absurdly long post part 2: aka Mapuche meets Metallica

Ok, sorry that was long and I’ll try to keep editing down, but I wanted to contextualize what comes next.

Now at this point my mom was freaking out so I’ll add the all important caveat that the few big Mapuche protests that have taken place in Santiago have not been violent nor have there been such examples of property destruction or police brutality. On the other hand, even the big university student marches to protest inadequate government funding of the public school system IN SANTIAGO were broken up by police and friends of mine found themselves fleeing very angry cops wielding tear-gas.


Ok, so one of my classes is called “Derechos de los Pueblos Indigenas” and is specifically about the conflict between the Chilean government and the Mapuche people. This is my only all-gringa class because it’s only offered to students in my study abroad program, and so there are all of 5 students in our class. We regularly have visiting professors and many of them have been Mapuche activists/intellectuals.

So last week we had a really awesome young Mapuche Prof come speak with us. After giving us a great summary of the history of Spanish and Chilean interaction with the pueblo Mapuche, he invited us to a March his organization (one of the most active Mapuche groups composed of young professionals) was co-sponsoring. I, of course, just about fell out of my chair, since a) I love marches and b) I really wanted to support the Mapuches in some way, having spent a lot of time learning about their struggle and seeing it as a major area of injustice.


Julie and I at the School Of the Americas protest in Georgia last fall. Isn't the sign just too perfect?

However, when I mentioned the march to one of our other teachers for the class, who’s not Mapuche, she looked a little worried. “Are you allowed to go to this kind of March?” she asked doubtingly. Smilingly weakly, I responded, “Well, I figured I just wouldn’t tell anyone in my program about it until afterwards.” She laughed, but then proceeded to tell us about a march she had been to in the south (remember, that’s the hotspot of the conflict) where a few Italian students were standing on the sidelines of the march filming, and then the police showed up, confiscated their film, arrested them and within two days had them deported.
Yeah.
That also reminded me of a box I had hesitantly checked when applying for my visa, which said I promised not to get involved or in any way affect the natural course of Chilean politics.

These things all made me a bit concerned about going to the march (although full disclosure, I should admit they also made it infinitely more appealing) and so I decided to mention it to my host mom and gauge her reaction. You should know my host mom is from the Left, and marched in protests to end Pinochet’s dictatorship, a pretty dangerous political act at the time. While she may have confronted angry soldiers defending the last dredges of military rule, she is also now a semi-over-protective mom who takes excellent care of her children and understands really well what a 20 year old American exchange student can and can’t do in Chile. Basically, her reaction was of concern, but also support. Her one major issue was that she, along with my host bro and sis, would be out of the country on vacation during the march. So, she gave me the phone number of her brother who also lives in Santiago and told me to call him if I had any problems. She also asked that I call/facebook her when I got back from the march, to confirm that I was safe.

I don’t know if this sounds over/under dramatic, but I can only tell you that personally, I was slightly anxious but mostly super excited.

I also made sure that I had at least three other friends going with me and at least one Chilean.

I will admit though, that the night before I looked up on the internet what (not) to wear during a protest and how to cope with being tear gassed.
Finally, I arrived at the metro stop my friends and I had designated as our meeting place, and we all walked to Plaza Italia (one of the most famous, central spots in Santiago) where we had been just a few weeks earlier for the Gay Pride parade. Needless to say, the vibe was very different; I don’t know if it was my own self-consciousness, but I felt distinctly out of place. There were dance troupes in traditional outfits, marching bands, hundreds of banner-waving communists and a large group of anarchists with the classic bandana’d faces.




After some intensely awkward waiting around, in which the few police who were present stared at us with a “what-the-heck-are-these- gringas-doing-here-they-must-be-lost-maybe-we should-escort-them-out” look, the march finally started. At first it was weird and tense and a couple dozen police officers in full-on riot gear watched the procession, but the mood quickly changed as the marching bands started to play joyful, invigorating beats and we changed from a shuffling pace to a purposeful dance-walk.
As the march went on it gathered people and momentum, and eventually must have included over 6,000 people-a sizeable number considering there are only around 800,000 Mapuches in Chile, and even more impressive because it contradicted the misperception that Mapuches only live in the rural South, when in fact more and more Mapuches are moving to the cities.


Anyway, except for the handful of policemen on horseback who watched critically from across the street, there was no trouble or danger whatsoever. Phew.
The march ended with a huge concert/rally in which mothers of young activists in prison spoke, and bands played traditional Mapuche instruments. My all time favorite moment, besides eating the most delicious empanadas and buying AMAZING silk-screened patches and posters, was the performance by this family band. Perhaps for all y’all reading this, if anyone has made it this far, the phrase “family band” conjures up images of the Partridge family, or the Brady bunch, but this band was different. Oh so different.

First, two men in their thirties with long black ponytails walked on stage, each holding a toddler in one arm and a traditional cow horn instrument, called a “trutruca” in the other. Then, a teenage drummer and twenty-something guitar player joined them, each sporting black t-shirts and scowls. Finally, the two singers took their places, one wearing sagging jeans and a backwards baseball hat, and the other wearing a plaid button-down shirt and spiked hair. When the music started, it was so odd and unexpected that I immediately started grinning, then tapping my feet and finally gave into the beat and began to head-bang. The drummer and guitarist had a solid rock sound going, which was then complimented/contrasted with random blasts on the trutrucas, sort of like what you’d imagine a conch shell to sound like. Then on top of all this, the two teenage singers paced back and forth, holding their mikes like rappers and spitting Mapuche and Spanish lyrics so quickly it was hard to distinguish which language they were using. This didn’t seem to matter to the crowd, who somehow knew all the words and were totally rocking out-even the old Mapuche grandmas! Bu the singers would alternate between rapping, and screaming a few choice words over and over again, ala death metal-or is it thrash metal? I dunno, there are so many kinds nowadays. Anyway, it was this incredible fusion of genres, languages and cultures that just made me so happy. These kids were channeling Metallica, 50 cent, Linkin Park, etc but translating it into their daily lives and doing so at least partly in Mapudungun, a pre-Incan language on the verge of extinction. Plus, throughout the entire cacophonous concert, the two toddlers were sitting happy as clams in their fathers’ arms, calmly taking in the performance.

So, I am happy to report, I was not arrested, nor was I deported, and I was able to take a stand against what I perceive to be a major social justice and human rights issue. Hurray study abroad! Just don't tell my program...