Chile notes 1

10/21

In the patio of Hostal Rio Amazonas in barrio Providencia, Santiago, Chile.  More or less quiet at the moment. Mostly songs and chants. Earlier, as I sat in the patio, the sounds of rhythmic drumming, pots and pans. The inevitable “el pueblo unido jamas sera vencido” and a new one for me, “Pineira…escuchar…venimos pa’ luchar…”  (“Listen Pineira, we’re coming to fight..”) The sounds of  tear gas being shot. And actual gun shots. And sirens. And helicopters…So frustrating wanting to be in the streets, but after yesterday….

My seminary classes in Santiago and Concepcion had gone really well

My seminar in Concepcion

...then on Saturday after our final session,

Class in Concepcion

we went to a fishing village. The mid-southern Chilean coast is like northern California, north of San Francisco. Had a wonderful grilled salmon on aa chilly spring afternoon by the sea. Empandas filled with the fresh crabs I’d seen in mounds in the market.

fresh seafood here....

Families played on the beach, wrapped up against the cool breeze. Smells of salt air and grilled fish filling my nose. A beautiful afternoon.

On the way back, text messages began. Protests in solidarity with Santiago. 

We had to leave the car and walk as downtown was shut down. There were burning tires and tear gas everywhere. I stayed in my hotel. The smells of burning rubber and tear gas replacing the salt air and fresh fish.

fire in the street 

Sunday morning, we had to walk to the church where I was preaching. The smell of tires and tear gas hung in the air. Broken shop windows, looted stores. Only 8 people made it to the Lutheran Church. (My sermon is posted on facebook). 

We had to go out to the countryside to find a restaurant...a campesino parrillada...ie, barbecue....of every part, btw...and then back to my hostal where I felt trapped. I went out to see what's going on. and got caught with two tear gas cannisters. Funny story....one of my hosts saw me on tv getting tear gassed! they all flipped out and sent out a search party. By the time they found me, I was back in my hotel. 

Because the airports are closed, I had to take a bus from Concepcion back to Santiago. Many fires in the street. We had to abandon the taxi and drag my bag about a half a mile. Greeted at the door with a fresh lemon for tear gas.  

The irony is…of my projected fall travel, (street noise arising again..) of travel to Central America, the US-Mexican border, the was to be the easy trip.

My first days here, I kept struggling with how non-latin, ordered, Chile felt. Clean, orderly. Like if this is the culture, no wonder Pinochet had a popular base. First world feeling. I visited the Museo de Memoria,

a wall of photographs of los desaaparacidos

learning the story of the coupe and the long journey back to democracy. They bring school children here. They want the story to be told. Saw the cobblestones with names of disappeared. Learned that despite a commitment to not only Truth and Justice but also Reparations, 40 years later  mothers in Chile, like their sisters in Argentina, still await an answer to “Donde estan?”

I remind myself that this place is the the land of Violeta Parra and Pablo Neruda (saw his wife’s house at least)

the home of Pablo Neruda's wife

and Victor Jara.

Victor Jara

El Museo de Violeta Parra

Violeta Parra

truly explored the intersection of the divine and holy. So much passion, now, just right below the surface.

In Santiago and Concepcion, I spent three days each exploring with theological students issues on the theme of migration and urban ministry, what are the realities? What Biblical and theological resources do we have and what then do we do? All night classes. Second career students. Working students. Passionate for learning. A model we will need more and more in the states. Many of the students are socially progressive, even radical, Pentecostals.I will need to reflect on this….In talking about migrants, it is clear that Chile has within its collective memory the experience of exile. The capacity to understand what it means to be driven out of one’s country. A place of connection with new migrants.  I’ve seen the Peruvians waiting for day labor, the Venezuelans in the park and the Haitians near the Central Train Station. Chileans should know. 

The sound of chants. Now helicopters again. 

My colleague tells me that although the trigger issue was the Metro fare increase, there was been a growing discontent ready to explode. Although democracy has returned, neoliberal economics have continued to define the reality of the country. Pineira’s so called oasis has left many Chileans behind. Come disparity grow to, well, embarrassingly, US levels. As Nancy McLean points out in her definitive Democracy in Chains, Chile was the testing grounds for the political economic model now seeking to permanently reshape the US. The changes made in the Pinochet era will take decades to reverse. And thus the streets burst into flame. 

It is quiet now. Only scattered pots and pans. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.