Raúl Alfonsín died a few hours ago. The day when he became President of Argentina, December 10th, 1983, was also the day in which, very much coincidently, I left Argentina for good. I was fourteen.
My memories of Alfonsín are inexact, colored by memory, distance and age. I remember his hand gesture, present in all his posters, his happy face. My family backed De la Rúa in the primaries, my opinion was of course, colored by that. I’m glad, however, that Alfonsin won.
I think he was a good man. I think he did mean to bring truth and justice to Argentina. Perhaps he wasn’t as strong a President or a man as was needed for that. Or perhaps he was too ambitious. But in all, I think he did the right thing. I mourn his death.