Last Wednesday started off odd. I got out of bed at the same time I would normally fall asleep on most weekends. Buenos Aires was shut down for the census; almost no one went to work because everyone had to wait for government officials to come to their apartments to be counted.
But when I hit the streets at 6 a.m., I saw a few taxis running and that was it. I got a ride down to the docks to get out of Argentina on a day that nothing was supposed to happen. A few friends and I ferried across Mar del Plata to Colonia, Uruguay to wander the stone gates and old lighthouses of an Unesco preserved city.
After an hour of wandering, we had seen almost the whole city when a nice old lady walked up to us and asked, “Son Argentinos?” (Are you Argentine?). We started to explain to her that we’re from the U.S. but are studying in Buenos Aires, but she cut us off and said, “Kirchner murió” (Kirchner died).
Immediately we get in a frenzy, wondering if it was Cristina, the current president of Argentina, or Néstor, the ex-president and husband of Cristina. She told us that it was Néstor — her friend had just texted her.
To make sure what we had heard was actually true, we started looking for a bar, a restaurant or any place with a TV. We ended up meeting a man with a laptop on the sidewalk and got him to Google it for us. A news article popped up confirming that Néstor Kirchner had died of a heart attack at age 60 in his home in El Calafate earlier that morning.
The shopkeeper next to us heard our conversation and found a radio station coming from Buenos Aires. We walked in and listened to the announcement from the speakers, standing next to tacky maté mugs, boxes of alfajores and Uruguayan keychains.
The rest of the day was spent exploring Colonia again in anticipation of what Buenos Aires would be like when we returned. Kirchner’s legacy has been polemic: My own host mom gave me lectures about his triumphs, but then went on rants later about how he wasn’t the greatest, and is now unsure of how she thinks of him. I’ve heard that he was a great Peronist leader, fighting for the rights of the workers and that he singlehandedly led Argentina out of the economic crash in 2001. I’ve also heard that he used Cristina as a puppet and was another power-hungry, self-serving politician.
I went home that night and saw on the news that there was a massive gathering happening at Plaza de Mayo, outside of the Casa Rosada (Argentina’s White House). When I woke up the next morning, I immediately went to Plaza de Mayo after class to see it for myself. All major roads headed toward the Casa Rosada were blocked off and filled with people waving banners, wearing flags, chanting in unison and jumping around. Honestly, it looked like a celebration rather than a funeral.
But then I saw the line. The news would tell me later that night that it stretched around 15 blocks of the city. Anyone who wants to, and can stomach the wait time, can see Néstor’s body in the Casa Rosada. President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela, President Lula of Brazil and other Latin American heads of states have already visited.
I went back to the Plaza at 3 a.m. and the crowd was still there. The line stretched down the main avenue and wrapped around the corner, past where I could see. People were still milling around, holding banners and chanting. I don’t believe the line will run dry tonight.
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