Translation Review - The University of Texas at Dallas

greatly. I had hopes of meeting them. It was on
my third visit in 1991 that I was able to meet
with some of them.
MCS: At that time, the Mothers were involved
in a “therapeutic” project: to leave testimony,
through their creative writings, of all the
suffering they had been through since the
disappearance of their loved ones. I know that
you have played an important role, not only
becoming a good friend and being able to listen
and comfort them in their suffering, but also
becoming, in some way — thanks to the
translation of their writings — their voice for an
English-language audience. You have greatly
helped to make their stories known in other parts
of the world.
JL: Well, perhaps I have helped through
translation. Even though my role has been
peripheral, knowing them, in a kitchen table sort
of way, has been an experience, a gift. When I
actually approached the Madres (Mothers), I did
so as a translator. I wanted to find out what they
were writing. They were writing in a workshop,
a writing workshop, much like a workshop for
the elderly that I do in California. I have so
much faith in words, the discovery of language,
to make us whole. Here is a poem, a big
metaphor. It is called “That Miracle,” and this,
of course, is my translation, we would never get
through if we read the two languages, so… .
And only the first name of the poet is given,
Elena, because in their anthology there is so
much, you know, of the solidarity that their last
names are unimportant, they don’t claim
authorship. Here is Elena’s poem:
That Miracle
I never had pets
in my house. As a child
I wanted them but I was a transplant
from a foreign country to a provincial
village. I lie:
we had a coop of laying hens, and a cat —
and a lot of things that stood in my way; like
learning the language, connecting, adapting
my ways to others’. A Czechoslovakian girl.
Besides the cat was a menace, always
hoping
the door’d be left open to the coop so
he could go in and steal eggs. One day my
mother
up in arms, gave him to our native-born
neighbor —
who took him far out into the country —
very far. I’ve already forgotten how to say
cat
in the dialect Mama and I spoke together.
But the days passed
and the cat reappeared — we were
overjoyed!
We received him like a miracle. To have
come back
all alone. From the desert.
She says: “I never had pets in my house.” This
is the mother of a disappeared child. This is a
brief history of Argentina! A footnote to history.
And really I don’t want to say anything more
about myself and the Madres, I would just like
to read you a few of their pieces that they have
accomplished in their workshops. One of them
said: “One day I began in a story to describe my
present-day house and the “profe” — wonderful
literature professor, Leopoldo Brisuela — asked
me which was my room and I was stunned to
find myself answering that although the house
was large I had no room of my own. And he
handed me the Virginia Woolf book by that
name, and I invaded the living room, took over
part of the table, emptied a cabinet of candy
dishes, plates, and other useless items, set up a
very old lamp, and now I have a refuge;
surrounded by paper, books, erasers, I feel a
fierce need to write. A need that has only grown
thanks to my compañeras, this beautiful process
we have found of teaching one another. And so
what I thought could never be expressed in
words — she had been a ceramicist before — I
put that aside from the workshop, this group,
that idea that only ceramics, with its form, could
be expressive. I feel our children very close
thanks to the profe, who is still very young, and
to the methods they have found to teach us. The
children are speaking into my ear, they help me,
6 Translation Review