ARTURO ALAPE
Cali, November 3, 1938 -
Bogotá, October 7, 2006, 11 pm ....
Goodbye MASTER ...
We are deeply saddened ...
Yet in his memory, sing and hear boleros ... ---
Fourth publication (October 11, 2006) text, messages, comments, etc. after their death * Third study (Oct. 10, 2006) is shown in http://arturoalape. blogspot.com/2006/10/adis-al-maestro-tercera-publicacin.html
* The second publication (October 9, 2006) can be viewed at: http://arturoalape.blogspot.com/2006_10_09_arturoalape_archive. html
* The first publication (October 8, 2006) can be viewed at: http://arturoalape.blogspot.com/2006/10/arturo-alape-adis-maestro-estamos.html
picture in http://www.redyaccion.com/ Action Network and
... GOODBYE TO ALAPE. Arturo Alape was a great storyteller (his book Tirofijo deaths remains a classic of the genre) and the most knowledgeable historian on April 9. His death deprives us of a great storyteller, an excellent writer and a man left of copy consistency.
DE: Two months of Uribe 2: the compass lost (Fragment final)
BY Daniel Samper Pizano * cambalache@mail.ddnet.es
TIME, Oct. 11, 2006
http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/opinion/2006-10- 11/ARTICULO-WEB-NOTA_INTERIOR-3280296.html
+ + +
TO THE MEMORY OF ALAPE
For Manuel Bermúdez
Tiberio 20Alape.htm http://www.redyaccion.com/Arturo% (MATRIX: http://www.redyaccion.com/ )
Photo: http://www.redyaccion.com/fotos/alape.jpg
The news of the death of Arturo Alape, on Saturday 7 October in Bogotá, whose real name Carlos Arturo Ruiz was, I hit hard on the soul. Visitors since 1998 was applied every two years Caicedonia to keep the appointment that we put the organizers of The Gathering of Writers for Peace in Colombia .
We made friends with him, his way of being, their vertical positions as their life, their joy and their spicy comments called laughter. Caicedonia all, he recognized when he walked through the streets and violence marked the past you had to suffer to that piece of land Valle del Cauca. Many conservatives
cartoons made by the activity that developed during the event to relax or to congratulate those who are put between their eyes and their Book drawing.
I keep a piece I wrote when in 2000 (if I "desfechado") joined us for a meeting of writers, but those who read beyond the words we say or shut up his eyes look sad. It was the last time he was in exile under pressure from violent forces lurking living in this country of violence. The text is as follows:
"We invite a second time, and then again said yes to the call for CORPOCAICA.
came loaded with thoughts, vertical position as it has always taken over his life, but you could see the sadness. Could further affect the discretion and questioned him sad for such brilliance that lay deep into their eyes and hinted in every sentence, every word, every smile silent, that anything was wrong.
with muted voice, so that the wind did not discover his fears, he said "I leave the country" does not need more words, I realized that once again the hatred of war in a country of hatred, it condemned, as so many others, exile, deportation, to flee to protect only truly valuable thing we human beings: life.
His presentation said it all for those who find the words that others huddled not watching. His presentation had the taste of a goodbye that would not give. The title: "The Poet in Exile" . Alape definitive in pointing began by saying:
"Scripture of Terror in Colombia, announced that writing and transmitted by sick minds and a barren hate, has a long history. It is a book that seeks to create in the man alluded to, the tingle of your skin when you get up with the frost of fear and his breath stirred a dull buzz becomes a worm stuck in their mouth.
is a book that handcuff the man whom it is addressed, the inertia of their own helplessness, it stirred his emotions unknown dimensions and upsets his own interiority. Fearing the man becomes a dead man walking everyday live, to disguise their body with clothes outside and different thoughts.
are many symbolic meanings of the Scripture perverse: representation of death that comes without announcement, the Chinese fear as drip hits the consciousness, the uncertainty that covers the eyes with the dark perpetual suspicion and distrust of the inner circle family affection and love, the imaginary prelude growing hatred and revenge against an unseen enemy. "
And from the possibilities offered by condemning his conviction for us to sensed: "The voice caged in a premeditated silence again foreshadowing the announcement of the threat decreed in writing: nervous poet picks up the phone in the hours of the morning, no answer, just listen to the purr of a cough inaudible, the poet releases the device and brought uncertainty not fall asleep, the phone rings, it is raised, no answers, on the other side of the line answers the ominous rumble of a cough. Try sleeping
embraced the body of his companion, who wakes up has not lost its hustle details nervous. Open eyes on the poet, leafless trees fall like hundreds of butterflies who are fleeing the dream could not catch them. He seeks refuge by crying silently dying as a monosyllabic fragments of his poem, "Book notes ":
Every friend is alive in my book. / His name written there recreates my affection / printed red signs in babbling blue / dark green-key in poring slogan or line their own paradise ./... And if he gets a friend, a partner / as black beam that stiffens their steps / must clear their names of wine or doves / and so the van crossing my trembling dedos. / .Quizá he also might delete your name from your address book notes, to become invisible as a man and a presence in undecipherable arabesque, lost and crushed in small white pages. The poet has received three pamphlets with death threats, for presiding over an institution of solidarity with Cuba and the innocence of his actions and his firm, which others use as political and ideological rubble. "
Grief hits us in every word, every turn verbal, each complaint that involves more than their integrity. "The symbolic representation of the Book of Terror had its gross advances in public demonstrations, for example, in the doors and windows of those who were targeted for death, painted red crosses rough. Also, the voice began to replace the written word: a boy of fifteen with acute and melodious voice gave a serenade in the early morning hours, before the house of the family chosen for the rite of collective death. And it was not by chance, the day following the family united in their blood had ceased to exist by reason of his political thinking: so simple were the results of the serenade.
Then the script would crumpled papers developing a sound: that of death. The balanced pulse fingers of the murderer, after shooting with patience crossed off the names of the victims and mission accomplished, the crumpled paper returned to pocket. The official or vigilante assassin memorized the following name: the gun ready, oiled still hidden in the waistband, rested and dreamed that night. " We went
Alape and his absence hurts ... ..
BY Daniel Samper Pizano * cambalache@mail.ddnet.es
TIME, Oct. 11, 2006
http://www.eltiempo.com/tiempoimpreso/edicionimpresa/opinion/2006-10- 11/ARTICULO-WEB-NOTA_INTERIOR-3280296.html
+ + +
TO THE MEMORY OF ALAPE
For Manuel Bermúdez
Tiberio 20Alape.htm http://www.redyaccion.com/Arturo% (MATRIX: http://www.redyaccion.com/ )
Photo: http://www.redyaccion.com/fotos/alape.jpg
The news of the death of Arturo Alape, on Saturday 7 October in Bogotá, whose real name Carlos Arturo Ruiz was, I hit hard on the soul. Visitors since 1998 was applied every two years Caicedonia to keep the appointment that we put the organizers of The Gathering of Writers for Peace in Colombia .
We made friends with him, his way of being, their vertical positions as their life, their joy and their spicy comments called laughter. Caicedonia all, he recognized when he walked through the streets and violence marked the past you had to suffer to that piece of land Valle del Cauca. Many conservatives
cartoons made by the activity that developed during the event to relax or to congratulate those who are put between their eyes and their Book drawing.
I keep a piece I wrote when in 2000 (if I "desfechado") joined us for a meeting of writers, but those who read beyond the words we say or shut up his eyes look sad. It was the last time he was in exile under pressure from violent forces lurking living in this country of violence. The text is as follows:
"We invite a second time, and then again said yes to the call for CORPOCAICA.
came loaded with thoughts, vertical position as it has always taken over his life, but you could see the sadness. Could further affect the discretion and questioned him sad for such brilliance that lay deep into their eyes and hinted in every sentence, every word, every smile silent, that anything was wrong.
with muted voice, so that the wind did not discover his fears, he said "I leave the country" does not need more words, I realized that once again the hatred of war in a country of hatred, it condemned, as so many others, exile, deportation, to flee to protect only truly valuable thing we human beings: life.
His presentation said it all for those who find the words that others huddled not watching. His presentation had the taste of a goodbye that would not give. The title: "The Poet in Exile" . Alape definitive in pointing began by saying:
"Scripture of Terror in Colombia, announced that writing and transmitted by sick minds and a barren hate, has a long history. It is a book that seeks to create in the man alluded to, the tingle of your skin when you get up with the frost of fear and his breath stirred a dull buzz becomes a worm stuck in their mouth.
is a book that handcuff the man whom it is addressed, the inertia of their own helplessness, it stirred his emotions unknown dimensions and upsets his own interiority. Fearing the man becomes a dead man walking everyday live, to disguise their body with clothes outside and different thoughts.
are many symbolic meanings of the Scripture perverse: representation of death that comes without announcement, the Chinese fear as drip hits the consciousness, the uncertainty that covers the eyes with the dark perpetual suspicion and distrust of the inner circle family affection and love, the imaginary prelude growing hatred and revenge against an unseen enemy. "
And from the possibilities offered by condemning his conviction for us to sensed: "The voice caged in a premeditated silence again foreshadowing the announcement of the threat decreed in writing: nervous poet picks up the phone in the hours of the morning, no answer, just listen to the purr of a cough inaudible, the poet releases the device and brought uncertainty not fall asleep, the phone rings, it is raised, no answers, on the other side of the line answers the ominous rumble of a cough. Try sleeping
embraced the body of his companion, who wakes up has not lost its hustle details nervous. Open eyes on the poet, leafless trees fall like hundreds of butterflies who are fleeing the dream could not catch them. He seeks refuge by crying silently dying as a monosyllabic fragments of his poem, "Book notes ":
Every friend is alive in my book. / His name written there recreates my affection / printed red signs in babbling blue / dark green-key in poring slogan or line their own paradise ./... And if he gets a friend, a partner / as black beam that stiffens their steps / must clear their names of wine or doves / and so the van crossing my trembling dedos. / .Quizá he also might delete your name from your address book notes, to become invisible as a man and a presence in undecipherable arabesque, lost and crushed in small white pages. The poet has received three pamphlets with death threats, for presiding over an institution of solidarity with Cuba and the innocence of his actions and his firm, which others use as political and ideological rubble. "
Grief hits us in every word, every turn verbal, each complaint that involves more than their integrity. "The symbolic representation of the Book of Terror had its gross advances in public demonstrations, for example, in the doors and windows of those who were targeted for death, painted red crosses rough. Also, the voice began to replace the written word: a boy of fifteen with acute and melodious voice gave a serenade in the early morning hours, before the house of the family chosen for the rite of collective death. And it was not by chance, the day following the family united in their blood had ceased to exist by reason of his political thinking: so simple were the results of the serenade.
Then the script would crumpled papers developing a sound: that of death. The balanced pulse fingers of the murderer, after shooting with patience crossed off the names of the victims and mission accomplished, the crumpled paper returned to pocket. The official or vigilante assassin memorized the following name: the gun ready, oiled still hidden in the waistband, rested and dreamed that night. " We went
Alape and his absence hurts ... ..
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