15 June 1982.
What a defeat! I can’t say I’m surprised. The audacity of the dictatorship is truly remarkable. To think they could defeat the Brtisish? In all their military capacity and glory? Why the British would make such a fuss over the two rocks in the first place… All over 2,000 people and some sheep?
Despite the paltry outcome, I think this will mark a tidal shift in our country. While the reclaiming the land would have been a nice token of national, I can’t help but take immense pleasure in watching the junta disentegate before our eyes. The departure of Videla and Massera was a veritable nail in the coffin.
There have been several protests over the past couple of stays that are slowly gaining traction. We’ve found our voices again. Last night I fell asleep to the cacophony of voices singing protest songs in the public square. I haven’t slept to soundly in years.
The Madres de la Plaza de Mayo have publicly demande that the government acknowledged the disappeared. It’s all unraveling before our eyes. Is this how history always takes its course?
Yesterday the energy in the newspaper office escalated to the point of pure creative hysteria. I think we’ve all been anticipating some sort of relief, a catharsis, a channel for our collective thoughts and feelings.
I’ve been assigned to cover the protests. I can hardly contain my excitement. I wrote my first “dispatch” post and the words flowed like honey.
I hope our loss in the war Malvinas loss will signal the end of the junta’s tyranny, and provide some comfort to those who have lived the past 6 years in a state of unrelenting fear and confusion.
Here is a picture from the protest! I’ll try to redact a copy of my editorial when it comes to print tomorrow.
Until next time,