El periódico mañanero


Me levanto hoy como todas las mañanas a leer las noticias de mi país. Antes del café, antes de todo, mi Ipad ya está sintonizado con la versión electrónica de El Nuevo Día, periódico principal de Puerto Rico. Muchas veces pienso que no es una buena manera de comenzar la mañana, pues rara es la vez que se encuentra alguna noticia positiva o inspiradora. Sin embargo, mi rutina no cambia, pues antes de ser periodista, soy ciudadana y considero una gran responsabilidad saber lo que ocurre en nuestro entorno, aún estando a miles de kilómetros de distancia.

Desde anoche la noticia que inundaba los medios era la del secuestro de un niño de un año a manos de su padrastro, en el pueblo de Vega Baja. Los detalles o motivos para cometer tan horroroso crimen aún se desconocen. Aparenta ser un acto de venganza y tortura hacia la madre de la criatura. Es una noticia que a pesar de ser igual de alarmante que los asesinatos, crímenes de odio, accidentes u otros sucesos que se producen en mi país, me provoca una sensación un poco diferente- de mayor repudio. Ya las víctimas de estos actos criminales no se reducen únicamente a narcotraficantes o delincuentes. Ahora hemos pasado a atacar a los más débiles: los niños.

Pronto cumplo tres años de mi estancia en Polonia, donde no ocurre ni una centésima parte de los actos homicidas y perversos que acontecen en mi isla. Aquí muy rara la vez se reportan asesinatos, balas perdidas o muertes por narcotráfico. Los crímenes se limitan a actos de vandalismo o algún borracho que se pone violento con otro. Justo ahora estoy cubriendo una unidad sobre crimen con mis alumnos y para no asustarlos, intento no proveer ejemplos de las atrocidades que ocurren en Puerto Rico. Ellos están muy ajenos a ese entorno. Ese mundillo que aunque gracias a Dios nunca me ha tocado muy de cerca, por ser puertorriqueña, lo conozco. He sentido miedo, he temido por la seguridad de mis seres queridos, he sido asaltada y amenazada con una cuchilla, he sabido tener que- en un sinnúmero de ocasiones- subir las ventanas de mi auto en los semáforos rojos por no saber si la sombra que tengo enfrente es capaz de hacerme daño. Asimismo, tengo amigos que han sido apuntados con armas de fuego, otros cuyos familiares han sido asesinados. También mi madre en alguna ocasión, mientras conducía, recibió impactos de bala en su carro, que agraciadamente no produjeron ningún detrimento aparte de lo estético.

No sé exactamente qué quiero decir con todo esto o incluso si tenga un objetivo fijo escribiendo esta entrada en mi blog. Me preocupa significativamente la situación de mi país. Mucha gente no entiende por qué vivo tan lejos y posiblemente esto tenga algo que ver con ello. Es deprimente abrir el diario y encontrar solo atrocidades que se cometen, y ahora incluso, ante los más débiles.

Algo tiene que cambiar. Ese bebé tiene que aparecer, pronto y sano. Y un mejor Puerto Rico, donde los niños puedan correr bicicletas en la calle libremente, las familias puedan disfrutar de espacios públicos al aire libre sin tener miedo y los jóvenes profesionales como yo y tantos otros, puedan conseguir buenos trabajos, compartir de cerca con sus familias y construir un futuro en PAZ, ARMONíA y BIENESTAR.

No es un sueño imposible, ¿verdad?

Gente

Un país no lo define su historia. Ni su geografía. Ni su belleza natural o lugares de interés. Mucho menos su lengua. Lo define su GENTE. Así es. Los seres humanos que coexisten con nosotros en este planeta delimitan y proporcionan (o arrebatan) vida a cada rincón que nos rodea. Por lo menos eso creo yo. Los catorce años que llevo dándole la vuelta al mundo me lo han comprobado.

 Mantengo infinitos recuerdos en lugares verdaderamente feos, muy pobres y descoloridos donde me sentí en el paraíso. La gente que me rodeaba era realmente maravillosa. Cuando viví en Lima por ejemplo, recuerdo las tardes grises, desérticas y polvorientas, de panoramas verdaderamente tristes. Sin embargo, mi alma siempre sonreía. Tenía los mejores amigos que había conocido en un parque cercano al vecindario de Surco. En las tardes después de trabajar como voluntaria en la escuela Fe y Alegría del pueblo jóven de Villa el Salvador (Información sobre la escuela), venían a recogerme en un Volkswagen viejo. Eran como ocho y no sé cómo hacíamos para caber todos en aquél vehículo tan pequeño. Algunas veces íbamos al litorial en el sur de la capital, donde un amigo tenía una casa de playa. La mayoría de los encuentros, sin embargo, se producían en el Parque de las Ardillas, cerquita de nuestras residencias. No era que hiciéramos gran cosa. Bastaba con hablar, contar o escuchar historias y dejar fluir. 

No recuerdo Lima como un lugar bonito en el sentido estético, sin embargo en mi memoria lo evoco como uno precioso. El sentido de humor de la gente era contagioso. Le ponían sobrenombres a todos y a todas. Aún con poco dinero, no nos faltaba nada. Siempre había sonrisas y buenos ratos. Mis memorias de ese lugar, y diría que de practicamente todos los países donde he vivido, provienen de la misma fuente: la GENTE.

Ahora todo ha cambiado. No ha sido por elección propia, eso está claro. En los casi tres años que llevo aquí la mayoría de los recuerdos que mantengo son positivos, pero no provienen de esa raíz. Han sido más bien relacionados a mi profesión o a logros que me he propuesto y los he alcanzado, pero tienen poco que ver con las personas. Y ahora que ya he llegado a la cima de esta etapa, me siento a reflexionar y me pregunto, ¿con quién compartiré todo esto? ¿Donde están los equivalentes a mis amigos limeños? ¿Y el Volky? 

Tristemente, nunca existió. Intento encajar, intento fluir, intento conectar. Pero no se da. Hay fricción, malos entendidos y mucha frustración. También soledad. No se producen encuentros casuales como aquél en el Parque de las Ardillas limeño. Es otra cultura, otra gente y por más que intente, no la logro entender.

Ukraine: A Question of Survival

Aleksey Polegki and other civilians protesting in favor of Ukrainian stabilization (Poland)

It's now been three long months of a political nightmare turned bloody for Ukrainians. For us outsiders, the panorama is quite difficult to understand because of several reasons. First, much of the media coverage is superficial and/or manipulated, making it extremely hard to filter the information being bombarded through social media, newspapers, and other communication forums. Yesterday a friend of mine sent me an article titled "US Spent $5 billion to destabilize Ukraine" (Click here to access the article) written by a person who goes by the pseudonym Clark Kent. The article goes on and on trying to convince its readers that the backbone behind the riots occurring in Ukraine are organized by the CIA, the US Department of State, and by Washington and EU financed NGO's. All of this desinformation has done nothing but confuse people even more so with regards to the political prospect of the largest country within Europe.

Luckily, last Friday I was able to briefly meet Aleksey Polegkyi, a dear friend of mine originally from Nikolaev, Ukraine, who now lives in Warsaw and has been extremely active in trying to put an end to these bloody protests. In the past weeks Aleksey has been a spokesman of awareness regarding the political climate of his country by organizing meetings, forums, radio interviews, and peacefully manifesting from the neighboring country of Poland, although his friends and family continue to live in Ukraine. Aleksey did a great job of explaining the situation to me in a nutshell, and although there are still many questions to answer, this is a good way to start understanding what's going on.

Over a quick lunch, Aleksey began chronicling the panorama by giving me a jump start into the mind of the leader behind it all: the infamous Viktor Yanukovych (1950-), who has been presiding over Ukraine since 2010, and grew up in the eastern part of the country amongst a criminal world that was ravaging in the 90's. "This fact determines his psychology", he says. "He's different minded, criminal minded, and does not believe in compromise at all". On November 30th, Ukraine, a country which has been known historically to be  peaceful, became the scene of a small manifestation of civilians who have become more than fed up with the current political situation of their country. Tied between an ideology  pulled on the one hand by the longing to annex with the EU, and Russian pressure on the other, protestors manifested their strong yearning for peace and justice.

One month later, Yanukovych agreed to make negotiations with the EU and failed to do so. Shortly after, violence broke out, people were beaten, and the state's armed forces became increasingly coercive. Yanukovych didn't follow his word at all with regards to the awaited negotiations. That night a great crisis took place and a new totalitarian law that states that any person considered to be "extremist" or even anti-governmental would be sentenced to 5-10 years in prison- was created without following any proper legal procedures . "Just for publishing articles you could be considered an enemy. This legal situation is worse than what we had during Soviet times", states Aleksey.

Towards the end of January the situation became far worse. Crowds began manifesting in front of the Parliament. On the 21st of the same month, different tactics of open terror began to be enforced by the government. Dozens of people were killed. "The police came to the hospitals to beat people, take some to prison, others were thrown into the forest and tortured. Forget democracy and free elections. It just became a question of survival", says Aleksey.

The pressure by the US- who has taken, according to my friend, practical and legislative steps first in Congress, and later in the Department of State, to stabilize the country- has been significant. Meanwhile, the EU continues to only express their "deep concern" with the complicated situation. However, Russia's standpoint has proven to be even more outrageous. According to Aleksey, "Putin's dream is to build a new Soviet Union, an empire, and for him it's unconceivable to see that Ukraine cannot control its citizens. He cannot accept that Ukraine is an independent country". It seems to be clear that without Russian pressure, Yanukovych's power would lose a great deal of its power, if not desintegrate. Although many Russians continue to believe that the US and the EU are enemies, more than half of the population has expressed its longing to have links with the west.

"This revolution is not post-Soviet Ukraine, it's a generational battle. It's a criminal war, a geopolitical game. What happened yesterday was a massacre. The people who are controlling Ukraine are not politicians, they are criminals", says Aleksey. On the 24th of February, a police warrant was issued for charges of mass murder against Yanukovych, reason why he fled his home near Kiev by helicopter and until the moment his whereabouts are unknown. It has been rumoured that he reportedly tried to flee to Russia. The latest news speaks of violence erupting as pro-Russian protesters clash with Kiev supporters.

So what does the future hold for Ukraine? According to Aleksey, who was recently in the Polish Parliament to introduce sanctions against the people responding with violence, "it all depends on the EU and the US, and the active participation they will take". For now, everything just remains a question of survival...

Campaña anti-gay en Rusia


Esta semana el tema de la implementación de las leyes anti-homosexuales en Rusia y la política de género en Polonia, el país donde vivo, me tienen la sangre hirviendo. Como si fuera poco, en estos días me he enfrentando con una dosis mucho mayor de una mentalidad ultra-conservadora, ultra-ignorante, patéticamente apoyada y manipulada por ideologías de odio, de muchas personas con las que comparto en diferentes ámbitos y sin importar la edad o clase social. Todo comenzó hace unos días después de ver un video en Youtube.com producido por Channel 4 News (Inglaterra) sobre la campaña anti-gay en Rusia... 

Para los que no estén al tanto de las noticias, en 2013 Rusia promulgó una ley en la que se prohibe la distribución de propaganda relacionada con relaciones sexuales "no-tradicionales", hecho que evidencia que en dicho país se considera ilegal sugerir que las relaciones homosexuales son equivalentes a las heterosexuales. Desde la aprobación de esta ley, los medios han reportado el arresto de activistas gays, varios casos de crímenes de odio asociados con la homofobia, muchos provocados por líderes neo-nazi hacia menores y, hasta la aprobación de una ley en la que se prohiben los desfiles de orgullo gay en Moscú. Asociaciones internacionales de derechos humanos han catalogado la situación actual política  de dicho país como la más trágica de la era post-soviética en que la mentalidad homofóbica retrasada evidencia un retroceso a la Edad Media. 

Las sanciones de estas leyes coinciden con la celebración de los juegos olímpicos del 2014 que se llevarán a cabo en la localidad de Sochi y por dicha razón, ha surgido, no-coincidialmente, un clima de protesta y rechazo abierto en el ámbito internacional. En el video mencionado anteriormente se dice que el 80% de la sociedad apoya dichas legislaciones ya que Rusia como país, y sobre todo bajo el gobierno de Putin, se considera extremadamente conservador cuando de temas LGBT se trata. Censos recientes indican que la opinión pública en torno a la homosexualidad es una de las más hostiles en el mundo.  

Bueno, y, antes de enterarme de mucho de esto, decidí, tal vez ingenuamente, conocer la opinión de una mujer rusa que más o menos conozco. De hecho, en principio no sabía que era rusa. La vinculé con este país porque enseña lengua rusa, pero siempre pensé que era polaca. En mi polaco cortado intenté explicarle que por curiosidad me interesaba conocer un poco sobre la recepción de estas leyes anti-gay en Rusia y una opinión que no viniese de los medios. No le dije que soy periodista, para evitar problemas y estereotipos que a veces existen en torno a esta profesión. 

La mujer, en su inglés menos cortado que mi polaco, me contestó en un tono muy nervioso. Rápidamente se sonrojó y me contestó de manera indirecta que no sabía nada. Proseguí a sacar mi ipad del bulto y ponerle el video de Youtube para que se enterara. En las escenas del reportaje, aparecen varias entrevistas, entre ellas a un drag queen, una activista de derechos humanos, una pareja de lesbianas madres de dos niños, que han sido víctimas de chantaje por parte del propietario de su casa a quienes acusan de haberle pedido dinero para que no hablase en torno a su sexualidad, y otros chicos que han sido víctimas de crímenes de odio por su orientación sexual. Por otra parte, aparece un joven neo-nazi quien abiertamente admite haberle pegado a unos chicos simplemente por ser gay, también un político ultra-homofóbico, etc. 

Al cabo de 5 minutos (como mucho) de ver el video, la mujer se levantó de la silla donde se encontraba. Me dijo que no era cierto. Que ella era rusa y tenía familia en ese país y que ellos no pensaban así. Que eran tolerantes y no era un problema. Evidentemente molesta y ofendida, y sin poder disimularlo, recogió sus cosas  y se fue del lugar.

Aunque vivo en Polonia y no en Rusia (gracias a Dios), la situación aquí no está tan alejada de esta. Recientemente ha surgido un debate por parte del clérigo y el partido polaco ultra-católico, PIS, como reacción a los escándalos sexuales por los que han sido acusado algunos curas. El tema es complicado, incluso yo misma no lo entiendo, ni quiero esforzarme por entenderlo. No merece la pena, pues el argumento más que irracional, está lleno de odio y manipulación. Según lo que me he enterado por una colega medio polaca, medio latina, y algunos artículos que he leído, estos miembros del clérigo ahora alegan (supongo que para justificarse) que la igualdad de género es una ideología que fomenta la homosexualidad y que tiene el potencial de destruir las familias tradicionales. 

Esta situación me preocupa. Me preocupa mucho. Sobre todo porque en tiempos de crisis, me pregunto, ¿será verdaderamente la crisis económica la que más nos está afectando? Esta crisis económica que me tiene viviendo en un país tan lejano al mío por fuerza, por que no puedo regresar a mi isla porque de momento no hay trabajo ni futuro. La misma crisis que me hace recordar todo esto cada día, a cada hora... En mi opinión, no. No es esta la que más nos está hundiendo, sino la de valores. La que justifica apoyarse en una ideología, una religión o el pensamiento que sea para diseminar la violencia, la intolerancia.  Mucho más hundidos nos tiene esta crisis, esta falta de entendimiento que promueve el odio y este afan por rechazar todo lo que va en contra del conservadurismo y hacerle daño a nuestra propia gente.

What Promised Land?

(Alleyway in the city of Łódż)
Everyone warned me before heading out to my weekend trip to Łódż. My students, friends of friends, even my roommate. "Why are you going there? Łódż is just a ghetto filled with graffitti and dangerous people", he said. Because I usually like places that most people don't, I decided to not think twice and just book a roundtrip ticket with Polski Bus to the third largest Polish city, located three hours from Wrocław, in the very heart of this central European country. Years before I even arrived to Poland and while I was doing research for my Ph.D, I read a book called "The Promised Land" (Ziemia Obiecana), written by the Nobel Literature prize author, Władysław Reymont, in the beginning of the 20th century. It's a very detailed book which depicts the social panorama of the city of Łódż during the Industrial Revolution as something similar to a rat race where the three main characters: a German, a Jew, and a Pole, struggle to survive the transition of this city into a model of textile manufacturing and urbanization. 

(Statue of Władysław Reymont, author of The Promised Land)

Two things attracted me to this city: this book being the first, and the second, the most important film school in all of Poland, where three of my favorite movie directors graduated from: Polański, Kieślowski, and Wajda. Alongside the school, there now stands the Museum of Cinematography, which offers a glance into the history of Polish cinema.

Łódż can definitely be visited in just one day. A typical tour of the city consists of walking up and down the main street, ulica Piotrkowska, which is actually Europe's largest commercial avenue ranging 7 kilometres in distance. The architecture visible from this point of the city is probably the most beautiful and varied in all of Poland. It seems as though each of the buildings has its own style, colors, and design, enriching the overview of this industrial hub. However, the great downside of it all is the fact that practically ever street in Łódż is under construction, and when I say under construction, I mean, UNWALKABLE and extremely muddy! It seems as though everything here has been left paralyzed in time. I never saw one single city worker on the sites. In sum, it is hard to admire the architectural styles of the buildings, when one must constantly be looking at the ground in order to prevent from falling into a muddy puddle or bending your ankle on a huge construction rock.

Besides Piotrkowska, another place to check out is the Manufaktura museum, more for its historical value than for its beauty. Located in the commercial rynek (main square) of Łódż, Manufaktura is a huge brick industrial-looking building, which houses an enourmous mall with hundreds of shops, a cinema home of the Polish Hollywood scene, and a small museum on the second floor. Here you are able to read some of the textile manufacturing history, see the machines from the factories, and the fabrics and stamps used to decorate the cotton. In Reymont's book beforementioned, he narrates the rough working conditions the textile factory employees underwent.

(Manufaktura building, city centre, Łódż)

 "Workers, in shirts only and barefooted, with grey faces, with their eyes dull as if burnt out with this orgy of colours that flooded the place, moved quietly and automatically being but a complement to the machines"...

Łódż is anything but a Promised Land. Maybe it was at some point (although I still have my doubts), but definetely not any longer. It once was an industrial hub where the most beautiful textiles were produced and workers from all over the country were given the opportunity to earn a decent living during the transition of industrialization. More recently, it became the niche of famous movie directors in the making. Now there are only remnants of this time, and much of this history has been replaced by abandoned and glass-shattered buildings covered with graffitti and street art, and locals who try to survive in a huge city where a feeling of emptiness and disconnection reigns.   

BORN AGAIN


 

To survive a devastating airplane accident, the deadly winter of the Andes mountain range and on top of everything, having to eat human flesh in order to survive, are all traumatic experiences capable of destroying, or reaffirming a person’s bond to humankind.  


Ché, aren’t we flying a little too close to the mountains?”

This phrase announced that the lives of 45 people onboard an Uruguayan Air Force plane headed to Chile’s capital, Santiago, approximately 34 years ago, would change forever.

The majority of the passengers were 19 to 25 year old Uruguayans, who played rugby for the Old Christian team. The rest of the crew was made up of family members and friends. Instead of taking the habitual four and a half hours to land in Chile, the journey took 72 days. This story of survival, brotherhood, and faith is known as the Miracle of the Andes.

Now, more than three decades later, Roberto Canessa, one of the survivors, is a pediatric cardiologist, who besides treating patients in a clinic in Montevideo, also leads lectures on leadership and overcoming life obstacles around the world. From the day he was rescued until now, Canessa continues to offer counseling to the public as a speaker in different universities, the media, and other organizations. His popularity is so widespread that several years ago he was even named candidate for the presidency of his country.
Nowadays Roberto lives with his wife Laura, his soul companion ever since he was 15. He has three children; and the eldest, Ilario, was named precisely after the Andean mountain where the accident survivors were rescued.

His Old Christian teammates are still his closest friends, live in the same neighborhood as him, and continue to celebrate every 21st of December together as the day in which they were “born again”.

The following story is a first account of Canessa’s experience as a survivor of the Andean miracle.
Sitting on his seat onboard the aircraft everything seemed normal to Roberto. In a matter of seconds the snow and dense clouds limited the pilot’s visibility. Apparently he assumed that they had already crossed the mountain range, although they were actually in front of the peaks. Immediately, a strong bang caused the right wing of the airplane to dislodge, fly over the rest of the aircraft, and tear the tail off, leaving a huge hole in the back part of what was left of the jet. Several passengers who were suctioned into the rear of the plane were instantly killed and disappeared into the immensity of the snowy Andes, alongside other parts of the aircraft.
Moments later, the left wing broke into two pieces and one of the blades of the propeller scratched the remaining parts of the plane.  Many passengers became trapped in their seats. Thirteen died instantly. Another group was severely wounded. Broken legs, head gashes, hemorrhages, and iron pieces of the aircraft protruding through torsos and other body parts became the sight of the day. “I heard a whistle in the air and this is when I noticed that the body of the aircraft had begun to slide down the snow like a sleigh for six seconds. I remember the exact time it took because one of the guys was praying the Ave Maria, which lasts six seconds”, said 53 year old Canessa.

After those six seconds all that remained was a great silence. Canessa, who at that time was a first year medical student, thought that he too had been shredded to pieces, and had lost his arms and legs. To his surprise, he had survived and was in relatively good shape, and without thinking twice, he began helping his mates. Although his medical knowledge didn’t exceed the study of cells, he began healing his friends’ wounds and taking out the corpses that remained inside the aircraft. It was the first time in his life to witness such a direct contact with death. Many of the survivors thought that the ambulances would arrive right away, alongside the police and rescue team. Unfortunately, hours later they began realizing that no one would find them and it was themselves who would have to find an exit. They began feeling like impotent ants amidst an infinite extension of snow. Everything was lost. There was no food or water, apart from a couple of chocolate bars and several bottles of wine. It was October 12, 1972.

“When you’re nineteen you feel omnipotent, and as though you are capable of anything”. Maybe it was that precise feeling that kept the Old Christian team players from giving up. The next day, roles were distributed and assigned according to each of the players’ skills. They had a great yearning for life.
Adolfo Strauch, one of the players, invented a water converter by melting ice over a piece of aluminum and placing it facing the sun. The team captain, Marcelo Perez, was in charge of the daily” food” distribution: one or two pieces of chocolate and less than one third of a glass of wine for each person. The freezing cold temperatures in the middle of the snowy mountain range reached negative 40 degrees Celsius. The lack of winter clothes and food made nighttime seem like an eternity. The shortage of oxygen due to high altitude caused dizziness and disorientation.  Hunger and weakness, together with the inevitable irritability seemed to increase with the passing of the days. People continued to drop dead one after the other, and so did the hope of survival. “It was like sleeping in a cemetery”, remembers Canessa.

Despite the little possibilities of being rescued in such a situation, the boys fought fiercely for survival. They pulled off seat covers and used them as blankets, sleeping bags were made and tied, sunglasses were assembled to protect their eyes from the daytime glare, and money was burnt to make fire. This was how a society that functioned with improvised laws, was created, where everyone was assigned roles and each person was worth what he or she was capable of doing to survive. “It was like being in a test tube. If was as though this were an experiment in which we had to transform an inorganic and negative thirty degree-temperature place, where all we could see were stones and snow, into an environment suitable for human beings to live in”.

On the tenth day after the accident one of the team players heard on the airplane radio that their search had been suspended. He reunited the rest of his mates and said: “I have some good news for your guys. If we want to get out of here, we will have to do it on our own”.

Aside from how surreal and traumatic this experience proved to be, the team´s sense of humor was always present. They arrived to the Andes as friends and left as brothers. In spite of the crisis the players managed to find time to joke around, celebrate birthdays, sing, and even pray together. All in all they tried to have the best time possible. According to Roberto what really kept the survivors united and hopeful was the fact that each person held on tight to their reason for living. “Mine was saving my mother the grief of losing a child. I kept thinking that if I had to eat a piece of human flesh in order to return to my mother, I’d do whatever; I’ll eat the plane if I have to”.

And this was exactly how the inconceivable happened. One Sunday morning a meeting took place in the interior of the aircraft in which the survivors decided that the only alternative left to save themselves from the mountains and not die from frostbite and/or hunger was to use the dead bodies as nourishment. Holding on to a great feeling of humiliation, Canessa took a piece of glass and cut the first slice. At that moment he stopped to think: “What evil could I have possibly done to have God make me do this?” The worst thing of all according to him was having to invade the privacy and body of his friends. In spite of this, he comforted himself thinking that if it was he who had died and his friends would’ve used his own body as food, he would’ve felt proud to be able to help them.

Although many believe that eating human flesh is what saved them, this is far from true. Even after consuming the meat, little did their reality change. The freezing weather continued to penetrate their bodies and so did their misery. The consumption of human flesh simply elongated their hours and helped strengthen their bodies a bit. Later on this became a part of their routine. And so the days continued to pass in the middle of the Andes. The boys began hiking as a means to look for an exit from those deadly mountains. They tied pillows to their feet in order to prevent themselves from sinking into the snow, and only came back even weaker and returned empty-handed.

Finally, a sunny day arrived and it became evident that winter was reaching its end. Roberto and his two friends, Nando and Tintin, decided to test their luck for the last time. They collected some human flesh cut into pieces and sleeping bags, and tied them in a sack. After walking for ten days they sighted the peak of a snow-less mountain. They hiked up to a valley and saw vegetation for the first time in two and a half months. They heard a stream and ran to eat some leaves in the distance.


That night they slept amidst the valley and a feeling of newly found peace. The next morning a couple of cows greeted them; later on an empty can of soup, and in the distance a couple of farmers. Civilization was near. They had finally reached their safeguard, as well as for the rest of the crew waiting back in the plane, who were rescued by helicopter hours later by local authorities. It was the 21st of December, 1972.


Article published in El Nuevo Dia newspaper
San Juan, Puerto Rico
December 2, 2006
By: Sarah V. Platt
Freelance Journalist

Una mirada al mundo