Chile: The Other September 11: An Anthology of Reflections on the 1973 Coup by Ariel Dorfman & Salvador Allende & Fidel Castro

Author:Ariel Dorfman & Salvador Allende & Fidel Castro [Dorfman, Ariel & Allende, Salvador & Castro, Fidel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Personal Memoirs, Political Science, History & Theory, History, Revolutionary, Latin America, General
ISBN: 9780987228376
Google: p9nTDgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Ocean Press
Published: 2016-08-14T23:00:00+00:00

1971

Neither the Inter-American Development Bank nor the World Bank grants new credits to Chile after Allende assumes the presidency, even denying emergency relief to victims of the earthquake.

Death of a Poet

Matilde Urrutia Neruda and Joan Jara

Matilde Urrutia Neruda

One could say that Pablo was a happy man. This could be perceived in everything he wrote, even when he was forced to keep to his bed.

He had somewhat recovered from his illness, but the day of the coup d’état was a very trying one for him. When we learned of Salvador Allende’s death, the doctor called me immediately and said: “Keep all the news from Pablo, for it could put him beyond recovery.”

Pablo had a TV set in front of his bed. He would send his driver to fetch all the newspapers. He also had a radio that got all the news. We heard of Allende’s death through a Mendoza (Argentinean) station, and this announcement killed him. Yes, it killed him.

On the day following Allende’s death, Pablo awoke in a fever, with no access to medical care, because the head doctor had been arrested and his assistant did not dare to go as far as Isla Negra. Thus we were isolated without medical help. The days were passing and Pablo’s condition was growing worse. At the end of the fifth day, I called the physician and told him, “We must take him to a clinic. He is seriously ill.”

All day he was riveted to the radio—listening to stations in Venezuela, Argentina and the Soviet Union. Finally, he grasped the situation.

His mind was perfectly lucid—absolutely clear till he fell asleep.

At the end of five days I called a private ambulance to take him to a Santiago clinic. The vehicle was thoroughly searched during the trip, which disturbed him greatly. There were other brutalities, and that also affected him visibly. I was at his side. They made me get out, and searched me and the ambulance. It was terrible for him. I kept telling them: “It’s Pablo Neruda. He is very ill. Let us through.” It was frightful, and he reached the clinic in a critical condition.

Pablo died at 10:30 p.m. and no one was able to go to the clinic because of the curfew. I then had him transported to his Santiago home, which had been destroyed—books, everything. There we kept watch, and many people came, in spite of the times we were passing through in Santiago.

When we arrived at the cemetery, people came from everywhere, workers, all workers with hard, serious faces. Half of them kept shouting, “Pablo Neruda,” and the other half replied: “Present.” This crowd entered the cemetery singing the “Internationale” in spite of the repression.

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