On March 8, 1974, the Junta had decided, due to international pressure, to transfer us toward the center of the country to a concentration camp that was being built in Colliguay. On March 5, a bestial raid was carried out in which, of course, no weapons were found, but rather the implements provided by the camp administration for carving stones—which, in one way or another, the prisoners of Dawson—both the comrades from Punta Arenas and the leaders of the Unidad Popular have made somewhat popular throughout the world.

Those scarce tools provided by the camp workshop by order of Commander Jorge Felay Fuenzalida were classified the following day by Lieutenant Colonel Aquiles Cáceres as sharp, blunt, and piercing weapons.

Because of that fact, based on the penitentiary regulations, the prisoners of war from Dawson were subjected for almost two months to the special treatment provided to us by the Marine Infantry, led by First Lieutenant Eduardo Carrasco Morenco and Second Lieutenant Jaime Wainsdenlaufer—a reservist incorporated into the Navy and head of "Patria y Libertad" in Valparaíso, an armed group in the province of Valparaíso—and Second Lieutenant Mario Tapia.

These three are authentic war criminals; these three Navy officials from Punta Arenas pushed not only the comrades I have already mentioned to inconceivable extremes, but also attempted to liquidate comrade Luis Corvalán once and for all.

I accuse these three officers, plus Army Captain Mario Zamora Flores, of having refused to allow comrade Corvalán to be helped in moving wheelbarrows weighing 180 kilos. When we tried to have a comrade use a wire to grab the wheelbarrow by the front wheel, and we assigned for this—the prisoners were ingenious with many things—comrade Hernan Soto, former Undersecretary of Mining, who had accentuated physical strength, and comrade Orlando Cantuarias, former Minister of Mining, they were punished for this act, both locked in dungeons, and comrade Corvalán had to continue working alone, being set quotas, being made to run, and being pushed from behind by the officers themselves with blows from rifle butts. This fact is unknown, from what I have heard. On a number of occasions and in a series of documents, the fact that the sick and the men of the age I have already mentioned were working was denied, starting from March 5.

Source: International Commission of the Investigating Board of the Crimes of the Military Junta in Chile, 1975

Work and contribution during the Unidad Popular (UP).

When we took on the task of coordinating the work of COCEMA in the region, the first thing we did was change its face, so that it would not be an institution that handed out handouts, that gave things away in a maternalistic way; what we did was educate the women in the shantytowns to integrate them into society as a whole, through talks on the subject of health, so that they would know how to take advantage of their capabilities.

For example, making use of the famous half-liter of milk that was so criticized at that time and which, nevertheless, helped the people so much. We worked with the women, training them in various courses that we held.

I remember that we integrated the peasant woman who was completely abandoned; in short, our social work was very closely linked to education and the degree of participation was good. In addition, we had a business to sell things at cost to the women and their families.

There was a noticeable eagerness to know, to discover new things every day. Once, I arrived at a peasant settlement and the men did not want me to talk to the women. Given my insistence, I managed to talk to a group of them and I was able to realize, because they began to open up, that they lived submissive to men.

So, they glimpsed an awakening with our initiatives and were happy to be able to do something. In the countryside, that form of relationship is very common: the woman in the kitchen, the man outside; but it is also a phenomenon that occurs in all our countries.

We formed several Centers in the countryside and the women joined. It was not an easy task; by nature, the peasant woman is very quiet and it was difficult for her to integrate quickly; it was a slow process.

I remember the era of the UP because the people lived with hope and were able to realize those hopes. I affirm that our people never lived better than in that era. There were decent wages. Allende always came to the region to fight for the interests of the workers and said with affection that he loved Magallanes because his political career had begun here.

For many years, my husband and I were his loyal collaborators. He made a cult of friendship and we always responded to him.

Military during the Unidad Popular in Magallanes: General Torres de la Cruz and Allende

During his government, we had an excellent relationship with the military, especially with the Intendant, General Manuel Torres de la Cruz, as my husband was Vice President of CORMAG and worked directly with him.

We believed he was loyal to the government because he always spoke very well of Allende. I remember that we attended our children's weddings together; we frequently ate with our families. There was a close bond that made us trust him as a person.

Furthermore, when Fidel Castro arrived for a visit, he asked me to attend to the Cuban delegation and to prepare the residence that the regional government had for these protocol purposes. All those days, the general was by Fidel's side; at the dinners I gave in my house, at the Intendencia, he showed himself to be a very loyal person to the government.

The same was true when we went to Santiago. We would have lunch at La Moneda, there I would say to Salvador Allende, "President, we are with you," and those were dates when there was already talk of a coup.

He was not an Allendista, I think; they say he was of Christian Democratic tendency. With Fidel, we talked about everything; he toured the settlements, a large part of the province. Fidel is a very restless person, he has a great personality, he talked with the peasants, with the CUT, with all sectors.

Fidel knew perfectly well that he was arriving at the end of the world and he was enchanted with Punta Arenas. I talked a lot with him because we are both descendants of Galicians and we made comments about the land of our ancestors.

One night at my house with a group of leaders, we stayed until four in the morning and after chatting about the most diverse topics, it occurred to Fidel to go to Fuerte Bulnes. He could not go to Puerto Natales but promised that for a next visit he would not fail to go to Ultima Esperanza.

When the subject of a possible coup began to be commented on with quite some insistence, we did not believe such an action was possible because the generals themselves, Berdichevski or Torres de la Cruz, told us that it could not be, that they were constitutionalists; furthermore, the Air Force general had been the President's pilot when he was a young officer and they were united by ties of certain friendship and consideration.

Now I think we were very naive.

Coup d'État and Arrest of Husband – Carlos Zanzi

On the 10th, we had a conversation with the President by phone and he told us to be calm, that although it was true that things were not well, and there were rumors of a possible coup, he trusted in being able to keep the situation calm.

I slept with some peace of mind and the next day I had several things pending at my work. Upon waking up, I got the scare of my life because when looking out the window of my apartment on Calle Roca, I saw that it was surrounded by uniformed men with helmets and weapons.

It was about nine in the morning. I was looking with some disbelief; it was something unexpected, then my husband pulled me away from there because they started aiming at us. We turned on the radio and listened to the last words of Salvador Allende.

I saw my husband cry. We both cried. We thought of Tencha, of his daughters, of our country. In any case, we started getting ready to go to work when a friend arrived to tell us that they had arrested Alberto Marangunic.

That night the decrees were issued and in one of them Carlos's name appeared. We did not sleep. People from the Party had communicated with us to see the possibility of us leaving for Argentina because they feared reprisals for the responsibilities we had in the government and for our friendship with the President.

Carlos told me not to be afraid. That he had clear accounts in his management, and that I, as a woman, would hardly be arrested. "We have acted with honesty," he said, "there is nothing to fear." Finally, he presented himself to the Carabineros accompanied by the lawyer René Bobadilla; they took him to a regiment and then returned him home.

On the 15th of that month, they took him away definitively with a large military operation (September 1973). I continued working in my business and the great concern was to know something about our children who were in Santiago.

At least I knew that Carlos was detained here. A rumor even arrived that my children were dead. Hours later they told me no; I think it was my sister who called me to tell me that she had seen them and that they were in hiding.

Detention and Incommunicado in the Public Jail

One afternoon, I had gone to leave food for my husband at his place of detention when I saw that the building was surrounded by military personnel. I asked a reservist and he said they were looking for a guy from the MIR.

I had the premonition that it was for me, since in that place we were the only leftist family. I instructed my employee to open the business the next day, to maintain the house, etc., when they rang the doorbell.

It was a colonel whom I knew, and he said to me, "Doña Kika, you have to accompany me for an interrogation." I put on my coat. "No," he tells me, "take a suitcase." That was when I realized that it was not a simple interrogation, but that they were taking me for a while.

• "What are you going to do with me?" I ask.
• "Silence!" the colonel shouts.

We arrived at the jail. He says he is very sorry to have to do this, but they are orders. I knew him through social meetings and through mutual friends.

• "How does this lady come?" asks the Warden.
• "Incommunicado."

I was taken to a dungeon. That night I was cold because I was without blankets or a bed. I remember the mice passing by my side. I was terrified. The next day they brought me food; it was a prisoner covered with a ski mask, only his eyes could be seen.

Every hour a guard would pass by, lift the peephole, and shine a flashlight. I lost track of time and I don't know how many days I was in the cell. Later I found out that on the seventh day I fainted. I suffered from heart problems.

They called the prison doctor and he said he would not take responsibility. That they had to summon my doctor. He arrived. It was Dr. Araneda. He immediately gave the order to transfer me to the infirmary.

Three guards took me. The doctor indicated medications and my treatment began. I was totally removed from the rest of the prison population. I was there for eight days until they ordered me to get dressed because they had to transfer me.

At the exit, I met two comrades who were in the same situation as me: Ema Osorio and Gladys Pozo. We hugged, but a guard gave the order not to talk. They opened the doors and made us get into a tank.

• "What's wrong with you?" said Ema.
• "Silence, or we'll shoot!" answered a soldier.

We were subject to what they determined. We traveled for a long time until the machine stopped and we got off.

Rene Schneider Armored Regiment in Ojo Bueno: Reclusion and Reception.

"It's Ojo Bueno," Ema said in my ear. I knew it as the René Schneider regiment. Paradoxically, the President had handed it over a few months earlier. We arrived at a large space. About 30 beds for three people.

For the first time, I ate a soup that helped me recover. We were there for four days waiting. Some conscripts gave us cigarettes in secret. One morning they said we had to get ready because they were going to interrogate us.

The first to come out in shackles was Gladys. Then it was my turn. We arrived at a room where there were many people and the smell of cigarettes. I had a blindfold, so I couldn't see.

• "You're going to take off your handcuffs and shackles and you're going to get undressed," they said.

Out of modesty, out of decency, I refused. They tore my clothes off. They asked questions related to my position, to my family. It was something so humiliating that I will hardly be able to forget it. I was shivering, I was cold, afraid. There were many people.

• "Here is Major Hernández," someone said.
• "How good," I said. "Major Hernández, do not allow them to continue humiliating me. You have a family, a wife, a mother."

I knew him from social meetings in the region.

• "You are neither a woman, nor a mother, nor a wife. You are an Allendista whore," an officer replied.

That was the reception I had.

Former Naval Hospital, Palace of Smiles: Interrogations and Torture with the presence of General Torres de la Cruz Around November, they started again. On one occasion, they took me to the former naval hospital on Calle Colon.

After the typical anteroom, they made me drink a very bitter, thick liquid. I have asked many doctors these years but nobody has any idea what it could have been. They tied me to a bed, naked, and I lost consciousness.

When I returned to Ojo Bueno, the girls said that I was gone for three days. I remember that before the liquid took full effect, I asked for permission to go to the bathroom. Since they didn't let me and my desperation was so great, I relieved myself right there.

When the guys arrived, they said, "Look at what the Allendista whore did to herself. She's only been here a few days and look what happened." With a cold water hose, they put me against the wall and that's how they cleaned me. It was difficult to determine the time. I was very confused.

• "What do you know about Plan Z?"
• "I have no idea."

I was still naked and wet. I was able to realize that General Torres de La Cruz, my old friend, was present.

• "Why all this, General?"
• "If you talk, nothing will happen to you," he replied.
• "But what am I going to talk about?"
• "They found your correspondence with Allende, in Santiago," said an agent.
• "What's wrong with that?" I replied. "I have been writing to the President for many years. He is a friend of my family. Carlos and he helped me join the women's centers of Freemasonry. Since my husband is bad at writing to this day, he always dictated his correspondence with Salvador Allende to me. Also, one of my children lived in his house. We also wrote to Tencha."
• "When the letters arrive, we are going to publish them because they are very compromising," they threatened.
• "For me, you can publish them," I said.

They hit my legs with a knuckle duster. They placed rats on my body, they even wanted to hypnotize me. There was a hypnotist they used to get information. "Count to three," the man told me, but I told him I didn't know anything, that I had said everything, and that I had no idea about weapons.

Meanwhile, my comrades were told that I had been killed, so when I arrived they were happy. When my legs went down, they took me to interrogation again. Since the chaplain had come to see us those days, I was carrying a rosary in my hand. In the patrol that came to pick me up was Major Bisquert, who was a Mason. He was very affectionate, he treated me like a sister. We were talking in the truck.

• "Look, sister," he told me, "here the interrogations are very strong, but if you talk, nothing will happen to you. I would like you to talk, that way I will defend you as a brother, don't worry." Before arriving, he blindfolded me and everything was the same. The same Major Bisquert turned into a tremendous torturer.

One of the agents says, "I feel like smoking, let's offer this whore one too." The cigarette made me dizzy and I heard their voices and laughter.

• "So now you've become Catholic."
• "Maybe the faith my mother taught me since I was a child has returned to me, that's why I'm carrying the rosary," I said.

They grabbed the rosary, put it on the floor, and stepped on it.

• "Don't think a rosary is going to save you, today you are going to talk or else we'll see what we do with you."

One of the guys said, "Let's keep smoking," but "there are no ashtrays," said another, "but we have an ashtray here," and they started putting out the butts on my body. To this day I have the marks. On my breasts, on my arms.

It is terrible to feel the pain when several people put out burning objects on your skin. I didn't know what to do. I just tried to scream, very loudly, but it had no effect on them. They were like immunized to suffering.

• "Now we are going to connect you to the lie detector, to see if you know about Plan Z or not."

They connected me with some wires and the agents said that the detector indicated the opposite of my statements. I was subjected to their arbitrariness all night. I slept naked on a bed and at night they would come in to throw buckets of water on me. The next day was Sunday and they brought Gladys Pozo. They wanted to keep having fun.

• "We couldn't go to the movies because of you, but the two of you are going to star in some movie-like scenes. One of love."

They wanted Gladys to play the role of a man and me of a woman and for us to make love there. It seemed to amuse them a lot and they laughed out loud.

• "Since all the 'upelientas' (UP supporters) are lesbians, this is no news for you."

We both resisted. Gladys treated them very badly; she had a very strong character. So they gave us a beating the size of a ship. With me, they decided to play ball and kicked my whole body, forcing me to go up and down a staircase. Upstairs and downstairs there were young men waiting. Imagine how our bodies ended up!

Tied and blindfolded to the waters of the Strait by orders of Captain Zamora.

That night they took us with Gladys to Ojo Bueno. We were almost there when they stopped the jeep and Captain Zamora made me get off.

• "We are going to play a very entertaining little game," he said. "This is a pistol and since you haven't confessed, your life is no longer worth much. We are going to play Russian roulette."

I had to put the pistol to my temple and shoot myself. I did so, but the weapon was not loaded. I thought it was and I was aware that I could die. But in those moments one thinks only of ending so much suffering once and for all. I wasn't thinking about anything else. Captain Zamora was serious and very arrogant.

• "Now we are going to give you a bath in the Strait," he said.

Gladys screamed from the jeep to defend me and tell them that I was sick. I never forget that.

• "Don't be shameless, you are faggots, leave that woman alone, she is in delicate health, she is already getting on in years."

Later she told me that they threw her against the jeep with rifle butts, while they took me into the Strait of Magellan with a rope tied around my neck. There I knew in my own flesh what cold water is like in this part of the world.

I was tied by the armpits and the neck and they made me enter the sea about eight times. I could not see the faces of the agents who did this because I was blindfolded. I only recognized the voice of Captain Zamora.

When they saw that the water was about to cover me completely, they pulled the rope so that I would come out to the beach and so on. In "Ojo Bueno" they had to give me massages for several days to recover me and I drank hot water. Once I recovered, back to the ring.

More Torture in the Palace of Smiles

"The letters from Santiago have arrived," they said. Again the same thing. They read all the letters from Salvador Allende, mine, my family's. They were very long sessions. Little by little they began to understand that there was nothing wrong in the letters.

• "But here it only talks about your children," they said. "About the business, about CORMAG. There is nothing to publish. There is nothing sensationalist as we wanted."

We read all the letters anyway. I am returned again, until another day, when they continued with their methods. It was something that never ended. Sometimes they started slowly and the rhythm of the torture grew vertiginously, on the genitals, on the ankles, I felt that I was jumping, that I was reaching I don't know where, because the current makes you lose your senses.

• "This whore is dying on us, she's on her last legs," someone said.

A doctor arrived, I have the impression that he was a fake doctor, because of his manners; he started giving me mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and he reeked of pisco. Immediately, they placed rats on my genital organs, they introduced them and they enjoyed doing it, they were true sexual degenerates.

Now I think that those people were not normal beings and I feel anguish when I think that they are walking free on our streets. I was about to go crazy, I heard that they were thinking of taking me to the psychiatric hospital.

When I arrived at Ojo Bueno, the same jailer who had been mean to us before was moved and told the military that she was going to take care of me. Licha was the jailer's name. It was a noble gesture. My mouth was shattered and she wouldn't let me drink water on the instructions of the Ojo Bueno nurse.

• "She could have a shock," he said. "They have given her a lot of current."

Many days passed. When I showed symptoms of recovery, they took me back to the usual sessions. One afternoon I am undressed again and they lay me on a bed. They hit my legs hard, when I see two soldiers in a position to rape me.

I lost consciousness again and I have always been left with the doubt. To this day I have nightmares about that brutal scene. By then they no longer required information, they did it out of malice, to satisfy their bestial instincts.

As a consequence of this, I suffered a heart attack at the regiment. Dr. Araneda arrived and said that they had to take me to Punta Arenas, to a hospital, because otherwise he would not be responsible for my life.

I was in very bad shape, plus I was missing two fingernails on my left hand that the agents had pulled out the night before; with a little stick they used leverage to force the extraction.

• "Tell us what Allende thought of General Torres, what you know about Freemasonry."

They had a real obsession with discovering something big through my statements. I didn't know about weapons, the famous letters had nothing of interest, what did they want now? In the city, everyone knows that Carlos is a Mason, that we were friends of the Allende family, everything was public domain.

If they wanted to discredit us as people, they were hardly going to succeed because our whole life had been impeccable and now this absurd interrogation with blows, doubly cowardly for abusing a woman tied up and blindfolded and on top of that sick with heart disease, what kind of men were they?

Why so much cruelty? One day they arrive with a recording that Fidel Castro made in our home and with a record or something like that of Carlos Altamirano. You must imagine how they beat me for both things. Needless to say, they looted my house, they took valuable objects. Who will answer for that? My hair was white. The confinement and the torture were leaving their marks.

Immobilized during the explosion of the Armored regiment in Ojo Bueno: January 1974.

The explosion of the regiment caught me totally immobilized. I wanted to get out, to crawl, but I couldn't. It was two conscripts who took me out.

• "Grandma, grandma, hurry up, we're going to get you out," the boys said.

And they saved my life. I had lost about fifteen kilos and they took me away from the place until, subsequently, I reunited with my comrades. They took us to jail. Captain Figueroa, from the Navy, took us in a truck and kicked me, despite the conditions I was in.

In jail, we received the solidarity of the common prisoners, who, despite the threats from the SIM not to get close, gave us skirts, made a stew, which was a real party because we were tired of eating so many beans.

In a tank, they returned us to Ojo Bueno. We had lost all our things. We were in a smaller place and without comforts. Captain Quiros had kind gestures. He took care of getting us a shower; I remember that that officer stood out from the rest and it is good to record it in this story.

Naval Hospital: Political prisoners in bad shape.

When I arrived at the naval hospital, Dr. Alejandro Babaic, director of the establishment, behaved very well; they left me isolated from the rest and I had good attention. The only problem I had was the isolation since I could not talk to anyone.

All day long I was alone. Through the screens, I saw that it was a sector destined for prisoners. That's how I found out that Ramón Lastra, Abel Paillaman, and the former chancellor Orlando Letelier were there.

The latter would come to my room to talk for a few moments. He didn't care about the guard and the Cossacks had respect for him. "Don't worry," he would tell me, "this will pass, we will all get out." Well, we got out and he was assassinated in Washington.

Jaime Tohá was also there, who came to hug me. He was very sad about the death of his brother José. Another night, the former senator Aniceto Rodríguez arrived at the hospital; he was passing through to Santiago.

Later we found out that he was exiled to Venezuela. The psychic damage was tremendous. I started to realize it because suddenly I would find myself talking to myself about nonsense. Since I couldn't read or listen to the radio because it was forbidden, I entertained myself by counting the boards on the ceiling.

From there to here and vice-versa. And nothing more. Also, since my room faced a nearby tennis court, I heard the ping-pong of the ball like a somewhat maddening sound. During those months I had a gynecological problem and in the interconsultation system, Dr. Jorge Amárales came to see me. As he saw me in very bad shape, he recommended to Dr. Babaic that they release me.

• "You are one step away from madness," he told me, "I am going to recommend that they release you."
• "They already wanted to take me to the psychiatric hospital," I said.
• "No, I am going to talk to see if we can get them to take you, even if it is with house arrest."

Fifteen days later, the Director of the Naval Hospital appeared.

• "I have good news for you, you are going home."

I started to cry on the doctor's shoulder. I had to leave in a wheelchair, since I could not stand on my feet. I hid in my body some writings I had about my experience there; they put me in an ambulance. It was the month of July 1974.

• "Go quietly," said Babaic.

Two jeeps were guarding me. I thought of Carlos, of my children. About my husband, I knew that he remained in Dawson, because they authorized us to maintain written communication. What was going to happen?

How were my things, my family? In the sector, there was great expectation when I arrived at the building. My parents were there, who were very old. A platoon entered and they told my father that I was coming with house arrest, that I could not go out.

• "This woman cannot be seen in Punta Arenas. People don't like her, so to avoid problems she is going to be locked up here."

That's how I spent those months. Until September, when my husband came out. I received a visit from the psychiatrist José Valenzuela and Father Goic. This one explained to me the mentality of these people, a barbaric mentality, he said.

But I listened little. A friend, Lily Descourvieres, says that I spent hours and hours sitting in a chair looking at a fixed point. She had obtained a special permit from the military to visit me. One morning, the employee was cleaning the apartment when she shouts:

• "Don Carlos is getting off a truck!"

At that moment everything changed for me. It was a great joy. When he entered the apartment, I thought a year had passed without seeing each other. He came with a lot of spirit and thinner, and with the order to be relegated to Ovalle.

He didn't even manage to organize his commercial affairs in our store, which was in charge of some cousins and my parents. Since I was under house arrest, I wrote to the authorities to request authorization to accompany my husband.

The response was positive. We packed our things and left. We had to start over, we thought about our friends, about the people who were still in the concentration camps, but we had to gather strength because we didn't know what was coming. Everything was uncertainty. And the fear of the unknown is always hard.

• "At least, we are together," I thought.

Places and people mentioned in the Testimony of Kika de Zanzi

Detention Centers

Public Jail of Punta Arenas, "Rene Schneider" Armored Regiment in Ojo Bueno. Naval Hospital

Torture Centers and Places

Rene Schneider Armored Regiment in Ojo Bueno. Waters of the Strait of Magellan, northern coast, before arriving at Ojo Bueno. Former Naval Hospital on Avenida Colon

Torturers and Participants in Torture

Army Major Bisquert - Palace of Smiles Captain Figueroa, of the Navy. Army Major Hernández, Rene Schneider Armored Regiment. Hypnotist at the Palace of Smiles. Army General Manuel Torres de la Cruz. (Present at torture at the Palace of Smiles). Army Captain Mario Zamora, Rene Schneider Armored Regiment

Other Military and Security Agents

Air Brigade General José Berdichevsky Dr. Guillermo Araneda, Army Captain. Licha: name of a jailer at the Armored Regiment in Ojo Bueno. Army Captain Carlos Quiroz. Armored Regiment Dr. Alejandro Babaic, Director of the Naval Hospital, Surgeon Guzmán

Source: dawson2000.com, March 2002