Change of Plans

This week I was sent to cover my first "marcha"- demonstration.

The march was for Julio Lopez, a man who the dictatorship “disappeared” in the 80s because of his politics but who survived torture to testify against los jefes (the bosses) last year. After his testimony, which put some top jefes in jail, he disappeared again and has been officially “disappeared” for a year.

The marcha was demanding his return…alive. There were thousands of people there and close to 50 different groups; some with drums, some with large sticks and some Madres de la Plaza with white handkerchiefs on their heads. The group pulsed with energy, with that Argentine passion. And I ran around in between the energy looking like a bewildered American reporter.

And with this one explosion of political passion I decided I don't want to be a journalist.

OK parents, don't flip out. I don't to be a journalist in the traditional sense. I don't want to go to protests, or fires, or car crashes and run around like a boluda trying to get a good quote.

I want to listen to people’s stories and then tell them in a way that makes others want to hear them.

I want to sit down to merienda with Julio Lopez’s family and just hear about his life. Or sit down with one of the young protesters and talk to her about when at 17 she is here from a provincial to walk for a man she didn’t even know.

I guess it took me a continent and Argentine marcha to realize I don’t want to be a periodista; I want to be a storyteller.