Saturday, June 23, 2007

Bella Unión: The Birthplace of the Tupamaros

Not long after I finished typing the final, slightly frustrated statements in my previous journal entry, I decided to go to the far north of Uruguay to visit the birthplace of the revolutionary movement that shook Latin America during the Cold War--the Tupamaros. The name of the town where the Tupamaros originated is Bella Unión, which lies at the point where Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay meet. Upon deciding to travel north, I spoke with a couple students at the university who live there, Andrea and Mayra, and asked them to help me find a place to stay and people to interview. They were both incredibly helpful--within a week I had a place to stay and a wonderful list of interviews lined up. This journal entry is about my time in Bella Unión, which is where Mayra lives. I also visited Artigas, Andrea's home, as well. Here's a map so you get a better idea of where I was (Bella Unión is the red dot on the left, and Artigas is the dot on the right):



Bella Unión surprised me. First of all, with only 12,000 people, the town was less than half the size I thought it would be. When, on the bus ride there from Salto, I asked the attendant when we would arrive at the bus terminal, he laughed at me and said Bella Unión doesn't have a bus terminal. I was dropped off on the sidewalk. Nor does it have a taxi service. Mayra picked me up on her scooter (which she let me drive!) and took me to my hotel--the only hotel in town. Here we are soon after my arrival:



Only about fifty years ago in the tiny town of Bella Unión, Raúl Sendic organized a group of revolutionaries into the Tupamaros. Bella Unión would also be where the repression under Uruguay's military government would be harshest. As I soon learned, even today the legacy of political struggle and the Tupamaros is an inseparable part of Bella Unión.

The monument to Sendic:



With only about 12,000 people, it is difficult to believe that Bella Unión's scars are not more blatant than they are. Mayra told me she had not spoken with anyone in her hometown about the repression and torture there, and it was precisely for this reason that she was so interested in and eager to help me set up and listen to my interviews. In the same conversation, Mayra revealed an example of how deep the town's scars really are. Mayra told me there is a doctor in the town who, during the dictatorship, had the responsibility of deciding how much torture each prisoner could endure. Although there was not enough evidence to convict the doctor of his crimes and role during the dictatorship, most of the people in Bella Unión know who the doctor is and what his role was. Nonetheless, the doctor, along with the people of Bella Unión, go on with their lives. The doctor still practices, and patients still visit him.

This example reveals a lot about Bella Unión--except for occasional monuments dedicated to Raúl Sendic, the history of the town isn't immediately apparent. But if you dig a little beneath the surface, you will find a rich history with not only pain and fear, but also hope and optimism.

Prior to founding the Tupamaros, Raúl Sendic organized Bella Unión's sugarcane workers into the UTAA or Unión de Trabajadores Azucareros de Artigas (Artigas Union of Sugar Workers).



The UTAA held strikes and other activist events in order to fight for improved working and living conditions for the workers, or "peludos." This group is seen as the forerunner to the Tupamaros, and a profound influence on the formation of the guerrilla movement. For this reason, I decided to begin my visit to Bella Unión by going to the sugarcane plantations that still exist around the town. This was my view while heading to the plantations:



The plantations are also known for the annual burning of them, which I got to see very briefly:



This is one of the homes located on the plantation. There are many homes like this. You can see the sugarcane in the background.



One of the workers:



On my way to the plantations, which are not far from the town center or the borders with Brazil or Argentina, I saw worse poverty than I have seen since arriving in Uruguay three months ago. There were one-room shacks made of sheet metal and broken pieces of wood that housed families of five or six people. Uruguayans use the word "rancherio" to describe the small shanty-towns, although I was reminded of the term the Brazilians use to describe their cities of poverty: "favela." The poverty is a result of the town's economy being reliant upon the sugarcane plantations, which, depending on the world economy, sometimes lay off large numbers of people. Almost fifty years after the revolutionary movement of the Tupamaros, the peludos still live in conditions of poverty that do not appear to be significantly different from the conditions under which they lived before the movement. I tried to imagine the thoughts and emotions of Raúl Sendic in the last days of his life, with the knowledge that the everyday conditions of poverty of the sugarcane workers to whom he dedicated a large part of his life--and for whom he endured torture--is not very different from the days during or before the revolution and the dictatorship.

Here are a few pictures of some of the homes I saw while near the plantations:









After seeing the plantations, I interviewed, individually, three men who were politically active and experienced repression under the dictatorship firsthand. While talking with these men, I began to see that Sendic's perspective could very well have been one of hope rather than desperation. Of the three men I interviewed, each one had an optimistic perspective toward the current and future of Uruguay, its people, and the Frente Amplio political party that is currently in power (which, by the way, is led by several former Tupamaros).

The first man I interviewed is a writer and literature professor. He lived in Bella Unión during the repression, and his brother was executed there at the hands of the dictatorship. Today, he identifies himself as a strong supporter of the Frente Amplio.

The second man was an active member of the Communist party in the years before the dictatorship. At that period, immediately following the success of the Cuban Revolution, people who dreamed of political and social change in Latin America felt that anything was possible. Under the dictatorship, he was imprisoned and tortured, and this dream was demolished.

The third man, who faintly resembles Raúl Sendic, was from a family of sugarcane workers. He was imprisoned thirteen years under the dictatorship. While incarcerated, he learned to read and write, and he focused his attention on the importance of preserving human rights. Following his release from prison, he began to write books on politics, as well as children's books.

Each of the three individuals I interviewed had a different experience and perspective, but from each I acquired a sense of hope and optimism. I asked them about how their revolutionary dreams during the Cold War are still relevant today. In response, they told me the world context has entirely changed since the Cold War, and now Uruguay should better integrate itself into the world economy. Cooperation with the United States is also necessary, they said. These men, each a former revolutionary, told me Uruguay does not need a Hugo Chavez, but a country that plays a more active role in world affairs.

With respect to the road to achieving this goal, these men spoke about the Frente Amplio with hope. I asked them how they would respond to the criticisms of the Frente Amplio that many Uruguayans are voicing (see my previous post for more on these criticisms). One man responded, "If this government had already solved the 'serious problems' of Uruguay in the two years since it has been in power, it must have been a lie that the problems had ever been that serious to begin with." After stating that change needs time and patience, he asserted, with a hopeful smile, his belief that Uruguay is on the path toward realizing these changes.

No comments: