J-Term Practica, 2016
Personal Memories in a National History
March 6, 2016
I was ecstatic to return to Chile for J-term this January. It had been over three years since my last stay in the country, when I lived in Viña del Mar and studied in its sister city, Valparaíso. I was fortunate to have my own memories of hillside cities, stunning and diverse landscapes, and an ear for chilenismos, little bits of slang used only in Chile. Before meeting up with the rest of my practicum group, I thought my own history with the country would put me ahead of my peers who had not had the privilege of experiencing Chile yet. Upon meeting my 22 colleagues, I quickly learned that my assumptions were extremely off.
Between lectures by Judge Juan Guzmán and games of palín with the native Mapuche communities, it became clear that I did not know as much about Chile as I had originally thought. While my experience in 2012 lightly touched on the military dictatorship, the theme was presented as something important but forgotten. This time around, however, the dictatorship (aside from being a major focus of the practicum) was present everywhere we went. Although Pinochet’s dictatorship officially ended in 1990, signs of the crimes committed under his government are prevalent throughout the country. It is a part of the nation’s history that characterizes its memory, therefore its identity.
These two buzzwords, history and memory, were woven into almost every discussion during our time in Chile. Sometimes it was prompted, such as the time where Gabriela Zúñiga shared her memories of the way the Chilean government not only treated but continues to treat her after her husband disappeared during the dictatorship. During this harrowing meeting, Gabriela informed us that by neglecting to aid the wives of los desparecidos, the Chilean government was altering their memories. A standout example of this occurred frequently in the late 70’s and early 80’s when government officials told the wives that their husbands had left them for other women. While the majority of the women knew that this was not the case, the fact that the government was inadvertently making them question their own memories and experiences with their husbands was a form of torture in itself.
While Gabriela’s story was a scheduled part of our program, the contribution from a passerby at the cementario general was not. During a talk about the memorial for los desaparecidos, an older Chilean gentleman headed off to another gravesite began to participate in the conversation. His passion for the subject of the dictatorship and los desaparecidos, confidence in addressing a crowd of strangers, and unwavering opinion that Chile had still yet to recover from the dictatorship, all demonstrated that Pinochet’s regime is still at the forefront of the Chilean mind. The gentleman went on to explain that he lived through the dictatorship and that even though the reign is over, the memory lives on.
What I find most interesting about post-dictatorship history and memory is that everyone addresses it. Aside from Gabriela and the man in the cemetery, these words were woven into Juan Guzmán’s lectures, Juana Calfunao’s drawings from prison, and the teaching of Mapudungun at the school in Nueva Imperial. Although all of these parties come from different regions and have different priorities, the one thing they share is a belief in the power of the memories that come from history. It goes without saying that their words have made an impact on my memory of the Chile.
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