A Cry from the Bottom of a Daughter’s Heart
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A Cry from the Bottom of a Daughter’s Heart

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John Ahni Schertow
March 30, 2007
 

A Cry from the Bottom of a Daughter’s Heart
from Rights Action
March 19, 2007

We re-circulate this article published by Diana Gómez on the anniversary of the disappearance and eventual extrajudicial execution of her father, Jaime Gómez. (Translated for Rights Action by Rosalind Gil)

Planet Earth

I don’t understand why anyone would try to convince me to stop trying to find out what happened to you, why anyone would tell me that I am just shouting at the wind: why did they kill you? Who gave them permission to do this? Who could they be? What special powers do they have? I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. It has been a whole year with no news whatsoever.

There are days when I ask myself in desperation, why did they kill you? Why do I have to live with such intense grief? Why can’t I enjoy your company and your fatherly advice anymore? Why are you no longer there to answer the phone when I call? Because you were in our hearts and in the big photograph taken at New Year’s, which used to be our favorite day together.

When I think about those times, I get overwhelmed by heartrending grief and when I try to talk, nothing but rage comes out of my mouth. It hurts even more when I think about you, one year ago, laughing, with your long hair. I dream of the time when you were still alive but it all turns sour when I think about that Tuesday they took you away.

I don’t understand why anyone would try to convince me to stop trying to find out what happened to you, why anyone would tell me that I am just shouting at the wind: why did they kill you? Who gave them permission to do this? Who could they be? What special powers do they have? I don’t understand. I just don’t understand. It has been a whole year with no news whatsoever.

I am not always in the same place. The grief takes me different places, but I cannot forget what happened to you. It is impossible for me to forget. My convictions would never allow it. Where are you? Why did they take you away? I keep asking myself these questions in vain. Because there are no answers, because in Colombia my questions fall on deaf ears.

I miss you, father. Sometimes I cannot even cry. I don’t understand what happened and I can’t accept it. I refuse to continue living in this hell-hole of a country. I am turning my back on this country full of despotism, violence, blood and dead people. I refuse to continue watching dreams and political projects get lost in memory.

Now I have said it. I hate the lies. I am disgusted by the forgetting. I am nauseated by those who try to sell our country. Even more nauseated than thew ay they found your body. Even more nauseated than what I experienced when I tried to brainwash myself into accepting that you were dead. It’s a more visceral nausea than what I felt when I saw you in pieces in the morgue.

Truly disgusting nausea. Nausea and Rage. An even bigger rage than what I felt when I heard what the President, the Minister, the Director of Legal Medicine and that journalist had to say about my father.

I have a right to be angry, to feel grief, to want to know the truth, and to dream about getting the impossible from the justice system. It is my right to want to build a better country where there are not so many lies. It has been a year, and we still have no idea who killed you. Patience has become a duty for those of us who were left behind when you took him away. I have to keep on waiting, and I tell you again that I miss you, I long to see you, I remember you, I dream of you – and my dreams are the only thing I have left!

Antígona Gómez: born, March 21, 2006. Jaime Gómez: disappeared, March 21, 2006, his remains were found magically (there are quite a few magicians in Columbia) on April 23, 2006.

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UN GRITO DESDE LA PROFUNDIDAD DEL CORAZON DE UNA HIJA
artículo publicado por Diana Gómez con ocasión del aniversario de la desaparción y posterior ejecución Extrajducial de su padre Jaime Gómez.

Antígona Gómez

Planeta Tierra

No entiendo, que alguien me explique, que alguien me de razones, que estoy gritando callada a todo viento: ¿Por qué te mataron, quién les dio permiso? ¿Quiénes son acaso? ¿Cuál es el poder especial que los reviste? No entiendo. No entiendo. Luego de un año sigo sin entender.

Hay días en que desesperadamente me pregunto por qué te mataron. Por qué estoy viviendo este dolor tan intenso. Por qué no puedo disfrutar más de tu compañía, de tus enseñanzas. Por qué no estás en casa dispuesto a contestar una llamada mía. Porque estuviste tan sólo en nuestros corazones y en la gran foto que tiene la abuela en casa el 31 de diciembre, cuando era nuestro día favorito.

En esos instantes me lleno de un dolor profundo, desgarrador, desconcertante, un dolor que sabe a rabia en los labios cuando trato de verbalizarlo. Me duele más cuando te pienso hace un año, riendo, con tu cabello largo. La boca se me hace agua cuando te pienso en vida, se torna áspera cuando arribo al martes en que te llevaron.

No entiendo, que alguien me explique, que alguien me de razones, que estoy gritando callada a todo viento: ¿Por qué te mataron, quién les dio permiso? ¿Quiénes son acaso? ¿Cuál es el poder especial que los reviste? No entiendo. No entiendo. Luego de un año sigo sin entender.

No estoy en el mismo lugar de siempre, el duelo me lleva por parajes distintos, pero olvidar no puedo. En mi camino el olvido me es ajeno. Está distante de mi convicción de vida. ¿Dánde estás? ¿Por qué te han llevado? Me interrogo inútilmente. Por qué no hay respuestas, por qué en Colombia hay tantos oídos sordos.

Padre, me haces falta. A veces ni llorar puedo. Es que no entiendo, no comprendo, no acepto. Renuncio a seguir viviendo en un país con tanta mierda. Renuncio al país del depotismo, de la violencia, de la sangre, de los difuntos. Renuncio a dejar que sueños y proyectos políticos queden destinados al olvido. Renuncio. Ya lo he hecho. Odio las mentiras, me asquea el olvido. Me producen náuseas los que venden nuestra patria, más náuseas que las que sentí el domingo que encontraron tus restos. Náuseas más terribles que las que experimenté cuando me fui haciendo lavado cerebral para aceptar que quizás estabas muerto. Náuseas más viscerales que las que sentí al verte sólo en pedazos en la morgue. Náuseas que asquean. Náuseas y rabia. Más rabia que aquella de saber lo que decía de tu muerte el Presidente, el Ministro, el director de Medicina Legal, la periodista aquella.

Es mi derecho sentir rabia, estar dolida, querer la verdad, soñar con imposibles como la justicia. Es mi derecho querer construir una mejor patria sin tantas mentiras. Un año ha pasado y no sabemos nada de quienes te mataron. Para nosotros, los que aquí quedamos cuando a ustedes se los llevan, la paciencia resulta una obligación. Obligada a esperar un tanto más, así, te digo de nuevo que te extraño , te añoro, te recuerdo, te dibujo en sueños… Eso al menos sigue siendo mío: los sueños!!!

Antígona Gómez – Nacida el 21 de marzo de 2006 Jaime Gómez: Desaparecido el 21 de marzo de 2006 – hallaron sus restos por arte de magia (en Colombia hay bastantes magos), el 23 de abril del mismo año.

Más artículos: http://antigonagomez.blogspot.com

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