In this moment of definition, the last thing I can say to you is that I hope you will learn this lesson: Foreign capital and imperialism, united with reactionary elements, created the climate for the armed forces to break with their tradition [of respecting constitutional guarantees]. General Schneider and Commander Araya, who belong to that tradition, are now victims of the same social sectors that right now are in their homes, waiting to take power to continue defending their huge estates and privileges.
I address myself above all to the modest women of our country, to the peasant woman who believed in us, to the working woman who worked harder, to the mother who knew of our concern for her children. I address myself to the patriotic professionals of our land, to those professionals who were working against the sedition carried out by the professional, class-ridden schools that defend the advantages capitalist society gives them.
I address myself to the youth, to those who sang, who gave their joy and spirit to the struggle. I address myself to the Chilean man: to the worker, the peasant, the intellectual, to those who will be persecuted by the fascism that has been present in our country for many hours now. Those terrorists who have been blowing up bridges, cutting railway lines, destroying oil and gas pipelines—in the face of the silence of those who have had the obligation to raise their voices—history will judge them.
Radio Magallanes will surely soon be silenced, and the calm metal of my voice will no longer reach you. It does not matter. You shall continue to hear me. I shall always be at your side, and you will remember me at least as a dignified man who was loyal to his country.
The people must defend themselves, but not sacrifice themselves. The people must not let themselves be leveled or mowed down, but neither can they let themselves be humiliated.
Workers of my homeland! I have faith in Chile and its destiny. Other people will overcome this gray and bitter moment where treason tries to impose itself. May you continue to know that much sooner than later the great avenues through which free men walk to build a better society will open.
Long live Chile! Long live the people! Long live the workers! These are my last words. I am sure that my sacrifice will not be in vain; I am sure that it will at least be a moral lesson which will punish felony, cowardice and treason.
“I don’t see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its own people”
—Henry Kissinger
To Chile, To Allende
A. Appercelle
The sun
the bloodying
sea
cameras
snap—
The water is transparent
white between our fingers
it flows
“El Fascismo-el Fascismo”
—Take your guitar
Chilean
and play play
until our arteries burst
don’t let the dust
swallow your brain
Strike!
the women
will give birth to grenades.
Translated from the French by Serge Gavronsky
Poem Delivered Before an Assembly of Colored People…
Ishmael Reed
an extract
President Waterbugger only your crimes
Want to be near you now
Your daughters have moved out of town
Your wife refuses to hold your hand
On the elevator
Inexplicably, Lincoln’s picture
Just fell from the wall
Next time you kill a poet
You’d better read his poems first
Or they will rise up and surround you
Like 1945 fire cannons a few miles from
Berlin
And History will find no trace of
Your ashes in the bunker of your hell
Joan Jara
Joan Jara was a well-known dancer and choreographer from Britain. She is the widow of Víctor Jara and in the following piece she vividly recounts the events that unfolded around her on the day of the coup.
September 11, 1973
I wake early as usual. Víctor is still asleep, so I get out of bed quietly and wake Manuela who has to get to school early… We have breakfast, Manuela and I, and set out for school. It isn’t far by car, but difficult to reach by public transport even if there were any. Luckily we still have some petrol. We are obviously the only people stirring. Everyone else seems to have decided to stay in bed, except of course the maids, who get up early and go to queue for bread at the bakery on the corner. Monica had come back with the news that Allende’s car had already raced down Avenida Colón, accompanied by its usual escort, much earlier than usual. People in the bread queue and in the newspaper kiosk were saying that something was afoot.
Manuel de Salas is full of students. There is no sign of the strike here. Only a tiny percentage of families are not supporters of Popular Unity. On the way home I switch on the car radio and the news comes through that Valparaíso has been sealed off and that unusual troop movements are taking place. The trade unions are calling for all workers to assemble in their places of work, because this is an emergency, a red alert.
I hurry home to tell Víctor. He is already up when I arrive and is fiddling with the transistor radio trying to get Magallanes or one of the other radio stations that support Popular Unity. “This seems to be it,” we say to each other, “it has really started.”
Víctor was due that morning to sing at the Technical University, for the opening of a special exhibition about the horrors of civil war and fascism, where Allende was going to speak. “Well, that won’t happen,” I said. “No, but I think I should go anyway, while you go and fetch Manuela from school—because it’s better that you’re all at home together—I’ll make some phone calls to try to find out what is happening.”
As I drove out of the courtyard again, our neighbors were beginning to gather. They were talking loudly and excitedly, already beginning to celebrate. I passed them without glancing at them, but looking back in the mirror, I saw one of the “ladies” squat down and give the most obscene gesture in Chilean sign language to my receding back.
Back at the school, I found that instructions had been given for the younger students to go home, while the teachers and older students were to stay behind. I collected Manuela and, on the way home, although the reception was bad, we heard Allende on the radio. It was reassuring to hear his voice from the Moneda Palace... but it sounded almost like a speech of farewell.
I found Víctor in the studio listening to the radio and together we heard the confusion as almost all the Popular Unity stations went off the air when their aerials were bombed or they were taken over by the military, and martial music replaced Allende’s voice...