Don´t cry for me, Argentina….

for I m crying enough for both.

There s a lot I would like to write here, but, as allways, the time and the physicall pain are a huge impediment. I ll try anyway.I m not sure of I regret the desition of coming over here, or not accepting Luciana´s offer to stay in Trancoso for Xmas and NY ev; but I m surely not having a good time in this city.

I have allways refused to accept my Argentinian nationality, as I have many times said that the fact of me being physically born in the bloody place does not have an imput on the person I am. My parents are Syrian, from Alepo,long story for right now,but I have spent some time, up and down, from Argentina to Brazil, and then, after suffering enough in times when I was a very ermmm advanced? teenager I decided to go back to Brazil for good.

I had a taugh time in Argentina, as I was studying and working there in times of the Proceso, the dictadure, the savage abuse of authority over anyone, just because they could.

I went through the sigilously, slowly and shaking opening a small space of the door to watch the street for at least 5 minutes before getting out, watching for "Ford Falcons", no number plate, or some times yes, but you knew, you knew.  That´s something I find hard to explain with words, but then again, I m just blogging, there were and are zillions of people far more talented than me who have done stuff on the subject. If you would like to get a better idea, this film may do the trick (well, at least did it for me years after all, when I watched it, was horrific…)

I went through the sleeping in a different police station every night, just because I was a singer, I was working in bars, they would come to ask for ID´s, which you inevitably have to carry with you, but hey, it didnt matter that each and every person had said documentation, it was fun to stop a regular bus, empty, of course, at 1 or 2 am, get them all in (some times even the bar´s owners) to fingerprint …..

I went through the utter humiliation the police officers liked to submit the people they caught, even if they didnt take you in, you rarely escape some kind of questionary of the full kind.

I went through loosing friends, loosing ideas, loosing identity.

And even before that, I never, ever felt the Argentina thing inside of me. I did, for example, felt the Espanhola thing after living there a few years…but not Argentina,nope.

And then I went up and down, my parents decided to make Buenos Aires their permanent residence, so I visited, and again I could feel the girl you dont belong thing.

Well, this time is so, so much worse.

Maybe is due to the fact that my father is 80, and terribly lost in senility, badly frustrated, and we, who had a brilliant relationship all my life, have finally argued to a point in which he isn´t talking to me.

Maybe is due to the fact of global warming hitting cities like this very badly, my parents flat being an oven, the humedity getting into each and every pore of my body, the sleepless nights in so much pain, pain has been a constant, yes, maybe that contributes to the fact.

But, as a result of the pain, I hardly do anything,appart from watching tele in front of the air fan,in my parents bed, and the television shows me deeply all those things I so much dislike of the Argentina and the Argentinians.

I will try to explain that later.

In resume: It was dreadfully hot, I m not doing much, I´m eating too much, my dad is totally mad and doesn´t speak to me anymore, my mum is equally mad but she (surprisingly, as she is the one who had not access to education and graduated with honours of university, like my dad did….) argues with you one minute and then hugggzzz you and smiles and tells you how happy she is that you are there….As I have said in some precious post…she is admirable, this woman, my mother.

Also: TAM lost one of our suitcases, the one most important, it´s been lost for over 20 days now, one of my old filofaxs was in it, meaning I ve lost contact with some people I would ve like to see….oh well.

I ve almost forgot: today, when getting into the bath tab (which here are far lower than London ones) whilst arguing with Sarita, I had a fall, a very bad fall, on my left side. It hurts.

It hurts, a lot. Everything, all the time.

In times like these, I remember french Christine, from the Charity Shop in Kentish Town, who allways says I remind her of Frida Khalo….well,I m not so talented, but yes, Frida, sister in pain…..

 

 

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About thelatinmrspeel

in the process of moving blogs, so more will come later
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