Héctor Roberto Chavero was the name by which it scored a 31 January of 1900 eight in the village of Campo de la Cruz, next to the loading station, in the fields of Pergamino, in the province of Buenos Aires. One century, nowadays.
In these grasslands, thirty years before the new rifles had realized the Indian populations. Civilization, they said, ended with the Barbarie. The endless stretches of grassland, perhaps the most fertile on the planet, were divided among a few dozen families owning, Buenos Aires and among colonels who have won this war. English is wired with steel and earth, which had helped no one there, nor water, or air, are transformed in prison for pilgrims solitary gauchos, and instead of slavery for the defeated Indians survivors.
But these, each other, had given their blood for this land that we call Fatherland vague idea became word. Among these were the Chavero. Yupanki's father, but rider and trainer, turned gaucho on foot. As my grandfather or my father.
The certainty that air-or wind-no one owns, that water belongs to no one or all and the earth, being older than us, not ours, to put it in his mind Yupanki male artist from his early years. He
gaucho on foot, his father, like his ancestors, was restless, but he, of the tracks: Railway mutated Tucumán.
From his childhood and early youth, round and unreachable horizons of endless hand signals, sojusgado man and the stillness of her grief, Yupanki would keep the mystery in his guitar and his verses sung by milonga. In its north again with its hills and mountains, and in its sole youth who do not know? would you give to other cows in terms of value man, and romantic moons and their minor Tucumán rivers and roads without arrivals, would give in his poems mirror the quality of sugarcane delayed, the one who brings hope to live one more day and night and rest and perhaps a child in the dream, forget the fear of the coming day.
But his song loved by the people, would also have other ears and other voices, those who interpret command " the vertical order is not contested ." And in the years of infamy shared the prison with another Chinese "as he, my father. Ten years then the rich country, social confusion, distributive, at least, and the estates intact. Again prison for Cantor and the recoil of the rifle, which mutes the voice but not ensilencia hands. And the exile.
As tens of thousands of people who had loved him through the radio, or spread sheets in mills or bowling, climbing onto trucks for the high honorable Chief Yupanki be slitting. What rajaban. It was.
However, the world welcomed him, but could not heal many wounds. Exile, came to Paris. Relationships between people are easy after a tragedy and there had left the war. Maybe that's why one night after some partying with friends in which Yupanki sang his things, one of those friends, Paul Eluard, led him almost to the drag, in his Ford 8, aided by others in the band, Aragon, Guillevic, Vercors, Perec ... the resistant and the Surrealists what a band! to the theater where he sang Edhit Piaff Athénée. And the Sparrow of Paris, the nymph Egeria a time of utopias, he took her hand and introduced him to his audience. And he played his guitar and sang. Since that night, I loved Paris and Paris loved. With this " band" and the forocho loaded with bottles of wine, went to northern France to sing to the coal miners and their families, and with them, wrote poems and made songs.
returned to their land (the land, as he would say) years later. But in Uruguay, Argentine exiles historical homeland and from there, after he crossed the river. " Arriving sang " The little questions:" Father, God knows what [...] I just know that the lunch at the table of pattern. " Logical pathetically, it fell back into exile
But this time his exile was shorter. Because, despite the shameless right rematch against Peronism in Argentina defeated, there were some elements that catalyzed the rancor, times less artistic. And he never Peronist, he returned to radio, to radio the world, then the highest diffusion speaking, and their new tour the country to renew old loves people and is well known by the younger. I was there. I would
seventeen when I was told in the folk rock Arias, my people, then, " Yupanki comes, get ready because you have to do the first part ." Excited and unconscious, I made it. " I said a poem of mine, one of Yamandú Rodriguez, and ended with " Freedom" by Paul Eluard. Atahualpa greeted me and I left to mourn alone. Then he greeted my father looked at each other and the long end, a handshake, a hug and a " como andas, me and your well." Was it. Then
Argentina
shot, the shot time, every shot, some by land. Even the earth - And in that terrible film I happened to fall in France. And here in Paris, I returned to find Atahualpa and supportive he was my friend for many years, and I was his friend, from a few, as he was, despite his personal charm and sarcastic humor, a fellow stealth and wild . A man of many loves, but few friends.
Next to him, with my wife we \u200b\u200bfrequent to Nenette, his wife, until one afternoon, rarely beautiful and sad, witnessing, in his modest apartment on Losserand Raimond, in Paris, where he was his friend and guitarist Pedro Soler, a ceremony accountable those who Argentina had died a few days earlier. I tried to say, at that time, some of those poems of my first meeting already mentioned. But I could not.
met later in the solitude of Don Ata, now old and sick, who would be his last companion, "Jaco" Rossi, in whose arms he died on the poet, on the morning of May 24, 1992, in Nimes , Roman city in southern France, after his last performance, which, however, did not take place, although he was on stage, greeted his audience, but did not touch his guitar or sang, or was, perhaps to spare us the pain of goodbye.
Pantin, April 2008. Hugo Herrera
______________________________________________ Note:
c) View, click here: Interview with Atahualpa Yupanqui performed on the television program "In Depth " of Joaquín Soler Serrano for English Television ( click here to see)
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