Its was a long weekend here in Argentina, because its Día de la Memoria por la Verdad y la Justicia (Day of Remembrance for Truth and Justice) in honour of the many thousands of people who disappeared during military rule in the 70’s and 80’s. Ceri quipped that it’s odd that they chose the day the military came to power, not the day it ended.
On our walking tour on Sunday/domingo, we saw a stage set up in Plaza de Mayo for the event. So we decided to go back on Monday/lunes and join in.
As we got close, we could hear the crowds long before we emerged from the Catedral subte station. Drumming and whistles reverberated through the tunnels as we approached. It sounded like a massive street party.
I’m still not really sure what was going on. Various groups were marching towards the stage in Plaza de Mayo, each with their own drummers and each carried banners and wore T-shirts emblazoned with slogans that I didn’t understand. Some carried images of politicians; Eva & Juan Peron, and Nestor & Christina Kirchner most often, but also Che Guevara and, to my amazement, Hugo Chavez. There seemed to be a lot of “remembrance” going on, but not all of it for the disappeared.
There were people everywhere, and it was hard to know who was part of the march and who was just watching. At one point, as we tried to make our way through the crowd someone behind us started pushing their way forward, and we found ourselves in a tightly packed group.
Around this time, we decided we’d head back to the subte, but it was too late. My pockets had been emptied of cash: pesos in the left and US$ in the right all gone. Fortunately, we had taken advice not to carry much cash with us, and it was clearly a perfect situation for pick-pockets. No-one was hurt. Camera and credit card are resting and doing well. I just feel stupid. I think of the pushing against me as my Buenos Aires massage (or B.A.M)
Go to the next post: We didn’t hear a thing.