Manuel

Manuel has his ways to present himself: as part of a whole, as a bit of these flowers over there, as a breeze of air, as a construct of all the smiles he collected in his life. Normal people of Villa Elisa might think he is either a fool or a lunatic: he knows they will not understand his discourse, but does not intend on changing it. If he fancies stopping for a few minutes in order to fully enjoy the happiness that the beauty of a windy sky offers him, why should he be refrained? Social pressure is less important to him than to his family, who often misunderstands his attitudes.
As far as he can remember, Manuel always looked at the light side of life. Neither the school education nor his structured friends could bring him back to the ground-level reality. He did not study, and evolved quite freely amongst the 8-children family. His mother loved him so much that she accepted everything. No regrets are shown: relationships taught him all he needed to feed his brains, which he describes as irregularly-grown. As an adolescent, Manuel spent his days reading, and his nights between alcohol and marihuana. Again, his perspective on those ethylic nights is not common: he feels this combination widened his perception of things. His life took off and never seemed to touch down. He liked being able to derivate in parallel worlds, which is no escape to him but more of an art of levitation, which makes him feel like a particle of dust, turning and dancing in a ray of light. Even working, wherever and however he can, in a factory or a shop, when his hands are automated, his thoughts are far away.
Of course, at 30, he had his share of bad moments. Three years ago, he suffered severe paranoia: all the people surrounding him were his enemies, who were acting friendly in order to hurt him. During nine months, his world shrank, and the patio transformed into an impassable border. He doubted everything and everyone, closing himself more and more, till complete isolation. Although the causes are not clear, Manuel explains that he pulled through thanks to his readings about Buddhism and Taoism, two religions that helped him seeing others with compassion. As he puts it, right in the middle of the greatest hell grows a flower.
His flower might be poetry: this period of excessive self-absorption brought him a better understanding of his feelings, and a renewed perception of his environment. Now, he has no difficulty writing, because this is how he sees life: his eyelids are butterflies, small animals jumping out of his chest as he enjoys being in the trees of his eternal happiness.

Andrea

Andrea, 21, is a dynamic young woman, studying biology in Santa Rosa, the small capital of the Pampa province. She was born in the village of Winifreda, around which her parents transformed a farm into a tractor-renting business. Describing herself, she strongly emphasizes the importance of being born and raised in the countryside, as opposed to the inhabitants of villages and cities. Her world, as a child, was her house, her parents and brother, the animals, the fields surrounding the farm, and the silence of Nature. Going to school in a 2,000-inhabitant village was a big step for the little girl: at first, she did not like having so many people around, and being separated from her family. She describes the two kinds of kids at school: the ones from rural areas, shy and quiet, and the villagers, used to speaking a lot more and commenting their private life with no shame. In the countryside, she explains, one is so used to the loneliness that the need to express oneself is not as important as in places where social life is much more developed.
Nevertheless, she liked school, and adapted herself to the urban relationships. She made friends, and, despite the parental restrictions, started to go out. Her parents kept on encouraging her brother and her: they were not given the chance to study when they were young, and repeated to their offspring the importance of having a proper profession. Accompanying the kids to the village school every day was a sacrifice Andrea is aware of, but the hopes generated by education were up to it. However, her parents taught her a lot, from life-orienting values to the basics of mechanics.
Biology was at first a subject her brother hated, which, being contrary, she wanted to like. She ended up liking it so much that, after high school, her decision concerning studies was clear: she wanted to work as a biologist in a laboratory. Moving in Santa Rosa, a small city, was a greater step to be taken: living surrounded by urban concrete, having to speak to strangers in the streets, having to make new friends and, more than anything, being far away from her parents were some of the challenges this new life meant. Now, Andrea is fully adapted to the urban lifestyle, and she loves her independence, surrounded by her friends and her boyfriend. Andrea’s evolution was hard to accept for her parents: her father more than anything had trouble dealing with the idea of his daughter having a boyfriend.
Thinking about the steps she took so far, the young woman is proud of being able to adapt to both rural and urban environment, a switch she would not be able to do as easily if she had grown up in a town. And she is still learning: for example, she is now acquiring what she calls ‘city skills’, such as reading and playing violin. No one ever sits to read a book in the countryside, she declares!
As far as her future is concerned, she is full of hopes: for interesting studies, for a nice job, for travels, for an equilibrated life. But, she smiles, there is no hurry, right now, she is happy, calm and laid-back.

Mario

Mario is sitting, quiet and serene, at the door of his farm, drinking mate. It has been 62 years that his rhythm is aligned with the nature surrounding him. Born and raised in these endlessly flat lands of the province of La Pampa, he is certainly not one of the most talkative. Like many boys of his generation, he did not complete the primary school: he was attending the school when he could, as the 10-kilometer horse ride was not always that easy, especially on the coldest winter days. At 15, he was still in primary school, and decided he had enough of trying. His parents already had the farm he still lives in now, where they were, just like him now, working the land and raising animals, from cows to ducks. He learnt the tricks of the trade quite soon, and when his father assumed the two sons were old enough to handle the farm, he retired and moved with the mother to the nearest village. Mario explains that, to them, the only way to retire is to leave this place where there is always some task to be done.
Although the question of liking it or not is not familiar to Mario, he claims that this work is the best for him, because he never knew anything else. Of course, he has his preferences and chores, but one can feel that he sees his job as a lifestyle that is not questionable as such. He used to live for years with his brother, until his wife moved in. The day I met Mario was the 40th anniversary of their meeting, even if they only got married years later, when he was 38. She was from another village, and she used to visit her boyfriend once every two weeks, when her father would allow it. After many years of disputes and reconciliations, she finally agreed to marry him and to move in Mario’s family farm. They had a son together, who is now 22 and a rural worker himself: they were hoping for some kind of social promotion, but a machine accident that cut his thumb out impeded him from writing, cutting short his willingness to study.
Mario has always been working here, and his days have been similar since he is a child, and are similar to the ones his parents had in the very same place. The very few changes are slow but matter: one of them was getting a gas stove in the house, which freed them from the never-ending wood-collecting duty. They wished they could get connected to the electricity lines, but as it was too complicated, they will just go on with the kerosene lamps.
Mario is very aware that his life depends on external factors: on the weather, of course, but also on the changes in the agricultural industry. The necessity to boil the milk they are producing, before delivering it to the dairy factories, was a revolution. They used to be the only supplier of a local cheese factory that went bankrupt two years ago, and now, as they are not able to invest in order to meet the industrial hygiene requirements, they will have to stop this activity. Mario sighs as he says that the future in the rural areas is jeopardized, by the industrialization and by the dramatic climate changes.
For this already old man, life will not vary much, and this perspective makes him smile. The invariability of the days, started and ended with milking cows, will go on. He is alright where he is, and does not think about going until death or illness force him to. Is he happy? Of course, he replies, otherwise he would not be here. The simplest answer ever.

Nora

Nora, 48, exudes some weird mixture of wild strength and motherly love, and the story of her life confirms this first impression. Although she qualifies her childhood as nice, she had to face hardship very soon. Her mother, an illiterate factory worker, insisted on sending her daughter to school despite the financial difficulties, and always tried to give to her child everything she would ask for. Nora never got to know who her father was, and she was raised by her father-in-law, who, as she puts it, was far from being a proper father figure: he went way too far, there have been – she hesitates - problems.
When her protective mother died when she was 18, her world crumbled, for she had to leave the house and abandon her younger brother. A bit lost at first, this violent change forced her to grow up and to learn how to manage her life by herself. With her then boyfriend, she was enjoying the levity of life until, one night, a car accident broke her hips into bits and pieces, and immobilized her during eight long months in the hospital. However, Nora affirms the most traumatized by this period has been the boyfriend: he stood by her side the whole time, asked her to marry him as she recovered, but she got scared and ran away from him.
Despite of the various jobs she was accumulating, the 19-year-old was wandering through her life aimlessly. She got pregnant, and, aware of her conditions of living, she preferred the danger of aborting illegally to the perspective of ending up in the streets with this baby. Luckily, she met a wonderful woman, her best friend, who helped her to find her path through life. Nora started to work as a dancer in nightclubs, a well-paid job that she enjoyed, and that allowed her to travel throughout the country. After dancing in a club in Rio Gallegos, where the soldiers from the Malvinas war deeply needed some kind of distraction from the daily violence, she decided to retire from this world of male-oriented fantasies.
On her way back to Buenos Aires, the impulsive 25-year-old met a man in Neuquén, and stayed there. She had a baby with him, the start of her new life as a mother, and the first of her three children with three different men. Her mother was able to sell pretty much everything that passed through her hands, and Nora inherited from this ability that she developed in a whole different range of trades, from wines to insurances selling. Men hurt her, but she managed to stay with her children, working long hours in order to be able to raise them independently. Trying to remember all the various things she has done, Nora admits with a smile that continuity is not her favorite word, and that, after being attracted by the challenges, she tends to get bored easily, both by jobs and by men. At some point, she was living like a man, very modern for her generation, but her actual boyfriend managed to succeed in having her opening up to him. However, she adds that their son bears her last name. When her 18-year-old daughter disrespected him, she had to throw her out of the house, so the lazy young lady could realize nor money neither protection was due to her. Nora is a loving and overprotective mother, but her education principles are not negotiable, and sometimes a separation, however how hard, is needed.
When asked about the future, this strong minded woman claims this concept does not exist, as every ‘tomorrow’ will always transform into a ‘today’. And her today is all about fighting for her happiness.

Carlos

Carlos’ calm voice contrasts with his impressive stature. Straight away, one realizes that he is a man of very few words: although he is willing to tell about his life, he does not understand which aspect of it could interest anyone, and is apparently not used to the rhetoric game of storytelling. At 41, his taxi driver daily life has nothing particular: to him, not much to say. He was born in a small town in the province of Neuquén, where his fathers were employed in a farm, until they got divorced when the young Carlos was 11. He then moved to Villa La Angostura, a town right next to the frontier with Chile, where he had to adapt to what he perceived as a more urban lifestyle, and to give up the freedom he used to enjoy growing up in the farm.
The family survived on the money that was sent by his father, and it appeared as natural that, when his father died, the 15-year-old took responsibility for his sisters and mother: he moved to Neuquén, the nearest city, where jobs were easier to find. Mason, street sweeper and assistant on an oil well were harsh works, under the summer burning sun or in the winter ice-cold. His personal favorite was bus driver: he discovered then his passion for driving in the streets of the city, and, as soon as he got enough saved money, bought himself a taxi. Driving people from one side to another is what he has been doing for now 13 years, and, unlike with other jobs, he does not grow tired of it at all. He likes it, does not really know why, but simply likes it. For sure, Argentines are crazy drivers, but he tries to avoid the best he can accidents and angry people at the wheel. He admits that, as a young man, he was much more impulsive, but now he acquired the necessary maturity in order to relax and take it easy. The respect he was taught as a kid may be disappearing: he is shocked by the abundant insults on the roads, especially said by adolescents.
Carlos adds, smiling, that he is already a grandfather! Three months after meeting a girl in one of the villages surrounding Neuquén, she told him she was pregnant: although at 19 he did not feel like having children at that time, abortion is prohibited in Argentina, where the announce of a pregnancy is followed shortly by a wedding and a baby. His three children, two boys and a 4-year-old girl, are his pride and joy, especially the younger one, child of his second marriage. His elder son just had, reproducing the history, a child at 19, which Carlos regrets as it tends to cut short any hope of studies.
According to Carlos, his future is going to be pretty much like his present: driving a taxi, being happy with his second wife and children, being cared by his taxi driver friends. He explains that they constitute a very united community, taking care of one another. What they are protecting from might not be obvious for the tourists in transit in this calm city, but the taxis are the first witnesses of the street violence at night. The day before, a taxi driver was mugged in his own car: the fear is here, Carlos says, pointing his stomach, but they have no choice but to continue driving, and letting strangers in their cars at night.

Maximiliano

Maximiliano is an easy-going young man, which is to be remarked in the streets of Neuquén, tattooed with tribal signs and wearing a Buddhist rosary. Yet, he is no rebel: the core on his personal story is his family. This Neuquén inhabitant had a happy and equilibrated childhood, along with his two brothers, who are still his best friends. Typical of this industrial province capital, his father was working for a petroleum company and was often sent away on missions, which the boys used to hate. However, there were all the uncles, aunts, grandparents and cousins: in Maximiliano’s family, one is never left alone, and they are very happy all together. Benefiting from such an intense support always has been a great help to him.
School is associated with rather negative memories for the 23-year-old: chubby, with a darker skin tone, and good student, Maximiliano was the perfect goal for mockeries. He assures nothing of what the others could criticize traumatized him, and that he was given the possibility to learn that one should never judge by the appearances. Of course, he did not like being teased, but as soon as he built his own group of friends, he could overcome the cruelty of the other kids. He describes himself as a ‘nerd’ because he liked to study and is a fast-learner, thanks to his listening skills and ability to concentrate.
High school was on the contrary the best years of his life, as he was having so much fun sharing the same class with his brother and his best friend. As he had to decide which professional path he wanted to take, he had a look into medicine: the victim of a growth disorder, he happened to spend a lot of time with physiotherapists, and wanted to be able to help people, just as they helped him. As many students from all over the country, he moved to Cordoba, where his two first years at university went great. Despite the necessary adaptation to a new rhythm and a new city, added to the distance separating him from his family nest, he loved it, until one day, last year, he received a call from his mother. His father had cheated on his mother, and they were separating. Learning this, Maximiliano decided immediately to come back to Neuquén, without waiting for the end of the academic year: he explains that his mother, who had him at 15, is more like an older sister and a friend to him, and that he could not bear the idea of her unhappiness. Looking back, he now sees as unexplainable his reaction of violent rejection towards his father, who went from being a perfect familiar model to a not-to-be-trusted cheater.
A ligament injury ended up confirming his decision of not coming back to Cordoba. He started to work, in a kiosk, and two months ago took a job as a security guard for an oil company. Nevertheless, he did not abandon his dreams: he strongly wishes to improve, both physically and intellectually, and to obtain a better job, maybe as a technical engineer in one of the oil companies of the area. His happiness is everyday more complete, as he now understood that, in order to learn to walk, he needed to stumble. The only thing missing to his lucky life is a pacified relationship with his father, whom he still loves and hates at the same time.

Rubén

The first thing to be noted about Rubén, 29, is the pride in his eyes as he is wearing his traditional Mapuche costume, walking in the streets of San Martín de los Andes, a trendy skiing and hiking resort. He was born in the Mapuche community installed 5 kilometers away from the town, in a numerous rural family. He recalls a pretty hard childhood, as his brothers and he had to constantly work for their father’s little farm. Life was simple, and no extras were allowed in the tiny wood-heaten house, except from a horse per child. Rubén regrets he could not keep on studying after school: they did not even have shoes to go to school during the winter, how would have he been able to maintain a decent life in Neuquén, where the nearest university is?
As a Mapuche, his world is clearly separated in two: the Mapuches, and the others that he calls ‘Huincas’, the white people who stole their land and reduced them to closed-up communities. His people suffer a lot, he sighs, the majority is alcohol-addicted, and very few of them are given the chance to study and help the community in its development. The young are losing their own culture: Rubén feels ashamed by the attitude of some, who reject their identity and do not want to learn the Mapuche language. They are Argentines and they are Mapuches: personally, he is very proud of this double identity, and wishes all the others would be too. The media, held by the Huincas, do not help according to him: they tend to project a wrong image of the Mapuche, and his people have no means to counterbalance these negative views. This land - he shows the circle of mountains surrounding San Martín – used to belong to his ancestors, just as they belong to it, and being aware of this is very important.
As a teenager, after the lack of money killed his dream of becoming a nurse, Rubén learnt the carpenter trade, and has being building houses since then. For sure, he loves it, and is pretty sure he will die as a carpenter, but he still harbours other type of hopes. For example, building a cultural place in the community where both Mapuches and tourists could dance chamamé and other folkloric dances, typical of the local culture. Of course, it will be difficult, but Rubén is determined to work hard to achieve this goal, especially since the prices of the materials went incredibly up with the development of the tourism in the area. One has to be very organized and self-controlled in order to save up some money, peso after peso.
Logically, Rubén shows a great sense of belonging to his community: he tries to help the young members, teaches his skills to the ones who want to become carpenters as well, just as he did with his younger brothers and sisters. He shows an incredible pride speaking about his younger brother who is studying to become a nurse in Neuquén: the youngest member of the family had the luck to make it, and hopefully will help the community once his studies finished. Rubén considers himself lucky because of all he did achieve on his own, and yet wishes to share his knowledge, in order for the others to no take such a long time learning a trade, or not fall into the same traps as he did, such as alcohol and drugs. After all, he had been through the hardest way, and learnt more in the street than at school: surviving has always been an effort, and he thinks no one deserves such a harsh youth. Rubén wishes that, one by one and skill by skill, his community will learn, develop, and someday recover their pride and power. And this perspective makes him happy.