When I was in Chile in 1993, Pinochet was no longer President, but still head of the military. When President Aylwin went on a European trip, Pinochet decided to have his troops surround the governmental palace at La Moneda while he and his generals had meetings inside. It was a frightening moment. Nevertheless, by that time he had become almost a comic figure in the public mind - seen as senile and probably not too bright to begin with.

One of my friends in the poblacion of Cerro Navia gave me a picture of a piece of Chilean graffiti that showed up close to this time of year on a wall in Santiago during the height of Pinochet's rule. It said: "Feliz navidad para todos menos para uno." "Merry Christmas to all - except one."

About six years ago I wrote a song for Victor Jara and others like him in Chile and elsewhere that died at the hands of people like Pinochet. I've never sung it in public, because I'm not convinced it's my best work, but somehow it seems appropriate today.


The Work of Freedom (for Victor Jara and all the others)
by Dan Schatz

They came in the night and stole your freedom
They took away your rights
Locked you in prison with thousands of others
But still you danced,
A dance of defiance
to those who would take away all joy.

And the strength of your spirit
lived on and the work of freedom grew.

They came in the night and saw you dance
So they took away your feet
Bound you down with shackles so your feet were far too heavy
But still you played
A tune of the people
On the four remaining strings of your guitar.

And the strength of your spirit
lived on and the work of freedom grew.

They came in the night and saw you play
So they took away your hands,
cut them off with knives leaving nothing but the pain
But still you sang
You sang a song of freedom
And the walls began resounding with your voice

And the strength of your spirit
lived on and the work of freedom grew.

They came in the night and heard you sing
So they took away your voice,
Left you there with no way you could speak
And still you thought
Gazed up at them defiant,
Your eyes full of pity for their wrong
        
And the strength of your spirit
lived on and the work of freedom grew.

They came in the night and knew you thought
So they took away your life.
And you died the death of thousands, but they could not kill your spirit
It still lives,
Wherever there's injustice
Your dance your song your thoughts of freedom grow.

For the strength of your spirit
lives on and the work of freedom grows.

        ©2000 by Dan Schatz


Dan Schatz