A JOURNEY TO SURVIVAL

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HUNDRED YEARS OF HAPPINESS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IN LIFE, THE MOST IMPORTANT IS LIFE ITSELF.
Jorge Soto Barrera.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DEDICATION
I dedicate this beautiful and interesting story to Dr. Demetrio Chica Garcés, the engineer Gabriel Amado Duque and Don Erasmo Garcia, my protectors and my soul friends.
Jorge Soto Barrera

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

INTRODUCTION

One of the most important events in the life of a people, is the evolution of families and societies over time, and, despite the times of scarcity and difficulties, see how those families struggle together in the center of the enormous a city that grows constantly and that becomes a simple memory or the unjust oblivion of death. In the beautiful town of La Ceja del tambo, we have witnessed the titanic stories of emigrant families who came to this beautiful garden, without a single peso and, thanks to the incredible hospitality of the Cejeños, who were always privileged by the fertility and the abundance of the imposing tambo valley, they were able to get ahead by growing and keeping all the members of their family together. The protagonist of this story of life, is the centenary Jorge Soto Barrera, one of the first taxi drivers of this beloved municipality and father, grandfather and friend of a large family. What distinguishes this peculiar family from other Ceja families is the desire to serve, to help, to know and to progress. Being these virtues of fraternity, solidarity and compassion, feelings that we have learned and inherited from the ancient inhabitants of this beautiful paradise.
Jorge Soto Barrera, who had the privilege of being a friend of Dr. Demetrio Chica Garcés, of Mr. Gabriel Angel, of Mr. Juan de Dios Toro, of Mr. Cándido Ortiz, of Camilito, of Mr. Belarmino Lopera, of Mr. José Bedoya, of Mr. Erasmo Garcia and the legendary "Nano" Bernal, with his incredible lucidity, precise, with the attitude of the visionary and the serious and responsible man:
- When I arrived in this town - he says - I immediately realized that this was the land to raise and educate my children. Before me, other people had already discovered this beautiful paradise and must have thought the same, but the fact of having found, enjoyed and raised and educated my six children in it, is a merit that corresponds to me.
These words clearly define the immense love and gratitude that my father feels for the municipality of La Ceja and for all its inhabitants.

When I started writing this book, I thought of those people who like to have fun when they read, who know that towns and cities were built slowly with the love and effort, the first taxi driver, the first shopkeeper, the first doctor, the first rancher, the first cabinetmaker. Humble and unpublished stories that always involve a mysterious and unknown part that we would all like to know. To this mystery one can grope, struggling to understand the story of the poor man who had to make enormous efforts to get ahead.
Here, then, what I have tried to achieve, as faithfully as possible, without hiding anything, without hiding the absolute poverty of the past, which ultimately strengthened Don Jorge Soto's tenacity, fighting ability and social sensitivity.  My father.
As well as for the biographies of wealthy and important men, there are many photographs and documents, in the biography of this humble person, as proof of the economic limitations and the great effort that the good man had to make to get the food and all other provisions for his large family. And yet, by the grace of GOD, after almost a hundred years of happiness, we have the protagonist telling us the story of his life and the anecdotes with his closest friends. Anecdotes and stories of good men, with which we could fill the library with the memories of our beloved town.
Each house, each corner and each street, tell us the stories of good men, smart and boar, which I cannot mention in these pages, because they have been so many that it would be impossible, but, for my part, I have tried to give an image Real and sincere of that wonderful man who has been my father. The best father of the world.
Jorge Soto Builes

 

 

 

It all began on November 17, 1929. In the municipality of Santo Domingo Antioquia, the birthplace of Tomas Carrasquilla, the most important writer of our land, Jorge Soto Barrera was born, who later became one of the three taxi drivers of La Ceja del Tambo. He was the sixth in a large family of nine children. Son of Maria Felisa Barrera and Jesus Maria Soto, he lived a very early childhood with great limitations and to finish aggravating the situation, he was orphaned at the age of new years, when his father died of angina pectoris, which today could be cure easily with penicillin that at that time had not yet been discovered. The family was submerged in absolute poverty, to the point that, the day after I buried my grandfather, my grandmother had to go out and lend a pound of panela to give a little bit of fresh water to her nine destitute children.
It was those difficult years that taught him not to lament the miseries of his home, the sadness of his parents and the hunger that his brothers had to endure.
- Do not regret - my father told me frequently - leave your whining, do not renounce the difficulties and keep moving forward, looking for a solution to your problems, because every difficulty and every problem brings a seed inside to solve them.
At that time, education and health opportunities were very scarce, most children had to leave school after they learned to read and add by candlelight, and that was what happened to my father , who could not finish the second grade, because in the last days when he was finishing the second grade, a reckless little fellow threw a stone and hit it in his right eye, the pain was unbearable and he lost his vision through that eye, for a few days, in which he could only see everything cloudy, until a kind lady, gave him a few drops that helped him recover his vision, were two months in which he could not attend school and he retired permanently, because I already knew how to read, and I knew the basic mathematical operations and I was ready to start working, at ten years old, just at the same time that the electric light came to your town, and the only bulb I installed. In the living room of his house he began to illuminate his glorious destiny.

 

 

- "I ran errands in the town and weeded the main road three blocks from the bridge to the park, for thirty cents. Carrying luggage of travelers from the terminal transportation to their homes and thus they were passing years, until it was almost a teenager and my mother got a job at a farm in the town of Maceo, nine leagues farther from the "San José" station of the Antioquia railway. The farm of a kind peasant from Antioquia, called Idelfonso Cano Tobón, and I went there to take care of the cattle and bring the food to the field workers "- the old man told me, very proud of his humble past.
My father was growing and learning the tricks of the old paisas, which later would allow him to subsist and progress in the wonderful and surprising life that would be before his eyes. The teenager matured without thinking and knowing the terrible realities of a country polarized by politics, one side were the conservative, wealthy landowners, church friends and on the other side were liberals, poor workers and resentful system exclusionary, that separated them from the possibility of education, health and progress.
They spent the days, the months and the years, on that farm, until he became friends with an old man named Arturo Osorio, a hard player and a clear example of what should not be done in life.

 

 

- I was a very rich man - he told the mysterious old man, one night of the many in which they met in the light of the wood fire to eat - My father, was one of the richest men in the town of Maceo. We owned several farms in hot land, which produced bananas, yuccas, coffee, mangoes, zapotes, guanabanas and all the fruits you could imagine ... My father also owned the best houses in that town, and I always lived like a king, I never had to work to eat, and I only dedicated myself to the raising of pigs that we later sold in all the fairs. My father died one day of a heart attack and my brothers and I inherited all those properties that we sold to distribute what each one had to do. To me it touched me a huge amount of money, and kept me from fair to fair, taking liquor with loose women, playing dice and fighting with anyone who was willing. I do not know how or when, my fortune is over and my brothers who were already all married, left me and I ended up sleeping in the streets and asking for some coins to buy a coffee and a piece of bread - Finished saying the old visibly bitter.
- And how did you get here ... - I asked interested in the history of life of the poor old man, collecting firewood, tending the mules and took care of the rabbits pattern.
- The boss, Don Idelfonso, has been a man of tricks and drunkenness, and once I met him in my town, he looked very skinny and brought me here, and now I'm here, although it will not be long. time, because I have cousins ​​in "Puerto Berrio", Elias Osorio and brother, who are very rich, owners of a gold mine, and these days I go to where they, because in this farm you only get tired and miseries - said the enigmatic man, lowering his voice so that nobody would listen to us. - I've been over eight years on this farm and just have saved two hundred pesos, we will only reach for travel and eating about two weeks while we find the cousins.
How! ... That seemed like an invitation to me, but I remained silent.

 

 

- I'm already very old and, to finish adjusting, I'm losing my sight. If you want, Jorgito, we go to my cousins' house and work in the mine.
- And do you know where they live? ... Because Puerto Berrio is very big and how are we going to find them? - Argument seeing the old data very incomplete.
- Quiet that my cousins ​​are very well known and it's just asking, in the park, for "La Sastrería de Perucho" that Luis Eduardo Lopez attends, a man who is from Santo Domingo and he knows where the mine is, my cousins ​​Elias Osorio and the brother, and everyone knows who they are, because they are one of the most powerful miners in that region.
I liked that story and I liked it more when the old man talked about gold mines, because that would allow me to collect a few pesos to send to my holy mother who, for some time, I had forgotten very much.
- Ahh, well, if you want, then we go there.
- Ready - said the old man visibly excited - but let's do one thing, keep the money, because I have never been able to manage it and, suddenly, I die and I want to leave it to any of these workers who have done me the impossible life and leave it to the boss, much less.
I remained silent. That man of few words, who was practically a stranger, was going to give me all his fortune for me to handle. The old man went to the corner where he slept, took out a cardboard box from under his bed and removed the syringes and the pills with which he cured the rabbits, took out a plastic bag containing a rolled up sock and handed it to me. I received it and feeling the tickets that creaked when I squeezed them, I put the package in my pocket. My heart stirred with joy and I quickly said goodbye to the old man, saying that I was already very sleepy and hiding the desire I had to go to check, in my room, the paquetico with the immense fortune, because two hundred pesos, at that time , was the equivalent to the possible saving of eight years of work. I retired with a candle in my hand, in search of my bed. I did not extinguish the candle, I got under the blankets and aware that nobody could see me, untied the knot of the little bag, unrolled the sock and ... A lot of new notes appeared before my eyes. My indescribable joy, I kissed the tickets and I felt the smell and the taste of triumph. I put the bills in my jacket pocket and, since that night, I slept with them very close to my heart.

 

The next day I woke up very early, I turned on the stove and started making chocolate. Old Arturo had already got up and was throwing grass at the rabbits, when I asked him:
- Don Arturo, provokes a little hot chocolate.
The old man received, the rate in silence. He took two or three sips and said:
- At the end of the month, when the boss pays us the wage, we go to "Puerto Berrio" that there if you play, drink drinks and if there are "Beautiful ladies"
I was happy, feeling next to my heart a lot of tickets that had always been my dream. The thing was good, for me, because in that land I was going to get the fortune that would take me straight to the arms of my most immediate dreams.
I started to work like a machine, I began to weed the fruit trees, while the other workers left their rooms, had breakfast and went to work. I did not feel tired and my soul was agitated, visualizing, at last, the realization of all my dreams. Three or four days passed, the time was flying and the date of our emigration was approaching, until, on a beautiful afternoon, after having collected cargamanto beans all day. When the night came they called us to eat. The menu was green beans, drained with carrots and onions, arepa de chócolo, fried egg, sliced ​​ripe bananas, a large pork rind, an avocado bottle, a roasted corn cob, a slice of porridge and a piece of sweet male . That trip of food to me was great and I said to Don Arturo:
- Do you want my ear? ...
- The ear and the avocado and what you want to give me, because I have always been called the king, "said the old man with a broad smile.
I gave him the corncob, the avocado and half of my beans, the old man ate everything and we went to sleep satisfied.

 

The next day, about five o'clock in the morning, there was a general stir. Everyone murmured and peeked into Don Arturo's room, which awoke dead and all vomited.
- That was a rebound, to eat so much gluttony - sentenced Don Idelfonso to explain the sudden death of the old man.
I remained silent, squeezing the bag and the sock that kept the small fortune that, now, was mine.
One of the workers knew about carpentry and began to make a coffin with some old boards, while the visibly distressed boss thought about the difficult situation of having a dead man with no known relatives and three or four hours away from the nearest neighbor.
Well, boys, we had to give the old man a funeral and give him a Christian burial. You, Jorge Soto, go to the troja and bring don shovels and a bar, so that everyone can make a hole, more or less than two meters deep, so that we can bury the old man.
- And where do we dig the grave? ...
- There in the morrito, on one side of the chicken pen, but a little away from the source of the water, because suddenly it becomes contaminated with the dead. - explained the noble old man.
So everything was done, Dona Libia, the boss's wife, did not stop singing the prayers that are sung or prayed to the dead and in the afternoon hours, the workers loaded the coffin and deposited it gently in the hole . We covered it and stepped on it with earth and on the improvised tomb, the women deposited a bouquet of wild flowers and a cross made with the wood from the stove. It seemed to me that we had buried it too close to the house, but again I was silent. That same night the novenas to the dead began and I said to Don Idelfonso when it was over.

 

- Chief, dear, thank you very much for the demonstrations of solidarity with Don Arturo, but it is that to me, all these rites and that lag makes me very bad, because I remember my holy mother, there in Santo Domingo, alone and enduring needs and you apologize, but I need you to give me the money you owe me because tomorrow I'm leaving.
- How so, Sotico? ... But you must understand that the old man was not a dog and that you have to pray at least the novenas of rigor.
- - Yes, sir, but it is not for him, but for me, that I have become melancholy and I have wanted to go see my mother.
- Ahhh, well, - said the old man as if understanding - but when the novenas are finished, you come back, because I need it.
- Yes, sir, of course. - I said, lying once more, so that the old man would pay me.
- The good man made the account of the days worked, he gave me the money and I, immediately, I went to prepare the briefcase because the next day I was leaving for "Puerto Berrio" in search of the golden dream.
At four o'clock in the morning I got up, wet my face with water, got dressed, grabbed the suitcase with my work clothes, checked that my plastic bag with the money was in my pocket and, still at night, I went to the bogged roads in search of wealth.
It was already nine in the morning, when I arrived at the train station "San José" below Caracolí, I had breakfast with pineapple juice and two chicken cakes and bought a ticket on the train that went to "Puerto Berrio"

 

The train flew in the middle of the sugarcane crops, amidst the sticks of sweet and delicious mangoes, which I could almost touch with my hands and before half a day left me at the Puerto Berrio station. I went to the park, I asked for "La Sastrería de Perucho" and right there they showed it to me, because it was all over the front.
Good evening, Don Luis Eduardo Lopez, please.
- Hi, Sotico. How old I am that he does not recognize me anymore? ... But what brought him to these lands boy.
He told me the kind man, who knew me since I was a kid in Santo Domingo.
- What a shame Don Luis, but it's been so long, that you forget even the faces of friends.- I said, finally recognizing the good man - It's that I come looking for Elias Osorio, a man that will give me work
- How! ... And you do not know that this man is homosexual, and that he can abuse you this very night.
No sir, I did not know anything. Is that…
No, I did not let him go there, "Don Luis said, interrupting me." Come on, get better, I get him work with the Bustamentes, some of our countrymen who have a restaurant by the river, and who can pay better. " . Tomorrow we are going in search of that job and, in the meantime, I'll make him two long pants, because you're too old to go around with those short, torn pants.
The countryman treated me very well, they gave me food, asleep, two new long pants, two shirts and, the next day, he took me to work in "El porvenir", the restaurant of Adam Bustamante, where they sold natural juices of all kinds. Fruits and food of the region.

 

I started working with Raul Henao, another countryman from Santo Domingo who came in search of fortune, on the night shift. Everything was going very well, I adapted to the heat of that land that did not go down to thirty-five degrees centigrade. Natural juices did all night and we helped prepare countless fish cakes that were sold and day, slept on the wattle business while the pattern and Dona Tulia, a wonderful cook, attended.
The fishermen arrived, at six in the morning, caught fish all night and we, before I got the boss, who lived about two blocks away, is the we exchanged for food, for drink, for cigarettes or We gave them money, if they wanted to. We kept them in a freezer in the cellar and in the afternoon Don Adam resold them to the wholesalers who took them to Medellin.
My two hundred pesos began to grow, until April 9, 1948
The radio announced that Jorge Eliecer Gaitán had been killed in Bogota, and the hope of the poor lay in a grave.
"Puerto Berrio" a fishing village, black people and humble people, almost all liberals and admirers of the dead politician, who was once shouted by Laureano Gomez:
- Black.
- With this black finger, I point out all the crimes you have committed. - the liberal leader replied, to further polarize the terrible struggle between the whites and the mestizos, which led him to his death.
Fishermen, full of frustration, they cried and banged on the doors of houses and when they were arming themselves with torches and truncheons, appeared the army and, before our eyes, killed them all and threw them into the river "La Magdalena" than before he had given them life.
We escaped by miracle, because we were inside the business, with the doors half closed.

 

There was a curfew; nobody could leave because the army and the police shot him.
We locked ourselves in for fifteen days, and we spent the days counting the thousands and thousands of dead people that go down the river, from that fateful day. We did not know anything about our relatives or our friends and the anguish took hold of our hearts.
The country was convulsed and I only thought of my brothers and my mother, who belonged to the group of the few liberals, in a town with a conservative majority, such as Santo Domingo Antioquia.
After two weeks, the situation began to improve and I, who had two hundred and fifty pesos saved, desperately wanted to go to my land.
I packed everything in my little leather briefcase and went to the train station that was on the shore of the immense river of "La Magdalena". I bought a ticket for "Limón" which was the closest station to my town and I went to the riverbank, to wait for the train on the bridge. Dressed in one of my new shirts, with black pants and my shining shoes, thinking of all the things I was going to buy my mother, with the small fortune I was carrying, until the soldiers of the country appeared.
The lieutenant looked at me and said:
- This black son of a bitch, so elegant, what? ... Did Gaitán revive or what?
I smiled, scared.
- And why are you shivering fagot? - the lieutenant told me again,
I remained silent and fixed my eyes on the ground, expecting the worst.

 

- Hands up and against the fagot handrails - shouted the soldier, grabbing me by the neck. They seized me and in the right pocket of my trousers, they found two hundred and forty-seven pesos, in pure new notes. - Where did you get all that money, black son of the bitch? ...
- I worked in the restaurant "El Porvenir" and that is the liquidation of my layoffs, because I'm leaving for my town.
The lieutenant looked at me and went to talk with the soldiers.
One of the soldiers looked at me and ran his hand down his neck, without the lieutenant could see it and I, abandoning my bag with new clothes, jumped over the railings and fell headlong into the river "La Magdalena" and I began to swim under the water, until my lungs could not take it anymore, I turned my body and in the middle of the turbid waters, I only opened my mouth and breathed a breath of air, which guaranteed me another fifty meters under the water, they made me unreachable to the government minions who fired at the dark brown waters, which took me a few kilometers down. I relaxed and, for a few minutes, I was one more of the dead dragging our glorious river. I swam to the shore and stayed hidden in the bushes until nightfall.
I came out of my hiding place and my clothes were almost dry due to the heat of the environment, although my white shirt was already earthy yellow. I arrived at the house of Don Adam Bustamente. I knocked on the door and ...
- What happened Sotico, I imagined that I was already in Santo Domingo, greeting all the countrymen '...
- Nothing, boss. It's that the army grabbed me and I with this liberal face that I have, they took me and stole my money and I had to throw them into the river.
- Ufffff, How so, son, but he even escaped them, because those were able to cut off his head and throw him like a dead man over the beaten Colombia.
- Let's see if you do me the favor of lending me three pesos, to go on the staircase that leaves at ten o'clock at night, heading to Medellin. - I said anguished.

 

- Sure, little boy, but come change those clothes, which suddenly is those minions and come out is killing really, if they recognize it.
Don Adam Bustamante gave me ten pesos in bills, a pair of pants that were a little big, a blue shirt and rubber boots. I put on an old hat and went in search of the truck that took me to Medellin.
We arrived at the city at four in the morning and I began to collaborate unloading the mango boxes that were brought in the truck. I helped them lose as many as 50 packages of yucca and when we finished downloading, they gave me a peso, which helped me to buy a full breakfast. I had breakfast with chocolate, arepa with butter, cheese, eggs and toast, and, with my stomach full, I went in search of transportation that would take me back to my town.
We were in "El Pedrero" which was the market square of the "Guayaquil" neighborhood in Medellin. To that place all the transport fleets of all the municipalities of Antioquia arrived and I went in search of "El Turpial Amarillo", the stairway truck that every day was driving towards Santo Domingo, Don Serafín Monsalve, an old friend of mine, because I I received the suitcases of the travelers from the first days of my childhood and was very well-known of all that guild of transporters.
I went all over Maturin in search of the street "Diaz Granados", which was the exact place where we expected transportation.
From afar I observed the beautiful truck of my town, which waited there square all the Travelers. Don Serafin was in the back, holding on to the ladder and trying to vomit in a great effort, which swelled the veins in his throat and made him sweat with jets.
- What's wrong, sir? - I told the good man, who was visibly dehydrated, surely, by his continuous abuse with liquor. The dear old man finished with the annoying nausea that did not let him vomit anything and recovering finally told me:
- Hi, Sotico, where was I so lost?
- I come from the middle Magdalena, who was working with the Bustamantes there and, as they killed Gaitán, things got bad and I came to see how my mother is doing.

 

- Well Jorge Soto, the thing is bad all over the country and in that town and us, the conservatives go out to patrol every night and the liberal they find will hit his macheteada, but calm that I have not heard what happened to him something bad to your family ... Already, in your house, like you were giving up for dead, for your absence so prolonged.
- No, man, I have worked all these years with a lot of judgment.
- Ahhh, very good, but come, buy a cold beer that this hangover is killing me.
- We did not go to the corner canteen and I ordered a beer for the driver and a red one for me.
Serafin took the beer in a single stream and said:
- Sotico, help him to load the car to Marino and watch him, so that they will not steal from us, that I am going to sleep for a while, while it is time for us to leave.
- Well, sir, - I said to the dear old man, who got into the car, covered himself with a ruana and began to snoring almost immediately. I paid for the beer and the red wine, with part of the seven pesos that I had left after paying the ticket. I went to where Marino, who was a very tall brunette, about one hundred feet tall, and with clear, half-green eyes.
- He came to Santo Domingo in very bad weather Sotico, because in that town of ours are three or four peasants dead, every day.

 

How! - Exclaimed my frightened father - The bad thing is that in "Puerto Berrio" the thing is worse and in "Barranca Bermeja" even more, because the people wanted to take the oil wells and the army took them out with bullets and the dead, so you can count per hundred. Ahh but impossible to kill us, where they know us so well and where they know that we do not hurt anyone.
We received all the food and merchandise of the travelers, while seraphim finished sleeping drunkenly and at ten o'clock, in the morning, he started "El Turpial Amarillo" in search of our beloved town.
"When we left Medellin, we could observe the great amount of army that tried to control all the roads, my heart jumped frightened by the memory of what the military were going to do to me when I threw them into the river. The streets were empty, and in the environment you could feel the widespread fear. Most of the ranches were empty and one or another house had been set on fire. The country was broken, the civil war was widespread and I, a poor liberal, to reach that town of conservatives and with only six pesos in my pocket. I shook my head trying not to think anymore and closed my eyes trying to fall asleep that so many problems had moved away.
- Oh my God! - Serafin exclaimed - and here what happened?
He shouted stopping the truck abruptly.
We all got off the car and went to see the eight corpses that were stacked in the middle of the road, from the village of "Caracolí"

 

- Don Serafin, do me the favor and take me these friends to the town, who started fighting with the Liberals, and they killed them last night, but I will not unload them in the cemetery, I'll take them down and sit them on the scales of the atrium of the church, so that all the rabble of liberals, know what they are doing, their friends, in our town - said that blond man with clear eyes, who spoke to us with military authority. - And you Sotico, do not play the fool and help them carry, and do not think that I forgot that you are also liberal, and I do not kill him now, because the bullets are scarce and also, because you are just a boy and can still change your mind.
My father began to tremble like a leaf, got off the car and helped raise the dead, one by one, despite the terrible smell that no one could stand.
- To see "negrito frightens the virgin" - gave the man looking at my father insistently - Did you get the card?
- No, sir, I still do not have the age to vote. - explained my father, unable to hide the nervousness, before that group of heartless men.
- Ah, well, I hope you ask for a conservative card, because otherwise you will have a very bad time.
The talk was over and the truck started with its rotten death load, my father went on the back bench and did not speak again until Serafin parked in the park, pretending to unload the dead where "the bird" that, had saying.
- Don Serafín, how are we going to unload those dead worms in the middle of the park, let's go to the cemetery and we do not eat them anymore, I tell those assassins. - I advised decided not to lower that load throughout the center.

 

- Do whatever you want - said the quiet Marino - but do not count on me, because I, at this very moment, am giving up this job. Look, here I leave this rag of inheritance, so that you can continue to be the assistant of this truck.
The driver and I went to the cemetery, threw the dead to the ground and went to our homes, without washing the car or anything.
- Well, Jorge Soto, Marino got cowardice and you will have to continue traveling with me, what do you say?
- Well, then tomorrow, what time do you pick me up? - I answered decided to work.
- At four thirty in the morning at the door of his house, ready? ...
- Yes, sir, that's how we are.
"I left for the house and Maria Felisa Barrera burned me back in a sea of ​​tears, because she thought that in my absence she must already be dead."
- Son and did not bring, money, because here there is nothing to eat.
- Of course yes mother, - I said giving him the last six pesos that were left in my pockets, she went out to the street and ten minutes came with two kilos of potatoes, ten eggs, a hand of ripe bananas, a pound of rice , a pound of brown sugar and a piece of salted meat.
I went to rest in one of the two beds in the room and they only woke me up when the food was ready.
And where are the other boys, I asked, when I did not see Jesus, or José, or Alfonso anywhere. There were only Salvador and Luz Holanda, the youngest children.
Ana married Manuel Marin, Felisa is working in a family house in Barbosa and all the others went to work in Medellin, fleeing from this violence, and I do not know what they work for, because they have not sent a single weight. - my mother finished with bitterness.

 

-Quiet, mother, I'm already here and from tomorrow I start working in the "Yellow Turpial" with Serafin.
- And if those conservatives kill him, son.
- Calm mom, that I am steel and, besides, God protects me.- I said emboldened by the economic precariousness in which we were, because there we had to work or work.
We finished eating the humble food, my mother pointed out the beds and when we were comfortable, she turned off the oil lamp and we went to sleep.
Around midnight a military parade was heard and the clang of machetes and boots of a squad of men, who sang at the top of their lungs.
- We are "Los Pájaros" the children of the big condor and we kill the liberal that rises in the night. We are the conservatives and we praise the virgin, who covers us with her mantle and guides us and protects us. We go in a platoon, singing this song, that calls us to war, pa "to take care of the whole country.
We are "Los Pájaros" the children of the big condor and we kill the liberal who rises in the night. We are the conservatives and we praise the virgin, who covers us with her mantle and guides us and protects us. We go in a platoon, singing this song, that calls us to the war to take care of the whole country.

 

 

"They went repeating their war song and slowly stopped listening in the silence of a terrifying night. The thing was worse than I imagined and from that moment I could not go back to sleep, I got up and put on my pants and a shirt and I stayed lying on the bed, until at half past four, the horn of the truck and I jumped like a spring, I went to the patio, I wet my face in the tank, I put on a jacket and went running in search of the new job that would take food to my family. "
My father's heart stirred at the new challenge and, without even imagining that he was going to have the most important meeting of his life, he ran out to receive "The Turpial." He arrived at the crowded truck, He got on the first bench on the side of Don Serafin and a long time later, when he was settled, he realized that in the truck came the most beautiful princess in the world. She looked at him with her huge black eyes and greeted him with the smile of the whitest and most beautiful teeth he could have seen. My father did not know what to do and lowered his face flushed by a rush of love, which made him jump the heart like crazy. The motorcar was traveling along the road stumbling and the sun began to come out, filling with light a beautiful sunrise that did not sense the bloodbath that the Colombian countryside was experiencing. That's how things went until they came to the same curve where, on the previous afternoon, they had picked up the dead.
In the middle of the road was the same commander with his group of armed friends.
Don Serafin stopped the car and stuck his head out the window:
- Good morning my commander, I will not say that there is more burden of that, because today I had to get up at three in the morning to wash the pestilence left by their dead in the car.
- That happens to them for not being able to obey the orders given to them - shouted the infuriated commander - put that car there and come, you and the assistant, to explain a little thing to me.

 

 

Serafin rode the truck and we both went down completely scared expecting the worst.
- I told them to put the dead in the park and they took them to the cemetery, yes or no? ... Do you guys think that I'm playing or what? ... Couple of fags,
- Jorge Soto, said those dead were very rotten to let them pollute our town and ...
- And is that you send you this queer, who has not finished breeding - shouted the enraged commander, grabbing my father by the collar of his shirt.
In the truck the murmur of the people was felt, as if sensing the worst. The commander took out the revolver and pointed at the head of Jorge Soto.
- I will kill this dog, so that from now on you know that the orders of "The Birds" are fulfilled to the letter.
The cute girl got out of the car and showing off all her sensuality, she strutted up raising her bust that threatened to burst the button of her dress, which could barely contain so much flesh, so much sensuality and so much beauty. My father looked with anguished eyes at the beautiful face of the girl, who went straight to where the commander threatened him.
- Hey cousin, you're feeling very big, because you have a gun in your hand and you're going to kill my boyfriend for that brutality he ordered and that goes against the public health of Santo Domingo. Leave it alone so as not to have to go to my uncle's house, to ask what kind of education he has given his children ... What will he be thinking in heaven, the famous Miguel Angel Builes, archbishop of Yarumal and Santa Rosa of bears, when he sees one of his nephews killing innocent peasants? ...
- Prima, you do not get involved, we are at war with all the liberals.

 

- Yes, sir, but Jorge is the son of Maria Felisa Barrera, who is more conservative than all of you and you, with your brutality, you have not let my boyfriend take sides - said my future mother emboldened. Then he went and took Jorge Soto by the hand, and marching in search of the truck he said to Don Serafin:
- Let's go that the afternoon is already taking us and I have to go to study.
We all move away without looking back. We got on the truck and with hearts shaken by shock, "The Yellow Turpial" It started at full speed.
- Listen Don Serafin, what's the name of that little girl who saved me from dying? - said my father still completely pale at the approach of death.
That girl is Mélida Builes Mendoza, daughter of Don Jesus Builes, the owner of the largest panelera farm in this region and it is better not to look at it, Sotico, because you are very bold and very poor for her, and what she said it was to save his life and nothing more.
- And is that you know her a lot or what? ...
- Sure, little boy, I know her because she is studying high school in Copacabana and travels every eight days on the line with us. - The man finished saying, while drying the drops of sweat that had made him leave the incident.
My father was frightened and two or three kilometers later, he turned his head and said to the beautiful girl:

 

- Thank you.
- For nothing - she replied with a broad smile
Things stayed that way, but my father could not stop thinking about those beautiful eyes, in that mouth with thick and sensual lips, and in that black and abundant hair that Mélida did not stop moving and fixing. Bachelor, rich, good-hearted, white hands and beautiful, the thing was going to be difficult, but he could not resign, because that was the woman of his dreams and the future mother of his children. That was called love at first sight and in difficult conditions.
"From that day the sun was more radiant and beautiful; the roosters crowed more strongly in the mornings and the eyes of the mare mora, who grazed in front of her house, began to resemble those of the brave Mélida Builes Mendoza. Life was beautiful and fast for the poor man.
"Ahhh but I still need the most important thing" thought my father in love "You have to get money fast, because the rich girl is very badly taught and so the thing is going to get a little complicated. I have to learn to play cards and dice, because I need to quickly earn a fortune "
And everything was done like that, although the quick fortune did not arrive and the few pesos that he had, they flew, losing themselves behind their great illusion.
The days passed and, with his youthful vigor, very soon, he was a very good helper or stoker that they called at that time. And it was like that, between the trip to Medellin on Mondays and the return trip on Saturdays, the beautiful girl was in love with the tangerines, plums and Mecca that her prince rescued always bought her. Love had struck them and time disappeared in the midst of their happiness.
After finishing high school, the sweet girlfriend, began studying nursing at the University of Antioquia, while his gallant specialized in gambling, seeking to beat fate a quick fortune that was delayed in arriving. But yes, the difficulties came, because the brothers of Mélida, my future mother, were conservatives, whites with blue eyes and rich, and my father was black and poor. That's how things went and even though Jorge Soto could not come to the Builes' house, my mother would run away and they would go to the house of Gabriela Duque, a friend of hers who made them the room, until, thanks to God, the strong hand of Don Jesus Builes, my grandfather, intervened to calm the chauvinistic outbursts of his children. The violence dropped a little and my father stayed drinking aguardiente and stalking his great love, with friends, in a canteen that was on the other side of the bridge and very few houses in my mother's house. The old man authorized the relationship of the couple and everyone remained calm and at peace.

 

It was in that bar that my father got drunk for the first time, listening to an album, "Consejo de Oro" that reminded him of the hardships his mother had to endure when he was absent. That night the brandy and the rum ran and at about midnight, Serafin and Marino, the old assistant, went to take him to the house, because the drunkard could not walk.
They knocked on the door and after a long silence the loud voice of Maria Felisa barrier was heard and she asked:
- Who?...
- We are Jorge's friends, who got drunk a lot and is hardly able to walk ...
The lady received the drunk and taking out a leash, she started beating my father's friends.
- That's what happens to procrastinators, with this scoundrel - who also received about twenty bandages, from the rage of my grandmother. That is an anecdote that my old man could never forget that the next day he woke up with his hands all purple.
They spent eight long years, dating, in which my father learned to drive the truck and at the same time lost all his savings and part of my mother's savings, learning to play. Until the day came when chance manifested itself and my father in a craps game, he earned three hundred and fifty pesos, which at that time was a small fortune.
My father always took into account a phrase that the grandmother repeated since he was a child: - "Son, women are chosen by race, like animals" "Yes, someday you think of marrying, choose a woman of good family , with good moral, social and religious principles, because a well-educated lady, will always remain a good lady in good times and difficult times too ". - It was in this way that, for a long time, my mother had been chosen by my father, because she belonged to the "Builes", one of the most distinguished and wealthy families of "Santo Domingo Antioquia". Mélida Builes Mendoza was the village nurse, graduated from the University of Antioquia and belonging to a distinguished family, but that did not disappoint my father who, emboldened, with a small fortune in his pocket, arrived at the house of his beloved nurse and He asked for his queen's hand. Don Jesus Builes accepted and silenced the protests of his children he said to the future husband of his daughter:

 

 

- Do your laps, that I run with the expenses of the party and everything my daughter needs,
And so it was done, on a Tuesday, April 5, one thousand nine hundred and sixty, at six in the morning in the cathedral of Santo Domingo Antioquia, against all odds, Jorge Soto Barrera and Mélida Builes Mendoza were married, and after a small party, they went on honeymoon for the beautiful municipality of La Ceja del Tambo, which was the town where my father was going to work, because on the same night he earned the money playing, he met the chemical engineer Gabriel Amado Duque, chief of Colombian Locería processes and told him that he was going to get married, and the good friend offered him a job in that town, to drive a Unimog de Mercedes, a vehicle imported from Germany to take stone from a mine. Everything was finished and the next day they got on the train that went to Medellin and from there they were very happy and marched towards the wonderful future that life would bring them. They arrived at the workshops of the Colombian Locería, in the municipality of Caldas, and the head of mechanics showed my father the car that the company had just brought from Europe, it was a Unimog of the Mercedes Benz’s, a small dump truck with huge tires as a tractor.
- This is a vehicle with diesel engine, a mechanical box with four changes in line, a double speed, for the strength and the reverse, it is handled exactly as a camper of the many that you must have driven.
- Yes, sir, - answered my father, a little intimidated with the car that was the first time he had observed in his life, because he had not seen it in a booklet. He moved towards the vehicle, lit it, started it and went for a walk around the parking lot and came back with a smile from ear to ear, with the monster completely dominated.
My mother got into the co-pilot's seat and with her two small suitcases, they climbed in the spectacular rocinante as if they were "the Quixote of the spot and its pretty dulcinea del toboso". They marched for the municipality of La Ceja del Tambo, to fight against huge windmills and against their own fears.

 

"The day was sunny and beautiful when, suddenly, in a bend appeared the most spectacular waterfall that our human eyes had seen, it was like an immense hair that shone before the sun with thousands and thousands of silver threads".
"Without thinking, I turned to the right and put the new vehicle in the parking lot of the" Tequendamita "a cozy restaurant, which awaited us with the smell of fresh beans and meats fried in the heat of the braziers. The administrator and the waitresses looked at our incredible transport, and then they put themselves at our service. I ordered two trays with beans, chicharrón, mote arepas and porridge with sweet male and while they served us, we went to contemplate the wonderful waterfall that made us feel as if we were living a fairy tale. After lunch we bathed in the waterfall and, with clothes and everything, we let the water explode in our bodies to become thousands of tiny diamonds that brought us closer to the perfect world of our love. "
"We left the water like some wet chickens and rode again our powerful steel rocinante, who took us through the middle of that garden that is eastern Antioquia."
"We arrived at about three in the afternoon, on a sunny day, at the impressive height of La Ceja del Tambo, and my wife could not contain her tears when she saw the expanse of the beautiful valley crowned by the imposing Mount Capiro, which It was majestic. "
My mother's eyes were used to the few houses and the yellow and barren land of other towns and it must have been very impressive, for her, the immensity and intensity of the emerald green of La Ceja.

 

 

 

- Upon reaching the height of La Ceja, we feel liberating breezes. I looked into that immense valley and saw, there, in the depth of my mind, a large, educated and happy family, and, since then, I never remembered my past again and only looked at that horizon that we populated with beautiful children, joys, challenges and dreams, which in the end are making us very happy - my father said enthusiastically when I was interviewing him to write this book. - If someone asks me to tell you where is the secret to living so many years of happiness, I would answer without hesitation, that happiness is in the smell of fresh bread, in my humble home, in the warm love of my family, in the health and success of my children, and in the bright and hopeful eyes of my grandchildren. The great achievement of my life, has been to live my life intensely, enjoying the simple things, and understanding that THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN LIFE, IS THE LIFE ITSELF. Without risking it with the follies of extreme sports, or with the danger of illegal actions that fills you with ambition that make you a criminal and can only lead you to death. Because, what was the money for Pablo Escobar and many other people who lost their lives coveting things they did not have time to enjoy? ...
- Father ... Then you cannot take risks? ... - I asked, again, so that the readers understand that philosophy of life that always explained to us.

 

 

- You cannot take unnecessary risks, you have to avoid danger at all costs. You have to take care of life because it is one and very fragile indeed. But do not change the subject that I was telling you about my most beautiful dreams, because if each man analyzed himself more and cared less about what others have achieved, he would discover that his vision of the world is different from that of everyone else. From my humble childhood, in which my mother washed other people's clothes in a ravine to bring a little food to our table, I discovered that all my humble efforts made me change, and each new change and each new achievement brought me a new vision of the universe. That was one of my main diversions, throughout my life, to dream worlds for my future children and creates in my mind a happy universe for my family. Sometimes I think of those men, who spend most of their lives locked up in the factories, without having a moment of leisure to dream and I imagine that those men have not felt the joy of being free like the wind ... No, to Every man, work is a pleasure, however humble it may be, and not all are able to take their souls to the last and most desired dreams ... Annoying during long moments of rest, is a sign of inability to know oneself. Those men who hate free time between one job and another, are men incapable of thinking and dreaming, for them their soul is like something unknown that they have not been able to understand ... Dreaming ... That was my biggest fun during all life. Sometimes, when I was on the road taking a trip, I dreamed of all my children going to college and my desire was so great, that in the end I always succeeded. Everything happens, everything changes and everything is reborn in our interior and the soul becomes immortal. In those deep regions of my soul, that trip to the municipality of La Ceja del tambo, was joy, celebration and eternity. Feelings of my soul, which was strengthened in the misery of my early childhood. It was something like an eternal awakening to the grandeur of a well-formed family, which was just beginning. Everything that we are today began there. Joy, happiness, future. Eternal dream, in the eternal lake of life, in these almost one hundred years of happiness and surrounded by spectacular children and grandchildren that will continue to perpetuate our happiness ...

 

Everything happened very quickly, my father was already married to his beautiful wife, he had a job driving a huge tire car, which looked like something out of the Second World War, and he was coming to a town that was more of a paradise than a town and surrounded by good people with a kindness never seen elsewhere.
At the entrance to La Ceja del Tambo, there was the fuel pump and other fuels of Don Jaime Bedoya, in the neighborhood of "La Virgen de Fátima" that went to the first place my father arrived with the monstrous automobile, which in that time almost nobody knew. Don Jaime was surprised with the small dump truck that was mounted on four large wheels like those of a tractor. People came curiously to observe the imposing machine and my father strutted proud, feeling the pilot of that ship that seemed out of another world. My father had the vehicle refueled and he bought 100 gallons of ACPM, which Don Jaime packed in red metal cans. My father told him that they were going to stay until the next day and Don Jaime sent them to the restaurant of "La niña Aleja", a friend of his who would give them lodging and food until the next day. They were where the kind lady, unloaded the luggage and my mother was organizing all things, while my father returned to save the car and to talk with Mr. Jaime Bedoya.
The good man kept the Unimog mercedes in a very large garage for the gas pump and lent him a 1948 Ford car, insisting that he go for a walk in the town.
- Here, in La Ceja, there are only four small cars, two trucks and a dump truck.- Said Don Jaime Bedoya, giving my father the keys to his beautiful car - I have this 1948 Chevrolet, Saro Ríos has a 1928 Packard of eight passengers, Samuel Córdoba a Ford 1953 and Jesus Bernal a Ford 1954. The owners of the ladder trucks are: Carlos Enrique Tobón and Don Antonio Román and the dump truck is owned by Leandro Bedoya.

 

My father went for a ride in the borrowed car and went through the sector of Payuco, an unpaved and very muddy road, when he found a good woman trying to take her beloved husband in a cart.
- What's wrong, ma'am? - asked my father, to the fragile woman who was not able to remove the heavy cart stuck in the mud.
- It is that my husband has an infection in one foot and I am trying to take him to the office of Dr. Demetrio Chica Garcés, to evaluate him.
- Leave the cart there and come; I'll take you in this car. - said my father, trying to help the original couple.
They were watching a few seconds and seeing that it was a good idea, they climbed with much difficulty in the car and along the way they went talking with my father.
My name is Mario Lopez, alias "Medio Poncho" and she is my wife, Berenice Duque, we have been married for many years and our fifth child is on the way - said the good man, pointing out the almost imperceptible pregnancy of his wife.
- You heard, man, and why do they say "half poncho"? - asked my father unable to hide an immense smile.
- Is that my brothers and I, we are musicians, I play the euphonium in the municipal band, - explained the man with pride reflected in his face- We went to play at a party and my father, after drinking many liquors, he stayed Asleep near the stove where they were making empanadas and, when he woke up, half of the poncho had been burned. To my brothers and to all my friends it gave them a lot of laughter and from that day they call us all "half Poncho".
"We arrived at the doctor's office, and, leaning on my shoulder, Don Mario Lopez, the man who many years later would be one of my greatest friends, got off very carefully"

 

Doctor Chica was cleaning some discs and put them aside when we entered, as if preparing to attend our consultation.
- Good fire, gentlemen, - the elegant and well-educated doctor told us - How can I serve you?
Don Mario explained the infectious born he had on the right foot, while I helped him to reach the stretcher that was against the back wall. The doctor checked him, went and put on some gloves, came and squeezed the baby until he let out a stream of yellow pus. Poor "Poncho" writhed in pain, while the doctor performed the healing.
- And who are you, friend, why are you new on this earth? - The doctor asked me, without lifting my eyes from the patient's wound.
- - I am Jorge Soto Barrera, driver of an unimog of the Colombian Locería, in the village of "San José", but at the moment I am the taxi driver who has brought Don Mario, who was riding on a very old wagon - I said half jokingly.
- Ahhh, taxi service, what a good friend, Jorge Soto, because I have needed it many times, when I consult at home. And where are you staying, in case I need you these days?
- In the restaurant of "La niña Aleja", there in the neighborhood of the Virgin of Fatima, but I will be alone tonight, because tomorrow I'm going to the path of "San José" to take stone from the mine. Listen doctor and is that, you like music? ... - I asked a little intrigued, by the beautiful victrola and the large number of discs that rested on the desk of the doctor.
- Music and medicine are my two great passions - answered the elegant doctor, who never decomposed his good manners.
- I also love tangos and singing for my friends, when happiness springs from my soul. - said my father, pointing to one of the acetatos of the unforgettable "Carlos Gardel" that rested on the table.
- And why do not you sing a tango, to see if Don Mario is relieved with your melodies.

 

 

To say that to my father was to awaken the singer he always carried in his heart. There in the office, that afternoon, he sang "Mano a mano" by Gardel and many other songs, until Don Mario was almost healed and he had to take him home again.
My father took the happy couple to the neighborhood "Payuco" and Don Mario, in gratitude, put a weight in his shirt pocket and a peso was a lot of money at that time. That day my father started to be a taxi driver in the municipality of La Ceja del Tambo and got two friends who would be very important in the future of our lives.
My father returned to the restaurant and, in the light of the beautiful candles and the red roses with which "La niña Aleja" and my mother had adorned the table, ate roast chicken, boiled potatoes, vegetable salad and juice of the extraordinary blackberries that were harvested in La Ceja.
To my father, how he came to sleep very quickly, after the meal, because he insisted very early for them to go to sleep. Also, the next day they had to go to the village of "San José".
La Ceja is a paradise of unusual luminosity and, the next day, the bright sun illuminated the new car, as it roared through the park in the central square, in search of a new life in "San José".
Time flew by the breeze that hit the face of my parents, the curves were one after another, until the cheerful village flooded party appeared.
The music resounded in the victrolas of the cantinas, where the peasants were drinking beer, and the ladies made market in the stores of Don Fausto Osorio and Don Manuel Arboleda. There they sold meat, rice, butter, chocolate, panela, clothes, pots, dishes and everything a young couple could need. My father only stopped to ask for Don "Pepe" Tobón, the good man who was going to offer them lodging during his stay.

 

 

People swarmed to look at the powerful car that they had never seen, my parents got out of the vehicle and went in to greet Don "Pepe" and his whole family. The Tobones were blond, tall and thin, with the appearance of Germans, or of Europeans, because in their white skin there was no mestizaje with blacks or Indians anywhere.
- Welcome to our humble abode, - said the friendly patriarch who welcomed them with great affection.
They were assigned an independent kitchen and room, which served as their dwelling for the next four years.
My mother spent the whole afternoon arranging her things, while my father went to listen to music and have a few beers with Jesus Maria Tobón and with Roque Botero Tobón, the two squires or assistants in the difficult task of loading the feldspar and the quartz that they were going to load in the mines.
For my mother everything was a novelty. In that house there was no electric light and when she learned that it was her turn to cook with wood, she started crying because she did not even know how to cook. My father treated her with a lot of sweetness and calmed her down, inviting her to a pilgrimage that was going to be celebrated that night, in the hall of the communal action, to collect funds for the children's gifts in the next December.
This was done. Night fell and my father and mother came to the living room in their best clothes, when the animator was already dictating the numbers of the first game of "Bingo". In the room all were looking at the elegant couple and the confused animator said:
- A very cordial greeting from the whole community, the mayor of La Ceja and his wife, who have just arrived at our village.
Everyone present applauded and my parents did not know what to do, until Roque Botero Tobón approached the animator and clarified the misunderstanding.

- I apologize to Don Jorge Soto and his wife, the new driver of the Colombian Locería, for the little misunderstanding, but anyway we hope you will cooperate a lot and have a great time in our path, thank you very much for your assistance. - said the animator to clarify the misunderstanding, before continuing with the party.
The life of my parents was a dream of happiness from that moment. Eggs, meat, fruits and milk abounded in that community and a few months later my mother began to vomit with the anxiety of her pregnancy while waiting for her first child. Time flew by and my mother took care of giving injections and taking care of the wounds and the little illnesses, of that hamlet that still had no health post, and knitting the little shirts and hats for her firstborn son.
One day Rodrigo Eliecer was born, my older brother, white, blond and with blue green eyes, the problem is that my father is dark brown and the boy looked like an angel in his arms.
- That child is a changed egg.
They said joking all their friends, but my father smiled quietly, because they did not know that Maria Felisa Barrera, her mother, was a blonde with blue eyes and that Don Jesus Builes, the father-in-law, was also white with blue eyes and something had to inherit from grandparents. Then Mélida, the second daughter, was born and she was also born blonde and white, like a spring cloud. He was my father, black as a coal, carrying two very blond little children and all the frightened people, but happy with those beautiful children.

 

Everything was going great, until the day when the small dump truck was destabilized with the heavy load and turned around, catching Jesus María Tobón by the stomach against the grass, everyone ran alarmed, while Jesús María was struggling between life and death, the community lifted the vehicle and took Jesús María to Medellín, where it took him many days to recover. The work was very hard, but my father never equaled work with life, for him, it was one thing to work and another to live and dream. He never considered that work was destiny itself, and taught us that many things can be done, without expecting to add economic value, because he always knew that money, which was so scarce in his childhood, did not make happiness neither in our home, not even in life. My father and my mother always educated us for freedom and happiness, and let us freely choose the career we wanted. We always had the freedom to choose, freely, as advanced human beings, what we liked to do as a hobby or as a vocation for life. In our home it did not seem right, that the restrictions ruined the flowering of talents and it was like that, that each of my brothers chose their profession and I, the most rebellious of all, who never accepted the Prussian method of Colombian education. , that punishes us for committing the mistakes that strengthen us as professionals, ends up being an amateur writer and a happy finquero.
Life continued without news, until the development arrived and the department opened the road to the path of "La Miel" and the famous Unimog ceased to be profitable. My father was unemployed and went to live in La Ceja del Tambo, with his beautiful family.
He came to town and started being the taxi driver he had always dreamed of being.
And, since then, with a soul full of optimism, he did not look back, but towards that horizon that populated with hopes, joys and dreams. What did my father do and what did he do from that day? ...
Sound…

It filled the horizon with goals, joys and challenges.
- And when I was living in that wonderful town, I concentrated on my activities and said: I have to impose my will on life, and that's the way it was, because we can not abandon ourselves to chance. Only joys you will receive if you meet a predetermined route, because the whole universe starts up and helps you achieve your goals, however difficult they may seem. - sentenced my father.
From the village of "San José" were born, Rodrigo Eliecer and Mélida de la Cruz, my first children, who with the trip and the change of environment arrived indisposed and gave them both gastroenteritis. At six in the afternoon, I arrived from the park where I was looking for work all day, and my wife informed me that the children were very sick. I did not have a single peso in my pockets, after paying the arrendo and stocking the house, but I remembered the kindness of Dr. Demetrio Chica Garcés and took my two children to see him.
- Doctor my children are very sick, I need you to take care of them, but I do not have a single weight - I explained to my friend, very distressed.
- - Quiet, man, that the first thing is the health of children.
I check my little ones and spread the recipe he gave me, saying:
-Go to the corner, to the drugstore "Universal" and tell my partner and brother-in-law, Fabio Osorio, to send him this formula and write it down, because I gave him the authorization.
This was done. My wife gave the drugs to the babies and the next day the improvement was noticed and, very soon, they were completely relieved. I started working as a taxi driver, driving a Desoto 1938 red wine, owned by Don Gilberto Bedoya and my life continued on the path of happiness. - said my father.

In the traditional Antioqueña families, which were always very numerous, the children were born almost every year and then, quickly, we were born Jorge, Norelly, ferley and Yair. We were already six and we were very happy. My father was the best father in the world and every night, when he arrived, he told us:
Each one I could choose a pocket, that for all I bring little things. In the first there were cookies, in the other a sandwich, in the third gummies, in the fourth a chocolate bar, in the fifth candy and so on. We all ended up happy, then Mama brushed our teeth and went to sleep. That's how the first days of our childhood went and our souls only dreamed about the little things that our father would bring at night, and the world became an immense paradise, full of sweets, fresh fruits and delicious challenges. Likewise, the universe presented us with an unlimited number of opportunities and, with the strong character, that we were developing in the family of the Sotos, because my father was a brave man, of those who do not fear anything, each one was choosing his way, because in our home we were educated for freedom and happiness ... How not to be happy, to be able to choose the unlimited amount of opportunities that our parents always offered us? ... Our great happiness was the happiness of being unlimited and eternal.
My father works with a taxi in the park of La Ceja, and between trips, he took refuge in "La Ceiba", a traditional bar where billiards, cards and dominoes were played. My father stayed in that place for most of the time, because the town was very small and the customers were very scarce, making it his office and the office of almost all the men who worked in the town. The owner and manager of the bar was Don Erasmo Garcia, a Cejeño of pure strain, a very tall man and of very good heart.

 

- Jorge, who owns that taxi you're driving? - Don Erasmo Garcia asked my father.
- That car is from Don Luis Angel Ramírez "Pichillo"
- I plan to buy that car, so that you can work and pay it back in comfortable monthly installments, so that, once and for all, you can ensure your children's meals. - The good man scored with a smile on his face - How do you like the idea? ...
- A wonderful idea Don Erasmo, and thank you very much for thinking about my future and the future of my whole family.
This was done, Don Erasmo Garcia bought the car and allowed my father to pay it in reasonable installments, without interest. Once again the good heart of the Cejaños raizales, was seen in all its expression.
My father traveled from one place to the other with his "Tortuga" red wine, and in that way he was raising his young children.
They were in the middle of a December with a taste of the people, with a criollo corn custard and hot fritters, and people kept going in search of the "Anarkos" the rich cattlemen's bar, in which Nano Bernal was, distributing blankets and packages of pork. My father could not stand the curiosity and looked out to see the immense line of people who came to claim the bonus of the most generous and wealthy man in town. Nano Bernal was the manager of "Maquinal", a company that imported spare parts and machines from all over the world, for the growing development of Antioquia.
- I heard, black, and voice why have not you come to claim your bonus? - The good man shouted from the other side - Come, come.
My father could not refuse the call of the most beloved of the Cejeños in all his history. And he walked the twenty meters that separated him from the businessman.

 

- "Brujo", come to distribute the blankets, I need to talk to the friend. - Nano Bernal said.
My father stretched out his hand and with a huge smile said:
- Nice to meet you, Jorge Soto Barrera to serve you. Don Nano
The businessman was having a drink with two workers of the municipality, with Don Antonio Garcia and with "Tulito García, who were the best musicians of La Ceja, at that time and later also.
- Black and where you have the car, because tonight is partying and I need you to take me with my friends to "Casas Viejas", the farm of my loves.
- Quiet Don Nano, that I have at the head of "La Ceiba" - my father answered, observing the turquoise blue Mercedes, parked at the front of the canteen, which was owned by the successful businessman.
- Don Nano, - said Don Arturo Villada "El Brujo", who was a municipality worker and an unconditional friend of that good man. - The blankets are over.
- Give them some markets that I bring in the trunk of the car and, to the people who are missing, tells them that tomorrow I will continue distributing on the farm.
Well "Tulito", to continue the party and the experienced singers sang a tango that my father sang at the top of his lungs with the rich merchant, and it was in this way that a great friendship was born between my father and the late Nano Bernal.
The liquor ran in abundance and my father, as he was working, only took aromatic of chamomile with lemon. The party was in full swing when they arrived with an invalid, to ask for the Christmas bonus. Nano Bernal, jumped from the table and ran the chairs, opened a space for the sick man to be seated in the middle of all his friends.
This is your lucky day, dear friend, "Nano Berrnal told the invalid, introducing three five-peso bills into his shirt pocket. - and this is just the beginning, because now we are going to the farm, where I have the three most beautiful women in the world, and I will give you one of them, so that tonight is unforgettable for all and the other week I'll leave to bring a wheelchair from Medellin.

 

Fifteen minutes were left until midnight, when Jaime Bernal, Nano's brother, arrived with a little book under his arm and said:
- Nano, my mom said to come for you, because he is already very drunk and it is better that we go to the house, because suddenly he has an accident.
- Come on brother, take a little Medellin with coca cola - said Bernal nano, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice - that we will immediately go to "Palenque", the zone of tolerance, because today is the day I go to lead so that she loses that virginity, that has him so entangled with that camándula that does not let him live. Today we are going to drink and dance with the girls of cheerful life.
Jaime Bernal was frightened, as if he had heard the voice of the same demon and casting his blessing, looked with contempt at all who laughed at him and left without saying anything else.
This was done, when the liquor was already confusing the senses, mounted the invalid in the Mercedes model last Nano Bernal, put in the trunk the cart that was like a stretcher or improvised wheelchair, the brother of the invalid who was just a child and the other worker of the municipality, I do not remember what it was called and in my car we came Arturo Villada alias "El Brujo", Tulito, Don Antonio Garcia and the guitars. We went to the crystalline in search of "Casas Viejas", of food, liquor and happiness.
The whole trip Nano Bernal marched forward.
When I stopped the car, to the whole front of the house of the farm, I heard the thunderous music that came to us from the lit room.

The butler, the cook and three beautiful women met us at the door and helped the invalid in who Nano Bernal and the accompanying boy had already gotten out of the car. The room was huge and the huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filling the room with such a clear light, as if it were an elegant ballroom in Paris. The beautifully carved furniture shone with its golden leaves on the intense red of the fine imported cloth. It was incredible that there was such a beautiful place in the middle of the mountains of Antioquia.
They accommodated the invalid in an armchair, with many cushions around him, how he wanted to make him forget his disability. The lady of the kitchen went and brought some trays with pork sausages, yuccas frites, Creole chips, empanadas, flakes full of sugar and hundred-legged roulettes. The beautiful women were very well trained because, in a few seconds, the little table in the center was filled with glasses of water and milk, and each of us had a glass overflowing with the best whiskey.
- Welcome to "Old Houses" gentlemen, - said the businessman with the energy and elegance of the man who has everything, and is taught to send - Today we are going to eat, drink, laugh and dance, because life is short and we do not know if, in the future, we can enjoy the beauty of these beautiful women, who are my friends and your friends too ... Feel at home and eat and drink that everything is free.
The musicians, taught to rumble, sang a beautiful song and Nano Bernal, shouted full of happiness, without sensing the tragic end of his life.
The food, the liquor and the songs were coming incessantly and that night we drank with the pretty friends of the millionaire and even the invalid was drunk on the whiskey that the owner of the farm made him drink all the time.

 

 

 

In the middle of the spectacular party, the host approached me and put a roll of bills in my shirt pocket. I understood that this was my pay and, thinking a lot about my wife and my children who were alone at that time, I left the bacchanal and without saying goodbye, I got in my car and went in search of my home. On the way I checked the payment and counted, two hundred pesos that reached for dinner and Christmas gifts for my children. Definitely, Nano Bernal was the most generous man in the municipality of La Ceja Del tambo.
Since that night the deceased Nano Bernal and I were very good friends, and I say deceased because a few months later, in a bar in Medellin, called "The Green Camel", a stranger shot the manager of "Maquinal" and took away the lifetime.
The wake was apotheosis and the humble inhabitants of the eyebrow, we had to queue in the middle of a path of flowers and lighted candles, to be able to get a farewell to the most charitable and most human man who had been born in that beautiful paradise. The poorest people shouted cries of plaintive pain, feeling the emptiness that their greatest benefactor had left behind.
From that day on, the Christmas bonuses for the poor ended and there was only the emptiness of loneliness and the certainty of that terrible sentence that says: "Good things do not last.
The town of La Ceja could never forget Nano Bernal and my father either.

The challenge of meeting all the needs of the family was great. My children were growing and I took great care to provide them with a good education, which for our family was one of the most important things. With the Desoto taxi from 1938 I was doing well, and although the needs were not lacking, our economy was in balance and although the money was not enough for any luxury, the basic needs was covered.

 

One afternoon when I was having a drink at "La Ceiba", which was and is, the traditional canteen, in which the workers gather to relax and play pool and cards with friends, an elegant stranger arrived who looked like an rich businessman
- Hi, Jorge Soto Barrera, how have you been? ...
- Very good, friend, - I said without knowing who was the elegant stranger.
- It does not remember me? - the man asked looking into my eyes.
- No, sir - was the only thing I managed to say a little confused.
- I am Iván Osorio, aka "Buchisapa" from beyond Santo Domingo. The one who sold jerkies with coconut at school, and the one who owed you two cents of the last letter he brought to your girlfriend.

- Ahhh, of course, many years ago that I came from town and one is forgetting even friends. - I said after recognizing the naughty boy who was my accomplice, in the most beautiful love story.
The countryman called the waiter and said:
- Bring me a double rum with ice, lemon and soda, and Jorgito brings him whatever he wants.
- You bring me a cold coke, because I'm working and I cannot drink liquor - I explained. Trying to make clear my professionalism as a taxi driver.
- How, man, are not we going to celebrate with a few drinks of liquor the meeting of two countrymen who were very poor and who are no longer? - and without letting me answer, he asked me defiantly - Do you not work from Your account or what? ...
- Yes, but it is that every hour and every peso are very important, because my family is very large and the expenses are very large.
- Ahh, is that the thing is about money and that I have for packages. How much do you earn in a day as a taxi driver?
- About forty or fifty pesos a day - I said with a little embarrassment.

 

- Well, I'm going to give you two hundred dollars, which is about four hundred pesos, so you can work today and tomorrow for me - Don Ivan concluded after handing me the valuable tickets - Today we get drunk celebrating our successes and tomorrow I'll invite you for the most beautiful farm in this town, which is the place where I am living.
That afternoon we took many swallows of the burning rum and cried the sorrows of our unfortunate childhood in which there was only hunger, desolation and patched clothing.
The next day we met after lunchtime, we were listening to tangos, we had four or five beers and then we went in his elegant car, last model, for his secret refuge.
We arrived at the cover of "El Puesto", the most emblematic farm of our town, because the best poet of our land was born and lived there. We walked for two or three hundred meters, from the path that led to the mansion and, on either side of the road, stood giant eucalyptus trees, the kind that only grow in the fertile valley of La Ceja del tambo. The sunny afternoon lashed our faces with the breeze impregnated with the pleasant smell of the different pines and the eucalyptus trees.
We entered the parking lot and Don Ivan parked his elegant car in the sonorous space, which creaked with the pleasant murmur, which sprang from the thousands and thousands of pebbles, which covered him in a symphonic tangle that seemed to be made of pigeon eggs. The whole path was covered with polished white and gray stones, which seemed fresh from the most beautiful of rivers.
We descended from the car and we advanced until the corridor of the imposing house of classic colonial architecture.
- This farm is beautiful - it was the only thing that I managed to stammer, before the impressive color of the begonias, the anthuriums, the orchids and the Josefinas, that framed that house in a colorful poetry. - This is the most famous and beautiful house in La Ceja del Tambo, pity that the ignorance and ambition of our rulers, has not allowed it to become a cultural museum, because in this house was born and grew, Gregorio Gutierrez Gonzalez, the poet of the race, and one of the greatest singers of this country.

 

The huge curly cumin door creaked when it was opened by the old iron key, which measured about six inches in length and showed the old age of its colonial originality. The floors made us feel the warmth and the soft murmur of carved wood. Before our eyes it was revealed to the imposing of the beautiful furniture that filled the instance. The armchairs, the sofas, the solid stools and the immense and carved dining table, informed me without speaking, of the economic and cultural power, of the family of our most famous writer. That man must have been a government minister, a magistrate of the republic or someone very important in our country, because his house was a monument to the good taste and elegance of that other era in which most Colombians lived in rudimentary house of earth. It seemed that the spirit of Gregorio Gutierrez Gonzalez continued to inhabit that mansion, because everything was perfectly preserved. The gleaming wood of the armchairs, framed the intense purple of the soft cushions, in which I sat dumbfounded. My host went to an immense bar and brought two gleaming crystal goblets and a bottle of whiskey.
- Let's drink for the poet who sang corn, mazamorra, beans and arepa with butter.
I smiled at the butter and felt a lot of sadness for the vulnerability of the men who die in anonymity without leaving a trace. I gave thanks to eternal unity and to Don Gregorio Gutierrez Gonzalez, for those beautiful poems that captured and preserved the beauty of that place.
Don Ivan showed me the whole house. We observed the poet's bed, which did not look like a bed but a beautiful castle covered in white cushions and covered with vaporous tulles of sky. That bed was amazing; carved in bright and fine red cedar, it was taller than normal and had to climb a ladder, to the immaculate cushions that covered the soft mattress of goose feathers. Framed by six beautifully carved masts with roses and bay leaves plated in gold. In that environment poetry had to be born, because our dear writer had a life that was literally a poem.

 

I walked around the mansion and I could not contain the tears before such beauty. I cried for the children of our land who will never know the work of that incredible poet who sang corn, love and simple things, I cried for the humble people of my town, to whom the corruption of politicians, they have stolen the contemplation of their past. I cried for the ignorance of our governors, who were not able to declare that mansion as the cultural heritage of the people, and I swore that from that day I would fight so that my children would receive an education, that will free them from the mental poverty that eats the They do not know what culture is.
- What's wrong man? - The fellow asked me, surprised by the immense tears that rolled down my face.
- It is that observing this mansion, I began to think about the humility of my ranch and the education of my children, who barely managed to subsidize with that taxi so old and ...
- Quiet friend, tomorrow we are going to Medellin to bring some microwave ovens I need and right there, you choose the car you want, because I'm going to give it to you.
- How are you, man? - I asked surprised by the offer that Don Ivan was making me. Is that…
- Take a good look, Jorgito, the properties that the boss has and this is just one, because this week I have to show you "Horizontes", a beautiful and spectacular estate, that belonged to a man named Bernal, one of the richest men in this town. That farm is also from Pablo Correa, my boss. We are involved in a nice business, which has us full of dollars and since you have been a friend of mine all my life, with me you will run out of all the problems. Take, save these tickets to buy clothes for the boys and leave that crying that you are already in the team of the winners.

The next day we went to Medellin and my countryman "Buchisapa" insisted that we leave in my dilapidated taxi untied model 1938. That friend of mine was a bit strange, sometimes arrived dressed in a suit and adorned with many gold jewelry, like a tycoon oil and today, precisely, when we came to the city of Medellin to buy microwave ovens, arrived with an old clothes, completely stained with paint, as if it were the most vulgar of the painters. I was surprised by his image and without being able to keep quiet I said:
- Hey countryman, and you were painting the farm at the last minute, or why is it so dirty? ...
- Ahh, that's my job. I, on that farm, I am hardly the painter and when someone on the street asks him what my job is, you tell him that I am a painter of farms and nothing else. Ready, Jorge? I am a paint contractor only. He tells his wife and his children that I have a painting contract on a farm and no one can tell him that I am going to buy a car today. Ready?
- Well, sir - was the only thing I managed to say, although my head was spinning.
We arrived in Medellin and Don Ivan said that we should go first to buy the car, because we could not be stuck with the ovens going around. We went to the best dealerships and the man wanted to buy me a Toyota model and I was scared because those cars were very expensive and I did not want to compromise much with that strange gift. I was filled with embarrassment and took it to a second-hand car sale and chose a bottle-green 1955 Plymouth. The countryman breathed as if resigned and told me:
- I was going to give you the latest model car that you chose and you choose that vejestorio, that's why you're never going to get out of poverty, because you're too humble and you'll always be chased by scarcity and humility.

 

The man was furious, but in the end he resigned himself to my unexpected choice. He pulled out a thick wad of dollars, paid for the powerful car with which I had always dreamed of and told the dealership that, the next day, I would come to collect it and sign the property documents.
I was happy. We went to breakfast and then we went to the retail plaza to buy ten cardboard boxes, twenty kilos of tree tomatoes, twenty kilos of granadillas and twenty kilos of oranges. It seemed to me that the peasant was buying too many fruits, but I kept silent. We march in search of microwave ovens. We bought them and when we had them in the car, we camouflaged them in the old cardboard boxes and covered them with fruits. That camouflage Don Ivan did to the merchandise left me very thoughtful. Why did Don Ivan need ten microwaves of the biggest? ... Why were we camouflaging them? ... I tried to think of other things and went in my old-fashioned car towards La Ceja del tambo.
We came talking about our difficult childhood in the town of "Santo Domingo de Guzman" and when we went through the palm sector, to the front of the restaurant "El Indio", there was a military checkpoint. Don Ivan went very pale, put a large amount of dollars under the cushion and said:
- I'm going to be asleep and if they ask you what we wear, you tell them some fruit for the store. Ready?
- Well, sir- I answered completely scared. I moved slowly behind the other cars. I got to the checkpoint. I greeted the officer. The policeman looked me in the eyes, looked at the boxes through the window and with his hand told me to continue after noticing the elegant van that came behind me and which of course stopped.
The countryman raised his head with stealth and said with great joy:
- Is that the old and ugly cars, is the most beautiful that my God invented - I was happy as if we had achieved a great feat.
We arrived at the park of La Ceja del tambo, and instead of taking the ovens to "El Puesto", the farm where my compatriot lived. He asked me to go to the village of San José. I left thoughtful, without uttering a single word in the thirty minutes that lasted the trip.

 

 

We arrived at "Las playas", a sector that I knew as the back of my hand, because in that entire region I worked when we extracted stone from the mines for Colombian locería. The countryman asked me to turn left, as if going to the path of "San Gerardo". We went about twenty minutes, until we reached a ramshackle ranch and two young blondes, who had no face or accent of peasants. They greeted Don Ivan with great respect and unloaded the boxes containing the ovens and fruit.
- Jorge, takes out a bag and fill it with tomatoes, granadillas and oranges, for your children, because most of these fruits are going to be lost here.
I took ten or fifteen kilos of the fruits and threw them in the car's drawer. We left the place and since I was very quiet Don Ivan started to say:
- Well, Jorge, I think you need me to explain what is happening. I am working for a very powerful drug trafficker, called Pablo Correa, who in turn is a partner of Don Pablo Escobar Gaviria, friend of all the peasants in this area. My boss owns "El Puesto" the beautiful farm where I live, from "Horizontes" and from other farms in La Ceja, he is a very powerful boy, because the boss must be about thirty years old. - The countryman was silent how to organize the thoughts, and a few seconds continued - There where we left the microwave ovens, we are producing more than four hundred kilos of pure cocaine, monthly, associated with a very intelligent man named Tobón, that between him and the wife, are the owners of a large amount of land. Bone that in this sector we have no danger, because the brothers of the woman, of that partner, are the owners of the rest of the farms ... I think it's time that you stop working as a taxi driver for miseries and start working with the poster of Medellin, so that in a short time you are immensely rich. What do you say?...

- Man, Don Ivan, things are a bit difficult for me, because my children are just growing up and I would not want anyone to sell them drugs that intoxicate them and destroy them. I have many moral reservations in that aspect and ...
- What moral reserves Jorge? What do you care if the gringos get poisoned or have fun with the white gold? ... I spent my life working decently and I never got anything, and for two years I've been working with these people, I have sacks full of dollars, I have farms, houses and businesses. Think about it and when you're ready, tell me to talk to the boss and start being part of the payroll.
- I'll think about it, - I said visibly nervous - and this week I inform him.
Well, think if you want to be immensely rich or if you want to continue working as a moron.
His words sounded a bit rude and very offended, I kept silent until we reached La Ceja.
- Leave me here in the park, and do not feel so bad about this wonderful opportunity that is giving you life. Save these dollars so that tomorrow you can go to Medellin with doña Mélida and the child. Get dressed with my own clothes and right there you bring the car that I bought you, so you can go for a walk with your family in it, because with the car that we are going to continue working with this "Tortuga" of 1938 that does not attract attention of the police.
We both laughed happily after the adventure and I left for my house, completely distraught, but I did not say anything.
That night I can hardly fall asleep. The advantages and disadvantages of working in a criminal enterprise came to my head. I was aware of the perfect universal balance and I was very afraid to unbalance the balance and generate unfavorable karma for my life and for the lives of my children. The economic shortage and the innumerable domestic needs impelled me to sacrifice my spiritual beliefs that, surely, were going to be submerged in the darkness of perdition, if I worked in that death enterprise. My body was filled with fever and that night, it was the worst night of my life.

 

 

I could not make an intelligent decision and I only managed to send this message to eternal unity, to the absolute intelligence that would surely point me to the right path:
"Absolute wisdom, I am a good man, but in recent days I have received a large amount of money that has improved my economic situation. The temptation that life presents to me is very great and I, who have had very few opportunities, do not know whether to accept or not accept the macabre proposal. I am just a light of consciousness in the infinite and left in your bosom, eternal unity and infinite wisdom represented in the gods that I inherited from my parents, the decision I have to make. I will go tomorrow for the car we bought and I hope that during the course of the day, you, supreme wisdom, will show me the right path, which I will take for the well-being of my children and my whole family "
After this message that I sent to the eternal unit, I could sleep peacefully and the next day we went to Medellin, my wife Mélida Builes, yair who was the child of the house and me. We bought new clothes and other things that we needed and we came to La Ceja, very happy with the car that Don Ivan had given me. Everything was going very well. The powerful car climbed the top of the palms, with a force and speed unaccustomed to me, which always led older cars and of course slower. In my head, the bad thoughts were absent and inside that car everything was happiness. The landscape was beautiful and my intelligent son was going to a party with the architectural marvels of the enormous constructions that I was observing along the way. We finished climbing the cliff and began a prolonged descent. We arrived at a well-known place called "La borrascosa" that paid homage to the fearsome ravine that roars among the rocks of the dangerous sector. I was very focused driving down the wide road, when I could see that a tire was ahead of my new Plymouth. I tried to brake suspecting what had happened and the brake pedal went to the bottom. At high speed we were without brakes and we had lost one of the front tires. The slope was very steep and I had to make a decision in fractions of a second. I had to invade the lane on the left and I pulled the car against the stone gabions that contained the overflow of the imposing mountain. The car crashed violently and its powerful structure fractured with the impact. The blow we suffered was impressive; the child cried screams and my wife threw blood jets through her mouth and nose, while holding the right side of the traumatized chest that did not allow her to breathe, feeling great pain. Several cars arrived and the volunteers took us out of the twisted iron of the car that was practically destroyed. We spent fifteen minutes lying on the cold pavement, until an ambulance arrived and moved us to the hospital in La Ceja. Nothing serious happened to the child and to me, because we only had a few bumps and small scrapes. My wife's two ribs were broken and she received a blow to her face that made a fissure in the nasal septum. In the afternoon we were in our home, a little sore but calm and happy that the eternal unity, had given us another opportunity and an answer to the doubts that I had had after the bad proposals.
Don Ivan came to my house the next day, he brought us many gifts and said:
- Quiet black, that I'm going to buy another car but last model. I warned him that this was a car crap, and it really was so bad that his tires fell off on the first trip. -concluding the countryman without being able to perceive the announcements and warnings that eternal unity was making us.
I kept silent, trying not to talk about that annoying topic that only he and I knew.
My physical lessons were minimal and the next day I started working with the taxi again. It was not long before the civilian appeared "Buchisapa", and when I started to tell him that the accident had been a warning of eternal unity, so that we should abandon bad business, he got angry and responded to my concerns with the following words :

 

- What eternal unity? ... What merciful God? ... What absolute wisdom that points out ways? ... You are an idiot or what? Because where was that eternal unity when we, in our childhood, held out? Hunger and needs like dogs. You, Jorge Soto Barrera, will never stop being poor, and it is because your dreams are broken and cowardice does not let you progress thinking so many nonsense.
The Pisan left furious and I never saw him again. In exactly fifteen days, the authorities raided the laboratory where we had left the microwave ovens and the country began to plunge into a terrible war against drug trafficking.
Don Pablo Correa, the patron of "Buchisapa" was murdered in the Laureles neighborhood of Medellin and the beautiful estates of "El Puesto" and "Horizons" were submerged in the anonymity of some heirs who did not want to know anything about the war and who left wither the flowers of the corridor.
I continued to work humbly.
The phenomenon of drug trafficking caused many deaths and many problems to our society, and I always tried to keep my family away from these problems.
Time passed and the taxi I discovered in 1938 was already very worn and I had to sell it to buy a "Land Rover" camper, which would allow me to take the peasants along all the paths of our town. I worked three or four years with great tranquility, while my daughters were educated under the protective mantle of the sisters of Mary Help of Christians, but as there is no complete happiness, one afternoon, the seventeenth of a very rainy January, in the village of San José Four heavily armed men gave me the signal to stop. I stopped the countryman a little scared and...

 

- Good afternoon, sir, we are from Colombia's AUC self-defense groups and we need you to go to don Juan's grocery store, the one in the cycle, do you know it? ...
- Yes, sir, - I answered completely scared - but it is that I am very poor and I barely have the gasoline measured for this trip.
- And how many gallons of gas do you need to go and get back to the market?
- Five or six - I said trying to discourage the dangerous mercenaries.
- Wait a moment.
The four men moved away a little and stopped a modern white Toyota approaching and told the driver:
- Hello friend, we need to send some supplies to the municipality of La Ceja and Mr. Land Rover, who is an old acquaintance of this area, will bring them, but does not have gasoline. Say if you are going to give us six gallons of gas, if you want to go for groceries or if you want us to kill you?
- No, calm, that I give them the gas they need - said the man visibly worried and, addressing me, he asked me - Do you have a hose so that we can take it out? ...
- Yes, of course - I said resigned. I pulled out the hose and extracted six or seven gallons of Toyota fuel.
- Go for the market, very judicious, here we will be waiting for you. Ready?...
- Yes, sir, - I answered very distressed by the delicate mission.
I went to La Ceja and the road uncovered and full of mud became very long. I arrived at the store, handed the list to Don Juan and the man renegade, had his assistant upload all the supplies to the camper.
- I hope this does not become custom Jorgito, because those people already owe me more than ninety million pesos in merchandise and they have practically bankrupt, and how does one tell you, that you do not trust those murderers?

 

I kept silent, because I also felt like another victim, of the conflict
In-country and I was not at fault that they sent for food.
- So, those paramilitaries paid for the trip? - I asked my father, when I was doing the interview to write this book.
- They paid, with those people there were no alternatives. When I handed them the market, they said thank you very much and that's it.
- So, you, lost all that time without receiving anything in return?
- The only thing that saved me was that when we were taking gas from the white Toyota, the rich man asked me in a low voice:
- Dude, how much is that double trip worth to La Ceja? ...
I told him about ten thousand pesos and the man handed me a ticket and said:
- Have the ten thousand, so it does not go too badly. - my father told with joy.
- On the trip I spent a gallon and a half of gas, on the way and on the way back, so I had five and a half gallons left to work the next day and the ten thousand pesos that the rich man gave me - said my father very proud, feeling a winner even in the worst moments.

Our parents always taught us to write dreams, to have a clear vision of the world and our desires, during the state of the soul in which we conceive them, because this is how we give them all the love, all the color and all the joy of our be. Because, if we leave dreams for later, when our soul has changed, oblivion will influence, doing everything in its own way, and everything will be blurred and incomprehensible. We cannot forget that all ideas are the explanation of our connection with infinity. If we leave the beautiful vision for later, when our mind is tired, we cannot give it all the color and joy, that we feel when we conceive it. Our mother and our father taught us to find pleasure in study and in wisdom, enjoying the sensations that the knowledge we acquired in school produced. "Life is unlimited and the universe is eternal," our father told us every day. And my mother, who has always been a tireless reader, always told us:

 

 

- Learn that every hour is good to read a good book. We must enjoy the pleasure of all doctrines. How we wish to fall in love and mourn the misfortunes of the young Werther of Goethe, to think ourselves infinite and belonging to a superior race reading Nietzsche and to feel tired and miserable reading Schopenhauer.
It was the great intelligence and the enormous desire to know and educate of my mother, the force that pushed us into the wonderful universe of books and education. It was that way and with a lot of effort, because our economy was very fragile, that everyone, one by one, went in search of knowledge. Rodrigo studied electricity in the SENA, Melida studied Industrial Engineering at the Catholic University of the East, Jorge studied Chemical Engineering at the University of Antioquia, Norelly PhD in social sciences, childhood and youth at the University of Antioquia, Ferley study Electrical Engineering U de A. and specialized in industrial instrumentation at the Polytechnic of Medellin and Yair de Jesus, the youngest, studied Civil Engineering at the National University of Colombia. And all because of efforts, desire and struggle, because my father was just a humble taxi driver from the beautiful town of La Ceja del Tambo.

 

 

My father has lived life, savoring it with recollection, and that taste did not learn it in books, it is necessary to live it and feel it from the heart, and, that is why, I am the first admirer of the happy and optimistic philosophy my father, because after reading the philosophy of the embittered idiots and dying as Schopenhauer, Fernando Gonzalez, Gonzalo Arango and all those nadaístas who managed to kill their spirits before they could pollute more, the Colombian youth, with their rotten thoughts. Writers and philosophers who open their bloody entrails, to get the admiration of a public that does not know, whether to imitate that disgusting behavior or reject the miserable postulates of those men without family and without hope. Writers who chose to die crushed by the weight of their admirers, because in the end they only thought of tearing their souls, to achieve the admiration of the homeless that life ran over. It is very sad to know that the great philosophers broke their hearts, to get praises that are like the bones that are thrown to dogs and make them jump for joy. The love of fame has made the great philosophers renounce life and it is very rare to find in our midst and perhaps in the whole world, a romantic like my father and like Goethe, who have loved the little details of the life that lead us to be eternal in the happiness of love.
Happiness is the pleasure of hearing us; it is the pleasure of feeling alive and being aware of our eternal grandeur. Because the universe is born in our minds, and a family structured with a love like that of my parents, matures the thought that leads us to know the final truth of our wonderful eternity.

 

And how not to be optimistic in this family of ours, so beautiful and under the immensity of this impressive blue sky that covers me while I'm writing? ... We have to look for new loves if we do not have them, and wish to unify, consciously, with the whole universe. Yes? ... And what is the impulse that makes us love, this way, life? ... It is the early discovery of our divinity, because we are made in the image and likeness of God. We are unlimited and ETERNAL. And it was my father, the one who discovered that the man and his family are the size of their desires. And why does my father live happy and happy, with his family and with himself? ... Because he always loved the little he could get, after a childhood in complete misery, because all his desires are satisfied and he has no doubt of our eternity.
- It is not necessary to submit to live trembling like a leaf, and live with the soul cowering because of fear. We have to live with courage, without fear, because God protects us and gives us everything we need. - I always said, my father, when a little difficulty scared me on the way.

The natural philosophy of my father is a philosophy in which everything is sweet to the soul and even small sufferings are honey for the spirit. The man laughs, grows and runs through the fields, picking flowers, butterflies, bats and birds, and dreaming of all the wonders that can be imagined. My father has always lived happily, surprised by all the beautiful stories that life gave him. Sometimes it was his mother who told him the story of the Virgin Mary and how Jesus Christ walked on the waters, resurrected the dead and multiplied the loaves and fish to give food to his hungry people, and other times the peasants were the who told him fantastic stories, of the patasola, of goblins, and of witches that flew wrapped in balls of fire. Witches who could cure or increase all evils, according to their convenience, and were stories that enhanced the grandeur of his soul and his eternity, because everything announced that the universe is magical and nobody told him about the end. All those adventures were poetry and honey for his soul. He was the man who was beginning to become wise, his life became an eternal smile and he no longer had to run through the fields, because the fields come to him in a symphony of colors and delicious smells, accompanied by the celestial singing of the Goldfinches Dream of love and live stories that continue to fill the heart with joy. Stories that always awaken in his soul desires to continue living and, that's why in his mind the concepts of beginning and end disappeared, and everything was a delicious eternity. These first ninety years of life of that wonderful man, reveal a passionate man, who loves music, who loves his children and who loves life. A passionate man who, without a doubt, is the philosopher and the poet of sincere love. He always knew how to choose the subtlest and most beautiful words to address his wife, children and grandchildren.

 

- He is a profound man, - I told the writer inside me - that he knows how to love intensely and, you, dear reader, who also loves love stories, will surely interest this magnificent story. My father is a man with an immense and beautiful soul, who only learned the art of loving other people. He is passionate about the welfare of his family and the humblest, and as he knows how to love intensely, he is infected with the happiness and joy of his love.
It was that day, the day I started writing this book and I'm putting all the love, and all the energy of me, because that's the way my father taught me to live.
My father's philosophy was a philosophy different from those fools who longed for death, and, those poor men, who could never discover the true purpose of their lives and the magical joy of living, will remain in their cold and gray tombs, accompanied by their defeatist and aching postulates.
- "How wrong they were and how blind were Nietzsche, Tolstoy, Verlaine and Schopenhauer, who in the midst of their pessimism could not appreciate the spellbound flight of the colorful butterflies, could not taste the delights of the new bread, made in the kitchen of the family. Those crazy fools, could not discover the immortality in the eyes of my beautiful grandchildren, and only filled with pain a timid and scary humanity, that still shudders with the pamphlets of pain and misery that they wrote. Now they are poor dead people, that life will remember like the black birds that sang to death "- said my father eloquently.

For many, having only a humble meal is cause for sadness, while for us, that our father came from absolute poverty, was an immense joy. Comparing the experiences that we have had to live, we have formed a scale of values ​​in which everything is good, it is joy, without forgetting the past of our origin. After living many years in this beautiful town, I have to say that the people of La Ceja is the best thing that could have happened to us.
To live is to change constantly, thus, while we lived in this beautiful municipality, we went from one state to another, often with difficulties, but always improving. There were very pleasant moments and others not so much, but always facing life with courage and with much respect for our neighbors and friends.
"I always said when I felt happy and my children were climbing different steps of improvement: If we could always live like this. But no. The small, normal difficulties of life were presented, which motivated us more to continue fighting, and each day became a new challenge and a new struggle ... Do not believe, either, that everything was a beautiful pink story, because One day the death came unexpectedly, and the oldest of my children, Rodrigo Eliecer, died in a traffic accident. Everything was a huge sea of ​​pain. I felt as if my soul was torn apart and I understood that the death of a child is the most painful thing a human being can endure. At that moment I understood that happiness and pain are inseparable, and that children are like parts of oneself. Losing a child is like losing a hand, or a foot or the same heart. "

 

About six o'clock in the morning on a sad Monday, the first of June 1991, from my bed I felt someone knocking insistently on the door of my house. My mother took a long time, while getting up, to attend the surprise visit. I heard desperate voices saying something to my mother and she started screaming. I got up quickly, to find out what was happening and my father, who had already heard the news, told me in a voice broken with anguish:
- Well, son, so I'll look to see if it's true that Rodrigo killed himself last night in a traffic accident in "San Diego"
- How! - I screamed in despair, but keeping calm returned to my room, and quickly dressed.
- Calm down - I said, trying to calm down the collective despair a little - I go and look to see if it's true, and then I notice them.
They called a taxi and with Norelly, I went in search of the terrible reality.
Yes sir. The taxi turned on the roundabout of "San Diego" and about a hundred meters away were the authorities and a group of onlookers.
I got off the taxi and, on the floor, they were lying, completely bloodied, Juan Carlos Rendón a neighbor very close to the family and Rodrigo my older brother. I approached and touched my brother's cheek and was completely frozen by the cold of death. I watched the pupil of his eyes fully dilated and I knew there was nothing to do. My brother was completely dead and his friend was also dead. Norelly was crying like a crazy woman, lying on the floor hugging the corpse, I wanted to push her away and when I took the dead man's skull away from her, she rattled like an egg shell when it broke. My brother had fractured his head, completely, against a rock of those that protect the front of the houses of the field. In a few minutes the corresponding authorities made the removal of the corpses and in a car we took them to the morgue of the municipality of "El Retiro", which was where the diligence corresponded. I looked for a public telephone, I dialed my house and Mélida de La Cruz, my older sister, answered me and I said:

 

- Yes, it's true; Rodrigo killed himself on a motorcycle.
- On the other side of the line the screams were heard the cry of many people, who lost their last hope and my sister returned to the phone and said:
- Stay there, making him prepare, that I immediately send him the funeral home to pick them up.
I was completely alone, because Norelly had returned with the taxi driver who took us. And in a very beautiful garden of the cemetery park of "El Retiro" Antioquia, contemplating the flowering roses, I sat down to wait for them to fix the mortal remains of my elder brother.
That was a very painful moment in our lives and the biggest grief my parents have ever experienced.
Time passed and the wounds of that untimely death began to heal slowly, although my father and my mother kept their heads down, unable to overcome the pain, but nine months after the terrible accident, Carolina Soto Marin, my firstborn daughter, was born. and first granddaughter of my parents, who brought with her smile the balm that began to heal the wound in the soul of my parents. The girl began to grow and became the adoration of those grandparents, who finally could understand that life continued and that death is just one more test on the long road of our evolution to eternity.
After my daughter were born, Mateo Andrei Soto Londoño, my other son, and the children of Norelly, Luis Miguel and Juan José, and the daughter of Ferley, Maria Alejandra, and the son of Yair, Geronimo Soto Velez and today, twelve of October 2016, my daughter is already finishing her career at the Universidad Pontific Bolivariana, my son Mateo studies Psychology at the University of Antioquia and my father every Monday goes to the cemetery and prays and brings flowers to Rodrigo, to Doctor Demetrio Chica Garcés, his wife and Mr. Mario Lopez, two of his most beloved friends who have already rested in the peace of the Lord, and then he goes to "La Ceiba", his barracks of my battles, where he goes every day, to his almost ninety years, to play cards, to drink red and chat with his friends. We, all of us, remain very happy in our beloved town La Ceja del Tambo.

My father thought more than the other men of his time and although he had almost no education, he possessed in matters of the spirit, a serene objectivity, a tranquil wisdom that only truly spiritual persons have; those people who have freed themselves from all materialistic ambitions and are not interested in shining or standing out from others.
The look of my father was serene and happy; its content was a poem to hope and that was what he told his family and friends. Its supreme realization was THE FAMILY, a happiness converted into philosophy and habit. The look of my father pierces penetrating and loving, all the universe of our reality, all the desire to live and fortunately, that paternal gaze still deepens more, coming to point the right way to each of us, their children and grandchildren . That optimistic look of love reaches the heart of all humanity, eloquently expressing the happy philosophy of a thinker, perhaps a wise man, in the dignity of a good life and in the happy and loving sense of what the human survival The look of my father said: "! Observe the grandiosity of the human being! Observe the men who overcome themselves and rise from the mud, to be useful to society! ... And all triumph, all celebrity, all conquest of the spirit, all the advances towards the great, the sublime and the eternal within the humanity, we must share it to defeat pessimism and existential emptiness. In this way I could see that the philosophy of a humble man like my father is the antithesis of many of the aphorisms of philosophers such as Nietzsche, Schopenhauer and Novalis, who formed within themselves, a capacity for unlimited and terrible suffering; In the same way I understood that the wonderful instinct of survival continues to triumph in the hope of a better life for all. Here I have to interject a psychological observation, because I feel the direct heir of my father's philosophy; I have, however, a great foundation to think that the total absence of my father from the regular school, guided by severe and religious teachers, who educated and educated with the sense that makes the "break of the will" the basis of education, saved him from that premature slavery to which almost all children in our society are subjected. Fortunately, the destruction of the personality, the breakdown of the will and the terrible guilt of the supposed original sin, did not work with this centenary disciple who rarely attended the traumatic and alienating educational system of Colombia. The street was formed by a strong and hard man, proud and truly spiritual. Instead of destroying his personality, that void of education forced him to find his own truths based on love. In favor of himself, in favor of that innocent and noble child who was orphaned as a father at the age of nine, he directed all his life the perfect balance of justice, the strength of his capacity for thought. As regards others, their family and friends, those around them, they constantly make the most heroic and loving attempts to love them, to do them justice, so as not to cause them any harm, since the "soul to you" neighbor as yourself "was deeply ingrained by the favors he received in Santo Domingo and in La Ceja Antioquia, when he was barely a child. And in that way, all his life has been a proof that without love, to one's own person, it is also impossible to love one's neighbor.
My father who is the first free man I could meet. He lives in a special way and with the tranquility of a fish in the water, but I could always appreciate that from his own universe, from his beloved freedom, he respects the order of our society and loves that order as firm and secure, as at home and peace, towards which he has always manifested all his

Respect.

 

Well, I've already told you a lot. No more reports or more narrations are needed, to understand that my father has lived a humble but happy life. They have been simple experiences that have taken him through life, as in a kind of mission that has strengthened him and made him better. The universe has put great tests, but not in the sense of arbitrary tests, if not by way of an intensive course to participate in psychic processes, deeply lived, with the garment of everyday events in which even the Land Roverd car, vehicle with great deficiencies in the braking system, he turned three times in which his life was in danger and forced him to rethink his mission and cling to her and his family with all the strength of his heart. It was the economic shortage, it was the daily struggle for a piece of bread that had to be brought to the table of his wife and children, the vital impulse that confronted him in an interesting struggle of life, which made him look surprisingly animated, rejuvenated, full of life and always truly cheerful.
Each era, each culture, each custom and tradition, have their style, have their peculiar tenderness and difficulties, their cruelties and beauties; certain sufferings are considered as natural and certain limitations are accepted with patience, because centenarian men like my father, reveal to us with their experience that their whole life is a game of probabilities in which, at all costs, we should try to be happy. It is incredible the vital force that my father has shown, and that he continues to show when he approaches his first century of life, and still keeps his instinct for survival intact. I do not explain why the young people of this era, which have everything in abundance, become depressed and turn life into a real sea of ​​pain. Could it be that the antiquated and inhuman Prussian model of education, imposed by the bourgeoisie of our country to young people, qualifying them from zero to five, in which the vast majority are filled with despair and the internal vacuum is growing, to rob them the desire to live and love? ...

 

 

Well, but let's leave behind the outdated educational models, which our society has already begun to correct and focus on the protagonist of this story, which every day, full of gratitude, sits in the front yard of his house, to read the newspaper that informs him that the most powerful man on earth, Donald Trump, does not understand and knows nothing about what global warming is, that the bombings in Syria continue and that in a single day more than two hundred people and sixty children have died among them . My beloved father, with melancholy, places a CD of Carlos Gardel on the new sound equipment, which his youngest son sent him from Bogotá, and the atmosphere is flooded with the pitiful song of the tangos, which are a song to fight and the hope of men. With gratitude he tunes the strings of his century-old guitar, to sing a psalm of measured gratitude, in the midst of the difficulties of a planet governed by the ambition of material things. The environment is covered with the joy and optimism of a struggle that continues in search of happiness, despite everything that happens around our society. The self-satisfaction of a mission that continues to be fulfilled is very beautiful, although there is no shortage of worries and the days are barely bearable; in which one does not dare to shout neither pleasure nor pain; where life does nothing but whisper and walk on tiptoe, before the great mistakes of the leaders of humanity. Now, with my father, it was always the case, fortunately, that he always endured easily the daily challenges of life, turning them into small triumphs that always filled him with joy and love. Life became a concert of tangos; every day you hear an ancient magnificent music. Then, between the bars of a pianissimo passage, played by bandoneons, the door of the beyond opens and my father does not resist anything in the world, nor fears anything, and affirms everything and gives his heart to everything. The morning concert is lived every day and I live it up close as I write this book, like a golden path, divine, always wrapped in the peace and happiness of the duty fulfilled.

Every day I listen from the warm comfort of my bed, the cheerful song of my father when he showers at six in the morning and I am the lucky spectator, of the concert of a man who found happiness in the middle of the simplicity of the lifetime.
Hide the sun, are almost a hundred years of happiness, the propitious hour for the dream begins, for the unlimited dreams of an old man and for the dreams of an eternal lover ... For dreams with life and for dreams with death, which, ironically It is eternal life. The rainbows and the clouds colored by the sun, rise in the twilight of a beautiful life, if you can call sunset the summary of knowledge and wisdom, if you can call sunset the celestial peace that we It makes us eternal in life.
- What do my children say? ... My children say:
- Thanks, dad, for giving us life, thanks for teaching us how to live and we hope you will be with us for many more years.
I stare at the clouds and they begin to turn into white, yellow and red roses, filling the sky with beautiful colors. Then huge butterflies appear, with vibrant neon colors and they chase each other, playful and cheerful ... How melancholy is the twilight and how nice and reassuring are the clouds! ...
And the old man talking slowly told us:
- Be calm that I am eternal.
He smiles and then abyshes in the lake of his music and his memories, in that lake of crystalline and calm waters, which were always his universe.
END.