The footage is dark and grainy, but the view of the prison courtyard is clear enough. It appears to be empty, until suddenly three men are sprinting towards the far corner. A brief fight ensues, before two of those involved flee from the scene. The third – Daniel Martínez – tries to follow, but collapses after just a few paces, never to get up again. Unfortunately what the CCTV footage shows is not unusual, but a stark piece of evidence of the reality of life inside Argentina’s jails, where one inmate dies every two days.

“2009 was not just another year. It started with a new Miguel Bru that was Luciano Arruga, and finished with a new Walter Bulacios: Ruben Carballo. Police repression and violence grew to the point of taking the life of someone every 24 hours.” Any student of Argentine history is familiar with the dictatorship of the 1970s and 80s, and the thousands of students, unionists and activists that were “disappeared” by the military regime. Victims were kidnapped from their homes or the streets, tortured and murdered, and their bodies never discovered.

“We worked in cramped conditions from seven in the morning until after midnight most days,” says Olga Cruz, a 31-year-old former sweatshop worker, as she hacks away at dozens of chicken carcasses sending splashes of meat juice in my direction. She is preparing lunch for the 120 regulars who overrun the Alameda soup kitchen in Parque Avellaneda every day. Olga is one of many who worked fabricating clothes in a micro-sweatshop, but with the help of the Alameda cooperative, she was able to free herself from such slavery.

Twenty years ago a group of some 40 militants entered an army barracks in an attempt, they say, to put down a military coup. It ended in a bloodbath. The attack on La Tablada is regarded as one of the last stand-offs between rival factions that were still alive from the dictatorship, pitted against one another in a time of democracy. Many questions remain unanswered to this day.

10th December sees the 25th anniversary of the inauguration of Raul Alfonsín, the first president democratically elected after the seven year ‘Dirty War’ in which a military junta oppressively ruled the country, leading to the disappearance of 30,000 people. Catherine Hubbard talks to five people whose lives were turned upside down during the dictatorship about what this historic anniversary means to them.

On 23rd June 1968, Argentina’s two biggest clubs and fierce rivals, River Plate and Boca Juniors, played out a scoreless draw at River’s Monumental stadium. Moments after the whistle blew on a forgettable match, the day became etched in history, as 71 Boca fans died in a crush of people at the exit

On the cold crisp night of 25th June 1978, Daniel Passarella fulfilled the dreams of a nation and hoisted the FIFA World Cup above his head amidst a sea of tickertape in front of an exultant crowd of 80,000 in Buenos Aires’ Monumental Stadium.

Novelist, playwright, essayist, academic, critic and human rights activist. The man himself was present at the first Argentine screening of ‘A Promise to the Dead: The Exile Journey of Ariel Dorfman’ earlier this month , at Buenos Aires 10th International Human Rights Film Festival (DerHumALC).

A couple have been jailed for illegally adopting a girl born 30 years ago to parents who were disappeared by the military government. The groundbreaking case was brought by María Eugenia Sampallo Barragán, whose real parents were among 30,000 thought to have been killed during the 1976-83 military dictatorship, known as the ‘dirty war’.

The AMIA (Argentine-Israeli Mutual Association) building on calle Pasteur 633 is probably the most secure structure in Buenos Aires. Its only presence on the street is a high reinforced concrete wall and two blast-proof steel doors. On the other side of the wall, past the security guards and metal detectors, is a tranquil courtyard.