My life with Pinochet

I must have been four or five years old. The revolution had resulted in “Islamic Republic of Iran.” Many were pissed off. Slogans were made: “Death upon Pinochet, Iran won’t become Chile.” [مرگ بر پینوشه؛ ایران شیلی نمی شه!] I would repeat it too. I didn’t know who Pinochet was; nor did I know where the Chile was. I knew lots of these slogans and revolutionary songs. I’d learned them at home through my politically inflected family. At the same time I had to learn the opposite slogans and songs in the school. We would recite them every morning before we would go to the classroom.
Later I learned that that Salvador Allende—whose government was overthrown by Pinochet’s coup d'état—was actually Isabel Allende’s uncle. Now I could probabely relate to the whole thing a bit. But still...
However I had never seen Augusto Pinochet picture till today when I read his death news. I have lived with this name, Pinochet, for years. That bloody slogan has been engraved in my memory forever. Yet I had never seen his face. I have always felt that my childhood has been betrayed.