[Photo of from the Plaza de Mayo where the Madres de la plaza de mayo march to this day. The Mothers wore, and continue to wear, these white scarves on their heads and they have become emblematic of their work]
A lot of people like to tease me about my love of Bono and U2 and rationally, I get the teasing to an extent: the man is sometimes a bit much, full of contradictions, occassionally overly simplistic in his assessment of problems plauging our world, or what have you. Bono may have his limitations, but he is full of passion for a world that is more just, and he (not always perfectly) works to use his celeberity to draw attention to injustices, to learn more about them and to share what he has learned. He´s not afraid to poke fun at himself either which I always appreciate. In any case, this love of Bono and U2 was fostered in me at a young age by my father blaring (and I do mean BLARING) albums like the Joshua Tree or Rattle & Hum in our minivan. Some of U2´s music served to help feed my own curiosity about, and to refine, my undertanding social justice related issues.
The song "The Mothers of the Disappeared" on the Joshua Tree album stands as a clear example of the dialogical process I had growing up with U2. When the album was released in 1987 I was 6 years old (I hope that at least made some of you feel old as I know it will make some of our readers feel like *I* am old...) When my dad would play this album a song on B side (we´re talking casette tapes here people) "Mothers of the Disappeared" always stuck out to me as it was much more stripped down compared to most of the songs on the album. I also recall that the opening lyrics also confused me:
Midnight, our sons and daughters
Were cut down and taken from us.
Hear their heartbeat
We hear their heartbeat.
"What did this mean? What was this song talking about?" I am sure I asked my parents. They explained to me in terms I *mostly* understood at the time about the "dirty war" that had taken place recently in Argentina. They continued that during this time of state terror that a group of women had come together with a simple request: to know where their daughters, sons, and grandchildren were, if they were okay, if they could be returned to their families. These brave mothers, I was told, due to this somewhat straight forward request were met with a lot hardships, ones which I could not fully comprehend at the time; nor can I today.
In 1977, 14 Mothers came together to begin marching at the Plaza de Mayo in front of the Presidential palace, peacefully demanding to know where their children were. And, so las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo began. They marched every day carrying signs of their missing sons and daughters, silently showing yes, they were people, they had not simply "disappeared." Since the end of the military junta in Argentina, the military has admitted that over 9,000 of those kidnapped were unaccounted for, though the Mothers put this figure at closer to 30,000. Over the years, particuarly proceeding the end of the military junta, the Mothers carried out work in the spirit of their missing children, by doing such things as creating an independent university or establishing bookstores, to continue to push for some of the ideas their own children had upheld and had as a consequence lost their lives. As social movements tend to do over time, the Mothers also ended up splitting into two major groups: the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo Association and the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo front line (for an starter on that see here).
In any case, this early sensitization to the struggles of the Mothers and the state terror that had occurred in Argentina made a huge impression on me that has lasted with me to this day. As such, when I realized that the Mothers, who still march today, and who do so on Thursdays from 3:30 until 4 I asked Gabby to meet right at the Plaza de Mayo as my plane wasn´t even landing until 1:30 on our only Thursday in Buenos Aires. Thankfully I made it to the Plaza de Mayo for 3pm. I had a chance to go to the Mother of the Plaza de Mayo Association´s tent they had on the site and to buy a few souvenirs from the Mothers themselves. I tried in my non-existent Spanish to convey my appreciation of their efforts and their gentle smiles and holding of my hands seemed to indicate that they understood the sentiment I was trying to express.
Shortly thereafter the few mothers, and other family members present, there from Mother of the Plaza de Mayo Association began to march around the plaza de mayo. After they had made one round around what I believe is called the May Pyramid, les Madres de plaza de mayo linea fundaora began to march around the same monument coming from the other direction. Knowing only a little about the splintering of the two groups and the current politics there I was not sure how this was all going to "go down." The two groups approached each other slowly and somberely and then just as they met face to face they broke into smiles and knowing glances, hugs were exchanged and then the two groups merged to continue on.
I was grateful to have seen this and grateful to my good friend and travel companion, Gabby, who knowing how important it was for me to see this, but not sure yet if I had made it was taking mad photos and videos just in case. In any case, this trajectory from hearing a song when I was six in a chryslter minivan to 24 years later seeing some of these same women who inspired U2, in turn inspiring and informing me is the reason Bono will always hold a special place in my heart.
Here is a video of the Mothers of the Disappeared being performed in Santiago Chile during U2´s late 1990s PopMart tour with some of the Mothers themselves joining U2 on stage.
[Gabs´photo of the Mothers at the Plaza de Mayo on the day of our arrival]
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