spring of 1977.
One of them was the political awakening of many of the upper-middle-
class students to the anarchy of successive dictators and military juntas. Another
was the rape of the Argentine economy in favor of an ever-expanding military.
A third was the escalated suppression of leftist and liberal expressions. But
more than anything else, there was Celeste Lavalle.
28
RENALDO
He had met her as his tutorial leader in a course dealing with the Argentine
foreign trade deficit. She was a graduate student from San Miguel de Tucumán,
a beautiful city situated in the northern foothills of the Andes Mountains. She
had completed her preliminary courses at the Tucumán University and had
come to Buenos Aires to research trade factors for her thesis.
Despite her small stature, standing barely five feet tall, she took control of
the tutorial group from the first day. Celeste Lavalle placed her cards squarely
on the table right from her opening address to the tutorial students. Her
passionate speech on the legacy that future Argentines would inherit if the
economy was not shifted away from military largess opened many eyes for the
first time.
“More butter, many less guns!” she had said that first class.
Lonnie listened to her in awe. Whether she spoke the truth or not, just
espousing such views was very risky anywhere in Argentina these days. You
never knew who your fellow students were, and the police had been known
to sneak plainclothes officers into any situation that might become a breeding
ground for dissident opinions. Student informers were frequently paid to provide
information on individuals, groups, or courses that were not sympathetic to the
junta’s right-wing doctrine.
Professors had disappeared from the campus without a trace. Certain vocal
students would suddenly have to drop out for ‘financial’ or ‘family’ reasons.
There was an undercurrent of suppression running throughout every facet of
university life. That made Celeste Lavalle’s opinions even more daring, and
Lonnie was amazed at the passion that those opinions evoked in this fiery, self-
assured woman.
But it was more than words and thoughts that stirred the big athlete. This
señorita had a beauty that Lonnie had seen in few women. Different, hard to
describe. Nothing like the multitude of mindless coeds that he had spent so
much time with over the past two years.
Celeste’s was more a natural beauty. Lonnie would come to say a ‘provincial
beauty,’ unlike the made-up girls of Buenos Aires. Her cropped black hair
and dark complexion were complemented by the saddest brown eyes that he
had ever seen. The student knew at once that those eyes held secrets, deep
mysterious secrets.
Celeste had made much of the fact that she had come from the provinces
and promised to give the Porteños more than just their usual navel gazing view
of the problems facing modern-day Argentina. Lonnie was certain after that
first tutorial that she would endeavor to do so in an outspoken, candid manner
. . . if she were not stopped by the authorities first!
Their relationship had started testily, with Lonnie often defending what
Celeste called the ‘Porteño Bourgeoisie’ attitude toward solving the problems
29
JAMES McCREATH
of the Argentine people. It did not take her long to discover that Lonnie De
Seta came from a privileged background, and she often used Lonnie as her pet
example of how the ruling and advantaged classes were responsible for the
current economic and moral bankruptcy of the nation.
At first, the verbal sparing infuriated Lonnie, and had the tutor been a
man, he would have simply throttled him with his fists. After that, he would
either have sought out another course, or waited for a replacement tutor. But
these tactics could not be employed with Celeste Lavalle, and the more Lonnie
was forced to debate and listen, the more his understanding and admiration for
this ‘Tigress from
One of them was the political awakening of many of the upper-middle-
class students to the anarchy of successive dictators and military juntas. Another
was the rape of the Argentine economy in favor of an ever-expanding military.
A third was the escalated suppression of leftist and liberal expressions. But
more than anything else, there was Celeste Lavalle.
28
RENALDO
He had met her as his tutorial leader in a course dealing with the Argentine
foreign trade deficit. She was a graduate student from San Miguel de Tucumán,
a beautiful city situated in the northern foothills of the Andes Mountains. She
had completed her preliminary courses at the Tucumán University and had
come to Buenos Aires to research trade factors for her thesis.
Despite her small stature, standing barely five feet tall, she took control of
the tutorial group from the first day. Celeste Lavalle placed her cards squarely
on the table right from her opening address to the tutorial students. Her
passionate speech on the legacy that future Argentines would inherit if the
economy was not shifted away from military largess opened many eyes for the
first time.
“More butter, many less guns!” she had said that first class.
Lonnie listened to her in awe. Whether she spoke the truth or not, just
espousing such views was very risky anywhere in Argentina these days. You
never knew who your fellow students were, and the police had been known
to sneak plainclothes officers into any situation that might become a breeding
ground for dissident opinions. Student informers were frequently paid to provide
information on individuals, groups, or courses that were not sympathetic to the
junta’s right-wing doctrine.
Professors had disappeared from the campus without a trace. Certain vocal
students would suddenly have to drop out for ‘financial’ or ‘family’ reasons.
There was an undercurrent of suppression running throughout every facet of
university life. That made Celeste Lavalle’s opinions even more daring, and
Lonnie was amazed at the passion that those opinions evoked in this fiery, self-
assured woman.
But it was more than words and thoughts that stirred the big athlete. This
señorita had a beauty that Lonnie had seen in few women. Different, hard to
describe. Nothing like the multitude of mindless coeds that he had spent so
much time with over the past two years.
Celeste’s was more a natural beauty. Lonnie would come to say a ‘provincial
beauty,’ unlike the made-up girls of Buenos Aires. Her cropped black hair
and dark complexion were complemented by the saddest brown eyes that he
had ever seen. The student knew at once that those eyes held secrets, deep
mysterious secrets.
Celeste had made much of the fact that she had come from the provinces
and promised to give the Porteños more than just their usual navel gazing view
of the problems facing modern-day Argentina. Lonnie was certain after that
first tutorial that she would endeavor to do so in an outspoken, candid manner
. . . if she were not stopped by the authorities first!
Their relationship had started testily, with Lonnie often defending what
Celeste called the ‘Porteño Bourgeoisie’ attitude toward solving the problems
29
JAMES McCREATH
of the Argentine people. It did not take her long to discover that Lonnie De
Seta came from a privileged background, and she often used Lonnie as her pet
example of how the ruling and advantaged classes were responsible for the
current economic and moral bankruptcy of the nation.
At first, the verbal sparing infuriated Lonnie, and had the tutor been a
man, he would have simply throttled him with his fists. After that, he would
either have sought out another course, or waited for a replacement tutor. But
these tactics could not be employed with Celeste Lavalle, and the more Lonnie
was forced to debate and listen, the more his understanding and admiration for
this ‘Tigress from
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