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Dozens of Cabo Verdean citizens were detained without conviction or formal charges at Tarrafal Camp; many were later deported to Portugal, forcing families into exile and requiring them to rebuild lives abroad.
The history of Cabo Verde's democracy remains incomplete
Vera Mendes explains why she and 72 other relatives are pushing for the omitted period to be recognized in the museum's official record.
Mark

Why does it matter that this period was left out of the museum's founding document? Isn't the camp itself still there, still being preserved?

Mimi

The founding document is the official story the government is telling UNESCO. If those years aren't in it, then when the World Heritage designation is granted, the world will have a version of Tarrafal's history that skips over what happened to these specific people—the political prisoners, the deportations, the families scattered to Portugal.

Luke

But we should be clear: the museum exists now. The question is whether the 1974-1975 period gets formally recognized as part of what the museum commemorates. That's different from the camp being forgotten.

Mimi

True. But for the families, it's the difference between their relatives being part of the official historical record and being left out of it. Vera's father was imprisoned without charges. That's not a small thing to omit.

Mark

What was actually happening during those months? Why were people being detained?

Mimi

Cabo Verde was transitioning from Portuguese colonial rule to independence. The PAIGC was the dominant party steering that process, but not everyone agreed with their vision—especially their plan to unify with Guinea-Bissau. Some people wanted elections, wanted different voices heard. Those political differences got people imprisoned.

Luke

The source says "dozens" were detained, but the letter is from relatives of 15 prisoners. We don't have a complete count of how many were actually held during that period.

Mimi

Right. But the testimonies describe a pattern: detention without court conviction, often without formal charges, motivated by political suspicion or opposition to what the PAIGC was planning.

Mark

And what happened to them after they were released?

Mimi

Many were deported to Portugal. Vera's father arrived at the airport in Lisbon with nothing and had to rebuild his life from scratch. His family eventually joined him there. Some prisoners spent years trying to get official documents proving they'd never collaborated with the fascist regime, just to clear their names back home.

Luke

That's a significant human cost, but we should note: the source doesn't give us numbers on how many were deported versus released domestically. We know it happened; we don't know the scale.

Mark

So what does Vera want to happen now?

Mimi

She wants the 1974-1975 period formally recognized in the museum's narrative, wants the prisoners' names and stories included, and wants UNESCO to ensure that any World Heritage designation reflects the full historical truth, not a sanitized version.

Luke

And the government's response so far?

Mimi

The Institute of Cultural Heritage has indicated they're aware of this third phase of the camp's history, which gives Vera some hope. But officially, there's been no public commitment to change the founding document.

  • A ministerial order founding the Tarrafal Museum, published in March 2026, omitted the 1974–1975 transition period entirely — erasing from the official record the detentions of dozens of citizens held without charge or conviction.
  • With a UNESCO World Heritage Site application already underway, the window to correct the historical record is narrowing, and families fear an incomplete narrative will be permanently legitimized on the world stage.
  • Prisoners were held for political dissent alone — questioning PAIGC's unification plans or supporting alternative paths to independence — and upon release were deported to Portugal with nothing, scattering families into exile.
  • Vera Mendes, born in Lisbon in 1979 as a direct consequence of her father's deportation, has become the human face of the campaign, gathering testimonies, names, and signatures from families across the diaspora.
  • The four-point petition asks for recognition of the camp's use during that period, integration of prisoner testimonies into the museum's narrative, and a guarantee that international recognition will not sanitize the full truth.
  • Experts at Cabo Verde's Institute of Cultural Heritage have acknowledged awareness of this third phase of the camp's history, offering families a fragile but real hope that the omission may yet be corrected.

In the liminal months between colonial rule and independence, dozens of Cabo Verdean citizens were detained at the Tarrafal Camp not for crimes but for political difference — and when the official history of that place was written in 2026, their chapter was left blank. Seventy-three relatives of fifteen of those prisoners have now written to UNESCO and their government, asking that memory be made whole before it is enshrined in stone. It is a quiet but insistent reminder that the architecture of national identity is only as honest as the silences it refuses to keep.

Seventy-three relatives of fifteen political prisoners have written to UNESCO and the government of Cabo Verde asking that a critical chapter not be quietly buried. Their letter concerns the Tarrafal Camp and the months between December 1974 and July 1975 — the turbulent transition when Portuguese colonial rule was ending and independence was approaching. The prisoners held there during that period were detained without conviction and often without formal charges, their only offense being political disagreement with the PAIGC party steering the nation toward independence.

When Cabo Verde's government published the founding document of the Tarrafal Museum in March 2026, that period was left out entirely. The museum exists; the UNESCO World Heritage Site application is underway. But the detentions, the deportations, the families torn apart — none of it appears in the official narrative. The families' letter makes four direct requests: recognition of the camp's use during those months, its integration into the museum's historical account, the inclusion of prisoners' names and testimonies, and assurance that international recognition will uphold the full truth.

Vera Mendes, whose father Rufino José Silva was among the last prisoners released — days after independence — has become the driving force behind the effort. Her father had been imprisoned for his membership in a party that wanted elections and wanted to hear the people's voice. When he and others left Tarrafal in July 1975, they expected to return home. Instead, they were deported to Portugal and left at the airport with nothing. Vera was born in Lisbon in 1979, a child of exile shaped by her father's detention.

Among those held were intellectuals, farmers, and ordinary citizens from across the islands. Some spent years afterward struggling to obtain documents proving they had never collaborated with the fascist regime, fighting accusations that followed them into exile. A book published this year, "Tarrafal, 1975 – The Camp of Silence," has begun to illuminate these blind spots. Vera read her father's writings, listened to other families' stories, and felt she had no choice but to act.

"This is not a political issue," she said. "The history of Cabo Verde's democracy and independence remains incomplete. There is an omission, and it must be rectified." More families have since added their names to the letter. Experts at Cabo Verde's Institute of Cultural Heritage have acknowledged awareness of this third phase of the camp's history — a sign, Vera hopes, that the record might yet be made whole. "May one day our grandchildren be able to visit Tarrafal and see photographs of their grandparents," she said, "because they too are part of Cabo Verde's history."

Seventy-three relatives of fifteen political prisoners have written to UNESCO and the government of Cabo Verde asking that a crucial chapter of the nation's history not be erased. The letter, sent in June, concerns the Tarrafal Camp—a detention facility that held dozens of Cabo Verdean citizens between December 1974 and July 1975, during the turbulent months when Portuguese colonial rule was ending and the country was moving toward independence on July 5, 1975.

The prisoners held there during this period were detained without court conviction and often without formal charges. Many had simply held views that diverged from the African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cabo Verde (PAIGC), the dominant political force steering the nation toward independence. Some had supported alternative approaches to the transfer of power; others had questioned the party's vision for unity between Cabo Verde and Guinea-Bissau. Their crime, in the eyes of authorities, was political difference at a moment when such difference was treated as threat. The testimonies gathered by the families describe detentions motivated by suspicion of opposition to the political process underway, by alleged links to movements deemed adversarial, and by nothing more concrete than political disagreement.

Vera Mendes, whose father Rufino José Silva was among the last prisoners released—days after independence—has become the driving force behind the effort to preserve this history. She is the youngest daughter of a man who was imprisoned for his membership in the Union of the Peoples of the Cape Verde Islands, a party that wanted elections and wanted to listen to the people. When her father and others left Tarrafal in July 1975, they believed they would each return to their home islands. Instead, they were deported to Portugal and left at the airport with nothing. Vera's father rebuilt his life in Lisbon, where her mother and four siblings eventually joined him. Vera herself was born there in 1979, a child of exile born from her father's detention.

The omission that prompted the letter is specific and troubling. When Cabo Verde's government published the ministerial order approving the founding document of the Tarrafal Museum in March 2026, the period from 1974 to 1975 was left out entirely. The museum exists; the UNESCO World Heritage Site application is underway. But the story of what happened during those final months of transition—the detentions, the deportations, the families torn apart—was not included in the official narrative. The four requests in the letter are direct: recognition of the camp's use during that period, its integration into the museum's scientific and historical narrative, the inclusion of prisoners' memories and testimonies and names, and assurance that any international recognition will uphold historical truth and inclusive memory.

Among those detained were intellectuals, farmers, and ordinary citizens from different parts of Cabo Verde. Some spent years trying to obtain official documents proving they had never collaborated with the fascist regime, struggling to clear accusations that had followed them into exile. A book published this year, "Tarrafal, 1975 – The Camp of Silence," investigates these blind spots in the prison's documented history. Vera Mendes read her father's writings and listened to stories from families who had endured similar fates. She felt compelled to act.

"This is not a political issue," she told those who asked why she was raising it now. "The history of Cabo Verde's democracy and independence remains incomplete. There is an omission. And my aim, and that of the families who signed the letter, is this: to highlight that there is an omission and that it must be rectified." The letter was addressed to UNESCO, to Cabo Verde's prime minister, and to the president. More family members have since come forward to add their names. Vera has spoken with experts from Cabo Verde's Institute of Cultural Heritage at events dedicated to the site and its UNESCO nomination, and she reports they were aware of this third phase of the camp's history—a sign, she hopes, that the omission might yet be corrected.

What drives the effort is not anger but a simple desire for completeness. "May one day our grandchildren and great-grandchildren be able to visit Tarrafal and see photographs of their grandparents or great-grandparents, because they too are part of Cabo Verde's history and deserve recognition," Vera said. The application to UNESCO is still underway. The question of whether the full story will be told remains open.

The history of Cabo Verde's democracy and independence remains incomplete. There is an omission. And my aim, and that of the families who signed the letter, is this: to highlight that there is an omission and that it must be rectified.
— Vera Mendes, daughter of political prisoner Rufino José Silva
May one day our grandchildren and great-grandchildren be able to visit Tarrafal and see photographs of their grandparents or great-grandparents, because they too are part of Cabo Verde's history and deserve recognition.
— Vera Mendes
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