Los niños "perdidos" del franquismo - en inglés

El blog Describer - un blog de periodistas, fotógrafos y cineastas - ha publicado un artículo recopilando la historia de Cristina Díaz Carrasco, quien ha denunciado el posible robo de su hermano durante los años 60 en España. El artículo breve describe una noticia ya conocida en España, gracias a los esfuerzos de libros sobre estos niños, como el de Miguel Ángel Rodríguez Arias. Según Cristina Díaz Carrasco, su madre dio luz a un hijo el 5 de noviembre de 1967. Sin embargo, sufría de problemas respiratorios, y los médicos le dijeron que el bebé se había muerto y no le permitían ver su cadáver. El padre del niño trabajaba al extranjero, pero la abuela insistió en ver al niño, y hasta pidió que le sacaran una foto para probar que había nacido. Años después, la familia se enteró de que el nombre del niño no figuraba en los libros del registro del cementerio donde supuestamente estaba enterrado el pequeño. El artículo de abajo no es de un rigor académico, especialmente porque no explica lo de la foto de la abuela con el niño, pero sí sirve para recordarnos de que casos así no sólo sucedían durante la posguerra inmediata. El artículo está hablando del tardofranquismo. Sólo un comentario - la primera oración de la noticia - "Here's an astonishing tale!" ["He aquí un relato asombroso!"] lee como algo de la prensa amarilla, y realmente no es apropiada para lo que se trata. Para leer más sobre el caso en español, hacer clic aquí.

la foto referida en el artículo

The blog Describer - a blog made up of journalists, photographers and filmmakers -- has reproduced in English an article on the story of Cristina Díaz Carrasco, who has denounced the possible kidnapping of her brother in the 60s in Spain. The brief article describes a news item already known in Spain, thanks to the effort of books like that of Miguel Ángel Rodríguez Arias. According to Cristina Díaz Carrasco, her mother gave birth to a son on November 5, 1967. However, he suffered from breathing problems, and the doctors told her that the baby had died and did not allow her to see his body. The child's father was working abroad at the time, but the grandmother insisted on seeing the child, and even asked for them to take her photograph to prove that he had been born. Years later, the family learned that the name of the child did not appear in the cemetery record books, where the baby had supposedly been buried. The article below is a good reminder that these cases did not only happen during the immediate postwar.The article below is talking about late Francoism. Just a brief comment - the opening line of the article -- "Here's an astonishing tale!" - reads, to me, like a tabloid headline in English. It's really not appropriate for a story like this. To read about the story in Spanish, click here.

Is my brother still alive? post escrito por Sancho, en España (11.11.09)

Here's an astonishing tale! Cristina Díaz Carrasco has denounced the possible theft of her brother who was born in the municipal hospital in La Línea de la Concepción in 1967. La Línea is Spain's border town with Gibraltar. The baby is said to have died at the hospital a few days after his birth.

Now this woman, who lives in Irún in northern Spain, has told her story to the newspaper Diagonal and it has been picked up by the rest of the media. She said she has informed the Judge Baltasar Garzón of what had happened in case this was another of "los niños de Franquismo" of which there are cases throughout Spain including the province of Cádiz. On November 5 1967, her mother, Adela Carrasco Martínez, was admitted to La Línea hospital and gave birth to a son who was alive. She then says they told her mother that the baby had died from breathing problems. They did not allow her mother to see her corpse and they told her to advise her family. The father was working overseas at the time but the paternal grandmother demanded to see the baby in the mortuary. Not only did she see the tiny corpse but had a photograph taken to record the event (see photograph).

The hospital said it would take care of the burial and the family were told it was placed in La Línea cemetery after being baptised. Cristina's family came to La Línea every summer for their holidays and went to the cemetery to place flowers. In 1980 they could not visit the cemetery as there were extensive works being carried out but when her mother died she had recorded on the stone memorial the name of her deceased son - Cristina's brother.

Then the mystery deepens for in between the time the cemetery was closed and its re-opening the baby's resting place disappeared. They checked the cemetery archive and there is no record of the brother being buried there - neither in 1967, nor 1966 or 1968. The Registro Civil says there is no certificate for the birth or death of Jesús Díaz Carrasco. Cristina has contacted the hospital but after two years she has yet to receive a reply.

Now it could be that as Cristina's mother had no large close family nearby she was targeted and her baby given to another woman. However the photograph shows us there was a dead baby at the hospital at that time - if it wasn't Jesús Díaz Carrasco, who was it? Does a death certificate or burial record exist for another deceased new born baby at that time?

Needless to say Cristina Díaz Carrasco is now telling her story to the local media to see if any other people have suffered a similar experience. On November 5 1967 her mother was attended at the hospital by a midwife called Doña Marina and on September 26 1962, when her sister Flor was born, a Doctor Nogales looked after her. However the possibility exists that her 42-year-old brother is alive and well and living somewhere in Spain.