El Bicentenario de Chile

September delivers Chile from the cold breath of winter and with the onset of spring, also comes a multitude of days that celebrate Chile's independence from Spain. Before and after the 18th September, Chileans of all backgrounds pull out their dusty national flags and fly them high in their front gardens with a sense of momentary patriotism.

This year in particular, Chile's people have stood firmly together as a nation, now choosing to drink, eat and dance in honour of their collective courage throughout the earthquake and the rescuing of those poor miners trapped 700 metres in the depths of this earth.

2010 is even more cause for celebration as it is the Bicentenary of this long and thin country, which has already endured many trials and tribulations ever since that day, two hundred years ago, when Chileans and the Mapuche joined together to evict the royal crown. However, for some, the natives never really approved of this juncture even as traces of white blood began to flow heavily in their indigenous veins; a story not uncommon to colonial history.

The anniversary began days before it's actual date, with many people inviting amigos to fiestas or Fondas (public parties that spring up in various parks, universities and open spaces around the country so that Chileans can leave their work habits to spread the conviviality of nation pride).

On a darkening Thursday night before the 18th of September the "spectacular" light show began at the Government Palace, La Moneda. Thousands entered the area with hours to spare until the show was to commence. We were four, weaving delicately into the blanket of human bodies, trying not to be rude yet trying hard to make our way closer to the centre in order to see at least something of the monument. However, despite our efforts, the event was severely ill-prepared for the excess of people that arrived only minutes before it was due to start. A lone screen stood to the right-hand side, forcing people entering from that direction to push hard into the left to get a view. There were no emergency exits, there were no officers stopping people from coming in because the area was dangerously overcrowded, and there were no extra screens down the street so that no one could relax and watch the lights, except for the few lucky people on the balconies in the apartments above us.

In our spot, which had once been tight but bearable, stood little children screaming for their mothers as dirty hands pushed from all directions, making the crowd swirl into a deep current. There was no way out. Air vanished into the depths of the crowd and a sudden sense of panic filled my lungs. I began to sob quietly as I looked up to the sky in search of breath. My tears mixed with more tears and soon I was completely consumed with fear. There was no way out! Those around looked upon me with worried eyes and began to push me slowly and painfully through the crowd. They shouted, "there's a girl in trouble, there's a girl in trouble. Let her through!" Half way my legs caved and I fell into the arms of my lovely Chilean who was guiding my softly from behind. All I wanted was for it all to be over. Unconsciousness did not come over me and I managed to continue for half and hour out of the sweat and cries of uncomfortable people.

Away, in one of the side streets, I was able to control my heartbeat and recuperate command of my exhausted body. We saw nothing of the lights but it didn't matter. We were all happy to get away. Back at our friend's apartment, we drank Pisco and laughed about the occasion. The next day we heard nothing of injured people or suffocated children. We did find out though that the show had started 40 minutes late. I cringe even now at the thought of those poor people standing there that whole time. Let the festivities begin!