The Peruvian community celebrated 191 years of independence from Spain over the weekend with an event on Avenida de Mayo between Chacabuco and Plaza de Mayo. Traditional dancers in colorful dresses twirled down the street to the stage at the base of the Plaza. Ave de Mayo was lined on both side with food vendors and the smells of grilled chicken, freshly fried churros and more tempted hungry passersby to open their wallets and fill their stomachs. Photographer Beatrice Murch was on hand to document a bit of the morning’s festivities.

Amnesty International is today carrying out a “fax jam” in a show of support for a Colombian community that has been dogged by violence.

More than 170 people who have been killed in or disappeared from San José de Apartadó since 1997. To draw attention to the civilians’ deaths, Amnesty International is hoping to help 7,200 people send faxes to the president of Colombia Juan Manuel Santos.

San José de Apartadó began calling itself ‘a community of peace’ in March 1997. Their website notes that the community was almost empty at that time, as massacres – one in September 1996 and another in February 1997 – killed district leaders and drove many citizens away. The website also tells of how the community has suffered blockades, keeping food and other necessities away from the people.

“During these years many people in various parts of the world have witnessed the events that have almost annihilated us,” the website says. “We have suffered all the death actions that have been generated by the armed actors in this country: the murders, massacres, torture, threats, displacements, rape – in short, the whole cluster of terror.”

According to Amnesty, the latest attack occured on 4th February, when paramilitaries shot at a San José de Apartadó community member.

“Paramilitaries, acting alone or with the security forces, are responsible for most attacks but some are carried out by guerrilla forces,” the organisation’s website says.

Whilst you may have noticed a growing number of Armenian restaurants and schools popping up around Buenos Aires, they are merely a clue to the large number of Armenians living in the city.

Buenos Aires is home to more than 130,000 Armenians, who together make up the largest community of Armenian residents in South America.

Since 2009, government initiative ‘Buenos Aires Celebra’ has been celebrating the cultures and customs of various immigrant communities through the organisation of regular free events.

Sunday 9th October saw the celebrations for Armenia take place, where several generations of an extensive Armenian community descended upon Av. de Mayo to celebrate Armenia’s 20 years of independence from soviet rule, and the 100th year of the General Union of Armenia Charity (UGAB).

The historic avenue was bursting with Armenian culture; Folk dancers performed dressed in traditional colourful attire, and taste buds were spoilt, with food stalls offering tempting cuisine. Shish and doner kebabs were among the delicacies on offer, and a food stand for lesmeshun, a soft piece of dough topped with minced meat and spicy sauce, inspired particularly lengthy queues.

Amongst the jovial atmosphere, there were 200 volunteers present to ensure the thousands of attendees profited as much as possible from the day.

Melina Terzian, a volunteer at the event said: “It’s a great day to share the Armenian traditions, especially the food, which is an integral part of our culture. Also, it’s good for the community to come together, meet each other and perhaps even speak the language.”

As evening drew in, an open-air concert began featuring a full-length performance by the Buenos Aires Philharmonic orchestra. Government officials including the city mayor, Mauricio Macri, and the minister of culture, Hernán Lombardi, attended the event. The latter expressed his congratulations to the UGAB on the organisation of the celebrations and for succeeding in preserving Armenia’s customs from thousands of miles away.

The forthcoming ‘Buenos Aires Celebra’ event takes place on the afternoon of Sunday 29th October, and will celebrate the Croatian community with another outdoor event held on the Av. de Mayo.

“Art is a community effort,” said Allen Ginsberg in the mid-20th century. Fast forward a few decades, movements, and tech developments and he’d see the same mentality being used to reboot innovation in Latin American art through cyber-community, Ideame.

Ideame, co-founded by Mariano Suarez Battán, Tiburcio De la Carcova, Juan Pablo Cappello, and Sebastian Uchitel, is young – three and a half weeks old, to be exact. But already it has a host of contributors:

“My project is to paint more than 100 canvases from a light aircraft bombing them with water balloons filled with…” This is Defi Gagliardo’s vision, The Flying Bombing, that has so far raised US$637 through idea.me, a crowd funding website for artistic and creative projects in Latin America. Though it is only 5% of Gagliardo’s required budget, there are, as the website points out, still 21 days left for aspiring producers that are interested to chip in themselves.

Gagliardo’s is one of over 25 projects on the website, all proposed by Latin American artists – each one with their native flag sitting beside their name. Argentine Gimena Macri wants to make hand-made books full of photos from “a journey”. Batsu Jump are a group looking to fund the creation of an online magazine. Chilean artist Marco Silva intends to make a documentary: “it’s about a small abandoned village in northern Chile. San Pedro Station, in the Atacama desert.” Silva is on US$189, in need of more, but further than he could ever have got from scratch on his own.

Having worked on the project for the last 6 months, and their efforts finally coming to fruit, the team already have their sights set high. So far the projects are all Chilean or Argentine; “our short term plans include Mexico and Colombia,” says Sebastian Uchitel, co-founder and CEO of the organisation.

He continues: “In Latin America, lack of capital, and lack of community support keeps thousands of designers, artists, techies, inventors, filmmakers and other artists from realizing to their amazing ideas. Some of these ideas could become products, works of art, or experiences that could change the world.”

Indeed, each little box on your screen is full to burst with ambition and excitement, as the slogan banner tells you to “Search projects. To be a producer.” With contributions flooding in already, this seems to be just that little bit more than a pipedream.

Golden arches? Check. Signature smell? Check. Happy meal? Check. Angus Bacon and Cheese? Um… no.

Buenos Aires is home to the only McDonald’s Kosher outside of Israel, right here in the Abasto shopping centre. The fact that the you can find Kosher McNuggets here, and not, say, in New York City, is a testament to the strength and size of Buenos Aires’s Jewish community.

I didn’t think a Sunday attraction could get more popular than the Buenos Aires zoo until I arrived at the McDonald’s Kosher. In what felt like about half an hour waiting behind a family of orthodox Jews, I was struck by the presence of special hand washer with a metal pitcher and noticed a sign affirming that the McDonald’s “complies with all of the requirements of Kosher preparation.”

In comparison to the purchases carted off in jumbo McDonald’s meal bags, my order seemed rather wimpy: a McNifica value meal complete with BigMac, fries and a diet coke.

There was not a free chair to be found, so I put my tray down on the corner of countertop and took a bite of burger. Complying with Kosher regulations, there was no cheese or bacon, but other than that it was your standard McDonald’s fare, if a bit on the dry side.

Given the specificity of Kosher rules, it’s quite impressive that McDonald’s can actually adhere to all of them and keep the McNifica value meal at the $31.50 it costs across the food court at the non-Kosher McDonalds.

Kosher rules come right out of the Torah and specify a number of ways food has to be handled, and what can and cannot be eaten. In a Kosher diet there’s no pork, rabbit or shellfish, and dairy can’t be eaten with meat, which means no milk in the McFlurries.

All fruits and vegetables must also be inspected for bugs. In the back of the McDonald’s, I could just make out a gloved woman picking apart each individual lettuce leave and placing it on a bug-free pile.

There are also rules for how meat must be killed (a trained slaughterer severs the trachea and esophagus), how the meat is processed afterwards (all the blood is drained) and who can cook the meat (only Jews).

Every Kosher food establishment must also have a resident orthodox Rabbi who sets the rules and makes sure the restaurant doesn’t cut any corners. Abasto’s operations are supervised by Rabbi Daniel Oppenheimer, who also writes for a Buenos Aires Jewish publication, ‘La Voz Judía‘.

McDonald’s even helps out those who must pray after their meal. On the counter, a small golden box holds a prayer book, which a family was putting to use when I went back to take a closer look.

Although a Kosher BigMac is a big deal for Argentina, Israel boasts dozens of Kosher McDonald’s. The world’s first one opened its doors in Israel in 1995, Buenos Aires followed in 1998.

A few years ago, McDonald’s Kosher in Israel even agreed to replace their golden arches with blue and white, representing the country’s flag. Tel Aviv’s chief rabbi pushed for the change in hopes that residents would be less likely to unknowingly order a non-Kosher BigMac. But even though Argentina’s flag also happens to be blue and white, Buenos Aires still holds onto the signature golden arches.

Making a living as an artist has never been easy. And since the beginning of the century the artists’ curse has a new name: digitalization!

While in ancient Greece women had to pretend to be male to enter a theatre stage, the challenge of artists nowadays is to make money, while our beloved friends Torrent, Cuevana and Fenopy so generously offer all content for free.

Since piracy and digital downloads made buying CDs seem like an unnecessary luxury, labels are scared of upfront investments and shift the risk towards the musician.

Today’s musician therefore carries all the risks, but has also gained absolute artistic freedom. All content can be distributed via the internet and the artist can decide on the entire production process.

A group of musicians and producers then came to an interesting conclusion: If each musician himself can create and distribute high quality art, what can happen if we bring them all together?

This is how the Independent Collective Network RECI was born. The movement wants to update the independent music scene in Argentina by developing a digital culture, enhancing collaboration and facilitating networking.

RECI is an adaption of the Brazilian project fora do eixo. During a presentation held by fora do eixo in Buenos Aires this March, a group of like-minded musicians and art enthusiasts met and decided to bring the idea to Argentina.

Under the slogan “one for all and all for one”, RECI wants to bring together all the information musicians usually seek themselves and create strong networks between the various players of the music world. It is not about generating profit – RECI believes in the big picture.

So instead of fighting to find a bar where they let you play your songs, drowning in the logistical preparation for a promotion tour, the network brings the contacts to you. It helps you find available bars and gives you the chance to do that all around the country. In return, you bring in your own contacts or your skills, nothing else is required and everyone is welcomed.

RECI has ambitious plans in its first year. Besides creating a new network in Cordoba, a RECI music festival is in sight at the end of 2011.

The Brazilian version of the project, launched in 2005, proved that building a sustainable network in the music industry can be a success. Fora do eixo is currently present in 25 Brazilian states and various music festivals are produced by the members of the network, giving artists a chance to distribute their art through multiple channels.

Currently, RECI collaborates with rock bands, but the idea is to involve all arts. Theatre, cinema and dance are to follow soon.

‘Concrete = Canvas’ took to the streets of Buenos Aires ten days ago for their first international street art project. With the aim of creating art in public spaces while involving the community, guardian angels were painted in various locations around the city where homeless people stay, bringing with them a sense of colour and security.

Born in the art scene of Chicago, the organisation is run by Callie Humphrey, 23. Originally from Los Angeles, having spent five years studying arts management and working as an exhibition organiser after graduating in Chicago, the cold winters drove her further afield. Arriving in Buenos Aires a few months ago, without much knowledge of the local art scene, she has been amazed by the opportunities that exist in the city. Describing her current situation, Callie says, “I got here and I was just blown away by how open the street art scene is and by the really talented murals. I mean its not street art in your typical sense, like graffiti, they are really talented artists out here, and they can take time because its more or less legal, and it is generally accepted. I knew that it was a big city for street art, but I didn’t understand how accessible it really was and how the vibe is here – something that I’ve now discovered!”

“In cities like London, New York, Paris or Los Angeles, the art scene is already formed. To try and penetrate it in an alternative way, like everyone is doing down here, is just not feasible. It can happen, but it certainly is not the norm and it is not as accessible. I don’t want to say that those cities are too civilised, because this city is pretty civilised as well, but back home it is a different vibe, it is too structured,” explains Callie. “In Chicago, where it really is just buildings and concrete, and thinking of all these other metropolitan cities that are the same, I wanted to get away from that and utilise the space to showcase local artists and to bring art to people who don’t really have access. With all the private galleries, I mean, the whole white cube scene, you can only do so much.”

This is the basis of ‘Concrete = Canvas’ – bringing art out into the open. “The whole idea of the organisation is to open up the artistic process and to make it available to people who don’t necessarily have insight to it. I think that art is super powerful at creating dialogue and inspiring people”, enthuses Callie. This weekend, local and foreign artists joined up with people who had no experience of street painting, making stencils of angels out of large plastic sheets. Then they divided into four groups and spread out across the city, in the neighbourhoods of Palermo, San Telmo, Villa Crespo and Constitucion. “We basically went around the city and bombed stencils of guardian angels around places where a lot of the homeless population sleep . A part of that was offering food while leaving a symbol of protection,” explains Callie, who was based in Plaza de Mayo during a large part of the operation, handing out stencils, paint, food and maps to people who just came up and wanted to join in.

Callie reckons that up to a hundred angels were painted, although she is waiting for people to hand the maps back in, which have all the locations marked on them. The important part of the event was that everyone enjoyed themselves while sharing the art process with the community, which is exactly what happened, according to the painters who took part. Considering whether the images will remain or not, Callie says, “I think that some of the angels will stay, but some of them will be painted over, because that is just the nature of the city and part of the beauty of painting in the streets. It is ever evolving and changing. You have no idea what is going to be there tomorrow. A lot of the guys and girls here paint up in Villa Crespo, around a big bus station, where there are these really big walls and it is a generally accepted area to paint. Part of the deal is that you recycle the walls – your piece is only going to be up there for so long, which is part of the game.”

Street art in Buenos Aires is widespread, with murals appearing all over the place. There are a number of collectives and groups who organise sessions and bring art to the community. “It was in response to society and the economy being in total upheaval during the economic crash. People started saying that they did not want to keep seeing all this political graffiti, that they wanted to make people smile instead, because it was just miserable. From there, all these incredible artists emerged, who just kept painting. Nobody was complaining that there was now artwork on the street, because everybody was sharing each others misery,” says Callie, who has immersed herself in the network of artists since arriving.

Fundraising has ensured that there is enough money available to carry out another few projects in the next couple of months, before Callie returns to the US to register the organisation and take advantage of the grants which will be available. She is keen to return to Buenos Aires but also dreams of taking ‘Concrete = Canvas’ to Sao Paulo, where there is also a thriving art scene, and then on to Eastern Europe, where there is a burgeoning underground scene. While planning on how to develop from here, Callie does not consider the previous project as finished, stating, “the weather is still good, I’ve still got the stencils, I have the paints – there is no reason the angels need to be stopped.”

As part of the on-going villa series looking at Buenos Aires’ poorest neighbourhoods, we re-visit Charlotte Turner’s 2007 story on the ‘Ciudad Oculta’.

The year is 1978. The eyes of the world are about to fall on Argentina, which is due to host the most-watched sporting spectacle on the calendar – the football World Cup. In preparation for the event the military dictatorship, led by Jorge Rafael Videla, has sent camionetas to scour the capital’s poorest neighbourhoods, scoop up residents and drive them out of the city’s limits and into the pampa where they’ll be dumped out of sight.

In the most westerly corner of the capital between Mataderos and Lugano, a wall is being constructed around a particular slum bordering the motorway that will run visitors from Ezeiza airport into the city centre. As planned, the neatly-laid brick wall cleverly conceals the disorderly clutter of Villa 15’s ill-construed shacks, blotting from view the shameful ‘scab’ of poverty that, if seen, would shatter the image of a prosperous and modern country that the de facto government is trying to project.

But still, there is one structure that refuses to be hidden – an abandoned 15-storey-high concrete giant that presides over the villa’s cowering shacks and towers defiantly over the new wall.

Built during the first Perón era, the building was meant to be a hospital for patients suffering from tuberculosis and was planned to be the biggest of its kind in Latin America. However, the 1955 military coup  that ended Perón’s presidency also brought to a close the hospital’s construction.

Today, although the dividing wall has long since crumbled, the ‘Ciudad Oculta’or ‘hidden city’ as Villa 15 has since been known, still continues to sprawl around the enormous edifice, referred to by locals as the ‘white elephant’.

The passing years have led the beguiling structure to take on significances of its own; for some it is a geographical landmark that pinpoints the villa from the blocks that surround it, a marker of identity for the barrio, whilst for others it is a symbol reflecting the boom and bust cycle of a country that, though wealthy in resources, too often ill-employs them, laying its riches to waste.

“I’m the old lady of the building,” laughs Julia, 28, with a smile through well-worn teeth but with a glint in her eye that gives away her youth. The white elephant has no greater significance than for Julia – for the last quarter of a century it has been her home. Until 2000, undeterred by rumours of structural damage that were spread to keep people away, the family in which she grew up was the only one to inhabit the building.

Since then desperate times have forced others in, and Julia, her husband Néstor and their seven children are now just one of 54 families occupying the desolate building’s vast ground floor.

Since October 2006, these families have welcomed a new neighbour from the other side of the villa’s limits. Following a fire that destroyed 25 neighbouring families homes, Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo (Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, a human rights organisation set up after their children were disappeared during the last dictatorship) have successfully channelled government funds to construct 37 new homes alongside the disused building, giving form to their ‘Sueños Compartidos’or ’shared dreams’ project. Run from the white elephant itself, an office, classrooms, a soup kitchen, and even a nursery to look after employees’ children, occupy the mothers’ refurbished ground-floor wing.

“We give thanks to the mothers because everyone passes by here, saying that they are going to do things or whatever… and they never do,” says Julia’s mother, Graciela, the real mum of the building. It has been her home for more than 40 years and is the site from which she established and now runs her own community soup kitchen.

Graciela is only too happy to share her space with the Mothers. During the course of their 30-year-long struggle for human rights, the organisation has gained great respect within the barrio, even acting as an inspiration for some in their own struggles for respect and recognition beyond the villa.

“But what I’m most proud of is the fact that we are the ones in charge of what is being done here.”

A key characteristic of the Sueños Compartidos project is that all those who staff it are from the Villa 15 itself. In an area where unemployment figures run as high as 40%, the project has had a significant impact on the lives of the 300 people who now have gained fixed employment through it.

For most it is their first chance of working legally, with the added bonuses of social security, pension schemes, the chance to gain valuable work experience, and of course a regular wage.

Julia’s husband Néstor, 29, is one of those to have found work through the project. Before he started labouring on the construction site, he struggled to keep his family fed by working each night on the city’s streets searching for recyclable rubbish as a cartonero.

Clearly excited by his new job, he particularly enjoys learning differing skills from variety of trades from construction to electrical work to plumbing. At the same time, he is earning qualifications through the Universidad Popular de Las Madres de Plaza de Mayo which runs classes from the white elephant building – training that will have real currency when he seeks work in the traditional workplace, outside of the villa.

Liliana, the mother’s representative overseeing the project, has been astonished by the changes she has seen in some of those she now works alongside. In particular, what most struck her was that in the course of a couple of days, gestures and appearances changed as the employees started to show pride in themselves and the work that they were now doing.

“Many of the women are over 40 years old and this is the very first time that they have been given the responsibility of a real job.” She recalls how one of the cooks in the soup kitchen had arrived ‘with the composure of an old, bitter woman’. By the end of the week, with a feeling of dignity in the job at hand she started to come to work ‘dressed with care and with a smile on her face’.

What continues to impress Liliana is the growing sense of camaraderie amongst the staff, no more evident than on one particular payday when a construction worker had her wage stolen from her bag. Straight away, her colleagues began chipping-in to a kitty to make up the difference that she had lost from their own pockets.

And no I haven’t described the wrong person – with a policy of employing equal numbers of men and women, half of the labourers on-site are women, a strange sight in machismo-fuelled Argentine society.

Aware that women are typically the most sidelined members of an already marginalised community, the mothers insisted on non-gender specific roles, encouraging woman to take paths that they previously did not think possible.

Another stipulation was that for every family to move into the new houses, each must have a member working on the project to promote feelings of self-reliance and, most important of all, ownership.

Together with her husband and their one-year-old granddaughter, Gómez María Angelica, 52, has spent the last few months following the fire that left her homeless living in a government-provided emergency shelter. Perched on the edge of the villa and right on the side of the road, the white elephant’s skeleton overshadows the corrugated iron and wood structure that she currently calls home. It is clearly as highly unstable and unsafe as her previous house that was so easily destroyed by flames.

Although only provisional, government inaction frequently means that such short-term, ‘quick-fix’ measures commonly transform into the long-term solution.

With less than one month to go until the move-in date, Angelica is feeling relieved that her family will live in an environment that is ‘covered, insulated and clean’. “I am very happy,” she says, clutching her granddaughter in her arms and letting her eyes wander again to the construction site where her new home is steadily taking shape.

In a barrio whose inhabitants live in conditions of extreme poverty, overcrowding and insecurity, it speaks volumes that these three simple attributes to a home mean far more to Angelica than the luxuries of hot running water, modern sanitation and a safe electricity supply, with all of which each house will be equipped.

Perhaps the most obvious question would be: why not solve the villa’s housing problems by converting the deserted levels that make up the white elephant into apartments? Unfortunately, the costs of such an undertaking would exceed those of constructing separate homes from scratch. Since 2001, as in most parts of the country, times have been tough. Brick by brick, nearby residents have chipped away at the edifice, taking what they can to use to construct their own dwellings.

Walking up the wide staircase into the building, you look up at a mighty wall that now stencils the sky in blue squares – open holes that once used to be glass-filled windows and ledges.

To the right as you step inside is the area run by the Mothers’ Universidad Popular, the organisation involved in recruiting and training project staff. Here, noticeboards line the walls displaying posters offering classes from English to cookery, and educational workshops on subjects from security, hygiene and electrical risks to paco (a drug made of base cocaine) prevention.

It seems like this could be the hallway to any UBA faculty building, only this one is planted right inside one of Buenos Aires’ most impoverished and poorly-educated communities.

Pinned to the door of the cinema room, whose floor has just been surfaced by the ceramic tiling workshop, a small sign reads: “Every man has the right to be educated, and the duty to contribute to the education of others.”

The courses here are mainly attended by the 300 project workers, although they are all open to anybody in the villa. Each entrant on the project’s work scheme must have an attendance rate of at least 75% to continue on with it, and once approved, his or her learning gets accredited through a diploma awarded by the Universidad Popular.

Following the corridor, pastel-coloured drawings on the walls lead the way to the project’s nursery, where 100 sleepy heads are enjoying a post-lunch siesta. Fully-equipped with its own kitchen, playrooms, child-sized toilets and sinks, high chairs and tables – the nursery appears just like any that you would find in one of the city’s wealthier suburbs.

For many of the children, this is the only truly safe and clean environment they have known. Even to turn on a tap for the very first time and let the water rush out proved a terrifying experience for some.

At the far end of the nursery a door opens out onto the gutted carcass of the building’s un-used ground floor. Instead of toy mountains and alphabet square mats, the floor here is littered with rubble, dirt, glass and bonfire remains, a reminder that it is just a thin wall that separates these children, cocooned in the quiet and ordered tranquility of the nursery, from the often harsh everyday realities of life out in their barrio.

The hope is that enough funds can be raised to convert this empty space into a primary and a secondary school for local children from Villa 15. One of the major problems that will affect these children’s futures is the difficulty of finding schools where they will be respected and encouraged to build a steady education for themselves. In neighbouring areas outside the villa, school places are scarce. If accepted, bullying towards students from poorer areas such as this is commonplace.

“Discrimination comes from the outside,” says Graciela. I ask her how she feels towards more prosperous parts of society who take such things as housing and their children’s education almost for granted. “It is the same for them as it is for us. The middle classes might seem to be rich, but nowadays, they too must work hard to pay for their rent and bills each month.”

With wide viewpoints sweeping over the villa, Julia’s children shout down to friends from their high, unobstructed and glass-free window as the afternoon sun licks long shadows on the glimmering tin roofs below. Her family is on the list for a new home in the next phase of the Mother’s housing project and she hopes that one day her children will call what was once their home, their school.

The greatest problems that afflict this neighbourhood – drug addiction, violence, unemployment – are the same that affect all neighbourhoods. However, they tend to have a greater impact here due to the difficulty, and at times, impossibility of gaining access to essential services and rights such as education, health care and employment. Only serving to make these problems worse are the unnecessary barriers of ‘inside’ and ‘outside’- a form of exclusion and marginalisation inflicted by society – which often prevents it from seeing anything beyond just the problems that affect the villa’s population.

“The ‘hidden city’ our barrio was called when, long ago, certain people with money decided to build a wall so that they wouldn’t see the poor,” explains Julia, “…but all we want is to give it back its original name: barrio General Belgrano.”

“Hundreds of stalwart, hard-working men and women, young and not-so-young, who year in and year out give unselfishly of their time and their resources to help create in one or other of a dozen different ways the funds that are essential for the Argentine-British Community in Argentina.”

This is how the Argentine British Community Council (ABCC) describes its members. The ABCC is an organisation set up in 1939 to “promote the welfare of the Argentine British Community”, to support those of its members who need help, and to uphold British values. In order to do this it runs a variety of fund-raising events, from garden fairs to curry nights. The main beneficiaries are the elderly, most importantly the British American Benevolent fund, a care home for retirees, the Royal British Legion Benevolent Fund and the British Hospital.

The ABCC is a slightly peculiar organisation: it feels something like an Argentine version of the Women’s Institute, maintaining values (and using language) which appear to fit more with the UK in the 1950s than the country today. The organisation’s concept of Britishness sometimes seems to be a far cry from how most Brits living at home perceive their own society: with garden fetes and groups of ladies who get together to make jam it is more like a parody of an Enid Blyton book than a reflection of modern Britain. It also has a strong dose of conservatism, and a mixed attitude to its colonial past. But despite this, there is no doubt that it continues to be a dynamic organisation that does outstanding work in the community.

What do you mean “British”?

“Although I’m Argentine I have been brought up more British than the British… I think that there are certain values that, even if I were brought up in England, wouldn’t be what they are here, because they’re not as contaminated.”

These are the words of Marian Bell, third generation British immigrant to Argentina and entertainment officer for the Argentine British Community Council. She describes how her parents raised her according to their memories of home, in a way that “I thought was ‘British’ but is no longer”. Marian describes her version of Britishness as a sort of combination between polite behaviour and organisation: “being on time, being courteous, being helpful, being thoughtful, saying thank you, saying please… At home we help out, we sit and have dinner together, we don’t scream and shout.” The ABCC’s website takes a similar view of Britishness, describing its own work in the community as “a truly magnificent example of teamwork and that selfless desire to help others which is a British tradition.”

The description is perhaps in contrast to how the majority of Brits living in Britain see themselves. A survey by The Times in 2005 invited readers to create a five-word-long motto that summed up the nations values and the winning entry was “No motto please, we’re British”. Other submissions ranged from “we apologise for the inconvenience” to “we strive for valiant defeat”.

The ABCC doesn’t have any of this trademark cynicism. On the contrary, the organisation has a relentlessly chirpy outlook and places emphasis on the importance of a “can do attitude”. While the idea that values at home have been “contaminated” is questionable and although Britain’s stubborn grumpiness is (in my opinion) one of its most attractive qualities, there is no doubt that the ABCC’s outlook makes it easier to get things done.

Brits in Argentina – ups and downs

As you would expect, the ABCC is very much rooted in the history of the British in Argentina. The story of the relationship between the two countries is long, but has not always been easy. During the 19th century Britain bought raw materials from Argentina on a massive scale, exported them back home to be processed by British industry, and then, in many cases, sold the finished products back to Argentina, profiting greatly in the process. A few people, both British and Argentine, became fabulously rich from the arrangement. However, in most cases the immigrants and Argentine workers who did much of the labour didn’t share in the wealth.

When Perón came to power in the 40s on the back of a strong nationalist ideology, he broke relations with the British, who were associated purely with rich oligarchs and colonialists. During this time, when Argentine nationalism was particularly strong, Marian recalls “we did not speak English in public” for fear of social repercussions.

This history of conflict between the two countries has perhaps led to a certain defensiveness in the way the ABCC views its own British identity. When Marian describes her own particular blend of Britishness in Argentina she is unapologetic in telling me: “If I say that it’s better, I think it is.” Quite the opposite of expressing any colonial guilt, the community is very firm about celebrating the achievements of Britain in Argentina. Terry Chapman, outgoing entertainment officer, and longstanding member of the ABCC tells me “I’m very proud of what we have done with the community here… Go to St Andrews cathedral in town, go to St John’s cathedral in Buenos Aires and you’ll realise what beauty there is in that, those buildings.”

This defensiveness regarding British heritage in Argentina is perhaps easier to understand when you hear about the difficult experiences many British immigrants have had here. During the Falklands/Malvinas war, when relations were at their lowest ebb, life for British people in the country was hard. Marian describes how “people were cross with us. It doesn’t matter if we built the country, helped build the country, are part of the country. It doesn’t matter. As far as they’re concerned, it’s your fellow friends who are invading our property.” As a result of the tension her whole family left Argentina. Today, she describes living between two cultures as a difficult mix: “I’m not a foreigner, I’m a local. But yet, I am a foreigner.”

Terry had an equally damaging experience during the war: her son, who was Argentine born, but English speaking and with an English name, was conscripted into the Argentine navy. Although he was willing to serve he could not get on with his petty officers, who harassed him because of his English background. After getting into a fight with some of them, he was sent to jail, where he spent the whole of the conflict, although afterwards he was fully acquitted.

However, it has to be said that the community does not dwell on the problems of the past, and is now at pains to stress how it works with Argentina to the benefit of both communities. Events for the ABCC are held in both English and Spanish, and part of the organisation’s mission statement is to strengthen “the links between the Community and the country”. Terry describes how the ABCC is dedicated to “mixing the best of two worlds. We’re mixing the culture with the kindness and the affection and fun of the Argentines.”

A modern, British family

Today the ABCC mostly functions as a charity and welfare organisation. The community regularly organises events, ranging from fêtes and car boot sales, to curry nights and quizzes, both to raise money and to give the community regular opportunities to meet and bond. Marian stresses: “It’s not just a money making venture. It’s hand and hand with community building.” A fair held last weekend at the British embassy certainly proved this: over 1,400 people turned up, ranging from tiny babies to the elderly and everything in between. Speaking a mixture of English and Spanish, the groups of people milling around were lively and happy to be there.

The atmosphere of the fête seemed to say a lot about the organisation; it was almost exactly like a British school fair transplanted in Argentina, complete with tin can shies, tombolas, bric-a-brac sales, fair-ground games and a bouncy castle. However, it still contained an Argentine twist in the form of an excellent asado with choripán and chimichurri. What’s more, you could see a little element of the confused, post-colonial status of the organisation. There was a game called ‘treasure island’ which featured maps of islands from around the world, including Haiti and Hawaii, with the flags of different countries stuck into them. You could pay to select a flag, and if you were lucky, the number on the bottom would correspond to a prize. This perhaps seemed like a bit of an unfortunate choice (and a cruel parody of the Argentine label for the British “piratas”), but when we asked the old ladies who ran the stall, it genuinely seemed to have been conceived in all innocence.

Most of the money raised by the events is shared out by three organisations: BABS, a care home for the elderly, the British Legion and the British Hospital. Perhaps what is most special about the ABCC is the way it doesn’t just hand money out, but actively fosters care and support within the community. Marian and Terry both emphasise the importance of integrating generations, involving the youth, while creating respect for the elderly. “It’s good to listen to the elders…especially when we talk sense!” Terry tells me.

More importantly, reciprocity is the most important element of the charity work: Marian describes telling the residents BABS “we are supporting you but, hello, you can give as a hand. And we would like to see you and know who you are that we’re supporting.” This has two main results: firstly everyone knows exactly where their money is going, and secondly; the beneficiaries of the ABCC get more than people’s cash, they also get their company.

To me, this aspect of supporting the elderly and involving them in the community seems different from Britain in a wholly positive way. Whereas on the other side of the Atlantic scandals are constantly surfacing about abuse and neglect in hospitals and care homes, the ABCC seems like a wonderful example of different generations of a community coming together and supporting one another. Colonial history and Enid Blyton aside, today this is an organisation that is all about family.

For more information about the ABCC and about upcoming events see their website: www.abcc.org.ar

Earlier this month, former Argentine President Carlos Menem and six other members of his administration were indicted and put under arrest for obstructing the investigation of the 1994 bombing of the Argentine Israelite Mutual Aid Society (AMIA).

Accused of covering up evidence and protecting a key suspect, the indictment is a relief to the Jewish Argentine community who awaits closure on the case. Frustrated and infuriated, many in the Jewish community have taken to the streets in recent years in protest, arguing Argentina’s refusal to fully accept the issues of the Jewish community as their own, and lack of legitimate investigation. The case has renewed the long-running debates about the depth of Argentine anti-Semitism and the place of the Jewish community in Argentine life.

Argentina holds the largest population of Jews in Latin America with approximately 230,000 Jewish inhabitants. Argentina, and Buenos Aires specifically, have become infused with Jewish cultural and religious influences. Bagels with cream cheese and lox, an American Jewish tradition, appear routinely on menus and several Jewish newspapers can be found on the news stands: ‘Iton Gadol’, ‘Comunidades’ and ‘La Voz y La Opinion’. Avenida Estado de Israel runs through Capital Federal, and you can even find bombillas, the Argentine mate straw, with stars of David decorating them.

It is debatable when the first Jews arrived; many claim they came in secret with Christopher Columbus after the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492. Other sources report Jewish immigration began in 1889, with the well-documented arrival of 824 Russian Jews on the ‘S.S. Weser’. Regardless, Jewish communities quickly formed in Argentina, their inhabitants becoming merchants and farmers, or gauchos. They formed the Jewish Colonisation Association (JCA), which acquired land for ranching, and the community prospered. One of the earliest Jewish communities to be settled was Moises Ville, founded in 1890, where Yiddish and Spanish speaking gauchos still live today. In 1898, the first Jewish newspaper was printed, ‘La Voz del Pueblo’, and in 1901 theatres housed performances in Yiddish five times a day.

Jewish immigration to Latin America continued throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, with the largest populations arriving between 1933 and the end of World War II, almost all from Germany, Austria, and other European countries. At that time, some 43,000 Jewish refugees escaped to Argentina. Today the Fundación IWO (Institute of Jewish Investigations), a non-profit organisation devoted to preservation, education and research on Jewish heritage, boasts an archive of over 60,000 documents related to Jewish immigration, Judaism and Jewish culture here in Argentina. Walking into the archives, the abundance of collected material is overwhelming.

Today a vibrant Jewish population is integrated into the towns and business of Buenos Aires. Ester Szwarc, the Academic Director of Fundación IWO, said: “[Argentine] Jews are very active…in the culture, in the sciences, in business.” The barrios of Once, Villa Crespo and Belgrano have the highest concentration of Jewish businesses and families, and Abasto even holds the only kosher McDonald’s outside Israel. Several Argentine Jews such as Ernesto Acher, a musician and former member of ‘Les Luthiers’, journalist Marcos Aguinis, and the filmmaker Daniel Burman have become prominent figures in Argentine life.

There are city fairs for Jewish holidays, hosted by YOK Time, a non-profit organisation that encourages approaching Judaism “in your own way”. YOK’s Rosh Hashana fair offers attendees free apples and honey to celebrate the New Year and goods from local Jewish artists, and on Passover you can participate in a gefilte fish contest and listen to Klezmer music, all in the barrio of Palermo. YOK, which stands for ‘Yo OK’ or ‘I am OK,’ creates these urban festivals to “establish a space where people [can] gather to share their Jewish culture and traditions with the whole community,” according to Dana Jones of Project YOK.

But while the Jewish community of Buenos Aires is booming, evidence of anti-Semitism still exists. In 1992 the community was rocked when the Israeli Embassy was bombed, killing 29. And the 18th of July 1994 the AMIA was bombed. AMIA’s seven-story building was destroyed and 85 people died. While plans to construct a replacement building for AMIA are in the works, the muddled investigation behind the bombing has remained a source of pain for Argentine Jews and a divisive line between the Jewish community and the rest of Argentina. Today, 15 years later, no one has been convicted.

In reaction to the terrorist attacks, many Jewish institutions have constructed pillars in front of their buildings and installed security cameras. In addition, some form of identification is often necessary when entering a building housing a Jewish organisation or event, and bags are screened. The Jewish community has, in a way, retracted itself, excluding anyone not already involved in Jewish life. This seclusion, said Jones, was what inspired the YOK organisation to begin in the first place. It was time to “take Judaism to the streets again”. YOK is one of the few Jewish organisations in Buenos Aires today that does not require any form of ID or security scan to participate.

Still, many argue that additional protection is a necessary step for the Jewish community at this time. In recent months, as reported by The Delegation of Israeli Argentine Associations (DAIA), anti-Semitic acts have been on the rise. “At the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009, Argentines, Jews and non-Jews alike have been victims and witnesses to a ferocious anti-Semitic campaign without precedent in the democratic period of our country.”

As stated in ‘Clarín’, the report claims that there were 253 attacks on the Jewish community in the first few months of 2009, while there had only been 302 in all of 2008. These attacks include material damages, threats, and acts of vandalism in cemeteries. The most recent desecration of tombs occurred the weekend of 12th September, in which 58 tombs were vandalised, four belonging to victims of the attack to the AMIA. Also cited by ‘Clarín’ the DAIA noted the importance of understanding the political catalysts for the anti-Semitic attacks, correlating the violence with timely Israeli-Palestinian conflicts in Gaza. Even so, the DAIA suggested that holding Argentine Jews responsible for the actions of Israelis in Gaza “brought to light latent prejudices in [Argentine] society.”

Yet, there are those who disagree that anti-Semitism is escalating. Jones commented that, “there is a big argument now that there is new anti-Semitism growing. I think that happens over years, every time in different moments, to different communities. Sometimes it’s more visible for Jews because we’re a big community. And a community that has a lot of power and weight.”

When asked if Jews were perceived as a minority in Buenos Aires, Szwarc said: “The Jewish community is equal to the rest of the communities and to the rest of the country.” When asked the same question, Dana Jones replied, “I wouldn’t call Judaism, at least not in Buenos Aires, a minority. No,” she said. “I think that we live in a Catholic society, that’s for sure. Most South Americans, Latin Americans, are Catholic because of our inheritance, because of who were the first ones…but I wouldn’t say we are a minority right now. I would say there is still a lot of prejudice about Judaism, but the same that there is for Muslims and for Buddhists and for anybody who has a deep belief in something that is not you. It’s the otherness.”

 

 

There are several tours of Jewish areas. Try ‘Jewish Tours Buenos Aires’ (http://www.jewish-tours.com.ar/) or ‘AR Tourism,’ which offers tours of Buenos Aires as well as Moises Ville (http://www.artourism.com/argentina_buenosaires_jewish_tours.htm). 

 

Keeping Kosher in Buenos Aires?

Might want to try ‘Mamá Jacinta’ (Kosher Parrilla), Tucumán 2580, ‘Tuscon Steakhouse & Bar’, J. Salguero 2741, ‘Tib Tuna’, Pueyrredón 705, or ‘Farfalej’, Terrero 1541.