304 results where found for «I’m Not from Here - To my Comrade, my Love»


Let’s Break the Morning (Rompamos la mañana)

Music piece by:
René “Popeye” Cárdenas Eugenin
Testimony by:
María Soledad Ruiz Ovando
Experience in:
« Music was very important for us (my mother Sylvia, my sister Alejandra and myself) while my dad, Daniel Ruiz Oyarzo, 'el Negro Ruiz', was imprisoned during the dictatorship, when Alejandra was seven and I was four. »
[...]
« My dad told us that as they could not sing songs like the ones we sang in the car, a comrade had created 'Rompamos la mañana' (Let’s Break the Morning) and that they would sing it as they went out to do various jobs in the forest. I remember that I imagined them singing with a tree trunk on their shoulders. »
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You Will Pay (The Cigarette Smoke) (Pagarás [El humo del cigarrillo])

Music piece by:
Manuel Mantilla
Testimony by:
Fernando Aravena
Experience in:
« The political prisoners were isolated but when they made us go down to the courtyard, we were with the common prisoners. »
[...]
« Singing was important when we were in the dungeons. I sang with a comrade who was some four cells away. I do not remember what we sang because we had just been arrested. »
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Beloved Friend (Amado amigo)

Music piece by:
Sergio Vesely
Testimony by:
Sergio Vesely
« This song, written in my cell at the Puchuncaví Prison Camp, speaks to a friend and fellow prisoner; it could be any one of the thousands behind bars. »
[...]
« Paper boat (barco de papel): We had a habit of wishing farewell to our comrades who were released or about to be transferred to other prisons. People who were not fortunate enough to be included in the group would gather around those who were about to leave, a ritual that sometimes included singing Julio Numhausser’s beautiful song 'El barco de papel'. The first verse goes like this: 'Se va el barco de papel por el mar de la esperanza, llevando un montón de sueños y los niños no lo alcanzan. Se va, se va y no volverá. Se va, se va a la libertad.' (The paper boat sails to a sea of hope, carrying dreams and children can’t reach it. There it goes, there it goes, and it will never return. There it goes, there it goes to freedom.). »
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Zamba of my Hope (Zamba de mi esperanza)

Music piece by:
Luis H. Profili
Testimony by:
Edgardo Carabantes Olivares
« Horacio Carabantes Olivares, my brother, was locked up in January 1975 at the Maipo regiment of Valparaíso, with a large group of male and female prisoners, all arrested by the DINA. »
[...]
« Some of the survivors have told this story, stressing the significance of that action by Horacio, who in the midst of interrogation and torture did not lose his nerve but took the opportunity to give his comrades a sign of hope. »
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I’m Not from Here - To my Comrade, my Love (No soy de aquí - A mi compañera)

Music piece by:
Facundo Cabral, with lyrics modified by a political prisoner
Testimony by:
Alfonso Padilla Silva
Experience in:
« 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. »
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Tacit Song (Canción tácita)

Music piece by:
All the women present at that moment in Chacabuco
Testimony by:
Mónica García Cuadra
Experience in:
« I am the daughter of a former political prisoner who spent a long time imprisoned at Chacabuco, among other places. I am Monica, a little 9-year-old girl who travelled with a heavy heart full of sadness to visit her father, Gerardo García Salas, held at the Chacabuco concentration camp. I am an only child and in my young life, he is my sole reference point and, in essence, my image of masculinity. »
[...]
« From the guard tower, the order was given for the comrades to come, and they appeared behind the bars that separated our lives, but never our purpose and meaning in life. With heartache and streaming tears, several prisoners began to appear, as well as the love and silent solidarity that vibrated and pulsated through those moments waiting for, anticipating the embrace, the looking directly into his eyes, making contact with the loved one’s heart, the touch of skin against skin among equals. »
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Under my Skin (A flor de piel)

Music piece by:
Julio Iglesias
Testimony by:
Carmen Espinoza Alegría
Experience in:
Colonia Dignidad, April 1975
« I’m from Talca. I met César, my comrade, my love, in 1971 or 1972, approximately. We were young idealists, we were members of Juventudes Comunistas, and were student leaders in our secondary schools. »
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Under my Skin (A flor de piel)

Music piece by:
Julio Iglesias
Testimony by:
César Montiel
Experience in:
Colonia Dignidad, April 1975
« At the beginning of the 1970s, I met Carmen, my comrade, my love, at the Juventudes Comunistas of Talca. We had the life of young idealists, sharing our everyday, living this revolutionary process so beautifully. »
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Candombe for José (Candombe para José)

Music piece 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. »
[...]
« Some of us got up on the tables, looking up at the sky – bound by the rectangular shape of the barracks’ roof – as if to reach with our voices the stars, our loved ones, the men held at Tres Álamos, and our comrades, such as Gladys, who were isolated in what was known as the White House. »
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Prayer So You Don't Forget Me (Oración para que no me olvides)

Music piece 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. »
[...]
« Even though, here, contrary to the camps run by the DINA, we were fed and in general we were not interrogated, the toughest aspect of this place was the fact that we had come from torture centres, and most of us were in a very poor physical condition, and we were held here for long periods, sometimes months, at the disposal of the DINA who might again drag us out for interrogation for hours, days or weeks at a time. »
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