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.
Author: admin (Page 13 of 19)
KORHOGO, 30 March 2009 (IRIN) – Women in villages around Korhogo, northern Côte d’Ivoire, dare not walk to their fields alone for fear of rape.
“Women are attacked even with their babies on their backs,” said Fatoumata (real names not used). “The attacker just goes for what he is after and that is that. The baby could even die.”
Women gathered at a health centre in Korhogo, 630km north of the commercial capital Abidjan, told IRIN women are frequently raped as they walk to and from their fields.
Last night I dreamed about Zuni. It was strange, I don’t remember dreaming about her in years, decades even. I don’t even remember how she looked in my dream, what color was her hair – black when I was little, white by the time I was a teenager. And then, today, as I walked and tried to remember my dream, I realize that I cannot remember Zuni’s tone of voice. I can’t hear her saying anything in my mind. The last time I saw her was when Kathy was born, she came to America to stay with us for a while, I was 15. It saddens me a lot. If I heard her speak now, would I recognize her voice? I don’t remember Tito’s, but I was 6 or 7 when he died. I think I remember Granny’s voice, at least sort of. I may have mentioned this, but the only accent I can make is that of Granny speaking Spanish. It’s my one vocal talent 🙂
I don’t remember much of my dream last night. Anything, really, just that Zuni was there.
I remember Zuni, in general, as an “alma de Dios”, a soul of God, the nicest, most given person that you can imagine. She was profoundly religious, went to 7PM mass at the neighborhood church every day. She had me baptized at that church when I was a baby, and against my father’s wishes, fearing, I imagine, an eternity in limbo if something happened to me (now, of course, limbo has been abolished).
I was looking for an easy recipe for a face scrub, and came across this one by googling. As you can see it’s terribly simple, and while I can’t really say it worked well (I honestly don’t know how to judge it), it did taste very yummy 🙂 Who’d have known that olive oil, sugar and lemon juice would taste so well together? 🙂
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