Gracias a la Vida

I note with sadness the passing, on October 4th, of someone most of my countrymen have never heard of, but who, during her 74 years, was extremely influential south of the border, especially in her native Argentina: singer and political gadfly Mercedes Sosa. When I lived in Argentina at the end of the '70s -- a year that was to prove the most pivotal of my entire life, for it was there, in a remote town in the pampas, that I became acquainted with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and with the message of the restored fulness of the Gospel -- both Mercedes Sosa and the military dictatorship that then held sway in the Casa Rosada in Buenos Aires were at the peak of their influence and popularity. Jorge Videla, leader of the Argentine junta at the time, and Sosa were mortal foes, with the latter courageously defying the dictator in her songs and public appearances. She was once arrested and hauled offstage during a concert in BA, and finally had to flee the country, returning only when the junta collapsed in the aftermath of the Falklands War. Sosa was, of course, a leftist; almost all musicians and artists who immerse themselves in politics are. But she was sincere in opposing the many injustices perpetrated against the world's poor, especially in her beloved homeland.

Argentina's was a dictatorship with a smile; its public face was the myriad courteous, submachinegun-toting gendarmes manning roadblocks and checkpoints along the Ruta 2 to the capital, and the pleasant, self-serving patriotic infomercials on TV that I remember well, because I learned lots of Spanish from watching them. But behind the scenes, as the world now knows, and Sosa was aware even back then, the government was quietly liquidating undesirables -- left-leaning journalists, lawyers, and their ilk -- by immuring them in secret interrogation centers, torturing them, and finally drugging them and throwing them out of airplanes over the South Atlantic. That Sosa managed to avoid such a fate is testament to good luck and perhaps to her mass appeal; that she was willing to risk it at all is evidence of her considerable courage.

Moreover, Sosa was no svelte, willowy pop diva; she was short and stout even in her younger years, and became morbidly obese past fifty. Yet despite her lack of sex appeal, she was an international singing sensation, and her best song (actually written and first performed by the Chilean singer/songwriter Violeta Parra), "Gracias a la Vida" ("A Thank-you to Life") is a paean of optimism and gratitude that ought to be far better-known and appreciated than it is. Following is a partial translation:

Gracias a la Vida, que me ha dado tanto;
me dio dos luceros que cuando los abro,
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco,
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.

A thank-you to Life, which has given me so much,
it gave me two shining stars, by which, when I open them,
I can distinguish perfectly between black and white,
And in the high heaven, its starry depth,
And amid the crowds, the man I love.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos,
playas y desiertos, montañas y llanos
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio.

A thank-you to Life which has given me so much
It's given me the stride of my tired feet;
With them I walked through cities and puddles,
Beaches and deserts, mountains and plains,
And in your house, your street, and your patio.

Gracias a la Vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio el corazón que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano,
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo,
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros.

A thank-you to Life which has given me so much;
It gave me a heart which quickens its beat
When I see the fruits of the human mind,
When I see the good so far from the evil,
When I look in the depths of your clear eyes.

And so forth. Verse of this sort doesn't translate well, but the sentiment is clear enough. Also, it's a fair reflection of what I'm feeling these days, in spite of the challenges I face every day. I have debts, but they are few, and shrinking constantly. I have sorrows, but they are diminishing. I have fears -- of the future as well as the present -- but they are being put to rest. I too, in the long run, am thankful to and for life, and (which the song, secular as it is, does not mention) to the God of life as well. But then, again, perhaps that was what Senora Sosa intended by la Vida, with a capital V. Either way, now seems as good a time as any to be thankful. Mercedes Sosa, RIP.