Quite a world away from the burned out old farts playing to their "base" in Washington, like the vision of
George W. Bush rolling them in the aisles with his madcap imitation of himself looking for weapons of mass distruction, "They're not over there, they're not under there, etc."
So far away from the dazzling brilliance of K-K-Karl Rove and he lurched, staggered, rolled around aping rap singers, in his world-famous send-up, "I'm M. C. Rove." Oh, God, I never thought I'd stop laughing..... yeah, sure.
~~~~~One great big, CELEBRATING, wildly happy audience. Very cool.
Found an account of the festivities in Asunción:
Fernando Lugo Presidency Brings Hope in Paraguay
by Clifton Ross / August 21st, 2008
~snip~
While they processed me, I watched Lugo on television which was on in the office, the image moving about on the screen from a distracted camera person, shooting from too great a distance from the stage where Lugo was speaking.
The taller woman noticed I was watching and she pointed at Lugo, his image dancing back and forth as the camera tried to find his focus.
“We love our president,” she said, and then she handed me my passport.
I took a cab the twenty or so miles into Asunción. I asked the driver what he thought of the new president. “Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we? But he has promised to give his presidential salary to the poor. That’s a first for this country. Maybe they’ll rob less than all the others.” He shrugged and turned back to focus on his driving.
We couldn’t get near the Plaza de Independencia so I got out seven or eight blocks away and walked to the plaza, passing blocks and blocks of soldiers filling the outlying streets. It looked more like a military coup than an inauguration.
I found myself walking beside a woman and her daughter who were also unfamiliar with Asunción and who had come in just for the celebrations. We were both lost so we stopped to ask a soldier. Her subservient posture, and the slight bow she made as she asked directions to the Plaza de Independencia, revealed that Paraguayans still haven’t fully recovered from their fear of the police and military who terrorized the country under the Stroessner dictatorship and over sixty years of one-party rule.
“Soldiers will never again be sent out to kill campesinos,” Lugo promised, but the uniformed men who passed through the crowds nevertheless drew quiet, suspicious looks. Their olive green uniforms still in some sense symbolized the forty-year-long Stroessner dictatorship.
By the time we arrived in the Plaza the inauguration had ended and a few minutes later the new President rode by, followed by guards on horseback.
Lugo had broken all protocol by dressing in sandals and a typical Paraguayan shirt, an aopo’i, and he began his speech in Guarani, the indigenous language spoken by over 95% of the people of Paraguay.
The leaders of the “Pink Tide” arrived in force, most notably Presidents Hugo Chavez, Evo Morales, Rafael Correa, Michelle Bachelet, Tabaré Vázquez, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and Cristina Fernández de Kirchner. In addition, two elders of Liberation Theology, Gustavo Gutierrez and Leonardo Boff appeared, along with Fr. Ernesto Cardenal. Eduardo Galeano also made an appearance.
But more importantly, the plaza was full of tens of thousands of the people who had brought Fernando Lugo to power: the indigenous and campesinos from distant parts of the country as well as the slum dwellers who had ventured into the Plaza from their shacks made of cardboard, wood from pallets and roofed with corrugated fiberglass or sheetmetal held down by stones, old boards, rusting bicycle frames. These structures line dirt roads that twist down toward Rio Paraguana and house a large number of the quarter or so Paraguayans who live on something like one US dollar per day.
In the shade of the trees in the plaza people sat, sharing their maté tea, talking and laughing. I’d missed the elation of Lugo’s speech, but the crowd was still wearing smiles everywhere and people were posing for pictures they could carry away to remember the historic moment of transition when the Colorado Party fell from power after 61 years of rule.
Nevertheless, the sense of hope was anything but drunken or delirious. The people I met and with whom I spoke mentioned that they were indeed optimistic, but also cautious in their optimism, much like the taxi driver who had delivered me as close as he could to the plaza. “I’m hopeful that we’ll see changes here,” a young woman told me,”but we’ll have to see, won’t we?”
The crowd was composed of a broad mix of people from tribal indigenous to mestizo; well-heeled urbanites and campesinos in traditional sandals; businessmen in suits and street vendors in rags; young kids with piercings and tatoos and elders walking with the aid of their middle-aged children. Lugo’s support clearly crosses all lines drawn across Paraguayan society and he seems to have inspired a cautious optimism even among members of the Colorado Party.
I joined the crowd leaving the Plaza and by chance I ended up in a demonstration led by, and almost wholly composed of, members of the P-MAS Socialist Party (Movement toward Socialism Party). I was on my way to find a hotel at the time, so I was glad for the company. The young people who form the core of the P-MAS are among the most enthusiastic of Lugo’s supporters. Their party was founded two years ago to promote the Socialism of the 21st Century and it has grown dramatically, especially among the youth. Although they won no seats in the parliament (which the party attributed to fraud), several members won relatively high posts in the new government, including Camilo Soares, who was named Minister of National Emergencies, and two other members named as vice-ministers of culture and of youth.
That night I went to the free concert in front of the National Palace. The high point was the arrival of Chavez and Lugo, who took seats in the audience and eventually took the stage, not with speeches, but with poetry recitals and songs.
Chavez, of course, went first, reciting a long poem to Bolivar, “Por aquí pasa,” by Venezuelan Alberto Torrealba. Chavez was accompanied by the quintet of Venezuelan singer and member of parliament, Cristóbal Jiménez. Later, Chavez returned with President Lugo to sing a reggae version of Mercedes Sosa’s song, “Todo Cambia,” arranged by Lugo’s head of Security, Marcial Congo, a long-haired, bearded man who looked to be pushing sixty. The group accompanying them was led by rock musician Rolando Chaparro who had begun his set with a soulful rock guitar version of Paraguay’s National Anthem,
More:
http://www.dissidentvoice.org/2008/08/fernando-lugo-presidency-brings-hope-in-paraguay/Here's a google translation of the song, "Todo Cambia," by Mercedes Sosa:
Change the surface
Changes also the depths
Change the mindset
Change everything in this world
Climate change over the years
Change the shepherd his flock
And just as everything changes
To my change is not strange
Change the most brilliant fine
From hand to hand its shine
Change the bird nest
It changes the feeling a lover
Change the course walkers
While this will cause damage
And just as everything changes
To my change is not strange
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
Change the sun in his career
When the night remains
Change the plant and dresses
From green in spring
Changes coat the beast
Change your hair the elderly
And just as everything changes
To my change is not strange
But does not change my love
It is less that I find
Neither the memory nor the pain
From my people and my people
What changed yesterday
You'll have to change tomorrow
Just as I change
In this distant land
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
Change everything changes
But does not change my love
Cambia lo superficial
Cambia también lo profundo
Cambia el modo de pensar
Cambia todo en este mundo
Cambia el clima con los años
Cambia el pastor su rebaño
Y así como todo cambia
Que yo cambie no es extraño
Cambia el mas fino brillante
De mano en mano su brillo
Cambia el nido el pajarillo
Cambia el sentir un amante
Cambia el rumbo el caminante
Aúnque esto le cause daño
Y así como todo cambia
Que yo cambie no es extraño
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia el sol en su carrera
Cuando la noche subsiste
Cambia la planta y se viste
De verde en la primavera
Cambia el pelaje la fiera
Cambia el cabello el anciano
Y así como todo cambia
Que yo cambie no es extraño
Pero no cambia mi amor
Por mas lejos que me encuentre
Ni el recuerdo ni el dolor
De mi pueblo y de mi gente
Lo que cambió ayer
Tendrá que cambiar mañana
Así como cambio yo
En esta tierra lejana
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Cambia todo cambia
Pero no cambia mi amor
Here's a 30 minute sample of Mercedes Sosa singing "Todo Cambia:" Wow, what a voice!
http://www.amazon.com/gp/recsradio/radio/B000001FMF/ref=pd_krex_listen_dp_img?ie=UTF8&refTagSuffix=dp_imgOn edit:
The author wrote that the Uruguayan author, Eduardo Galeano was there. He wrote an amazing book, which I got for Christmas and still haven't had time to read completely, yet. You would love it if you've not seen it, yet:
OPEN VEINS OF LATIN AMERICA
Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent
by Eduardo Galeano
Translated by Cedric Belfrage
New Introduction by Isabel Allende
“A superbly written, excellently translated, and powerfully persuasive expose which all students of Latin American and U.S. history must read.” — CHOICE, American Library Association
Since its U.S. debut a quarter-century ago, this brilliant text has set a new standard for historical scholarship of Latin America. It is also an outstanding political economy, a social and cultural narrative of the highest quality, and perhaps the finest description of primitive capital accumulation since Marx.
Rather than chronology, geography, or political successions, Eduardo Galeano has organized the various facets of Latin American history according to the patterns of five centuries of exploitation. Thus he is concerned with gold and silver, cacao and cotton, rubber and coffee, fruit, hides and wool, petroleum, iron, nickel, manganese, copper, aluminum ore, nitrates, and tin. These are the veins which he traces through the body of the entire continent, up to the Rio Grande and throughout the Caribbean, and all the way to their open ends where they empty into the coffers of wealth in the United States and Europe.
Weaving fact and imagery into a rich tapestry, Galeano fuses scientific analysis with the passions of a plundered and suffering people. An immense gathering of materials is framed with a vigorous style that never falters in its command of themes. All readers interested in great historical, economic, political, and social writing will find a singular analytical achievement, and an overwhelming narrative that makes history speak, unforgettably.
This classic is now further honored by Isabel Allende's inspiring introduction. Universally recognized as one of the most important writers of our time, Allende once again contributes her talents to literature, to political principles, and to enlightenment.
http://www.monthlyreview.org/openvein.htm
~snip~
Eduardo Galeano was born in Montevideo into a middle-class Catholic family of Welsh, German, Spanish and Italian ancestry. He was educated in Uruguay until the age of 16. "I never learned in school," he once said. "I didn't like it."
In adolescence Galeano worked in odd jobs - he was a factory worker, a bill collector, a sign painter, a messenger, a typist, and a bank teller. At the age of 14 Galeano sold his first political cartoon to El Sol, the Socialist Party weekly. Galeano's pseudonym was Gius. His first article was published in 1954.
At the age of twenty Galeano started his career as a journalist. He was the editor-in-chief of Marcha, an influential weekly journal, which had such contributors as Mario Vargas Llosa, Mario Benedetti, Manuel Maldonado Denis and Roberto Fernández Retamar. For two years he edited the daily Épocha and worked as editor-in-chief of the University Press (1965-1973). As a result of the military coup of 1973, he was imprisoned and then forced to leave Uruguay. By that time he had published a novel and several books on politics and culture. In Argentina he founded and edited a cultural magazine, Crisis.
Las venas abiertas de América Latina (The Open Veins of Latin America) made Galeano one of the most widely read Latin American writers. It was also the first book by the author to be translated into English. In the well-documented series of essays the central theme was the exploitation of natural resources of Latin America since the arrival of European powers at the end of the 15th century. The Open Veins of Latin America was written "in the style of a novel about love or about pirates", as the author himself said.
In 1975 Galeano received the prestigious Casa de las Américas prize for his novel La cancion de nosotros. After the military coup of 1976 in Argentina his name was added to the lists of those condemned by the death squads and he moved to Spain. Galeano lived mainly on the Catalan coast and started to write his masterpiece, Memory of Fire. In 1978 Galeano received again Casa de las Américas prize, this time for largely autobiographical work, Días y noches de amor y de guerra.
At the beginning of 1985 Galeano returned to Montevideo. During his exile, Galeano started to write Memoria del fuego, a story of America, North and South, in which the characters are real historical figures, generals, artists, revolutionaries, workers, conquerors and the conquered. Galeano started with pre-Columbian creation myths and ended in the 1980s.
More:
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/galeano.htmIn his book,
"Open Veins of Latin America," Galeano mentions seeing a sign written on a wall of a building in South America:
"Let's save pessimism for better times."