Hola amigo, I suppose much time has passed since I last wrote you. Well I have managed so far to escape capture, but not without sacrifice. I’ve quit my job at the university after 15 years. I feel awful leaving my students at such an important and vulnerable time but I kept spotting suspicious vehicles near my work and El jefe, Prof. Leonardo, said that if I didn’t quit for my own safety he would fire me. Pobre Leo now has been detained himself. I continue to live alone in an apartment sin mi familia to ensure their safety, desde un mes ahora, I have lived without them. Extraño the voice of my little girl, the boys sneaking out of la casa to escape to the Tango Clubs, y mi Guapa Rosa making magic en la cocina…me muero thinking of her cooking. But, as much as she begs, I cannot let her and the kids come home, it is still too unsafe.
Obviously, I am lucky to be alive, lucky to be still living in the city, but I can’t help but feel the worst pressing guilt. My colleagues, friends, are God knows where, fighting for their lives and their values. And here I stay cowering en la casa, relinquishing my political affiliations and for what? For me, it is almost better to be tortured than imagine the torture of your comrades, and live your life fearful, these times transform me into a coward. Of course I can’t speak of this with anyone, not even my once most radical former students, everyone is afraid and these conversations are socially forbidden. Ese mundo de shit. I long to lose myself in conversation with Raul between the stacks of his molding Marxist books over un cafe con leche. What could those bastards want with a feeble old man?
To make maters worse, Mama has been sick for some time so I have had to spend a lot of time with her. I am convinced half of her sickness comes from worrying about me and the other half from trying to please the hijo de puta. Por dios… she is so disillusioned about the happenings of our country, her head filled with all of father’s politics about the good of El Proceso. I try very hard not to lose my patience with her, she is solamente una viejita, so I do my best not to upset her and focus on the photo albums and her grandchildren during my visits. My father on the other hand, has been gone frequently lately, mentally and physically. When he is home he stares into space and wont address neither me nor mama. The other day, he spilled his sopa con papas all over his lap, it seems mighty man is beginning to crack, thank God at least that shows evidence of some humanity behind his stoic exterior. But if father is suffering I can only imagine the horrors and sufrimiento of those dissappeared.
I must go now, I wait anxiously and hopefully for the release of my friends and an end to this perpetual fear that has taken over my life, hasta luego.