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The missing Marxist

The Guardian Online
He was in his late teens and still some years away from entering the Jesuit Order. She was in her mid-30s, a revolutionary and a feminist far ahead of her time. They met around 1953 or 1954 in the most unlikely of places - a laboratory' where she worked as a pharmaceutical biochemist and he as an apprentice chemical technician. The two could not have been more dissimilar. Yet they cemented a unique friendship that bridged decades as well as deep political and religious chasms.
The woman was Esther Careaga, a nonbeliever who, because of her Marxist ideals, disappeared under Argentina's dictatorship in 1977. The man was Jorge Bergoglio, who became Pope Francis in March this year.
Careaga had arrived in Buenos Aires as a political exile from neighbouring Paraguay a few years before meeting Bergoglio. She had been a fiery socialist orator and the founder of Paraguay's first feminist movement in the
1940s. "She toured the towns in the countryside of Paraguay pleading for people's rights in general, but especially the rights of women," says her daughter Ana Mana Careaga.
Careaga was one of thousands of people who "disappeared" between 1976 and 1983, a bloody spree that stopped only after Argentina entered into a losing war with Britain in 1982 over the Falkland Islands.
Shortly before she disappeared, Careaga called Bergoglio, asking him to come and administer the last rites to a dying relative. This struck her old friend as unusual because the Careagas were not a religious family.
Arriving at Careaga's house, Bergoglio discovered that Careaga was being careful because she didn't want to reveal the truth over the phone. "My parents had a large library' of political books - books on Marxism and philosophy - and she asked him to hold them in safekeeping," says Ana Marfa. Bravely, Bergoglio did so, even though being found with such literature would have meant death
Later it transpired that Careaga had been taken to the ESMA Navy School of Mechanics -which doubled as a detention centre - where she was brutally tortured, and then flown to her watery death, along with two other Mothers of Plaza de Mayo and two French nuns who helped them.
Luis Bianco - the son of Maria Bianco, one of the other mothers buried alongside Careaga -was chosen by the victims' relatives to ask Bergoglio, ordained Archbishop of Buenos Aires in 1998, for permission to bury their remains in
the gardens of the Church of the Holy Cross from where they had been kidnapped.
Bergoglio seemed hesitant. He was puzzled, asking why they should be buried at the church instead of in a cemetery'. "I touched his knee," says Bianco. "I told him that one of the mothers was Careaga."
Bergoglio shook with emotion.
"Careaga was a good friend and a great woman and I am sure your mother was the same," he said.
Within a week permission was granted for Careaga and the other mothers to be buried there.