369 results where found for «To Be Seventeen Again»


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. »
[...]
« To be seventeen again after a century of living »
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To Be Seventeen Again (Volver a los diecisiete)

Author:
Violeta Parra
Testimony by:
David Quintana García
Place & date:
« I spent 45 days in the torture centre of Intendencia de Rancagua. Previously, I was detained with my brothers in the headquarters of the Cuartel de Investigaciones de Rancagua. »
[...]
« To be seventeen again after a century of living »
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Future (Futuro)

Author:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
Place & date:
« The dream of the political prisoner was to regain freedom. All of us would feel joy when one of us was about to be released from prison, although it far from easy to see a comrade depart. Even less so for those who suspected they would never enjoy that privilege. »
[...]
« It is hard to express what we felt upon reading the official notice informing us of the good news. From that moment on, our only thoughts were about our future beyond the prison walls: the imprisonment chapter of our lives was drawing to a close. We were about to be born again. »
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I’m Not from Here - To my Comrade, my Love (No soy de aquí - A mi compañera)

Author:
Facundo Cabral, with lyrics modified by a political prisoner
Testimony by:
Alfonso Padilla Silva
« The choir of male prisoners sang a piece called “A mi compañera” (To my comrade, my love) to the music of “No soy de aquí, ni soy de allá” (I'm not from here, nor from there) by Facundo Cabral. I don’t remember who wrote the lyrics. But that’s how I wrote it down in one of the ten notebooks I used to copy songs during my imprisonment. »
[...]
« and I begin dreaming once again. »
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Poet of Destiny (Poeta del destino)

Author:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
Place & date:
« This song is a tribute to Miguel Enríquez, Secretary General of the Movement of the Revolutionary Left (MIR), who was gunned down by a commando of the dictatorship’s secret police on 5 October 1974. My own five-year militancy in that organisation resulted in my enormous respect for this individual. »
[...]
« rebel against your hasty silence, »
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Futuristic Anthem (Himno futurista)

Author:
unknown
Testimony by:
Patricio Polanco
Place & date:
« In 1973 and 1974, Pisagua was characterised by the harsh and cruel treatment of political prisoners. Singing was mandatory for prisoners, who were guarded by Army platoons, and it was also a means to avoid beatings and collective mistreatment. »
[...]
« the crooked ones will be perfect again »
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Partisan Anthem (Himno guerrillero)

Author:
Unknown. Russian melody. During the Russian Revolution, several lyrics with different ideological content circulated. This version is based on "Makhnovtchina", attributed to Nestor Makhno, Ukrainian anarchist revolutionary.
Testimony by:
Julio Laks Feller
Place & date:
« In late September 1974, the Soviet partisan’s song was intoned softly but with an awe-inspiring force in the José Domingo Cañas torture centre. Our comrade and beloved friend Sergio Pérez Molina, leader of the MIR who had fallen into the hands of the DINA a few days earlier, was being tortured again. We had already seen him disfigured by the blows; they had even applied electricity to a bullet wound when they shot him at the time of his arrest. Moren Brito boasted that he had run a pick-up truck over Sergio’s body. »
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Melody by Jorge Peña Hen

Author:
Jorge Peña Hen
Testimony by:
María Fedora Peña
Place & date:
Cárcel de la Serena, October 1973
« “Look here, Maria Fedora. I’ve brought you a treasure...” - it was the voice of my brother Juan Cristián as he crossed the doorway of our mother’s house one morning in January 1983. Peering over the staircase banister, I saw him raise his right hand with something clenched inside. He was just back from a quick trip to La Serena, and I was spending my holidays in Chile. I had travelled home to show the family my beautiful baby girl, María Paz, my first child born in Caracas. »
[...]
« Juan Cristián took the scrap of paper, unfolding it with his skill as graphic designer; not just anyone would have been able to unwrap that perfect wrapping. Only someone with his professional knowledge could open it, one fold at a time. He brought it near his nose again, and then handed it to me. Before my eyes were three minuscule staves, poised, serene, rock-solid; the treble clef perfectly rounded, and my father’s unmistakable musical calligraphy. Refined, neat. »
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Candombe for José (Candombe para José)

Author:
Roberto Ternán
Testimony by:
Sara De Witt
Place & date:
« 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. »
[...]
« Most of the women were leaving, producing a great commotion as they gathered their belongings and prepared to enter a new stage in their lives. Those of us who were to stay behind tried to help, which in my particular case was not very productive. We had mixed feelings: disbelief, sadness, and also joy for the friends who were leaving. But I also felt disappointed and frustrated, since I and twelve other women were staying behind in prison. I thought of my mother’s pain when she would ask me once again: “What is it that you did, Sarita?" She never understood nor could she accept that in Chile people were being arrested, tortured and murdered for thinking differently. »
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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. »
[...]
« “Bravo!”, croaked a man’s voice. “Very beautiful. I am a priest (Belgian? Dutch? I don't remember). “Do you think they will kill me?” the foreign-sounding voice asked me. “No…”. I never saw or heard anything about the Argentine woman or the European priest again. But I did learn that she survived. I still feel satisfaction at having embraced them with my song and my voice. »
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