During the big football games I’m accustom to hearing cheers from the streets whenever there is a goal. But when Argentina scored its first goal this morning against Serbia-Montenegro I didn’t expect to hear the church bells ringing from Santa Catalina outside the street from my apartment. Considering that Argentina scored 5 more goals, it amounted to a lot of ringing. I’m not complaining. It’s just another part of the World Cup experience in Buenos Aires.

Added: The Guardian has a humorous minute-by-minute account of the game complete with fans email comments. (Mostly by fans of England; Argentine football fans will enjoy the article):

29 mins – Argentina 2 – 0 Serbia and Montenegro: How the f**k am I supposed to describe that? The goal of the tournament so far and quite possibly the greatest goal I’ve ever seen.

31 mins: Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Back-heel from Crespo. Cambiasso … goal!

With 24 short, high speed passes, the blurry shapes that are assorted Argentina players carve open Serbia and Montengro, before Cambiasso pulls the trigger from the edge of the penalty area. The Serbia and Montenegro players were left standing like statues they were so mesmerised. Make it your business to see that goal – it was unbelievably good.

Here I was sitting at the computer in my San Telmo apartment when I hear a helicopter flying around outside. That’s rather unusual for this area so I stepped onto the patio to see the helicopter hovering low over the apartment. Wondering what’s up, I slipped on my shoes and jacket to wander outside.

Didn’t see anything unusual at first, then I made my way down towards Constitución station. A few police on motorcycles were at the intersections on Av Montes de Oca. Curious, I headed down in that direction. Still nothing much happening.

Then I saw some banners of the MTD Aníbal Verón. There were about a couple hundred people camped out in front of the Hospital de Niños but it didn’t look like they’re demonstrating about anything. I kept walking down Montes de Oca to see if there was anything more interesting happening.

In my haste to leave the apartment I forgot that I was wearing my Tennessee Titans sweatshirt. Fortunately, I had put on a jacket also and thought it was wise to button my jacket, thereby hiding the starry red, white, and blue emblem that is the Titans logo. I figured that it was best not to walk through a pack of piqueteros wearing anything that even vaguely resembled a USA flag.

Most of the piqueteros were just hanging out, sitting around, having lunch. A couple of women were knitting. Actually, most of them were women of all ages and young children. None of them seemed quite to know why they were there. I felt like I had stumbled into some bizarre piquetero day camp. As I got close to the end of the group, a few of the guys starting telling others, “Arriba, arriba.” Evidently, lunch was over and it was time to get marching again.

Just downhill from the piqueteros (and yes this is one of the few areas in Buenos Aires that actually has a hill) were about fifty policemen gathered on the corner. In another block were the police riot squad and a water cannon truck, just in case things got out of hand. But they were staying far enough back and out of sight not to agitate anyone.

As I made my way back up the hill towards home, the piqueteros had moved off to wherever they were going. I went back home and checked Clarín to see if it had anything about it.

Joking aside: the group was on their way to Plaza de Mayo from estación Avellaneda, where they were protesting the 2002 murder of Maximiliano Kosteki y Darío Santillán at the hands of the police. The June 26 anniversary of that event is approaching, so there is likely to be more about Maxi and Darío soon. In my neighborhood, just about every other block has some type of stencil commemorating the two. For non-local readers not familiar with that disturbing event there is a well-written summary of the killings in English. The now famous photographs by a Clarín photographer capture the brutal actions of the police.

I just returned from my neighborhood Coto, the largest grocery store chain here in Argentina. The San Telmo store on Av Brasil has two TVs showing the Mundial, one back in the produce section and another in front of the cashiers .

As I was standing in line, all the other men in line suddenly turned their heads towards the TV. They were listening to play-by-play and turned just in time to see Togo scored a goal against South Korea. Smiles all around. Even the cashiers, who are mostly young women, seem to be enjoying it. I guess it makes ringing up groceries all day much more interesting. The whole thing was a rather funny sight, particularly since the game was South Korea v Togo.

I do have to admit that watching the Mundial is quite addictive. I’ll be a soccer fan before this is all over. Now I need to go finish watching Togo.

Just past noon on Tuesday I wandered up to the center of the city to see what was happening around the city legislature building as the political trial of Buenos Aires mayor Anibal Ibarra over the Cromagnon tragedy reached its conclusion.

The crowd turnout was rather small, particularly considering the massive size of many demonstrations in Buenos Aires. There were two clear fractions to yesterday’s gathering and the police did a good job of making sure that the two opposition groups were separated.

The pro-Ibarra forces were in front of the Cabildo where Diagonal Sur enters Plaza de Mayo, just in front of the legislature building. The families of victims from Cromagnon were on Av de Mayo at the pedestrian intersection of calle Peru, which also leads to to legislature building. The arrangement ensured that neither group was visible to the other. Two rows of several dozen policemen blocked off Av de Mayo in front of the plaza just in case the groups decided to approach each other. However, individual pedestrians could easily pass through the police line between the two areas.

While I stayed mostly on the shadier Av de Mayo, I found myself going back-and-forth quite a bit between the two groups. About eight minutes before one p.m., when the proceedings were to start, Ibarra arrived in a small motorcade to the cheers of his supporters.

Ibarra’s supporters waved a number of signs stating that this vote was a golpe, a coup, of the government. Pictures of Mauricio Macri, Ibarra’s political opponent whom many believe is orchestrating events, were on some of the signs.

On the Cromagnon side, most of the people gathered were family and friends of the victims. Most of the parents had gathered in the cafes along Av de Mayo to watch the proceedings on TV. Others crowded around the windows along the street to watch the TV coverage. Occasional passers-by would stop and ask about the vote.

Early in the afternoon a group of young people, mostly university students, came marching down – of all places – calle Florida to join the Cromagnon crowd. They were carrying banners of the Workers Party and the Revolutionary Communist Party, as well as FUBA, the student federation from the University of Buenos Aires.

Amusingly, at the very same time, a group of Asian tourists walking down Av de Mayo came to a complete standstill when they saw the red communist flags complete with hammer and sickle. The Asians looked perplexingly at each other as they absorbed the situation. Eventually, they decided to turn around and head back in the direction from which they came.

I assume that many of the young people were friends of people who died in the Cromagnon fire. Others likely came out of a sense of identity with those who died, most of whom were also young. Others, with their flags of the far-left, likely came out of a sense of youthful idealism.

After four hours of waiting, the tenth and deciding vote against Ibarra was cast. The street erupted in applause. The photo was taken outside of the London City Cafe just moments after the final vote.

Families came out of the cafes with tears in their eyes. A woman dropped to her knees in the middle of Av de Mayo. A gray haired man around fifty walked away from the crowd and covered his face to hide his tears. The vote gave the families a brief, fleeting sense of justice, whatever they may be, but there can never be justice in the case of Cromagnon. While parts of the crowd were exuberant in jubilation, it was obvious that the families were thinking more about their loss loved ones rather than Ibarra.

Now, they wait for the criminal trials of Omar Chaban, the nightclub owner, and Callejeros, the band that was playing in Cromagnon that night.

Late Monday afternoon I walked over to Plaza de Mayo where families of victims from the Cromagnon nightclub fire were starting a vigil. The families had placed posters of the dead around the monument in the center of the plaza. A quarter after six p.m., the families started walking around the Pirámide de Mayo in a manner reminiscent of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo.

Below each poster of the deceased is a small sign. Some say things such as “Dead because of being transported in a bus instead of an ambulance”, “Dead because the ambulances had no oxygen”, “Dead because of the corruption”…. some of the signs are more political with accusations towards specific individuals in the city government. Of course, the center of attention is now Aníbal Ibarra, the suspended mayor of Buenos Aires who is facing impeachment. Tuesday afternoon the city legislature will present their verdict.

I’ve written before on the political fallout of the Cromagnon tragedy. Unfortunately, the battle between opposing political forces in the city, as expressed through these proceedings, has overshadowed the safety issues. The politicizing of the event has become a controversial topic and there will never be any agreement about it in this city. A good post, in Spanish, at Agua Fuertes talks about the contradictory nature of the issue.

I also could have titled this post “Wake-up Drums”. I’ve again been staying up very late writing (not blogging), often till 3 or 4 am, so I sleep late. Today I was awaken by the sounds of drums. It’s not the first time. I crawled out of bed to the window and saw a group of piqueteros with their drums and banners. Interesting sight actually to see below your bedroom window, particularly when you don’t live on a major avenue.

There’s a lot of road construction in this area. They seem to come in by train to the Constitucion station. Normally they would go up Av 9 de Julio or Bernardo de Irigoyen but the construction of new ramps on and off of the autopista is causing major traffic problems. So, I guess our street – calle Brasil – is a good detour.

The photo is of the piqueteros, with their sticks and masked faces, who block the traffic while the marchers go forward. Notice in the photo that they’re not entirely inconsiderate (as often portrayed) as they make way for a woman from the neighborhood who is pushing her handicapped son in a wheelchair.

Actually, that’s another story – being confined to a wheelchair in Buenos Aires must be incredibly difficult with the crumbling sidewalks and the lack of handicapped entrances to most buildings.

In a recent post about the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, I mentioned the Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo who are focused on identifying the children who are born in captivity or kidnapped with their parents during the last military dictatorship in Argentina. Recently, the Grandmothers announced that they had identified another missing child, which now brings the total to 82 children that they have recovered in their 27 years of searching.

An article in Clarín, in Spanish, says that the identified child is now a man of 28 who goes by the name of Sebastián. His parents, Gaspar Casado and Adriana Tasca, disappeared in 1977 and he was born in captivity the following year. His parents are still missing.

After his birth, the boy was given by an Army officer to another family. The family registered the boy as their own with the aid of doctor associated with the Buenos Aires police.

As he grew older the boy had doubts about his identity and last year contacted the Grandmothers association by email. They established his identity and introduced him to his maternal grandmother. He recently received results of DNA analysis that proves the relationship.

As I’ve also mentioned several times on this blog, an excellent book about this subject is Searching for Life: The Grandmothers of the Plaza De Mayo and the Disappeared Children of Argentina

After 25 years and 1,500 Thursdays, the Madres de Plaza de Mayo made a historic last march in Plaza de Mayo. The Pirámide, around which the Madres march every week, was covered with photos of the disappeared.

In the year that is the 30th anniversary of the last military coup in Argentina, the final march by the Madres received surprisingly little news attention. While there were a good number of photographers in attendance, there were not the horde of videographers and photographers that seem to accompany every piquetero demonstration even though an announcement about the march had been on the Madres web site for at least two weeks.

There was an almost circus-like atmosphere to this Thursday’s event that, I thought, detracted from the solemnity of the regular weekly marches. Two stages of live music, food stalls, and a number of piquetero groups staked out spots on the Plaza. Yet, appropriately for this last march, the presence of the piqueteros ensured that this time there were more Argentines than foreign tourists in the Plaza with the Madres.

According to Clarín, however, there will still be Madres marching in the Plaza de Mayo on Thursdays. Foreigners often don’t learn that there are several groups of mothers associated with the Plaza de Mayo and the disappeared. The largest and most well-known is the Asociación Madres de Plaza de Mayo, headed by the outspoken, and sometimes controversial, Hebe de Bonafini. It was this group that ended its weekly marches. A splinter group is the Madres de Plaza de Mayo – Linea Fundadora, which separated from the original group in 1986; this group marches at the same time as the original group but does so separately and under its own banner.

Bonafini gave some odd statements explaining the end of the marches was because they do not have an enemy in the Casa Rosada and that “El presidente es amigo de Madres”. Technically, the Madres have called these marches “la Marcha de la Resistencia” and it is the march of the resistance by the Madres that is ending. Clarín reports that the Linea Fundadora will continue with its “Marcha de la Resistencia” on Thursdays. Also, it seems that the Madres led by Bonafini will continue marching on Thursday about the disappeared.

Then there also are the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, though they don’t march in the Plaza. The grandmothers focus on the children who were born in captivity when their pregnant mothers were kidnapped by the dictatorship as well as children that were kidnapped with their parents. A fascinating book on the work of the grandmothers in investigating the identity of these children who were placed with adopted families, sometimes with military men responsible for the disappearances, is Searching for Life: The Grandmothers of the Plaza De Mayo and the Disappeared Children of Argentina

The book is based on many interviews with the Madres and Abuelas. One account by a woman whose daughter, 8 months pregnant, and son were both disappeared highlights the suffering and courage of the mothers:

At first when my children disappeared I just laid down in bed, looking at the ceiling, blank. That was all I could do. My weight went down to forty kilos….I met a woman who said to me: “Why don’t you come on Thursday to the Plaza de Mayo? Take a little nail, that is how they will recognize you.” So I went, and I sat on a bench and my husband sat a little away from me. I had this little nail in my hand, and I saw that the others also had a little nail, and that is how I knew it was them….In the Plaza we secretly passed notes about where our meetings would be….We were simply housewives. Most of us had never done anything outside the home.

I first saw the Madres in Plaza de Mayo in early March of 2003 on my first visit to Buenos Aires. After they finished their half-hour demonstration in the Plaza, we followed the Madres as they made their way to a statue in front of the Casa Rosada. The Madres walked up onto the base of the statue to give a speech.

Standing near me was an American tourist, in his fifties, surrounded by his two college age children. He motioned to them and said, “You will remember this for the rest of your lives.”

Later I learned that the speech was a regular part of the Madres’ Thursday ritual. Normally, the speech is given by Hebe de Bonafini but she wasn’t there that day. Instead, it was given by one of the other prominent Madres. This was only a couple of weeks before the U.S. invaded Iraq but it was clear that war was coming. The Madres spoke out passionately against war, stressing that it is the mothers and the children who suffer the most during war.

In reading books about the last military government in Argentina, it’s chilling to come across statements in which the government labeled the disappeared as terrorists and justified its oppressive actions as means of combating terrorism. Groups like the Madres are needed to serve as a reminder, not only to Argentina but also to the world, of the atrocities that can be committed by governments in the name of patriotism.

Leaving the Plaza that day in March 2003, walking down Avenida de Mayo, I looked back and took a photograph that always will be my most emblematic memory of Buenos Aires. The Plaza’s centerpiece, the Pirámide de Mayo, is often covered with graffiti and contiually repainted white by the government. On that particular day it was adorned with the simple words, “Gracias Madres”.

Across from a train viaduct in a southern barrio of Buenos Aires is the mural of a street scene with various additions from other artists: visible through the window of a club are couples dancing, a man stands outside the doors looking in on the crowd, from the man’s mouth has been added a word balloon: “Ibarra mata en Cromañon” ”¦ Ibarra kills in Cromañon. In front of the mural stands a lone sign with the word confidencias.

A political storm over the 194 deaths in the fire at the Cromañon club on December 30 has been developing all year. I’ve written before about Cromañon. Yesterday the city legislature voted to begin impeachment proceedings against Anibal Ibarra, the city’s mayor, for negligence.

Suspended as mayor pending the outcome of the impeachment trial, Ibarra vowed not to resign and claimed that his political rivals are using the incident as a way of targeting him. Politics are certainly playing a large role in this crisis. Unfortunately, the machinations that are so evident in Argentine politics threaten to obscure the institutional and societal issues that underlie the tragedy.

Families of the victims are experiencing understandable pain and suffering. The tragic loss of a loved one, particularly a young life, is one of the most unbearable aspects of human existence. The collective anguish expressed by so many families results in the normal reaction to such a loss: that someone is responsible, that someone must pay.

The legislator casting the deciding vote for the impeachment to move forward stated that “Ibarra has political responsibility but is not guilty of what happened”. The tragedy happened under his command and part of leadership is taking responsibility.

While inspections of clubs, restaurants, and other gathering spots were launched in January after the fire, it’s not apparent that the city government has really focused on eliminating the systemic problems within the city’s institutional structure that allowed such flagrant code violations as at Cromañon. But I’m not convinced that Ibarra’s political opponents would be anymore progressive on this front either. Both political sides need to remember that one of the fundamental responsibilities of a government is to ensure the safety of its citizens.

There’s a lot of anti-Bush posters and graffiti going up all over town. Here’s some of the posters I saw in San Telmo. It says “Mr. Bush, is this the democracy that you promised us?”.

Robert has some good anti-Bush graffiti over on his blog.

This morning I noticed that Bush’s approval rating in the US is now only 37%. But he’s still going to be president until January 2009.