Reflections on Pain and Memory

October 17, 2000

For the past 27 years, on each and every October 17, I like to take a moment in my life to reflect on the past, to see the road traveled, to feel the present and to wonder about the future. What will the future bring if we remain untouched and indifferent to human suffering? Will we destroy ourselves if we do not learn how to prevent recurrent and increasingly deadly conflicts?

It was on October 17, 1973, in the Northern city of Copiapo, Chile, when the life of my brother Winston Cabello was extinguished by members of the Chilean Army, a victim of the well known Caravan of Death. Wito, as our family and friends liked to call him, was only 28 years old when he died, a young economist who worked for the Allende government as a Director of Regional Planning for two major northern Provinces in Chile, Atacama -Coquimbo. Wito¹s life can well be described as that of an idealist, a visionary, a leader, but the very essence of his life represented a threat to those who wanted to perpetuate injustices.

His senseless death can only have meaning if those who survived learn how to prevent these atrocities from happening all over again. Keeping his memory alive is not enough to prevent the repetition of these tragedies. Atrocities against humanity recreate themselves time and time again, yet each time

We proclaim ³Never Again.² What would it take, for the sake of humanity, to stop repeating ³Never Again²? What would it take for future dictators to think twice before committing evil?

I wonder about former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet¹s thoughts and reflections on this particular day. I am sure he never met my brother, nor does he feel the pain of his loss, but destiny brought them together on October 17, 1998, the day our family was commemorating twenty-five years of Wito¹s absence. It was only two years ago, on an October 17, when the miracle envisioned by so many finally materialized: Pinochet had been placed under arrest in a London clinic where he was recuperating from back

surgery. At last, the man who had positioned himself above the law had been called to account for his crimes, and on that memorable day, a long legal battle began for Pinochet. We cannot predict the outcome of his legal battle, but one thing we can be sure of: Pinochet will receive what he denied to all his victims: the right to defend himself in a court of law.

On this October 17, I want to honor the men and women who have had the moral courage to challenge the inevitability of injustice; to all of those who have come to the realization that peace based on accommodation rather than on accountability necessarily leads to the repetition of past tragedies; to those who have chosen to work in favor of human dignity, peace, solidarity and justice. My gratitude to all of them, for not being afraid to dream, for having faith in the power within ourselves: the power to change the world and make a difference in life.

We may never know what October 17 means for Pinochet, but for humanity, this is an unforgettable day.

Zita Cabello-Barrueto, Ph.D.
Latin American and Latino Studies
University of California, Santa Cruz