Article February 23, 2009 Issue

IN A SAFE PLACE

BY INGRID MONSALVE

LAST SUMMER, my husband and I spent a few days at my mother's house, on her parcel of land in the south of Chile, a few kilometers away from a town. One day we decided to take a drive with our three nephews aged 18, 13, and 9, and entered a region near a mountain range, where indigenous communities live.

At a certain point on the drive, we noticed that two men on horseback were watching as our family got out of the car and took photos. We were commenting on the beauty of the tall mountains and the many native trees and shrubs. To me, it was as if the landscape had been a silent witness to an important part of the country's history.

When we were back in the van, ready to go home, we noticed a man on horseback who passed us at great speed, then turned and rode toward us, forcing us to stop. He put his foot on the hood of our vehicle, and we could see that he carried a club the size of a baseball bat. Screaming all sorts of offenses, he forced us to get out and talk, while he threatened to call some relatives to beat us up and damage our van.

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