The Wall (La muralla)

Music piece by:
Nicolás Guillén (lyrics) and Quilapayún (music)
Testimony by:
Domingo Lizama
Experience in:
Cárcel de Valdivia / Cárcel de Isla Teja, 1973 - 1978

In prison, there was a guy who played the guitar. He cheered up the afternoons in the cell. We all sang with him.

Among the prisoners, there was a craftsman who built guitars. We played his guitars.

For Christmas, we got permission for our wives and children to come to visit us. We sang 'Noche de Paz', 'Señora Doña María' and 'Arrorró mi niño'.

When our visitors brought food, we would share it with the gendarmes. They were starving. They were conscripted youngsters.

One day, we were singing 'El pueblo unido jamás será vencido' ('The people united will never be defeated') when the cops turned up. We had to change the lyrics to 'El pueblo unido, toma Leche NidoA brand of powdered milk.' ('The people united, drink Nido Milk'). We would laugh at our jokes.

We also changed the lyrics to 'La Muralla' ('The Wall'): instead of 'the colonel’s sabre' we said 'Pinochet’s sabre'.

We sang a lot of songs from the Spanish Civil War, for example, 'Dime dónde vas morena', the Mexican song 'Carabina 3030' and the Argentinian song 'Balderrama'.

We sang them when we already knew that they would not kill us, after a visit from a delegation of the United Nations.

I separated from my wife a year after being imprisoned. One time when we were reunited we remembered the songs from the prison, especially 'Tres blancos lirios' and 'Arrorró'. These were terrible times.

When I listen to 'La Muralla' ('The Wall'), I remember an old Spaniard who was a prisoner with us. He was 70-something years old. Because there were no showers, he would wash with cold water in the sink, and he would say 'I want to die in prison so the stigma of my death falls upon these dogs'. That was the beginning of a campaign that the prisoners ran to have a shower cabin installed.


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Published on: 22 November 2017

To build this wall
bring me all the hands
black people, your black hands
white people, your white hands.

A wall that shall reach
from the beach to the mountain
from the mountain to the beach
there, over the horizon...

- Knock, knock!
- Who is it?
- A rose and a carnation...
- Open the gates!

- Knock, knock!
- Who is it?
- The colonel's sabre...
- Close the gates!

- Knock, knock!
- Who is it?
- A dove and sprig of laurel...
- Open the gates!

- Knock, knock!
- Who is it?
- The caterpillar and the centipede...
- Close the gates!
- Knock, knock!
- Who is it?

To a friend's heart
open the gates
to poison and a dagger
close the gates
to myrtle and mint
open the gates
to the snake's fang
close the gates
to a friend's heart
open the gates
to the nightingale on a blossom.

Let's raise this wall
joining all the hands together
black people, your black hands
white people, your white hands.

A wall that shall reach
from the beach to the mountain
from the mountain to the beach
there, over the horizon.

Related testimonies:

  • The Crux of the Matter (La madre del cordero)  Servando Becerra Poblete, Campamento de Prisioneros Chacabuco, 9 November 1973 - 10 November 1974

    I recited this poem in the National Stadium. I continued to do so in the Chacabuco prison camp, earning the nickname of “Venancio” from my fellow prisoners.

  • The Crux of the Matter (La madre del cordero)  Servando Becerra Poblete, Campamento de Prisioneros, Estadio Nacional, 9 November 1973 - 10 November 1974

    I recited this poem in the National Stadium. I continued to do so in the Chacabuco prison camp, earning the nickname of “Venancio” from my fellow prisoners.

  • How We Resemble Each Other (En qué nos parecemos)  Luis Cifuentes Seves, Campamento de Prisioneros, Estadio Nacional, September - November 1973

    During the 1960s, the group Quilapayún popularised this old Spanish song in Chile. Víctor Canto and I performed it as a duet in Santiago’s National Stadium, which had been converted into a concentration, torture and extermination camp.

  • Today I Sing for the Sake of Singing (Hoy canto por cantar)  Beatriz Bataszew Contreras, Calle Irán Nº 3037 / Venda Sexy / La Discotheque, 12 - 18 December 1974

    I have never been a great music listener. Nevertheless, before the coup I used to listen to Nueva Canción, especially Quilapayún and Rolando Alarcón. I also liked cumbias, to fool around. We would dance and have fun.

  • Free (Libre)  anónimo, Campamento de Prisioneros, Estadio Nacional, September - November 1973

    While waiting in the grandstands to be interrogated for the first, second or more times, we would sing 'Free' to those who were being lined up to be released. 'Free' was a catharsis, a mixture of joy for those who were going and hope for those of us left behind.

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