Mirta Acuña de Baravalle

Madre de Plaza de Mayo - Línea Fundadora(Founding members) Abuela de Plaza de Mayo

She is Ana María Baravalle´s mother. Her daughter was kidnapped on August 27, 1976, together with her husband, Julio César Galizzi. At that time, Ana María, aged 28, was studying Sociology and was five months pregnant. From then on, Mirta started her tireless search for her daughter and her grandchild, who is thought to have been born in captivity.

Mirta is one of the founders of the group Madres de Plaza de Mayoand one of the fourteen women who for the first time gathered together in that square to claim for their children on April 30, 1977. At the same time, Mirta was one of the twelve mothers-grandmothers who founded Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo who ―under the motto ‘Searching for our grandchildren without forgetting our children’ ― started the long-lasting path for the restitution of the identity of those children kidnapped or born in captivity.

Today, after so many years of struggle and claim, Mirta continues to be a symbol in the defence of Human Rights. She can be found in every ronda de las Madres de Plaza de Mayo on Thursdays.

I always say that while I still have my strength, while I’m still mentally and physically healthy, I’ll keep on standing for this claim of social justice and for Human Rights at present.

With those words, Mirta summarises her commitment to Collective Memory and the Present time.

From roses sprouted new roses and from these, others will continue sprouting. It is the eternal progression, the integration in all, the absolute from the nonpermanent state. Meanwhile, I live and fight for joy, and for that joy I will die. That is what I want. Never suffer because of me. Think that nothing or nobody will ever fall me apart. It is true, I may be a reed that men can break. But I am drinking so as to calm, at least a little, that insatiable thirst of those who are in pain.2

MIRTA’S STORY

Mirta Baravalle is one of the founders of Madres de Plaza de Mayo. On August 27, 1976, a group of military officers broke into her house and kidnapped her five months pregnant daughter, Ana María. The search for that grandchild born in

2 Text written by Ana María Baravalle in a letter addressed to her mother in 1972.

captivity still continues today, since he or she was never given back to his or her real family.

My name's Mirta Baravalle. We’ve adopted our husbands’ last names so that our disappeared children can be noticed. My daughter disappeared on August 27, 1976. Pretty late at night, more than 30 people dressed in military uniforms and wearing balaclavas broke into my house. They climbed our neighbours’ walls and jumped in. They were all armed with long-barrelled weapons. I heard noises coming from outside the house, so I went out into the porch because we were all in the kitchen. My daughter, my son-in-law, my brother and I were playing scrabble that night, the loser was supposed to pour the mate3 . This was what we’d been doing that night. At that moment, the house was searched, but they didn’t take our children. They took one of our neighbours in an attempt to terrify everyone in our neighbourhood. They took some jewellery, money, and everything they could. We thought they’d left but 10 minutes later they banged on our front door. At the entrance, they asked for our daughter, Ana. Right then, Ana felt that a critical situation was going on. They threatened me. I told them that Ana was my daughter. And it was there, when my daughter stepped up and said: ‘I´m Ana’. At that precise moment, they took her. We tried to make everything we could to know more about that night, but no one wanted to talk. With the passing of time, we believed that they performed two near-simultaneous operations that night.

The National Security Doctrine was rooted in the Cold War period and it was used to account for military defence and domestic security processes against the new conditions of the advancement of socialism and the instability of capitalism. It meant a military conception of the State and it justified its occupation from the part of the Armed Forces. In Latin America, this was built on the basis of the existence of a domestic enemy, whose intention was to subvert the traditional ways of life, by implementing military strategies not yet applied to the wars known till that moment. In this way, the idea of ‘an internal war’ was spread, in which the State was supposed to fight not against other states threatening its sovereignty but against ‘subversion’. Apparently, this was infiltrated, in an invisible way, in the daily lives of the citizens. We were all under suspicion. The theory of the domestic war also supported the version about equality of conditions between two armies that confronted each other:

The military were shooting both from neighbouring houses and from inside my house. It looked like a game of exchange of fire. This is the reason why the neighbours thought that there was a confrontation with terrorists. My son-in-law tried to hide in the backyard, and according to what I was later told by some neighbours, one of the military officers said: ‘Kill him’. When the whole situation finished, I found the bullets in my backyard.

Thus, she started her struggle, by being one of the first women who dared to make public what was going on and what was her claim.

3 pour hot water in a traditional tea shared by many people on the same vase.

HER DAUGHTER, ANA MARÍA

Ana María was born on March 20, 1948, in the city of Buenos Aires and since she was very young, she was “an activist for life”, as her mother defined her.

Ana was twenty-eight and Julio was twenty-five years old. I knew about my daughter’s social activism. She was supposed to graduate that year as a sociologist and she worked for the Ministry of Finance. Neither of them could be unaware of what was going on in the country. My daughter was an activist of life. She used to set her alarm clock at dawn so as to go to help people living in the slums. ‘If we aren’t able to let people know their rights, that they shouldn’t be subjected, that they should be the makers of this country, nothing will remain. If this isn’t changed, in 25 years' time, nothing will be left from the Argentine society”, she used to say to me.

She used to wake up really early in the morning in order to give food to the homeless and she said that she didn't want people to be subjected, but integrated.

Ana María was committed to her activism and to her condition as a student. She and her husband were struggling to undo what they considered to be unfair and to promote a more egalitarian society.

One day during her second semester at university, she went out and said: ‘I’m not going to continue studying there anymore’, because she didn’t agree with the kind of teaching she was getting there. And I knew that her only goal in life was studying. They were aware of what they wanted and what was wrong, and for this reason they were called rebels. I believe that if you aren't a learned or educated person, you can be easily manipulated. With her thirst for knowledge and her desire to transmit it to others, she was different from the rest. Now, maybe, I understand why they were taken from us. They knew all this and that’s why they never let anyone dominate them. They had ideals.

They wanted to defend their and everyone’s rights and those governments knew about this. That was the danger. The danger of knowing. This is the reason why this generation is gone. They were really valuable young people. This didn’t occur only in Argentina, it took place at a Latin American scale. Operation Condor was being implemented at that time, it was happening in all countries. There was an empire there which was hidden so as to move all the wealth of the countries in the world. They never had any kind of rejection towards that idea of ‘taking over’.

It was their commitment towards others what led them to their inconceivable disappearance. They had considered the possibility of being judged by their actions, but it was impossible for them to notice the horror they were about to face.

I think that when they truly committed to that change they were looking for, they must have thought that if they somehow became a stone in the shoes of those holding power, at most, they were going to be imprisoned, they were going to have a trial, knowing, besides, that they were going to become parents soon.

THE SEARCH FOR ANA MARÍA

Immediately after Ana María’s kidnapping, Mirta went out to search for her in every place within her reach. But this search that she started in isolation would soon acquire historical characteristics.

How did your search start?

The following day we went out into the streets. I went to the Lourdes Church in the town of Santos Lugares so as to get some information about Ana María and her husband. I think that every person whose beloved relatives were snatched from his or her side immediately went out into the streets to try to find them. People wanted to know why they had been taken. From that moment, our search started. Where? Why? These were the questions I asked in every place I searched in.

First, I started the search alone, by myself. I went to prisons, police stations, the Armed Forces, the Ministries. But no one would say anything, no one would give me answers. Later, I realised that there were other mothers. We were all in the same situation. We walked together, we went to different places searching for the same thing, even without thinking about it or knowing one another. We went particularly to the Ministry of Home Affairs then operating at the Casa Rosada, the presidential building. At that moment, we realised that we were always given the same ironic answer. It was when the idea of petitioning as a whole group emerged. We were the relatives of the disappeared, we didn’t refer to ourselves as ‘mothers’. At that time, the people who were snatched from us were not only our children, but sometimes our husbands or our brothers or sisters.

At a certain time, I used to go to the Devoto jail in Villa Devoto neighbourhood every day. I saw a lot of people queueing in the same line I was. Most of them were the relatives of political prisoners, but there were others who were also looking for theirkidnapped children. Like us, they also didn’t know where they were. There, I started to inform myself about the steps I should follow in order to get information. I filed a Habeas Corpus petition, Case N° 616 ―I used to handwrite these petitions. Once, in1978, I got one document signed for the baby and in 1981 we made the formal petition in Casa Rosada.

How did the Madres de Plaza de Mayostart to gather together?

We were all going to the same places, looking for answers in those same places. At a certain moment, there were five or six of us waiting in the square, sitting on a bench or walking around as if we were just passing by. In this way, we started to become linked.

The first thing we did was to visit the vicariato castrense4. One day, Azucena Villaflor said we should all go together to the Plaza de Mayo and we decided to do it on April 30, 1977. That first time we were 14 women. We hadn't realised that it was a Saturday because we had no idea of what day it was and we were saying: ‘But there’snobody here’. The first mother to arrive that day was Pepa Noia. But a Saturday was not a good day to gather together because there were few people in the square and as soon as the military saw us, they took us out from there. So, we decided to gather together the following Friday at rush hour. It was going to be difficult for the military to recognise us in the crowd. And we did this for several Fridays and every time more women joined us. Later on, a mother called Emma Panells said that we should gatheron Thursdays because Friday was the day of the witches.

And as time went by, the cluster of Madres became bigger and bigger. On the one hand, because more youngsters were disappearing and, on the other hand, because their relatives started to learn littleby little what was happening. They approached us with a lot of fear. It was a really hard time for us, but we were able to continue. That was our beginning.

Mirta was also one of the twelve mothers-grandmothers who founded Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. At first, they gathered together under the name of ‘Abuelas Argentinas con Nietitos desaparecidos’ (Argentine Grandmothers with Disappeared Little Grandchildren), but in 1980 they started to use their current name ‘Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo’. Their motto was ‘Searching for our grandchildren without forgetting our children’.

And the Abuelas, how did they start to gather together?

One day, Mary Ponce de Bianco, a grandmother who later on was going to be kidnapped by Astiz, and I went to another grandmother's house. Her son had been kidnapped together with his baby. Mary and I went to her house to help her write a Habeas Corpus for her granddaughter, Clara Soledad. I remember that we wrote it on her bed while we were all kneeling on the floor. This Habeas Corpus petition was published in the newspaper La Opinión by Timerman and it turned out to be a whole scandal because we were talking about a kidnapped baby. Soon after that, a nun said that there was a baby with Clara Soledad’s characteristics at Casa Cuna Children’s hospital.

And that baby was her! But the grandmother was supposed to get her custody. It was a difficult process because when the baby was kidnapped, she was eleven months old and when she was found she was more than a year old. At that time, DNA tests didn’t exist, and Judge Sarmiento denied her custody unless the family bond was proved. It seemed there was no way to prove it. But then, Clara

4 branch of the Catholic Church in Argentina created to assist the Military Forces in spiritual and religious matters)

Soledad’s grandmother remembered that the baby had a mole on one of her feet soles. And this was true so the Judge was able to verify this and Clara Soledad became the first baby we restored to her legal family. I remember that we organized a mass to thank for this at the Santa Cruz Church in April 1977. The church was crowded with people. But that day was a terrible day for us…

Why?

Because Astiz attended that mass. It was the first time I saw him. Then, I met him again in the firstmeeting for mothers and relatives that we organized at Santa Cruz.It’s as if I were still looking at him! I never felt comfortable with him; I found it difficult to believe in his story; I never liked his comments. For example, he used to say that we should know more about the activities in which our children were involved. I told how I felt about him to my friend Mary Ponce de Bianco, but she didn’t agree with me. I stopped attending those meetings because I had the feeling that something wrong was goingto happen. On December 8, 1977, Mary invited me to go to the Santa Cruz Church to sign a press release, but I had already signed it at Bettania Church; so, instead, I went to the office of the Permanent Assembly for Human Rightsto see if I could get someinformation. That night, Mary and the rest of the people were taken by force from the entrance door of Santa Cruz! Astiz was responsible for this, he was the one who betrayed them. On December 10, La Prensa paper published the mothers’ press release. Thatsame day, Azucena was kidnapped at the entrance door of her house. Astiz had singled her out when he kissed her at the entrance of Santa Cruz Church.

What happened then with the kidnapped Madres?

Finally, we knew what happened. At the beginnings of 1978,some corpses appeared on a beach on the Atlantic coast. At that time, it was said that they could be the kidnapped mothers. It was never mentioned again, nobody knew what happened, there was total silence, it was impossible to get any information, and in this way, time went by.

On July 15, 2005, the truth was finally revealed. Their bodies were taken to the Lavalle cemetery. It was said that the bodies of some disappeared people had been taken there. The investigation proved that those bodies found belonged to the mothers, who had been taken by force to the ESMA (Navy Mechanics School). Later on, we discovered that they had been tortured and thrown to the river.

The most significant thing that shocked us and touched our hearts deeply was that the three bodies thrown to the sea appeared together on the shore. The sea returned them together with a nun called Sister Léonie Duquet, who was also missing back then. And one wonders how in the immensity of the sea, these bodies appeared together on the beach, while there were others who were also thrown into the sea from planes. Yet, the three mothers and the nun joined on that beach. These

things are so significant because if the military and judges denied being accomplices to what was going on, these mothers returned to become themselves witnesses of the tragedy, their bodies were there to reveal this. With their appearance, all the infamy and criminality was unveiled, something that has been so difficult to recognize that happened in Argentina, our country. We’ve had such sinister characters in our history, that caused so much pain on our citizens, not only on one generation. The anguish and sorrow of not knowing what happened to our children, of learning about their tortures and that were victimized in such an atrocious way.

How did Abuelas look for their grandchildren?

As Abuelas, we gathered together at Café Tortoni; we used to go there to celebrate fake birthday parties. At that time, the person in charge of organizing this was Chicha Mariani, who was then the president of the movement. Vilma González, Julia Rebollo and I used to meet in different houses, in faraway places. All the claims we filed at an international level were never replied to.

From Abuelas, we carried out a lot of activities as a group. We knew about many detained-disappeared people who had not been claimed by a formal petition and we went out into the streets to search for them too. Those families didn’t know about the existence of Abuelas. There were not only babies born in captivity, but also children who were kidnapped together with their parents. We did everything we could to gather as much information as possible. An example of this is what happened with María Eva Duharte. A survivor told us that María Eva had delivered a baby while she was in captivity. Her family lived in the town of Grand Bourg and so, there I went to meet them. María Eva’s mother told me that it was impossible, that María Eva wasn’t pregnant when she’d been kidnapped. But in that same kitchen where we were sitting, there was a little girl who said: ‘Yes. My mum was pregnant. I knew that’.

And plenty of cases were like this one. We know that there are hundreds of grandchildren out there to be restored to their legitimate families.

Pregnant women who were kidnapped tried to delay being in labour because they knew that their kidnappers would illegally appropriate their babies. I cannot understand such atrocity. How the military could be so evil and unrestricted intheir actions. I believe that our children’s generation underestimated their enemy’s criminality.

At first, we, Abuelas, gathered together for the only selfish purpose of finding our own grandchildren. But later we felt that every abducted child was our own grandchild. We called ourselves ‘Abuelas Argentinas’ (Argentinean Grandmothers) and at the beginning we were thirteen: Clara Jurado, Haydeé Falino de Lemos, Señora de Caimi, Julia Rebollo de Grandi, Irma Cisariego de González, Beatriz de Neuhaus, Chicha Mariani, María Eugenia Goyena, Alicia de la Cuadra, Elia Califano, Vilma González.

As Abuela, I was able to participate in the restitution of many grandchildren. Paula Logares was the first granddaughter to be restored by the use of DNA analysis. She was twenty-two months old when she was kidnapped. Even though she was so young, she was able to point at herself and said: “Me, Paula”. She defended her name at the age of twenty-two months old! We found her when she was already eight years old but she had been told that she was six.

Another initial case was Menchu Quesada’s nephew. She was an actress. The boy recognised her one day when she appeared on TV and said: ‘Auntie’. And also the case of the Antonale siblings, who were left in Valparaíso.

Abuela Hilda Toranzo and I went on a two-month trip around different countries: Austria, Germany, France, Switzerland and Spain. Every place we were in was crowded with people waiting to see us. From Canada, we received thousands of letters per day. This felt like recharging our batteries, because we had to return all that support back. I used to receive over a hundred letters in my house every day. I read each and every one at night when I got home after being working on our cause all day long. I keep some six or seventhousand letters.

Were you ever scared?

Once my pregnant daughter was kidnapped, the worst thing in the world had already happened to me! After that, you aren’t frightened. You feel a lot of things ―anguish, helplessness, annoyance. But you aren’t scared.

Mirta is still looking for her grandson or granddaughter, with the double uncertainty of a Madre and Abuela who never surrendered with the passing of time.

What could you find out about what happened with your daughter and her baby?

The day Ana María was kidnapped, she had seen her doctor to check how the baby was. He had told her that her due date was by January 15, and he had congratulated her on her perfect pregnancy. So, later, I made my conclusions based on this. I knew that since the baby was in perfect condition, he or she should be alive. At first, I was told that babies were returned to the families after 6 months, so I waited for several months.

From an acquaintance, I learned that Ana María had given birth on January 12, 1977. That day,it was around eleven p.m. when someone knocked at my door insistently. I hurried to open the door and found this person who said: ‘The three of them are fine’. He was supposed to reach his house before midnight, he lived twenty blocks away, so that’s why he was in a hurry. The following day, this person was kidnapped. I never knew if my grandchild is a girl or a boy. Till today, we have never found Camila or Ernesto ―these were the names my daughter had chosen for the baby. Besides, I was never able to learn where they were held in captivity and what really happened to them.

MIRTA’S LEGACY

In several interviews, Mirta has recognised the importance of taking an active stance in public responsibility, the need to commit ourselves to others and oneself.

We used to think that the responsibility was only in the hands of politicians or members of government. We believed that we were just citizens who were supposed to accept or not politicians’ policies, just that. That we were ordinary citizens who were just tovote. But our children taught us to see life in a different way. They taught us with their own lives.

In each of the schools she visits, this Madre de Plaza de Mayoputs her trust in her interlocutors: the boys and girls who listen respectfully to the story she has to tell.

We, Abuelas, have this: our expectations placed upon you. In that generation that is dormant today. You are like the substitutes for that generation that isn’t here today due to their ideals. But they are present today and forever.

Mirta referred to the dismemberment of her nuclear family and how, despite her daughter’s loss, they were all able to move on with enough strength so as to keep on struggling for Collective Memory, Truth and Justice.

My other children were also marked by their sister’s loss. Their lives were never the same again. They lost their lives too because everything changed for the families after such events. Families fell apart or were dismembered. And the grandchildren are still suffering from this consequence. This is what we, Abuelas, want to never happen again in our country. This is the reason why we fight for.

HER COMMITMENT

One has this commitment. It’s not a formal commitment, but a truly honest commitment, a heartfelt commitment, a commitment of love. I always say that while I still have my strength and I'm still mentally and physically healthy, I’ll keep on fighting for this cause claiming for justice. But my claim isn’t only for the disappeared but also for social justice and current justice. It’s not that we leave behind what happened to us, today we fight also for present Human Rights, what our children died for. We also fight for all those people who suffered in order to change our society, to make it fairer for all. So, I have this commitment and while I can, I’ll keep on fighting with all my heart. Because our children, the youth of that time, would do the same, like so many people today are committed because they see people suffering, they feel it. Our children would be today working beside this generation of today, helping those people in need, somehow supporting and comforting them. So our struggle is an endless endeavour and I hope to live many years so thatI can keep on supporting it.

FINAL WORDS

The importance of going on...

I always say that I want to be a mother worthy of my daughter’s love because I know how she was since she was born. And I don’t want to be ahead of my daughter but beside her. Because where I am, my daughter is there too. I know it is beside me where she wanted to be in this struggle.

Forty-one years have gone by and I am like the first day. Our families changed. Every child who was brought back is a different story. Their parents thought a whole life for them. It’s necessary to restore them all. They have the right to know their story and their families have the right to know where they are.