April and May 2007 ASHES OF ALAPE. The Farewell Bear son. BEAR SON'S FAREWELL
(* The photograph is published in Cronopios)
8 years ago in this very spot Transit goodbye to Grandma. At that time my father read a text about his mother, the tenacity and strength of will that enabled him to raise their six children. We all were moved. Accompanied by the sadness of his final farewell ashes launched Transit from the hill of Christ the King in Cali . Today we are back together, but this time my father, brother, comrade, we're going to lay off celebrating the same ritual.
many years ago, when I was a kid, my father told me the story of Father and son bear Bear. It was the story of a large bear, brown, fighter and great fisherman. Bear Father taught him to bear his child to be great to be a bear, to behave with respect for nature that surrounded them. Taught him the secrets of the forest, the quality of good wood to scratch his back, the patience to catch the big fish and not boys. The stealth against trappers precious. Every afternoon at the end of the disciplined learning journeys, sitting in front of the west, the son Teddy asked, "Daddy when you taking me to the top of the mountain where you can touch the sun? Son, go up the mountain when you're ready sun with your own hands, replied Father Bear patient every time.
One morning Father and son bear started climbing the great mountain. On the appointed day had arrived. It was an exhausting day, and only the late afternoon, when daylight began to wane, reached the top. Son Bear looked around and saw disappointed that the sun was not where he always believed I would find. He was in the mountain front, even farther than usual. Just when he was about to claim his father angrily hopeful again, Dad pushed the teddy bear down the mountain. Teddy rolled continuously until the valley separating the two mountains. Already great son. You should now take the path of your own way and find your own mountain and your own setting, the father said with a gentle roar that reverberated in the echo of the Valley.
Today from this mountain, the mountain of my grandmother and my father, and to Cali, City memory, I feel that this story takes on its full dimension. Was time to move forward alone, carrying on our backs the teachings and example of my father's solid, and find our own path.
Many years after hearing this story and as many alligators, centipedes, elephants, horses and many other animals, Alape heat told me a few drinks and the murmur of boleros, son, you are the most important thing in my life, more Paloma is still a child and still depends on me. But with you, he said, are my books and paintings.
In these days I have to rigorously that talk in the backyard of La Soledad. The statements from that night are telling about their own lives, the constant evolution between the intellectual and human fulfillment. My eyes of a child, my childhood memories became clearer to observe intensely enjoy parenthood. I was lucky to see him raise Paloma, its Dove, the adoration of his life. She gave her time off and Best of the human experience. In his mind was the girl at all times. As a responsible man knew that the love and the love of a father should range from the sentimental and material responsibilities. Enjoyed the same intensity the world that was discovered before the eyes of his daughter as the launch of his books and the openings of his exhibitions. In a Bogotá Book Fair sat down to autograph "The bonfire of illusions" with Paloma in the legs. The signed and drew a dove in every autograph and then the girl made a little drawing on the same page. I was happy. It was the highest human achievement: his work and his girl. My father decided
ago almost 40 years to leave the army and militant political struggle to surrender to the construction of their history, their own work through the writing and color, as he would. Since then the discipline that characterized wrote his books and painted their pictures. Hundreds of independent works, including paintings, articles, books, conferences, account for a valuable intellectual production. During this time of incessant work, Alape lived between the production of his work, his public life and private life and family. Therefore, in his life journey was important the presence of companions with whom he shared his deepest loves.
Alape, love persistent, was a generous and friendly companion, who did not evade their responsibilities to couples after the selfishness of personal fulfillment. Teresa Montealegre, my mother, not only with him learned the trade from his life, book publishing, but he inherited forever deep love for the utopia of the Revolution. Olga Restrepo shared the final push to consolidate the way of research, for her academic career, Olga Janeth Garcia accompanied him on the fateful journey of the first exile, but most of all shared with him his greatest joy: Paloma's soul life. Katia Gonzalez, his faithful companion in recent battles enjoyed one of the most productive periods of his career, and discovered new worlds together. These days
have published many articles on Alape, the figure, the public man, some referred to their work, their school methodological or intellectual value of their work. Others mention human integrity, courage, intellectual and political commitment. But few, if any, accounts of what those present know: the history of his family and grandmother Transit, poverty and the struggle to succeed that forever shaped the character of his temperament. A fight to the father's absence was mitigated by the hardness of a mother who gave everything for their children. That story marked him forever and outlined the path of his life. Alape never forgot his origins. He was a man in one piece, as my Uncle Gonzalo. He was always himself, an honest man and worker, as he learned to his mother. No disrespect to anyone used without reason, but fought until the last moment with everything that he did not correct: stubbornness that won quite a few surprises.
His dry, perhaps shaped by the harshness of life in its early years, sometimes turned away. I used to talk about things that were important to him, so it was hard to get words, sit down and talk to "anything." But it was always there to listen to their loved ones. With his friends enjoyed intimate nights drinking literature, politics, love, music, always accompanied by the fraternity of friends built with the tenacity of life. To his sisters advised them in their difficult moments Gonzalo took him through the path of the graphic arts for life was won by the rest of the day. Was always close to his brother Alvaro, but at the end of his years and despite the distance of their universes, and perhaps with the complicity of older siblings, shook his links with a stunning force. Not for nothing was he to whom my father gave his last speech of the soul in the room the hospital where he died: his eyes to see revived and extended his left hand. After that did not reopen.
To me life taught me these days their human face. Life and death in less than a week. Thirty years after the children understood why they put the name of the parents. Because having a child is to become a father.
Daddy: you will not know your grandson, but my son will hear the stories of animals that have made us so happy and taught us so much. Know the legacy of your work and get me the same thing we require of you a deep sense of training enabling them to imagine their own worlds and discover Dreams and mountains. ---
upgraded, GRA / NTC, January 6, 2007
of the published image GAZETTE of Cali El Pais 
