THE STORM - Summer 1977
"Fragments" oil on canvas by Raquel Partnoy
1
It happened in broad daylight
– on January twelve, 1977,
exactly one year ego.
My husband and I were taking a nap
when we heard the doorbell ring several times.
The frightening news arrived.
Someone came to tell us that
– at noon,
my daughter and her husband
were kidnapped by the military forces.
Where were they taken ? Where . . .
2
what a deep rare impulse made me
that hot summer afternoon drive
for hours my Citroen through empty streets
with a cracked heart like a zombie ?
what I was expecting to see to find
looking to the right to the left
holding the steering wheel tight
blind to what was happening around ?
could my irrational mind for a second understand
the clean, perfect, rational military’s mind ?
would they leave my daughter safe on the streets
take pity on her mother pity on something ?
how could I have mixed feelings anger fear
despair and still have hope to find her alive ?
3
Soon after our daughter was kidnaped, my husband went
to the army barracks searching for information.
He came back heartbroken. At first,
he wouldn’t tell me anything. He didn’t want me to be worried.
They had denied our daughter was there and showed him
a paper allegedly signed by her stating she was released.
Where was she ? How could she disappear ?
Entire families are disappearing.
Could all our family disappear too?
4
Fear became our best friend
He came dressed up as if he were coming to a party
a long heavy silk tunic covered his body
he wore the most expensive death smell perfume
brought a huge baggage of books by his big brother Terror
and installed himself in our house to help
A model of friendship
our real friends were friends of his
our supposed friends also befriended him
he wouldn’t let them come to our house
A paragon of virtues
wherever we went he seized our arms and scolded us
he wouldn’t let us open our mouths
when we searched for our daughter
When we went to talk to military chaplains he spoke for us
when we went to police stations he spoke for us
when we went to the army headquarters he spoke for us
An example of solidarity
if we were awake he would be awake to keep us company
if we were asleep he would inhabit our dreams
He managed to take my brushes and work with me
didn’t let my son study alone for a single minute
accompanied my husband to his classes at the university
He stayed at home for five long months
till my daughter and husband “appeared” and were sent to jail
since then he never has forgotten to visit us
5
The agony of uncertainty is worse
than the agony of death.
It’s the brain’s annihilation.
In a dream I had a vision.
I was dancing with my daughter
and saw her dying in my arms,
her body with no weight,
my soul falling apart.
I woke up in despair,
feeling the uncertainty of not knowing
if my dream was real,
if my reality was a dream,
if she was dead or still alive.
6`
Summer is not supposed to bring affliction. \
It was a contradiction.
Summer is the revival of my garden,
is the plum tree offering its fruits
the plants’ greenness.
It is not the mourning of the roses,
is their splendor’s celebration embellishing the garden.
Summer is feeling safe
under the sky constellation
lightening my backyard, with uncountable stars.
A season to enjoy with no restraint,
with no deceit, with no betrayal.
But Summer of seventy seven brought the storm,
brought distress to my home.
It was the evil’s resolution
to destroy my garden, to darken the shades,
to wrap plants life with dust.
they expected light and got darkness,
vanished trees, vanished plants, a dead garden.
The plum tree’s frustration,
branches broken by the storm.
