A WORD ON EARTH NEWS
DAVOS 2
By: Silvia Davila MM
Bogota/ Copyright
Illustrations: Google Images
January 22, 2013
ABAJO EN ESPAÑOL
ABAJO EN ESPAÑOL
One of the big issues at the World Economy Forum taking place these days are the elders. The World´s population is growing old in an important percentage, therefore, pensions becomes a huge issue to economic projections. The economically active people will have to produce pensions in a great number that are to be given to people that, to a fair extent, are healthy, capable and, above all, owners of irreplaceable expertise and experience. Society invested a lot in them to make them good, but also send them, at the peak of their wholeness and maturity, to watch TV, play golf and wander around until their instincts fade away. The present world economic structure - in order to keep gains big in their balance - privilege unexperienced youth in key posts at low wages loosing for society the input of the already learned. With age, youth fades away but wisdom arrives.
A very interesting example of the same situation handled differently can be seen these days at the tennis courts. Roger Federer, the master, took the game to such a good and unbeatable point that all other players were compelled to take their own game to a further stage to beat him. And they did. A group of "Federers" showed up during these past years. As a result, Federer who had already reached the top with a game crowned with technic, emotional control, mastering of the game, decency in court, and an always present wide smile, met defeats in numbers until then unknown for him. The only way out to brake the situation was to beat himself. A new sept forward in the game was to take place and all players new it. To do it, they got hold of expertise and experience. Today, three of the leading players of the Grand Slam - Federer, Djokovic and Murray - changed their trainers to replace them for three masters of the 80s: Edberg, Becker and Lendl. The result has been open clear for the game followers: Federer is back, better than ever; Djokovic holds his ground in the first places; and Murray managed to, finally, give the British the first Wimbledon title in almost fifty years. Experience is showing its virtues.
A World that cherishes and needs so much resources have, all around the globe, a huge Human resource waisted, unused and very costly. If numbers were to be ponder to see how many children, youth and adults are in need of instruction, education and advice, interesting charts would come up. In the context of a society, it would make sense to keep the capable elders productive in different new tasks with youth and children, instead of asking the present and small active generation to produce double in order to keep their parents idle. Wasting knowledge in a world scale and at the present conditions would be like missing the precise service at the last tie-break./ SDMM, January 22,2014
Roger Federer / Stephen Edberg
Roger Federer / Stephen Edberg
Novack Djokovic / Boris Becker
Andy Murray / Ivan Lendl
/SDMM, Janury 22, 2013
TIE BRAKE - DAVOS 2
Uno de los grandes temas del Foro Económico Mundial que tiene lugar por estos días son las personas mayores. La población mundial está envejeciendo en un porcentaje importante y, por lo tanto, las pensiones se convierten en un tema gigante dentro de la proyecciones económicas. Las personas económicamente activas tendrán que producir un gran número de pensiones cuyos destinatarios son personas, en su mayoría, sanas, capaces y, sobretodo, dueñas de conocimiento y experiencia. La sociedad invirtió bastante en hacerlos competentes pero, también, los envía - en la cima de su madurez y experiencia - a ver televisión, jugar golf y merodear por ahí hasta que sus instintos perecen. La estructura económica actual también - con el fin de mantener las ganancias abultadas en el balance - privilegia a jóvenes inexpertos en cargos clave con salarios bajos, perdiendo para la sociedad la contribución de quienes ya han aprendido. Con la edad se pierde la juventud pero llega la sabiduría.
Un ejemplo muy interesante de la misma situación manejada de otra forma está dándose en las canchas de tenis. Roger Federer, el maestro, llevó el juego a tal punto de perfección que para vencerlo los demás jugadores se vieron obligados a llevar su propio juego un paso más allá. Y lo hicieron. En los últimos años se formó un grupo de "Federers". Como resultado, Federer, quien alcanzó la cima coronado con un juego de técnica, control emocional, dominio del juego, decencia en la cancha, y una siempre presente sonrisa, empezó a tener derrotas en un número desconocido para él hasta entonces. La única salida para romper ese atolladero era vencerse a sí mismo. Un nuevo paso adelante iba a suceder en el tenis y todos los sabían. Para conseguirlo, echaron mano de la experiencia y el conocimiento. Hoy, tres de los jugadores líderes - Federer, Djocovic y Murray - cambiaron sus entrenadores para reemplazarlos por tres de las estrellas, maestros, de los ochentas: Edberg, Becker y Lendl. Los resultados han sido claros para los seguidores del juego: Federer está de regreso jugando como nunca, o como siempre; Djokovic sostiene su lugar en los primeros puestos; y Murray consiguió darle a los Británicos el primer título de Wimbledon en casi cincuenta años. La experiencia empieza a mostrar sus virtudes.
Un Mundo que venera y necesita tanto de recursos, tiene a todo lo largo del globo un Recurso Humano gigantesco, desperdiciado, sin uso y muy costoso. Si se hicieran números para ponderar cuantos niños, jóvenes y adultos en el mundo necesitan instrucción, educación y consejo saldrían unas tablas muy interesantes. En el contexto de una sociedad tendría sentido mantener a los mayores capaces productivos en nuevas actividades relacionadas con la juventud y los niños, en lugar de pedirle a la actual generación activa, más pequeña, que produzca el doble para mantener a sus padres ociosos. Desperdiciar conocimiento a escala global y en las condiciones actuales, sería como perder el servicio preciso en el último tie brake../ SDMM, January 22,2014
PERFILES
By: Silvia Davila Morales M
Bogota- www.pipolmagazine.com
All written Content and some photos of this Blog
are under COPYRIGHT
ALFREDO DAVILA MUÑOZ
1911.1994
Maria Antonia Muñoz Acero was his
mother and the center of his existence. Maria Antonia lived at El Pinal, Hacienda that was divided between Colombia and Venezuela when
political borders where defined after Colombian independence. Four daughters
and no son, Maria Antonia's grandfather gave each of his siblings a quarter of
his lands. Maria Antonia's mother received San
Felix a parcel located in Colombian Santander
del Norte area where Alfredo Davila Muñoz spent part of his infancy.
He was
born in 1911. Little is known about his father's origin. There exist those who
entertain themselves with the story of two pirates, Spanish brothers original
from the province of Avila, who landed in Colombia's northern coasts in times
of the conquerors. One of them descended from the galleon and made a home in
the port, and the other rode a mule and ventured into wild mountains. From them
were born the two branches of Dávila that exist now days, those of the coast
and those of the interior. Truth or legend, Alfredo's father was a beautiful
figure born in Santander del Norte who gave Maria Antonia seven children but who could not make a living for the family. Difficult
times lead Maria Antonia to real poverty. Her children, four boys and three
girls, had to find their way. The oldest took the road early, the second son
died young, and the third followed his father's ways. Maria Antonia was left alone with her three
daughters and Alfredo, her youngest. The fact in times of mail prevalence was
that Alfredo was left alone with her mother and three sisters. He was fourteen.
Year: 1925.
He had to make
a living for his family. Where to start? Maria Antonia had taught him an old
Spanish style, unhurried, ancient, round formed, beautiful calligraphy. It was,
literally, all he had at hand. He found a job as copyist at the central police
station in town for thirty pesos monthly. He would give Maria Antonia twenty
and did open a bank account to save the remaining ten. One day while making a
deposit in his account he saw there, hanging on the wall, a poster offering a cashier
job in the bank. He applied and got it. His years in the bank built him a fast
mind for numbers operations, ability that stayed with him to the end of his
life. His new job made possible a simple but comfortable life for Maria Antonia
and his sisters. Life gave him a heavy burden too early so he had to put to the
best what ever life had given him - tenacity, discipline, determination,
simplicity and good humor - to get through. When asked how he had learned all
he knew he would answer: taking a good
look.
When he
was twenty-five years old one of his sisters got seriously ill. The treatment
she needed could only be found in Bogota, the capital. He made then one of the
most audacious decisions of his life, he moved to a place he had never been before
and where he knew nobody, carrying with him his mother and three sisters. A
recommendation letter that his former boss had given him to handle to the bank's
manager in Bogota was carefully kept in his pocket. But to make a living for a
five members family and pay for his sister's treatment in the capital with the
same wages was almost an impossible task. To ease his burden, Maria Antonia
would bring from San Felix several
packages of raw coffee and, at night assisted by her daughters, they would dry,
toast it and wrap it. At five in the morning every day, Alfredo would sell
coffee around the neighborhood before going to his job in the bank which began at seven. He
would check, also every morning, his office posts board nourishing the hope
that some unexpected idea to improve his life would pop up. It did: a course
for insurances agents. The moment he stepped into the classroom three aspects
of his life were touched forever: work, friendship and love.
Insurances
in times when policies were sold door by door, town by town, became his career,
his expertise and his income. He worked for Compañia
Colombiana de Seguros for fifty years though he opened his own office with
a very special character that life put in his path. While taking the insurance course, he
met Gerardo Ospina the most authentic
cachaco (Bogotá´s lad), suit and vest, gabardine and
hat, umbrella and shining shoes. Profoundly religious, methodic, respectful and
calm, Gerardo landed in Alfredo's life to build a friendship and a professional
relationship that lasted fifty years. He was the only brother Alfredo had.
Together they were the vivid image of tolerance. Opposed personalities - oil
and water - that shared daily job and life during five decades, a relationship
fed on respect, mutual support among differences, friendship time proved.
It was during one of their constant travels around
the country that Gerardo informed Alfredo that they were invited for lunch at
an uncle's place in Barranquilla, an industrial Caribbean port in Colombia. Destiny's
subtle hand was sawing a stich. Gerardo's uncle was in fact captain Juan
Antonio Morales's cousin, the man who had received from captain Morales his newborn
baby after de death of Isobel, his wife. * (Profile Juan Antonio Morales) Captain Morale’s eldest daughter, Isabel, used to visit Barranquilla to
see her little brother. Alfredo's words: The
moment I saw her I knew she would be my woman for the rest of my life. At
twenty-one Isabel was a rare beauty raised by the captain with great care.
Alfredo was a beautiful soul packed in a beautiful figure. Love took hold of
the story, but to become a marriage it would have to cross a bumping road. Captain
Morales would be a hard obstacle. The man who was to take her only daughter
away was just two years younger than him. Alfredo was sixteen years older that
Isabel and had led a life centered in Maria Antonia who had been his only
source of love, company and hope. He took care of her not because it was his
obligation but because he adored her. When captain Morales learned about her daughter's relationship, rage took hold of
him, he set off all alarms and established unquestioned prohibitions. But
Alfredo and the captain where two personalities placed at the extremes of a
line who, nevertheless, shared the line. Captain's Morales domineering,
imposing and determined personality had to face and give way to Alfredo's
serene, joyful but equally determined personality. Love claimed its prey and at
dawn of any given day in Lourdes
church, without the Capitan’s approval and with a handful of witnesses, Alfredo
e Isabel took the votes that kept them together forty-seven years.
Children arrived in an industrial-like production:
Alfredo the first, one year later Patricia, another year and Myriam arrived,
two years later Martha, another two years to see Sylvia, a couple of other two
years and the last one, Eduardo, was born. Life seemed to compensate Alfredo's
efforts always right into his heart. Maria Antonia died one year before
Alfredo Jr. was born and only then Alfredo left his mourning black suit. His
words at the end of his life: the death
of my mother was the only pain I had in life. By the time the herd was
complete, the insurance office had settled all right and Alfredo had found a
beautiful English style house in a green neighborhood at street number seventy,
a house that set the line for the beginning of prosperous times.
This man who had to peddle each mile on his own,
developed an authentic and unique vision of life. The disciple, restrain,
practicality and wisdom he needed to carry all his burdens successfully, ended
up installed in his daily routines. His wardrobe was quite unique. Inside it, hanging
from the tube, there were only five suits, five perfect, elegant, modern suits.
Isabel would buy English fabrics that his personal tailor would transform in
suits and vests that fit him well. A handkerchief popping out the pocket of the
jacket, a little emblem from the Insurance Company at the buttonhole lapel, an
ever-present smell to his favorite cologne, and a radiant smile were the distinctive
signs of his looks. Who knows at what moment of his way he adopted believes and
habits that inspired his efforts. The dark-blue suit was to be used on Monday,
grey on Tuesday, brown on Wednesday, light blue on Thursday and black on
Friday. He would keep this little mandate led by a philosophy of his own which
made his dressing life very easy. When a suit showed signs of fatigue we would
tell Isabel: I think the Tuesday's suit
is ready for change, and she would pick the right one. From the almost
empty tube of his wide wardrobe, next to the five suits, also hanged two
weekends jackets.
One of them, a white, light fabric, sportive jacket
was used on Saturday’s morning over his tennis uniform. When he finally had
means to spare, he bought a share at Bogota
Tennis Club, several courts enclosed in the heart of the city. His share
number id was 5. From that moment on, the club's doormen saw him arrive every Saturday
morning and leave at noon. His routines were almost stubbornness. After playing
tennis he would always stop at Panfino,
a bakery at the crossroads of streets seven and forty-five, buy a huge package
of fresh bread and go home to stay with the children. Sundays also belonged to
the children but only until two in the afternoon. At that time, the other
jacket would come into action, a soft, brown jacket that would match a
black beret and a scarf. He would take his foldable seat which had imprinted
the white and blue emblem of his favorite football team Los Millonarios, and leave for the stadium. Every Sunday.
As if life wished to test him even harder, when he was
thirty-eight he had a massive arthritis attack, a disease that would become his
unfailing company, his tougher battle, and his path to death. Therefore,
neither cigarettes nor alcohol existed in his life and his meals were controlled
by an iron discipline. Breakfast was his daily feast: abundant fruits, grapes his favorite, changua (a sort of light soup) with eggs, coriander and little
unions, biscuits Saltinas with orange
marmalade, and coffee. Always on the table, next to his breakfast, the newspaper
and the sports magazine El Grafico.
Feeding well, exercising and resting were variables he would never skip.
Regardless of his daily agenda, he would always come home for lunch take off
his jacket, lie down on the bed and sleep exact fifteen minutes. He had the ability
to disconnect at will and snored loudly. That routine was also kept daily,
routine that would keep and renew his energies, give time a measure, and
strength to his purposes. His life path pushed him to develop a solitaire force
that served itself and that, another feature of his character, he would give to
others generously.
Pedro, an eighteen years old boy he hired as messanger
in his office, benefited from his drive. He pushed him over the years until he
graduated from Law school. So did Miss Isabel, his daughter's piano teacher, a
woman born into a distinguished family that had gone through an economic
setback. At seventy, she lived alone and made her living from piano lessons.
When her fingers could no longer deal with the piano keys, Alfredo would send
her monthly a complete anonymous pack of groceries until the last day of her
existence. He would send Pedro with clear instructions about the description he
should give about the person who had sent it. Someone quiet different from him.
Help with dignity, surely born from his deep love and memory of Maria Antonia.
He collected people to help as he walked in life. The lift attendant of the
Insurance Company, as he used to say, was
the most elegant guy of the neighborhood because when one of his suits was
changed he would give it to him. He believed that the effect of a good
appearance on self-esteem helps a lot. One of his distinctive phrases: The day I am feeling worse I wear my best suit.
The Vargas, two very old sisters who's insurances he handled. Worried and lost
in all the legal and administrative formalities of their simple life, the
Vargas found in Alfredo an ad honorem
organizer of their finances, insurances and documents. They adored him. Ramón,
a truck driver, hard worker, lively and good looking, received his help over
the years until he became an automobile parts entrepreneur and opened his own
business. Ignacio, a very old man, retired, who had work in a brick factory his
father-in-law had, childless and lonely, became his house gardener until he
died. His taste for giving would become frenetic in December. He would give
Isabel a list that contained the names of all the female secretaries and
attendants of the insurance company for Isabel to buy cologne for each. The
reason: they receive on their desk the
magnificent presents sent to their bosses while they get nothing. Therefore,
every time he visited the company the girls made an event out of it. During
Christmas his six children and wife would also wrap dozens of toys to be
delivered to an orphan foundation run by nuns in Las Ferias neighborhood. December
frenzy ended the 24th in the afternoon with a visit to an old people's home in Second
Street, where he and his family would bring a Christmas dinner made of hot
chocolate and tamales.
Alfredo
knew to his bones what loneliness, poverty, destitution, fear and despair were, so that when life provided for him he recognized it in others and shared. He
was far from rich but he managed to provide for his family and share with
others. His father who had giving him nothing married again and left two
children that Alfredo took under his wing. Simplicity was a landmark in his
life. He would buy the brand new latest car model for Isabel and the children while
he drove a small, cheap, simple automobile because It fits everywhere and nobody wants to steal it. His finances
surplus went to the children vacations and to Isabel's wide and varied domestic
abilities: knitting, embroidery, gardening, cooking, bakery, porcelain
painting, what ever she came up with, Alfredo would find it a place in his
strained budget. He seldom bought anything for himself. When asked what to give
him for his birthday he would say: give me
a hug because I already have everything I need. The value of his existence
was centered in his simple routines, in pushing forwards the life or projects
of those who touched his heart, and in the family. The family was his universe,
his north and this throne. Evidence of that was the content of his safety box that
kept company to his five suits and two jackets at the bottom of his wardrobe
where anybody could see it. When asked: What's
inside it? He would answer: the
jewels. The box lived in his wardrobe many years until the day, near the
end of his life, that his home was robbed by a group of five armed men. When
the thieves saw the box, they thought their efforts had paid well but, still,
they needed the combination to open it. Old and overwhelmed by violence so
alien to his life and cruel with his family, he did not remember it. Irritated,
the robbers threw it many times through the stairs hole from the second floor
until the box relinquish its strength, the door opened, and a single photograph
came bouncing out. It was a photo of her four daughters dressed up for a party.
There was nothing else inside it, only his jewels.
The hard
path Alfredo Davila Muñoz walked from his youth, built him a quite unique
vision of life. When any of his children would loose something or had been
robbed he would calmly say: Do not worry,
love, the rings will go but you keep your fingers. His joyful personality
would always prevail before adversities. When asked how he had managed to be
successful and so much loved in the insurance company for fifty years he would
answer: because I am the same guy with
the doorman and with the president. He worked hard for his children to have
what he did not. He sent, one by one, to study in Europe after graduation from
school, but he would always exhibit proudly the language and customs of Maria
Antonia's land. Carajo, crowned
almost every one of his phrases, and his proverbial sayings carried the essence
of a most subtle philosophy. When there was a disagreement about somebody's wrong doing he would say: leave it, every one has a unique and personal way to
be an asshole, or when faced with
trickery and falsehood: Do not worry
love, in this world everyone ends up exposed as he or she truly is.
Although everybody attributed his success with women to his good looks, he
would explain: what happens is that I
always dance with the ugly ones. At eighty-five he still managed to sleep
ten hours. When asked how he did it, he would just say: a blameless conscience. As a little girl I remember being amazed by
the amount of people he knew. When walking in the street with him he would
greet every person that passed by. Later in life, I learned that he actually knew
nobody but he walked in the street wearing such a wide smile and straight eyes
that people would return the smile and wave.
Since
those distant fourteen years old when life abandoned him alone in the middle of
a coffee field in his home land, without money, resources or help, Alfredo
Davila Muñoz walked through all the twentieth century, a period of deep
transformations, centered in the axis of a simple and powerful soul accurate in
every act of life. At the end of his life talking about his children and all
people he had taken care of he said: I
don't feel any obligation to leave them money because I left them education. He did leave six children that worship him, ten grand children, a
river of affections - to his funeral thousands of people from the most varied
and different walks of life showed up - and the trace of a simple life, his
five suits, his two sport jackets, his collection of El Gráfico magazine, the
foldable seat for the stadium, the violin and the tennis racket that arthritis
vanished from his activities, the perfumed smell of his handkerchief, the song Pueblito Viejo that he used to sing, his
serenity, his sincerity, his ever-present content, his deep green eyes, his
good humor, and a laughter that even now, sitting here before this computer,
echoes neatly in my mind. He went away calmly the day after he reached eighty-four
years of age but not even death could uproot from his face his extraordinary
smile. / Sylvia Davila Morales (c)
THE SWORD AND THE SCALE
Captain
CARLOS ORTEGA BONILLA
Justice – everyone’s heart-felt quest
that bears the burns and wounds of injustice – takes place when a very simple
thing happens: when wrongs are made right, a turn that fuels the very soul of
justice. The woman that symbolizes it is blind and carries a sword in one hand
and a scale in the other.
Captain Carlos Ortega Bonilla was born as the eldest son
of an average, middle class family. His father was an architect, his mother a
housewife with a strange fate: her four sons became aircraft pilots. Carlos,
named after his father, found his profession and his soul mate early in life.
His passion for wings built him a successful career. He worked as pilot for
Colombian Avianca airlines until his
retirement, was vice-president of the International Pilots Association (IFALPA),
flight instructor, and director of his country’s national civil aviation.
Throughout all that time, he raised, with his wife Myriam, three children who
grew to become successful professionals on their own right: an engineer with
two master degrees in Engineering Management, a Lawyer with a specialization in
Political Science and Economics, and a daughter who studied Communications and
now works in Television Production, three children and three disciplines that
would play a key role in saving Captain Ortega's life on time.
When captain Ortega reached sixty, a brain tumor the
size of a lime was found in his head. He went through a successful surgery, a
titanium plate replaced part of his skull, and medical control for potential
seizures, hypertension and depression was formulated for the rest of his life.
Flying, of course, was denied forever. He then thought that he would continue
to work on his passion in other ways. He became an aircraft broker: no one
better than him to check a plane’s condition or give an approval to a purchase.
His first attempts were successful. He found a plane for the Ardila Lule Group, a well-known
industrial organization, and for a national air delivery service. Myriam
organized an office for him at home while he kept looking for new business.
At that point of his life he had become a sort of
"grandpa" for all his family. He was the one who taught all the
children to drive, that family member who, during vacations, would take them
all to buy an ice-cream, the uncle that would fix the bike or the football, or
take the teenagers to parties and wait until midnight to pick them up, the guy
who would offer to set the barbecue for a Sunday family lunch, or the gentleman
who would dance with his divorced sisters-in-law during a Friday party: a
good-natured, gentle soul. Moving in the aeronautic world, a man he had known
in a previous job approached him. He offered to share their work in the
aircraft broker field. Joining forces to find potential buyers would serve them
both. Carlos agreed and, though they did not constitute a partnership, they
began to work together. At a certain moment, his working companion brought in a
client who was interested in buying an airplane. Carlos, as he had done with
the previous business, made the attempt to find one, but for many reasons, that
particular business failed. He did not know at the time that this attempt would
change his life forever.
On September the 1st, 2011, at four o'clock in the
morning, a special armed police force of fifteen officers irrupted into his
house and took him away. His astonished family inquired for the reason. The
answer: a judge in Florida had requested his extradition under the global
charges of "conspiracy and cocaine trafficking". Speechless and
breathless Carlos, his wife and children looked at each other in disbelief.
They did not know then that they had just entered a twilight zone. For a family
that had run a simple, average family life, the world of drug traffickers,
jails, lawyers, attorneys and conspiracy was indeed an unknown dimension. The
first day of a nightmare had just begun.
Although the initial investigation that involved him in
the case had been made in Colombia, it was going to be handled in Florida, so
his engineer son committed himself to an unbelievable task: to find an American
lawyer on the Web. A rigorous young man, the professional type, he browsed the
web through hundreds of resumes, looking for a lawyer with a profile he liked,
but above all, for someone who would listen, over the phone, to the voice of a
Colombian stranger telling him that his innocent father had been caught in a
drug trafficking raid and who would believe him; an almost impossible task. He
called and spoke to many lawyers until he found one that said straight away: "I have to be clear on this. I only
defend innocent people". Carlos Jr. replied: "In that case, I just found the person I was
looking for".
In the meantime, captain Ortega´s second son, the
lawyer, became engaged in finding ways to appeal to local authorities that
would help him find out what the specific charges were, as well as an instance
where the case could be revised before extradition. He also tried to find
better reclusion conditions for his father given his fragile state of health. Eleven
attempts failed, all tries were useless, no authority agreed to even listen to
him. Myriam, a house-wife since she was seventeen, found strength to keep her
children together and calm. She also had to get loans from family, friends and
banks to pay the legal process both in Colombia and in the States. Every
Sunday, she would visit her lifetime partner in prison only to see him living
in conditions and treatment that broke her heart. Human rights do not visit
jails. The highlight of the treatment he received were his drugs for seizures
and hypertension put on the floor and stepped on by guards.
Fate had fallen hard but, as it usually happens in
hardships, tragedy brought out the best in them, assisted by a big family that
closed a tight circle. Captain Ortega remained seven months in a high security
jail in Colombia ignoring the specific charges against him. His 85-year-old
mother faded away along those days. Her eldest son being kept in jail for a
crime he had not committed was more than she could handle. Carlos called her from
jail and was able to give her some loving words before she died.
The American lawyer who held the case thought it
necessary to hire a private investigator that would dig deep into a complex
situation which involved both countries and which was tightly closed by the
extradition indictment. A former
professional DEA agent came into the scene and reconstructed the facts in
detail and with precision. The information that had involved Carlos in a drug
trafficking case had been collected by Colombian authorities and was to be
revised in America by the assigned attorney office. One by one, proofs of
Carlos’s innocence began to fit into his investigation's findings. Carlos’s
third child and only daughter, a communicator and television producer,
accompanied by all her cousins, helped him put together a voluminous package of
information in charts, diagrams, follow-ups, folders, and documents. Their home
was transformed into an office that held the entire family together, day and
night, working to get things done.
Seven months after his detention, Colombian authorities
signed the extradition of a case they knew nothing about and had not considered
listening to, and Captain Ortega – hands and feet in chains – was extradited to
Florida. There, the case had been assigned to a Florida attorney, Andrea
Hoffman. The family looked for that name on the Internet. To their despair, Andrea
Hoffman had been punished several times for unethical professional behavior,
and an organization of lawyers, judges and attorneys were building a case
against the way she handled her profession. Still, she was in charge of
Carlos's case among many others. In the American lawyers’ world it is said that
a powerful figure protects her. Who? Things could not look worse. The family
despaired. The American lawyer submitted several petitions for a revision of
the case with the certainty that it had been a case of misidentification. All
petitions were denied by the assigned attorney’s office.
In such situation, the next step for the Ortega family
was to witness a trial where Captain Ortega would stand trial and be judged,
along with a number of other people accused of drug trafficking. His lawyer and
the investigator kept on pushing until they managed to set a meeting that would
include the presence of attorney Hoffman, Carlos’s lawyer and the private
investigator, a high anti-narcotics official, and Florida’s Attorney General.
The meeting lasted four hours during which all the evidence that proved
Carlos’s innocence was displayed. The assigned attorney’s office officials
found out among many other facts that, in this case, there were three persons
named "Carlos" while they had considered only one. It was, in fact, a
case of misidentification.
Once the Florida’s Attorney General and the DEA official
heard the full story and saw all the evidence, Captain Carlos Ortega was
declared innocent and set free at once, free of all charges. The same country
that had sent him into a dark deep hole based on a very poor investigation that
nobody had revised – except for the private investigator – set things right and
an innocent man recovered his freedom. A wrong was made right. Justice was
made. Captain Carlos Ortega Bonilla returned home. The sword played its part.
For the scale to fulfill its role now, Carlos and his
family have to find a way to rebuild their lives, name, livelihood, and peace
of mind. They will also have to work for a long time to pay the various loans
they got to attend lawyers in two countries to prove that a very poor
investigation and its lack of revision on both countries built a chain of
errors that turned their lives upside down. Justice will be achieved when this
balance, also, is set right.
Justice in this world is the most fragile of things. It
is not seen very often, not because of the lack of laws but because, in the
realms where it should always shine – and it sometimes does, as in this case – there
also exists a demolishing contrast: lack of interest or too many interests.
BRAVE HEART
PROFILES
By: Sylvia Davila M/Bogotá
Copyright
www.pipolmagazine.com
It was December, before Christmas, the last time I saw my brother standing on his feet. He died in January three years ago. He was especial to me, of course, but his very special character helped him to deal with his illness - cancer - in a way that led him to beat world statistics. He was given two years but lived eleven good years. Who knows, may be his experience may give tips, ideas, inspiration or courage to other people in similar circumstances in this 2012 Christmas time. Here is his story.
A pain on his right shoulder while changing a car tire launched a medical research that ended in the much feared diagnosis: cancer. Not just any cancer, a rare blood disease that science continues to investigate. The first thing Alfredo Davila Morales, born in Bogotá, Colombia, did was to engage in a thorough review of the information about it worldwide. Stats were devastating: an average of two-year life expectancy, and no cure in sight. The monthly report on survivors appeared blank.
Upon facing death – life on hold – an untamed spirit surfaced, a serene determination, a unique strength that beat all statistics: he survived eleven years. At the time when his disease was found, he had three sons: two in college and a nine-year-old in school. He made a pact with God: “You help me, and I will help myself until my youngest graduates”. Having made the pact, he assumed his illness as a project that would be driven by his unique personality.
He began by declaring himself healthy. During the various stages of his illness he was never treated by anyone as a sick person because he did not seem like one. He gave the worst of daily battles – getting out of bed when his body did not and could not do it – early in the morning and it was never lost. At eight, every day, he was bathed, dressed, and ready to begin the journey. Chemo became, in his agenda, an appointment that he would attend to on his own. Soon, he learned to cope with its side effects and manage them. He would stay cooped-up at home for twenty-four hours and, the next day, he would emerge again as if nothing had happened.
Another decision he made was to choose a physician and trust him without question. It happened to be a she, an expert in that kind of cancer that became his scientific battle partner and his friend to the last day. At home he arranged an office in the mezzanine from where he handled his business – flowers – and his personal agenda. In a family of thirty, among adults and children, Alfredo was the one to be always updated about every one’s daily life matters. When he died, his siblings were surprised to find out that every one of them was certain to be his or her favorite. While working at home, the comings and goings of his three children became a priority in his agenda.
During his free time, he would unleash his passions onto a variety of personal projects stamped on small papers that he hung on his office wall: to paint an oil on canvas, even though he had never handled a brush (easel and pinafore); to carve a barracuda on a stone (graver and hammer); to build in his garden a huge cage for a couple of birds which, four months later, became forty; or to organize trips to places he wanted to visit.
He also kept busy by researching issues that interested him. Such as enquiring about an old piano which had been inherited from his wife’s family and whose origin nobody knew. The day he found inside the instrument an inscription in a language he did not understand, he launched a research that led him to the manufacturer that had built it two centuries ago. Dozens of E-mails, throughout a period of nine months, traced the piano to a factory in Russia, then through Paris and Madrid, to its arrival in Peru in 1800. He had the ability to draw fun out of everything and always found something to do. Unable to see an owl that hooted on his home roof because it would disappear whenever he stepped out into the garden, he bought cardboard, lenses and pulleys to build a periscope. He actually built it, assisted by Clemencia, his life companion – a serene, strong-hearted, keen-headed personality – who shared with him the good and the bad times for thirty-five years.
He ignored sickness and death by keeping physically and mentally active, always in motion, under all circumstances. The lowest point of his physical strength came with a medulla transplant, which gave him some extra time but from which he came out battered. After the procedure, though pale, bald, slow and weak, he would carry a ladder to the garden to remove leaves from his home roof. In that same condition, he walked his youngest son all over Disney World because he did not even consider such a trip happening without him. Both experiences gave him strength.
In facing death every morning, as he opened his eyes, Alfredo challenged the day with discipline, determination, and joy for life. He once saw on the Web a lake covered by phosphorescent plankton that shone under the moonlight. Backed up by old school friends that had become his brothers, he got onto a barge surrounded by phosphorescent plankton one unforgettable starry night, with his wife, children, and friends. He checked that off in his agenda.
In facing death every morning, as he opened his eyes, Alfredo challenged the day with discipline, determination, and joy for life. He once saw on the Web a lake covered by phosphorescent plankton that shone under the moonlight. Backed up by old school friends that had become his brothers, he got onto a barge surrounded by phosphorescent plankton one unforgettable starry night, with his wife, children, and friends. He checked that off in his agenda.
To a situation that was already difficult – cancer – he interpolated unthinkable projects: rafting was one of them. He arranged the trip between two chemo sessions, filled his pockets with pills, and always with his wife and kids, he launched himself down the river. One year before his death, he joined a group of young climbers and tackled a hundred-meter cascade.
He would only keep still while sleeping or watching his favorite TV shows. At home, he would work, read, write, speak over the phone, supervise his meals personally, and spend long hours taking care of his terrace garden. When his wife came back from work and saw the terrace floor carpeted in weeds, leaves and soil, she would calmly say: “Alfredo! Have you been getting rid of stress again?!” He was fortunate to have a family that managed their tragedy with strength, care and sense of humor because he dictated it so. When the disease resumed its course after being in remission, and his “Benjamin” graduated from High School, he spent a couple of days pondering the best way to explain to God that, when he said “until my youngest son's graduation”, he actually meant: graduation from College.
Death set him an appointment at an intensive care unit. During a family trip to New York at Christmas – another one of his projects in his agenda – a fainting episode sent him to the hospital. Later, he was moved to Bogotá to an intensive care unit. When his doctor was about to allow his transfer to a room and the family thought his unbelievable strength would pull him through once again, an unexpected internal bleeding brought an end to his journey. Eleven years of daily victories were over.
An avid mind fed by curiosity, a steel-made determination that accomplished all purposes, and the ability to care for others, gave Alfredo Davila five times the promised time and a good quality of life. He left behind the painting, the carved stone, his tools, the little handmade angel that used to climb up and down the fireplace at Christmas held by a string hid in his pocket, the periscope, his trips’ photographs, his dog, expressions that was very much his own like: Close that door! I won’t be as stupid as to have multiple myeloma and die of a cold!; his tennis and car racing hobbies, his caring for his family, his laughter, his three children, and the profound trace he left in every one who knew him. During his eleven years of struggling against unfair and cruel enemies, Alfredo Davila exhibited decision, discipline, strength, and courage. But, perhaps, the deepest impact he left in our lives was to show us that when life calls retreat the only sensible thing to do is to live.
/Sylvia Davila Morales M. (COPYRIGHT)
ALFREDO DAVILA MORALES M/ 1948 - 2010
Born and died in Bogotá
We miss you.....a lot
MOTHER BY CHOICE
Published in El Tiempo Newspaper/ May 7, 2011
At thirty-seven, when he had already climbed all the steps that by the book lead to success – school, university, marriage, money, position - Juan Francisco Samper, being single, adopted a child on his own. He convinced the adoption agency, changed his working schedule, made his house a “swiss clock”, entered parenthood alone and became an exemplary Mom.
His case is unique.
His case is unique.
Juan Francisco walked a very traditional path in his hometown. He studied in a good school, continued to a renowned college, specialized in the best University, and closed his studies abroad. He served as Human Resources vice-president at several financial institutions whereas his real passion was a field where he could best apply his talents: community action. An unshakeable personality that treated everyone even, simplicity and humour, opened doors for him whenever community organization was required. When he decided to adopt a child he had gone through two childless marriages and led a comfortable life on his own.
His decision to become a single adoptive parent – the only case in history in his country – set him on a path where he would have to face adoption preconceptions, work regulations, social stereotypes, a new domestic daily life, and his plans for the future. In 1985, he went through all the adoption’s requirements and investigations successfully, and waited for a baby girl to change his life. When Julia arrived she was six days old.
By then, Juan Francisco’s administrative skills had transformed his home in an enterprise for racing children: soups labled and refrigerated in chronological order, clothes organized by sizes, specific supplies on specific days, controlled visits, toys, colours and Hermencia, the nanny. Once the house was set in order, he faced the second of the several battles he would fight for his daughter.
The financial institution where he worked did not consider in its regulations a ‘maternity leave’ for men, a prerogative which he had asked for. It was denied. Juan Francisco resigned his job and launched a legal discussion that ended with the review of the country’s jurisprudence, while he gave Julia the care and attention that any mother would give to her first born. Discrete and private, he would win his battles and return to his simple life. Placed among famous brothers – Daniel an authority in journalism, and Ernesto already adventuring into politics – Juan Francisco enjoyed the shade.
He had fun braking social stereotypes by taking Julia to every party. In the midst of a multitude of mothers carrying babies, his six feet high, his beard and his round glasses surfaced. He made good use of a wide circle of friends to give Julia the feminine touch during her first years. He, himself had a definitive one: Helena, his mother, one of the few women that attended college at the beginning of past century, was a teacher that instilled in her family a humanist background and passed to her siblings a penetrating humor.
His newly born parenthood, however, did not change his life plans. When awarded a Fulbright scholarship, he left to the States with Julia and the old nanny. Juan Francisco was the proudest and most efficient “mom-dad” in the prairies. School meetings, parties, outings, doctors, shopping, meals, and studies, everything he managed with discipline and a good mood. A few years after the adoption, when he had gave up the idea of a new marriage, love run him over. He wed Lorencita Santamaria who gave him another baby girl, Lina. Life compensated his previous efforts with a happy family of four.
Devoted client of El Refugio Alpino restaurant of which he knew and recited the menu by heart, surrounded by godchildren he collected from many walks of life, simple dressed, warm, funny and determined, Juan Francisco Samper set a landmark in the country’s parenthood field. He exalted adoption as a wonderful resource for children that otherwise would never have parents like him, and he taught that motherhood is just a matter of caring. An original personality that managed to break the mould to build a life he believed in, thanks to a rare cocktail of talents: big heart, keen mind, penetrating humor.
He was up to the challenge. He stayed with Julia when a baby, a girl, an adolescent and a woman. Four years ago, when Julia turned twenty-one, Juan Francisco died, leaving the legacy of a life able to listen to its own priorities, put them on the move and get them through. He also left Lina, a clone of his astute eyes and his sweet smile.
He never told anyone the reasons of his decision to adopt, but as a premonition of what life had in store for him, some years before he adopted Julia, during the baptize of his best friend’s daughter to whom he was the Godfather, the Godmother did not show up. It was a mass baptism in a huge church downtown. On the benches, parents holding children. In the central aisle, two lines: the line of the Godfathers and the line of the Godmothers. The priest would call names alphabetically and parents, child and godparents would approach the altar. The ceremony started and the lines began to move. His best friend’s wife despaired because the godmother did not arrive. The spot besides Juan Francisco remained empty.
Juan Francisco, holding the situation, would walk two steps in the Godfather’s line and two other in the Godmother’s. When he arrived to the altar the priest asked: “Are you’re the Godfather?” Juan Francisco answered: “Yes”. “And the Godmother…?, asked the priest. Juan Francisco run over to the other side and said: “Here she is”. His acute and smart charm managed to talk the priest into baptizing the girl with him playing both roles. The rest of his life that girl called him Godmother.
Silvia Davila Morales © May 10/2011
LEARNING TO DIE, A WAY OF LIFE
Published in Fucsia Magazin/April, 2011
A Londoner living his twenties at the peak of the Hippie Era meets a Colombian girl and recognizes love at first sight. They get married and make their home in Colombia. Alan Joyce begins then a life path that, at some point, would make a drastic turn. For many years, he and Monica lived the traditional couple-scheme while raising two children. Engineer by profession, he offered his professional skills to several companies and she opened a fashion studio. It happened there, in the studio, that Monica’s assistant asked him to help a niece she had at the National Cancer Institue. He went to see her. Sick people leaning on both sides of the institution’s corridors’ was the first image he had of what was about to become his reason for living. When he entered Paediatrics he took a step that would have no return.
Many children receiving treatment by very busy doctors and nurses filled the room. Alan approached a girl connected to two bags: a red bag giving her chemo, and a transparent bag that gave her saline. With his hands on both the bags, he asked her: What is this? One is Premium and the other regular? The children, the nurses and the doctor bust into laughing, a soothing wave encompassed the room, and Alan Joyce discovered that he could help people just by being himself.
He kept visiting the institute, especially to see a very sick girl who seemed to feel relieved in his company. She died on a Friday. Alan spent the weekend torn between a profession that had given him a livin, and his visits to the cancer institution that were already turning into passion. But the decision delayed. On Monday, he left for office as any other day. When he arrived, a change in the security staff faced him with a man that did not know him. The guard’s telephone enquiries kept him waiting. Standing there in front of his office building, suddenly, through the railings, he saw it, in all its meaning: the door of his office closed… He did not doubt it any more, asked the guard not to announce him, and went back home to plan a foundation for children with cancer. Since the time of “peace and love” of his hippie past he had found refuge in Buddhism. Dharma he called his foundation, which means “teachings”.
Children with cancer bear an unthinkable burden: sickness, pain, uncertainty, fear and a close encounter with death. His organized engineer mind where natural public relations lives, served Alan to build them a place that attends all their needs, as well as to find financial support from many people. His own experience with an illness that kept him in the hospital for nearly a year during his childhood, helped him to understand the isolation of a child that has a very visible sickness, living in an adult world that pretends not to see them.
Alan set for them a house full of light, order, activities, nutrition, entertainment, studies and rest. Because he believes it, children living in Dharma learn to live the moment, to live the present, to enjoy life. Cancer treatments, school, boyfriends or girlfriends, outings, films, TV, computers, food, they have it all, and they share it in a serene extraordinary way. Solidarity in Alan’s foundation gives surprising lessons. A teen-ager whose condition did not permit her lay down to sleep had a boyfriend, also sick, who would stand holding her on his chest so she could get some sleep.
Some survive, many die. But in this challenging world Dharma children have the best possible life given their condition. Alan believes that removing the mystery that surrounds death, takes away a high percentage of fear. It may be why they laugh all the time, he and them. This graduated Hippie, renegade engineer, and confessed Buddhist, flutters around the place using both soft wisdom and his crushing British humor. When the photographer was ready to register him standing next to a smiling girl who had recently had her leg amputated, Alan passed his arm around her, put his leg between the aluminium crutch and hers, and told her: This way nobody knows who lacks what”. SYLVIA DAVILA MORALES(c)
A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS
Fernando Gomez Agudelo/ The Man who made us TV viewers
Published in EL TIEMPO Newspaper /April 25/2011
Fernando Gómez Agudelo was one of those men who are able to take a leap into the void, to face the unknown, to do what no one else has dared before. He took on all challenges and accomplished them successfully.
People that dared to attempt “the impossible” cause great turns in history. Fernando Gomez Agudelo was one of them. At the age of 21, within seven months and not having ever watched television, he managed to design, purchase, transport, and install in Colombia’s rugged geography, the equipment needed to launch our history’s first TV emission. Years later, while the country was still resigned to seeing the moon landing on photographs, by his own means and enterprise, he devices a creative and audacious operation that allowed us to witness live man’s small first footing and that great step for humanity. His production company –RTI Television– led the medium from the outset, both in terms of technology and content, with Fernando seated in his office armchair, with a coffee maker nearby, a cup and a lit cigarette in his hand, a cigarette burning on an ashtray, and classical music in the background.
Charismatic, versatile, determined, visionary, and cultured, Fernando Gómez was one of those men who dared take a leap into the void, face the unknown, and attempt what no-one else had done before; a man that power did not change; a man that led his passions to a happy ending. Music: his reverence for Bach, of whom he had knowledge up to his last adagio, replaced the god he did not believe in. His love for electronics kept the country, his company, and his household always up to date with the latest of technologies. But it was radio broadcasting, the only mass communication system available during his childhood and youth that led him to his destiny: television.
His father, Jose J. Gomez, a magistrate of the Supreme Court during the thirties, infused his four children’s life with a passion for classical music and, also, stimulated the talents of his sons, Ricardo and Fernando, for electronics. The neighborhood in which they lived had the privilege of benefitting from the private radio station the Gomez boys had installed and which broadcasted music, news and commercials. Ricardo took the path of Mathematics and Physics at MIT and Caltech, while Fernando chose to study Law at the Universidad Javeriana in Bogotá. However, they always remained the tight team they were when engaged on any of Fernando’s adventures.
When President General Rojas Pinilla summoned the director of the National Broadcasting System - Fernando Gómez Agudelo – to inform him of his appointment to conduct the operation that would enable the first television allocution in Colombia’s history, Fernando flew to MIT and, over a map of Colombia, with Ricardo and a group of communications engineers, they made the necessary calculations - the two oceans, the rainforest, the desert, the valleys, and the Andes mountain range – to make television possible throughout the country. He purchased the broadcasting equipment from Germany. In New York, while searching for the Studio equipment, he encountered a schoolmate, Fernando Restrepo, who was working for a tele-communications company. The search ended there, giving way to a lifetime friendship and partnership. All equipment ready, what was now needed was someone to operate them and, then, Cuba’s Canal 11 closedown came to his attention; all of its laid off operators travelled to Colombia. For the content and programming of a live television transmission that did not yet exist, he brought in well-known people from the cultural world that he had personally referred to the national radio-broadcasting world. The first television transmission in Colombia’s history was flawless. Fernando Gómez was twenty-one years old. The rest is history. Television in Colombia began, developed, and thrived with Fernando Gómez Agudelo.
Perhaps the example that best describes his personality is the programming of RTI –a television production company that he founded. His clear understanding of the business managed to put his Telenovela (soap opera) at the top of television serials. During bidding, Sesame Street, the children’s time, was non-negotiable. For many years, humor was an invincible hit with El Chinche, which was outranged only by his authentic liking for nature, Naturalia. The transmissions of the historical series we all remember, I, Claudius, Fall of the Eagles, The Accursed Kings, were his doing. His deep-rooted commitment to truth led journalist Germán Castro’s Enviado Especial (Special Envoy) to the journalistic success it became throughout a whole decade. Carlos Pinzón’s Teletón, of which he was a pioneer, was broadcasted until they both died. Palco de honor (Royal Box), at ten o’clock at night, with no rating, was one of his personal homages to classical music.
He had a special nose for people. By bringing together the best veterans with emergent talents, he formed a team that kept the production company at the very top, and that followed his steps on every new adventure he was to engage in. Color television, first exteriors, mobile units, modern production systems, all came to Colombia thanks to Fernando. His closest pupils, Patricio Wills, José Antonio De Brigard, and Julio Sánchez Cristo, render homage to him as current leaders of Colombia’s radio and television.
His was a unique personality. He climbed every mountain, was indifferent to powers’ sweet, and nourished a world of his own. He was always himself, nothing altered him. The competitive tendering system in force for television at the time, and the permanent interaction with government officials it imposed, was for him a median between necessity and an inconvenience, which he generally handled with tact and diplomacy and, on occasions, with crushing sincerity. Invited by Congress to participate in a debate over public and private television, he stood before a plenary assembly, and with his usual composure, in a deep almost inaudible voice he declared: “What happens here is that you’re all a bunch of crooks”.
On his spare time, he let his passions run loose. At home, he was often seen sitting at his studio’s desk, eviscerating a recently bought amplifier just to see how it worked… while Bach reverberated against the walls. He kept the country technologically up to date, but also, he was the first one to have in his home a small panel box covered in buttons from which he controlled all the house lights, the garage door, the coffeemaker, and the concert’s volume. He would make time to fully immerse himself in his wife Teresa Morales’s activities. The University, the museum, or any other enterprise she was engaged in had Fernando as her first assistant. Together since they were twenty, theirs was a profound relationship of interests that served them both. Latin American literature taken to the screen by Fernando and inspired by Teresa, reached a rating success without precedents. He loved the countryside and children. RTI’s Christmas party was neither at night, nor had any liquor offered. It took place at an amusement park with and for the entire personnel, their spouses, and children. Upon seeing the children’s fear of riding the high slide, Fernando, in suit and tie, did not hesitate in climbing on to the sack and taking his own ride down. “Big and small”, all followed him.
Fernando was never motionless, that’s perhaps why he left so soon. The day before his death, at the age of 59, he kept himself busy installing wires and switches for the stereo equipment in his living-room. Fernando Gómez Agudelo dared to try all sorts of ventures successfully. He kept a full commitment to his country over his personal interests. The passions he let run loose became historical prowesses. He never let go of his tenderness toward his family, toward the countryside, dogs, and children. He managed Colombian television while running a thriving production company. And he used it to share with us the benefits of his great passions and of what he was and never stopped being: a leader.
SYLVIA DAVILA MORALES®
SYLVIA DAVILA MORALES®
COULD ART HEAL ME OF LIFE?
The young generation knows little about him, but whoever moves in cultural fields will find a trace left by this man who began his life with a right foot until – in a strange premonition of his name Hoyos (Holes) – fell in a dark hole that changed forever his life project.
Everything begins for Bernardino, his birth name, with the voices of the choir hitting the walls of Santa Rosa de Osos Church, his hometown. Music would become the arrow that showed the way. In 1953, just four years after the long play was launched, the Head Master of the University where he studied Law, asked him to conduct a music program for the institution’s radio station. He was twenty years old. As he studied, he would buy or borrow records to air the best Jazz of the time. The program was so successful that a Colombo-American institution gave him a Fulbright scholarship.
Once in the United States, he promenaded New York drawn into cultural life that began to define his purposes. That is why the next step was Europe. He quitted smoking to save money, tightened up his budget and saved enough to buy a ticket that would take him by ship from New York to Le Havre, and bring him back, four months later, in Il Uso di Mare from Barcelona to Cartagena de Indies.
Two months in Paris museums, theatres, libraries and streets, one month in Spain and another in Italy gave him a cultural bath in situ that would feed his solid knowledge. When he returned to his country, he headed to become an executive in fields that met his personal searches. Here’s when Bernardino became Bernardo. He worked in Films and Advertising fields until he was offered a job as PR of a company in New Orleans. The tic-tac of the clock launched a new departure that would bring him closer to a turning point.
After a while in the city of Jazz, he bought again a ticket this time to the city that meant for him The Mecca of his illusions: London. It was there, an autumn night, in a Wimpole Street bar, that the friends we has sharing some drinks with, told him about a trip they were going to make to Italy and Yugoslavia. When they realized how much he knew about Italy, they asked him to join them. Bernardo gave the first “yes” that would change his life forever.
One morning when he woke up in a hotel room in Yugoslavia, he saw the equivalent to a “dark coin” installed right in the middle of his right eye. An urgent check up at a local hospital diagnosed a rare infection caught somewhere during the trip. They gave him an antibiotic. Certain that the medicine would work, he continued his travelling until, six days later, walking imto a church the floor moved as if braking… his sight was leaving him. Alarmed, he returned to Rome in search of professor Vietti, an authority in eyes diseases, who agreed to see him the next day. Next day, at six o’clock in the morning, alone, seated in a chair of a hospital corridor, he managed to keep himself together as professor Vietti approached, examined him and emotionless sentenced: “Double detachment of the retina in both eyes”. The busy doctor went on his way leaving breathless Bernardo with every word bouncing in his mind: he was blind.
Initial fear gave way to a solid philosophical vain that has always sustained him. He though: “Nobody will be tried beyond his might” - Saint Paul’s words-, and “I don’t want to become blind or die in Rome”, his words-. He went back home to begin a decade of medical odyssey – successful surgeries, not so successful surgeries, times where his sight seemed to return, periods of total darkness – and the worst of all scenarios for him: impossibility to read.
But just as life took away from him, it also compensated him. During one of the few “good” times, he met Constanza Montes to whom he gave the second “yes” that would again change his life forever. Constanza became, not his stick - Bernardo has always walked by himself - but the person that would share his life, literally, for good and bad in health and sickness. Bernardo kept on working by learning to make mind maps of the working place – number of steps, doors, turns, voices. The twilight that his eyes allowed became a reality that he handles with confidence and dignity. A magnifying glass arrived to help him read with one eye, read especially Proust whom he recites by heart in Spanish, English and French.
His determination to lead a normal life led him to gain it. In 1990 he went back to his PR job, and a few years later he was chosen as an Editor of International Management magazine in London. There he became international reporter for the BBC where he worked for nine years. Today, at 76, Bernardo thinks that “life has given me more opportunities that difficulties”, and believes himself fortunate to have been able to work all life on what he likes best: cinema, literature and music. A warm human quality that leads his behavior and his words, has gained him certain reverence that people gladly offers him. He does not demand life for the burden given. He has “always done what is necessary” to honor his family, his work and himself. The affections he grows around him can be summarized in his son’s words when I asked him to talk about Bernardo. He answered: “When ever you like. There is nothing I like more than talking about my father.” SYLVIA DAVILA MORALES ® March, 2011 Photo: Bernardo Hoyos archives.
MOTHER'S RESUME
MOTHER'S DAY
Published in El Tiempo newspaper/May 6,2011
. May 8/2011
MOTHER'S RESUME
MOTHER'S DAY
Published in El Tiempo newspaper/May 6,2011
Mothers of all times, ages, nationalities, means and professions, must have a curriculum vita that defies Quantum physics.
Mother is a sort of multinational that deals with all fronts. She has the ability to both divide and multiply her self, and to be at two places at the same time. Pure Quantum physics. Mother may go out to work or stay at home. What she cannot do is to lack a Resume of her capability to handle successfully all fields it includes, as follows:
· Teacher Assistant: Homework, maps, science lab that does not fit in the school bus, math’s book sold out, King Lear by heart! meeting in school at five, Periodic table!, gym uniform left at home run to school, and that one thing that they always need to take school on Monday and remember about Sunday night.
· Organizational Psychology: kids, husband, mother, mother-in-law, husband’s family, own family, dog, neighbours, the school bus driver, the maid, and there do exist some that loose their minds and add to the scene a secretary or a messenger.
· Health and Marketing. Nutritive food, well cooked, tennis, piano or guitar lessons, broken leg, fever not at two o’clock in the afternoon but at two o’clock of the morning, baby teeth, acne, menstrual pains, constipation and all sort of accidents.
· Local Repairs: Pick up the iron, find bath humidity, wash the carpet again, who let the dog in with wet feet!?, call an electrician, find out how they manage to brake the washer machine, fix the bike, and the foot-ball, and water the plants.
· Events. Management and promotion: party for twenty, first communion with the family, forty, celebrations of coming on age, graduation and marriage, annual birthday per capita, send invitations, confirm assistance, god forbid I forget to call my mother-in-law, tea with friends, and husband’s dinner. The latter, however, has two different applications that, nevertheless, have in common that both must be delicious and leave him satisfied.
· Accounting and Finances. Budget for food, shoos for this one, drugs of that one, daughter’s graduation dress, Friday’s birthday present, tomorrows party, local repairs, and the flat wire.
· Maintenance. Manicure, hair done, dentist appointment, pick up mammography, try think doing something about cellulites, fix tonight’s dress, yoga, gym or sport, that guy did not understand how I wanted my hair, five minutes to be ready.
Mother’s real expertise, however, is to do all above in a single day. Multinational Mother serves round the clock. Those that have no means must do exactly the same without money. Mother has no excuses. Every day her Resume shines from dust to dawn.
When the day ends, somebody resting on the couch asks her: Mom, would you bring me a glass of water? Mother answers: Do it yourself, love, I am very tired. Next, the entire population that conforms the family group cries: Tired? But you have been here all day doing nothing!
Young or old, rich or poor, black or white, tall or short, healthy or sick, mothers are a multinational that deals with all fronts. Mother is sure presence, present attention home delivery. She covers everything and is everywhere. Pure Quantum physics. SYLVIA DAVILA MORALES(c)
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