The other day I found myself at the neighborhood Disco, an Argentine supermarket chain, trying to find soap that I could use to mop my wood floor. Unfortunately, I was having no luck and wanted to ask for help. However, even though I speak Spanish, I sometimes am a little embarrassed to ask for help in Spanish. Don't ask me why after speaking Spanish now for so many years. So I began to scan the nearby aisles to see who looked friendly when I spotted an octogenarian couple. Bingo...you can always count on a nice elderly couple to want to help the somewhat lost foreign girl. After nearly an hour and half, I finally left the story with two amazing friends, Elsa & Norberto, but without any wood floor soap.
Here's what happened....
I went up to the couple and asked for help. The gentleman immediately began looking at every container of floor soap, checking the labels, and comparing. Meanwhile Elsa and I became deep in conversation about her life in Buenos Aires and the tragic loss of her first husband and three sons in a car accident many years back. She must have seen a look of sorrow and helplessness because she immediately grabbed my face and said, "Honey...don't take this as a sad story. It's not. It's life and you're young only once. Enjoy your youth. I love youth. It is inspires me." This woman was such a beautiful person. I knew that I wanted to stay in touch with her. At this point, her husband had returned with someone from the store who confirmed that they did not carry any soap that could be used on wood floors.
As we continued to talk, Norberto began to get concerned over how late it was getting. He warned me that I should be very careful when entering my apartment building, always have my keys in hand, and make a check around because "they" may be waiting for me in a car nearby to kidnap me. Elsa immediately scolded him saying, "Norberto...this doesn't happen anymore. That was then...it doesn't happen anymore." Norberto was referring to what happend often to students and other people suspected of "subversion" during the Videla dictorship, which is now referred as the "Dirty War". Norberto didn't seemed too convinced, however.
Because I had enjoyed their company so much, I asked if I could visit them sometime. Norberto happily shared their phone number with me along with his last name. Now here's the ironic part of the story...when I asked Elsa for her last name, she refused saying she doesn't give out her last name because "they" may track her through it. This time Norberto scolded her saying, "This doesn't happen now. That was then." This time it was she who was referring to the dictatorship. The military often would abduct people by obtaining their names and addresses from address books of others already imprisoned.
Here's what happened....
I went up to the couple and asked for help. The gentleman immediately began looking at every container of floor soap, checking the labels, and comparing. Meanwhile Elsa and I became deep in conversation about her life in Buenos Aires and the tragic loss of her first husband and three sons in a car accident many years back. She must have seen a look of sorrow and helplessness because she immediately grabbed my face and said, "Honey...don't take this as a sad story. It's not. It's life and you're young only once. Enjoy your youth. I love youth. It is inspires me." This woman was such a beautiful person. I knew that I wanted to stay in touch with her. At this point, her husband had returned with someone from the store who confirmed that they did not carry any soap that could be used on wood floors.
As we continued to talk, Norberto began to get concerned over how late it was getting. He warned me that I should be very careful when entering my apartment building, always have my keys in hand, and make a check around because "they" may be waiting for me in a car nearby to kidnap me. Elsa immediately scolded him saying, "Norberto...this doesn't happen anymore. That was then...it doesn't happen anymore." Norberto was referring to what happend often to students and other people suspected of "subversion" during the Videla dictorship, which is now referred as the "Dirty War". Norberto didn't seemed too convinced, however.
Because I had enjoyed their company so much, I asked if I could visit them sometime. Norberto happily shared their phone number with me along with his last name. Now here's the ironic part of the story...when I asked Elsa for her last name, she refused saying she doesn't give out her last name because "they" may track her through it. This time Norberto scolded her saying, "This doesn't happen now. That was then." This time it was she who was referring to the dictatorship. The military often would abduct people by obtaining their names and addresses from address books of others already imprisoned.
Just like this message written on a side street wall in Buenos Aires says...the Blood of the 70s Runs Through Our Veins....this is certainly true for Elsa & Norberto and for many, many others in Argentina today.
