Americas

[Visited: January 2023]

On my first day in the city, I walked straight to the Museo de las Memorias, the Museum of Memories. I wanted to learn more about the recent history of the country of which I knew about so little. When I arrived, I found out the museum was closed for the festive season. An old red car is parked in the courtyard. So it is that after exploring several parts of the country, I am heading to the museum again on the day of my departure. It is a sunny Monday morning, and according to the information on their website, the museum is supposed to open at 10. It will be tight, but I should just be able to visit. When I arrive at 9:45, it turns out that the museum opens at 9. When I ring the bell, a man who seems to have lost his voice, opens the door. It turns out he has had a throat operation. He almost immediately starts talking to me about the Stroessner dictatorship, that ended in 1989 through a coup. He quickly adds that the same political party are in power until today, and that the country still suffers a lot of corruption. He continues to tell me about a papal visit in 1988. He points at a stack of documents on the floor of the adjoining room, and explains that in 1992, a secret room was opened which turned out to be full of documentation of the reign of terror that held Paraguay in a tight grip until 1989. It would still take until 2005 for the museum to be opened. The man says that I should see the exhibition for myself, and that I can always ask him questions. It is as warm inside as it is outside.
What follows is an exhibition that is brutal in its honesty. I see pictures of people who have been active at establishing the museum. I see original documents found in the secret room that clearly implicate the perpetrators of the atrocities committed. I see pictures of the perpetrators, and I catch myself trying to see the cruelty in their faces. But no, most seem regular people that I could greet if I would see them in the street. I see pictures of all the presidents of Paraguay, and a large picture of Stroessner. After he escaped to Brazil in 1989, he lived and died in exile without ever having had to face trial. The next room is much more confrontational. I see a replica of a person with his head completely covered in cloth, tied to a chair with his arms behind him. Behind this victim of torture, another big picture of the dictator under whose command the atrocities were committed. On both sides, pictures of his accomplices. On another wall, several instruments used for torture are on display. A chill runs through my body, chasing away the heat. Walking through the exhibition, I see pictures of naked tortured people, some of them dead. I read personal stories of how people were rounded up and taken to this institution in an infamous red car. I see cold statistics about the different methods of torture inflicted upon men and women. Their only crime had been to peacefully oppose the regime. I see maquettes of concentration camps and prisons used throughout the country.
I see photos of Stroessner with other heads of state, among which Pinochet. I see written proof of collaboration between Argentina, Uruguay, Chile and Paraguay, later also including Brazil, in what would be called Operation Condor. The persecution of opponents under the pretext of a fight against communism. I see pictures of people who disappeared and who are still not accounted for. I read about flights from Asunción to Buenos Aires. They would typically leave full, but arrive in Argentina with only the crew left. I read about resistance from religious figures. Then, I come to a room with names on all walls. The victims of the regime. A small note asks for respect and silence, but that is not necessary. By this time, I feel a firm iron fist around my throat. I step outside and see several of the original cells used. The museum guide comes with me, and explains that each cell would be choke full of prisoners. I see a picture of a dead body, wrapped in cloth, lying in a bath with blood. In the last room, the guy asks me if I want to see two short videos. I sit down, and watch them both. The first is a general overview of the reign of terror unleashed upon the country, the second is a personal account of a female prisoner who, 7 months pregnant, lost her husband and was abused herself. When the man comes back to switch off the TV, he tells me with his silent voice that I can sign the guestbook, and leave a donation to support the museum. Looking at the guestbook, I am surprised to see mainly foreigners. The man tells me that indeed, few Paraguayans come to the museum. It turns out the red car was the one used to take people here to be tortured. For Paraguayans, it was a symbol of terror. When I step out in the broad light of another hot summer day, tears are streaming across my face. It may be hot outside, I am cold as ice within.

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Museo de las Memorias (Paraguay)

Museo de las Memorias > Paraguay > Americas

[Visited: January 2023]

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