211 results where found for «Run Run se fue pa'l norte»


Run Run Went up North (Run Run se fue pa'l norte)

Music piece by:
Violeta Parra
Testimony by:
Ernesto Parra Navarrete
Experience in:
« Run Run... On the big pitch, mild summer weather was in the air. »
[...]
« Walking along the running track, our heads bowed and trying to catch the breath needed for that moment, we suddenly heard a murmur greeting and singing to us 'Run Run, se fue pa’l norte, no sé cuándo vendrá…' (Run Run went up North, I don’t know when he’ll come…). »
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The Apparition (El aparecido)

Music piece by:
Víctor Jara
Testimony by:
Pedro Mella Contreras
« When they took me out to physiotherapy treatment, I sang some verses of the song ‘The Apparition’ loudly: »
[...]
« Run, run, run »
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Captive Quena (Quena cautiva)

Music piece by:
Claudio Durán Pardo
Testimony by:
Claudio Enrique Durán Pardo
Experience in:
Campamento de Prisioneros, Tres Álamos, September - December 1975
« I first laid my hands on a quena when I was nine years old. It was resplendently fragile and lyrical. My passion for this instrument was immediate, or rather, the quena chose me. »
[...]
« At 18, and still legally a minor, I was kidnapped, tortured in Villa Grimaldi, and then thrown into the illegal detention camps run by Pinochet’s military dictatorship. »
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Prayer So You Don't Forget Me (Oración para que no me olvides)

Music piece by:
Óscar Castro (words) and Ariel Arancibia González (music)
Testimony by:
Rosalía Martínez
Experience in:
« When Katia Chornik contacted me a few years ago asking me to provide my testimony about my musical experience in prison, I thought I didn’t have much to say. »
[...]
« For those who do not know about Cuatro Álamos, I can tell you that it was a transitory camp under the command of Orlando Manzo Durán, an officer on the prison service, and that it was run by the DINA. »
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Go Tell It to the Rain (Ve y díselo a la lluvia)

Music piece by:
Clan 91
Testimony by:
Eduardo Ojeda
« We had a comrade who sang beautifully. He was called Peye and was a student at the State Technical University. »
[...]
« Run soon »
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The Little Fence (La rejita)

Music piece by:
lyrics: collective creation; music: 'Jálame la pitita' by Luis Abanto Morales (Peruvian polka)
Testimony by:
María Cecilia Marchant Rubilar
Experience in:
Cárcel de Mujeres Buen Pastor, La Serena, September 1973 - January 1974
« We always sang this song when we were taken to Regimiento Arica. That was a torture centre. »
[...]
« This prison had been a children's home before. It was run by the Congregation of Our Lady of Charity of the Good Shepherd. People always said that these were 'good' nuns. I don’t know if that’s the right word. It sticks in my throat that consecrated nuns should be able to accept female political prisoners. »
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You Hear It Far Away (Se escucha muy lejos)

Music piece by:
Collective creation
Testimony by:
Ignacio Puelma
Experience in:
« The sound of the sea was carried over the cabins of the Ritoque Prison Camp by the wind. It was the daily music given to us as a gift by the ocean. »
[...]
« I wish I could sing to the children that run and sleep »
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With the Sprouts I Sowed (Y con brotes de mi siembra)

Music piece by:
Andrés Rivanera (lyrics) and Eugenio Moglia (music). Popularised by Los Moros and Jorge Yáñez.
Testimony by:
Guillermo Orrego Valdebenito
« In Chacabuco there were two theatres: one that was very beautiful and was linked to the old saltpetre works, where it is claimed (wrongly as it happens) that Caruso once performed, and another theatre that was inside the concentration camp. »
[...]
« The wine had run »
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The Rack (El costillar)

Music piece by:
unknown. Folk tune from the south of Chile
Testimony by:
Teresa Retamal Silva
« The Cárcel Buen Pastor was a compound run by nuns. They called us political prisoners and were anxious to collect information about us to pass it on to our tormentors. »
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Melody by Jorge Peña Hen

Music piece by:
Jorge Peña Hen
Testimony by:
María Fedora Peña
Experience in:
Cárcel de la Serena, October 1973
« 'Look here, Maria Fedora. I’ve brought you a treasure', it was the voice of my brother Juan Cristián as he crossed the doorway of our mother’s house one morning in January 1983. »
[...]
« The knot in my throat tightened again, as I felt the big tears running down my cheeks. The diminutive crotchets, quavers and minims run up and down the stave. It’s a posthumous composition!  In the most bitter moments of his life, he had the nobility to do what he loved doing above all else! »
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