Democracy, too, was still wobbling on its shaky, brand-new legs. Barely a few months had passed and the new reality encouraged us to think of a bright future full of freedoms, now far from the opprobrium of censorship, threats and exiles. The songs we had written in silence, almost in secret, were playing on the radio and on television. Everything was possible then, even joy. There had been a lot of suffering and there were still issues to resolve from the courts with the dictators, but everything seemed to be on track.
And then came the news of the possible concert of Silvio and Pablo. The entire Argentine musical arc tensed before such news. The Nueva Trova at home? It seemed like a dream. And the day came. And he came with gifts. Both Silvio and Pablo generously offered to sing with each of us. In my case I mentally reviewed which were the songs that I could sing from each one of them without making a fuss, I even studied the tonalities to rehearse with due knowledge in each case. But Silvio’s generosity lightened my task. He proposed to sing my “We Still Sing” as a duet. And there we went, to realize that Obras Sanitarias full of youth and slogans, of hope and aroma of freedom.
I remember the euphoria, the powerful force of a generation that had suffered the ordeal of the Dictatorship and its horrors. Family losses, persecutions, torture in many cases, exiles, uncertainties but there, that day, they were with us. Silvio and Pablo made it possible, they sang to the new man, to an Argentina that rose from its ashes, from its most painful darkness. I remember that. From the wonderful unit that embraced us reaffirming that from there, from that embrace our scars would heal.
I still think about it, in that country where the embrace and brotherhood helped us to think about joy, far from the hate that surrounds us today with its abject nonsense.
That concert opened a luminous door that still proposes a path. I’m just saying we could push each other again to reopen it.
To give ourselves the pleasure of debating without insults, without rancor. To hug the neighbor, to dream like then.
We deserve it.