimony by:
Paicavi Painemal
Experience in:
« We set up a band with a group of fellow prisoners. They were young, university students. One of them had a guitar. From what I remember, he was a music teacher and they allowed him to keep the instrument. In the band we also played the bombo and the charango. I accompanied by singing. »
[...]
« in the post this morning. »
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The Letter (La carta)

Song by:
Violeta Parra
Testimony by:
Pedro Mella Contreras
« When solitary confinement was lifted in January 1987 and we were able to receive visitors, a brother who lived in Santiago travelled to see me. »
[...]
« in the post this morning. »
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The Man Who Transformed into an Animal (El hombre que se convirtió en animal)

Song by:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
« I wrote this song shortly after reading Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, one of the books that circulated in Camp Melinka from hand to hand and cabin to cabin. I presume I don’t have to explain who is the one experiencing the metamorphosis here. »
[...]
« the owner of his garments but not his mind. »
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Prayer So You Don't Forget Me

Song by:
Óscar Castro (words) and Ariel Arancibia González (music)
Testimony by:
Rosalía Martínez
Experience in:
« When Katia Chornik contacted me a few years ago asking me to provide my testimony about my musical experience in prison, I thought I didn’t have much to say. I had spent most of my detention held by the DINA secret police, at the house on José Domingo Cañas Street, called the Ollagüe Barracks. Then, I was held in solitary confinement at Cuatro Álamos, and spent just a month in the Tres Álamos concentration camp. »
[...]
« in the eyes of the dying Christ »
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Gigi the Ladies’ Man (Gigi l’amoroso)

Song by:
Jacqueline Misrahi, Lana Sebastian and Paul Sebastian. Popularised by Dalida.
Testimony by:
Eduardo René Cuevas
« This song was used while the Military Intelligence Service (SIM) subjected me to cruel torture at a clandestine torture centre in the southern Chilean city of Los Ángeles. »
[...]
« Here comes Gigi the ladies' man, wherever his gaze wanders, he caresses »
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The Scholar (El letrado)

Song by:
Quelentaro (Gastón and Eduardo Guzmán)
Testimony by:
Luis Cifuentes Seves
Experience in:
Campamento de Prisioneros Chacabuco, November 1973 – February 1974
« From the first time I heard it, I was impressed by the way the duo Quelentaro sang this song, which was also written by them. When I sang it, I always tried to sing it in their style. I never sang it on stage, only for myself or for small groups of friends strumming guitars together. »
[...]
« My father could barely sign his name »
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Candombe for José (Candombe para José)

Song by:
Roberto Ternán
Testimony by:
Sara De Witt
Experience in:
« We were in Tres Álamos barracks in September 1976. I don’t recall how many of us women were imprisoned there. I believe there were close to a hundred of us. »
[...]
« The color of the night on his skin »
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Candombe for José (Candombe para José)

Song by:
Roberto Ternán
Testimony by:
Alejandro Olate
« The youngest among us, aged 17 or even 16 years, did the heaviest work on Dawson Island. We had to fell trees, cut them, split them in two, cut them into wedges, and walk the several hundred meters back to the barracks carrying the logs on our shoulders. Our older comrades sawed them and cut them into small logs to fill the woodsheds that fed three large heaters in the barracks. »
[...]
« The color of the night on his skin »
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