My mom, a few years later with her school friends.
Based on a true story (in the story of my mother, Alejandra)
Thanks
I thank Sofía Foncillas, Silvana Opazo and Alfonso Lobos for participating visually in the book. To Danae Caro for lending me the scanner; to Bárbara Corro, Catalina Durán and Francisca Torres for helping me present the project.
I want to thank the publisher that accompanied me, Priscilla Jorge, Brainsporning United, Canapé – who was always by my side while I worked – and Josefina De Ferrari for her unconditional support. And of course to my mother, Alejandra Soto, who without her insistence I would probably still have the model of this book in some forgotten drawer.
Today has been a strange day.
Like every morning, my dad drove me to the high school, which is on Compañía street.
There were very few people downtown, but these days everyone is unemployed, so it did not surprise us.
Tuesday September 11, 1973.
When we made a turn in Teatinos street, I thought that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go there. The feeling in my stomach began to bother me; I no longer felt safe. We suddenly went silent. I don’t know how to explain it, maybe it was the environment.
We walked to Augustinians St. with Teatinos St.; We saw that the streets were closed and the few people who passed by seemed agitated and nervous. They were walking in a single line along the inner edge of the sidewalk, sticking close to the buildings, as if they were scared. We also did, we walked slowly and with our backs glued to the building’s walls.
Everything looked normal, but as we got closer to the La Moneda, the sky was getting full of gray clouds.
We met my dad who was in the same Bulnes pedestrian street, in his office. When he saw me, he hugged me very tight and gave me a kiss on the cheek like he had never done before. It made me want to cry. He told me that he had called the school and they had told him that I was not on the list of students that day.“You scared me a lot” he told me as he led us to the car. Even though we had to duck down because there was still gunfire, I felt much calmer when we got out of there:
I was finally with my dad and we were going home.
Although I didn’t ask anything, my dad explained to me what a coup d’état was. He told me with a very serious face and a hoarse voice, but at the same time soft.
The same voice he puts on when he teaches me important things.
He also explained to me that the military – as he calls them – had taken power, and that now they were going to control the media and that they were going to arrest and kill those who think differently.
