We recently returned from a wonderful cruise vacation of South America. While the trip culminated in the multiple-evening festivities in Rio known as Carnaval, it was our first port of call, Buenos Aires, which I am unlikely to ever forget.
First, a little back-story. My personal interest in Buenos Aires was fueled by my love of the musical, Evita, which had been released as a “concept album” in 1976, one year before I began studying music theory and composition in college. Eventually I would be defending my analysis of the score. During that time I also learned a bit about the subject of the work, Eva Peron, Argentina and in particular, Buenos Aires.
1976 was also significant in that it was the year that Juan Peron’s third wife (Eva was #2) and the president of Argentina, was overthrown in a military coup. Although the specific time frame is debated by historians, generally speaking the country was ruled by a military junta from 1976 to 1983. Death squads were formed and authorized to “disappear” those who might be at odds with then-current political thought or perceived as a threat to the status quo.
Thousands of these “Desperacidos” were apprehended. Many were tortured before being murdered. And some of them wanted desperately to be heard…
My husband and I stayed in a hotel just a short distance from the Plaza de Mayo, a landmark rich in history and symbolism for Argentinians since the May Revolution of 1810.
Juan Peron and Eva would make more than one address from La Casa Rosada to throngs in the plaza. (Interestingly, these speeches took place on the back balcony of the presidential palace, to take advantage of the plaza’s capacity.)
So many voices…
One floor below the lobby of the hotel is a small restaurant for guests. We had been eating for about 15 minutes when I heard a sound in my left ear. I turned and saw the mist-covered form of a man, about 30 years old. He just stood there, looking at me with a sullen stare.
“I’m buried under this floor”, as he gestured to the blond-oak surface, newer than the hotel itself.
“They took me in the middle of the night.”
I figured right then that it was going to be a bit bumpy in Buenos Aires.
Avenida 9 de Julio: The spirit of a college professor literally jumped out of a “Subte” (subway) entrance and waved at me, showing me a collection of bruises on her arms and legs.
Recoleta: Four young men begin walking towards me. They appeared to be living, physical beings. Then, suddenly, they all “whooshed” up to me, becoming thin streams of light in the process, and then vanished. As this happened, I felt their energy move through me, and I heard one of them say, “We are The Disappeared Ones, but we are still here!”
And so it went for the entire visit. Spirits everywhere. Sometimes anguished, often loud (metaphysically speaking) and nearly always showing me their mortal injuries.
In my conversations with both friends and clients, I remind them that spirits are able to recognize those in the physical world who can see them. I believe it’s more about “matching frequencies” than an indicator of mediumship ability, because I believe everyone has that ability within them. Once a spirit latches onto you, they will likely persist until they feel they’ve gotten their message across. I try not to think of it as a personal affront; I’d probably do the same thing if I’d been wandering the streets for decades trying to communicate with the world and people I’d been taken from.
As we entered La Recoleta Cemetery, Evita’s final resting place, I secretly wished that I’d hear from her, as well. No such luck. Given how crowded the cemetery was with the curious living, and how crowded Buenos Aires was with the furious dead, she probably opted to go out-of-town for the weekend.
©2014 Jeff McKeehan
All rights reserved