“Nothing to Celebrate”–a bicentennial rap for Chile

Ricardo Cien has a scathing musical indictment for a country turning 200. Here are the lyrics:

Today Chile turns 200 years old

200 years old

Where many have given their lives

to make this place worthy

of equality, fraternity and social justice

But others only left behind hatred,

misery, hunger, shame

giving away natural resources

to foreign businesses

the same that exploited us for 200 years

the same that conquered us 500 years ago

We the exploited are fed up

And we have nothing to celebrate

CHORUS:

You who are fed up with the same

fairy tales, heroic deeds, oddities

Your blood is boiling, you’re enraged

You’re almost at your limit

seeing the riffraff still on their thrones

because they inherited the reins of power

You’re sickened by the lies

from the sons and grandsons of those same people from

200 years ago

You’re aware of the past and the present

Celebrate, celebrate

while your president lies

200 years have passed

Things haven’t changed much

The same foreign surnames

are still running the game

This song is a call

to all the people, women, children, youths,

students, indigenous people, workers.

To those they lie to on television

about the celebration

let’s celebrate

abuse, deception, corruption

or not having the right to an education

university is a far-away dream

for the children of construction workers.

You who are tired of fighting against the current

This is for you, to whom El Mercurio lies every day.

You who voted for the businessman and are sorry.

You whose blood is burning

seeing how they lie to the ignorant because they’re poor and don’t have education

to the most unconscious for not having a better sight of reality

to the most individual for thinking only of themselves and not the others

to the idiot who thinks everything is just right,

who doesn’t criticize, never proposes changes, and unfortunately thinks that’s normal

(CHORUS)

You who are a woman and whose rights have always been violated

in a country controlled by sexist macho men

You who are a boy and live in La Pintana

whose sister is 13 and probably already pregnant

Your dad’s in jail, your mom does other people’s laundry

in a little village called Las Condes

where there are kids like you but who get milk to drink each morning

You who are discriminated against for having AIDS, being gay or a hooker

You who are sick from food that others don’t even get to taste

You who are indigenous and have always been treated like trash,

your culture spat upon, with so much censorship

while the state protects the guy with the surname “German”

and let’s hope they don’t charge you as a terrorist who helps baddies

666, pact with Satan, 666

To you who have no bread, to you whose history professor

lied to you with books by Gonzalo Vial

To you whose house was raided, who were threatened, they robbed you and fled,

to you whom they killed in life

You who have a child who’s fucked up on cocaine paste

You who don’t get justice

because that’s for those with money,

let’s hope you have enough money

to get to the end of the month.

You who are old, your pension’s a misery

let’s hope you don’t get sick again

because you don’t have money for the clinic, after all

(CHORUS)

To you who they treat like a nut for thinking differently

You who live in the street.

You who dream of winning the lotto

to get out of DICOM one day

while your senator makes $10 million

and you have 10 million problems

You who were forgotten after the earthquake

You who live in the country with the worst wealth distribution

You who are a miner and a fisherman and who work for a misery

You have nothing to celebrate

the way your fucking president celebrates!

Translation mine.

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