Last moments with Che Guevara
Fifty
years ago he took Havana; now he's conquering Hollywood in Che, the
recently released film biopic of his life by director Steven Soderbergh.
But 41 years ago, the revolutionary Ernesto 'Che' Guevara was executed
by CIA-backed soldiers in the Bolivian village of La Higuera. Pretty
19-year-old Julia Cortés was the last civilian to see him alive. She
remembers the encounter clearly; for her it was love at first sight.
I was in the bloom of my youth, pretty and brave and prone to taking risks. I lived in a kind of fairy tale.
It was in September 1967 when we heard that the guerrillas were coming. At the time I had no idea about the seriousness of the issue, I simply heard the news on the radio. It was like listening to the rain falling. I had no idea who Che Guevara was. I only knew he was the head of the guerrilla group, the fiercest fighter, and that he was also a very sophisticated person. I was curious to see him up close.
The next month, on October 8, I was on my way to school to teach. But I got a shock when I arrived in La Higuera: there were explosions, lots of smoke and a plane circling overhead. A military man tapped me on the back and said: "Do not cry, my dear, the guerrilla war is over."
Later that day, almost at dusk, I caught a glimpse of Che from my classroom. He was walking with difficulty, escorted by two guards. It was too dark for me to see what he looked like. That night he was detained at my school, heavily guarded, and nobody was allowed to see him.
Early the next morning, one of the soldiers was listening to the news on the radio; it was announced that Che had fallen dead in the Bolivian jungle. That sparked my curiosity as I had seen him arriving in La Higuera. Immediately, I decided to go to the school and see him face to face, to ask him why he had been fighting here.
There were very few guards at that time, so I stood right in the doorway, but it was hard to see him as he was far inside, sitting on a chair. The soldier who was guarding him asked me: "Julia, did you come to meet Che? OK, you can enter." And so I did.
The moment I entered, Che began staring at me, fixedly, and I stared at him, too. I smiled, and was ashamed, but most of all I was shocked. My curiosity had driven me to see an ugly and bad man, but here I encountered an utterly beautiful man. His appearance was a disaster, he looked like a tramp, but his eyes shone. I felt an immense happiness, like a stroke of light.
He said that I was very nice and cute. I asked him why he was fighting and he replied that it was because of his ideals. He said that we were wrong to think he was bad while he was there fighting for the humble, the dispossessed. He asked me for food, and I brought him some soup from my place. He was so hungry he ate it all without catching breath. While he was eating, I couldn't stop staring at him.
Then they took him outside, and we shared a very intense look. He was staring at me in a fixed manner, but I wasn't able to hold his gaze, it was too intense. I hid behind some other people, but peeked out from the other side. Somehow, I couldn't stop staring at him, sideways.
At one point he turned around and gave me the look that, today, I still have tattooed on my heart. There was no way I couldn't have fallen in love with him. He was incredibly beautiful, it was shocking.
Then I was on my way back home. Upon entering my house I heard shots. I stood paralysed, and then I turned around and started running back to the school. At the doorway, I managed to see the body lying inside, arms wide, eyes open; he was staring towards the door. He was staring at me. I thought he was alive. I didn't want to stop looking at him, hoping that at some point he would wink, or make some sort of gesture. But nothing happened. Then, slowly, his eyes started to turn that blueish, dead colour. And his face looked exactly like that of Jesus Christ. And I felt an immense, deep sadness. I wanted to run away but my legs wouldn't move. It was very hard to find myself facing a corpse, the corpse of the man I had met so briefly but so intensely. In my head, the sound of his voice resounded heavily. He expressed himself like a cultivated person, with dignity and good manners; like a gentleman.
Che was not the brute they made us believe he was. No, for me he was a beautiful, manly, intelligent human being. I don't believe there will ever be another like him; ever.
Right now, I can see Che as he arrived in La Higuera. I can see him as I saw him for the first time, when I was shocked by his looks. And I can see that same man dead, lying on the ground, but equally beautiful. Che is tattooed on me.
• Julia Cortés was talking to Andrés Schipani in Vallegrande, Bolivia.
It was in September 1967 when we heard that the guerrillas were coming. At the time I had no idea about the seriousness of the issue, I simply heard the news on the radio. It was like listening to the rain falling. I had no idea who Che Guevara was. I only knew he was the head of the guerrilla group, the fiercest fighter, and that he was also a very sophisticated person. I was curious to see him up close.
The next month, on October 8, I was on my way to school to teach. But I got a shock when I arrived in La Higuera: there were explosions, lots of smoke and a plane circling overhead. A military man tapped me on the back and said: "Do not cry, my dear, the guerrilla war is over."
Later that day, almost at dusk, I caught a glimpse of Che from my classroom. He was walking with difficulty, escorted by two guards. It was too dark for me to see what he looked like. That night he was detained at my school, heavily guarded, and nobody was allowed to see him.
Early the next morning, one of the soldiers was listening to the news on the radio; it was announced that Che had fallen dead in the Bolivian jungle. That sparked my curiosity as I had seen him arriving in La Higuera. Immediately, I decided to go to the school and see him face to face, to ask him why he had been fighting here.
There were very few guards at that time, so I stood right in the doorway, but it was hard to see him as he was far inside, sitting on a chair. The soldier who was guarding him asked me: "Julia, did you come to meet Che? OK, you can enter." And so I did.
The moment I entered, Che began staring at me, fixedly, and I stared at him, too. I smiled, and was ashamed, but most of all I was shocked. My curiosity had driven me to see an ugly and bad man, but here I encountered an utterly beautiful man. His appearance was a disaster, he looked like a tramp, but his eyes shone. I felt an immense happiness, like a stroke of light.
He said that I was very nice and cute. I asked him why he was fighting and he replied that it was because of his ideals. He said that we were wrong to think he was bad while he was there fighting for the humble, the dispossessed. He asked me for food, and I brought him some soup from my place. He was so hungry he ate it all without catching breath. While he was eating, I couldn't stop staring at him.
Then they took him outside, and we shared a very intense look. He was staring at me in a fixed manner, but I wasn't able to hold his gaze, it was too intense. I hid behind some other people, but peeked out from the other side. Somehow, I couldn't stop staring at him, sideways.
At one point he turned around and gave me the look that, today, I still have tattooed on my heart. There was no way I couldn't have fallen in love with him. He was incredibly beautiful, it was shocking.
Then I was on my way back home. Upon entering my house I heard shots. I stood paralysed, and then I turned around and started running back to the school. At the doorway, I managed to see the body lying inside, arms wide, eyes open; he was staring towards the door. He was staring at me. I thought he was alive. I didn't want to stop looking at him, hoping that at some point he would wink, or make some sort of gesture. But nothing happened. Then, slowly, his eyes started to turn that blueish, dead colour. And his face looked exactly like that of Jesus Christ. And I felt an immense, deep sadness. I wanted to run away but my legs wouldn't move. It was very hard to find myself facing a corpse, the corpse of the man I had met so briefly but so intensely. In my head, the sound of his voice resounded heavily. He expressed himself like a cultivated person, with dignity and good manners; like a gentleman.
Che was not the brute they made us believe he was. No, for me he was a beautiful, manly, intelligent human being. I don't believe there will ever be another like him; ever.
Right now, I can see Che as he arrived in La Higuera. I can see him as I saw him for the first time, when I was shocked by his looks. And I can see that same man dead, lying on the ground, but equally beautiful. Che is tattooed on me.
• Julia Cortés was talking to Andrés Schipani in Vallegrande, Bolivia.
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