do with his own impertinence, but with what was inside the aquarium. They weren’t fish, though, in a way, they seemed to be: three little girls with long hair swam about without needing to come up for air. The three small sirens came together for a moment behind the glass, staring with curiosity at the unfamiliar man who’d just walked in. The photographer ran out into the hallway without being seen by the boy. Their faces, if you could’ve seen them. They were horrible. Expressionless, like all beings that live underwater, but they were little girls. Monsters, he’d just said when the butler reappeared in a doorway and said that the family was waiting in the living room. Unsettled as we were, we decided to finish the job as quickly as possible. I should add that I was more intrigued than afraid.
The interview lasted forty-five minutes. My companion took half a roll of photographs before excusing himself, saying he felt ill. He left the house and waited for me in the car. The Vivars were arranged on the couch so that a chimney and chandelier were also in the shot. They were a very affectionate family: Juan Francisco Vivar sat with his wife on his lap; Bruno—his head shaved—placed his right arm on his father’s back while holding his mother’s hand; Alicia rested her head on Bruno’s chest and he patted her lightly on the cheek. To my surprise, Bonito stayed, seated on the arm of the couch, twirling the girl’s long locks between his fingers. He even spoke occasionally. Discounting the excessive displays of mutual affection that I’d witnessed, the interview answered many of my questions. Juan Francisco Vivar’s hair was gelled, his hands well manicured. At one point, I noticed the sheen of moisture behind his ears: sprinkler water from the garden, I suspected. Although clearly Alicia seemed to be in another world (as adolescents generally are, I should add), she didn’t seem particularly unhappy. They even laughed together recounting an anecdote about sledding near the hot springs in Chillán. There was a kind of excessive sincerity in that family: it provoked feelings of anxiety. The mistress of the house gave me a strange look, something like a smile, when she walked me to the door, and recited the names of everyone living in the house: besides her children and husband there was the foreign cook and Violeta, the Great Dane. Bonito, pardon, Boris was also staying with them. The man with the strange nose was her brother.
(Revista SEA, n° 327, February 24th, 1999)
VIVAR VIRDITTI FAMILY: SEQUESTERED HAPPINESS
The kidnapping of Bruno and Alicia, the children of renowned businessman Juan Francisco Vivar and distinguished journalist Teresa Elena Virditti, has shaken the nation. Days before the heartbreaking event, SEA had the opportunity to sit down with the entire happy family.
He greeted us with his characteristic smile and courtesy in the living room of his Los Domincos residence. He stroked the back of his sweet Great Dane Violeta. Four years ago, when Alicia, his little girl, started maturing, Juan Francisco Vivar realized they were going to need a bigger house. “When they were young the kids couldn’t sit still. They ran and jumped around all day long, and it dawned on us that what we really needed was a park. The change of scenery has made life more enjoyable. The children have rediscovered nature, and I’ve always enjoyed golfing, open spaces, horseback riding, and afternoon walks.”
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