Odyssey To Opportunity

ODYSSEY TO OPPORTUNITY

© 2009 Roger R. Fernández

Smashwords Edition

Also by Roger R. Fernández

Odyssey Fulfilled

Beyond My Odyssey

Odyssey Resumed

To my mother

whose vision and personal sacrifice

made this Odyssey possible

PROLOGUE

My friendship with Roger Fernández dates from the summer of 1987. Since then, we have shared a frank and open relationship which accounts, in part, for me taking on the difficult task of writing the foreword to his autobiography.

What follows is, in essence, the story of a life’s struggle. I will not attempt an assessment of Odyssey to Opportunity. Neither do I wish to expound on the message the book aims to convey. I have reserved these lines to express my admiration for the writer and the course of his life and professional career. The tale I shall allow to speak for itself.

As the chronicle begins, the Spanish Civil War is nearing its climax. From that moment, Roger is caught up in the turbulence of the times. From tending flock in his native region of El Bierzo, he goes on to teach in South Africa, translate for the Cuban State Press Agency in Havana, and travel extensively through Europe and America. Finally, his career culminates in being elected head of the Department of Foreign Languages and Humanities of Los Angeles City College.

Each of these experiences have contributed to shaping the character, understanding, and humor of a remarkable man. As director of the Los Angeles Community College District’s International program in Salamanca, Spain, Roger has shown sympathy and tolerance for his students. In the anecdotes related here, the reader will sense the writer’s passion, gusto, and love of life.

Roger’s Odyssey reflects his personal striving to share in the opportunities present for all in America, but which for many, prove unattainable. This autobiography represents his commitment to the ideals which have given shape and meaning to his life, and, as such, offer an example of a life well lived. This is what makes Odyssey a story worth reading—and worth remembering.

Alfredo Miguel de Pablo

Founder and Director,

Colegio Hispánico Miguel de Unamuno

Salamanca, Spain

Chapter 1

SWIRLING WINDS OF CHANGE

April 1934.

The political climate of Spain was chaotic. In the elections seven months earlier, the ruling Left had been rejected in favor of the Right. Ignoring the will of the people, President Alcalá-Zamora bypassed Gil Robles, leader of the Right, and gave the government to Alejandro Lerroux, a Left-of-Center radical who once had this advice for his followers, according to Luis Bolín in his book, Spain: Vital Years: Pillage and sack this decadent civilization, destroy its churches and its gods; raise the veils worn by nuns and make mothers of them. Burn all title-deeds to private property and elevate the proletariat to judicial rank! Do not hesitate before sepulchers and altars! Fight! Kill! Die!!!

It was in this turbulent national environment that Roger Fernández was born on a cold but bright April 26 in the small mountain village of Salas de los Barrios, in the region of El Bierzo where man and nature coexist in harmony. With a delightful blending of fruitful valleys, picturesque landscapes of luxuriant growth and numerous hills crowned with vineyards or mountains of coal, El Bierzo is a zone of spectacular sights, idyllic living and opportunity to wealth. Its rivers Boeza, Cúa, Burbia, Sil, Valcarce, Selmo and Valdueza snake through the valleys bringing copious fertility and lush vegetation to an other-wise-barren land. Its capital, the ancient templar city of Ponferrada, projects hope with its economic vitality, and life with its festive and alluring customs. Located halfway between Madrid and La Coruña, the northwestern tip of Spain, El Bierzo became a most welcome and hospitable place of rest for pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela during the Middle Ages.

ANCESTRAL BACKGROUND

Being from a tiny, forsaken village was not an obstacle for Roger, but a challenge to success. He was the only one from Salas de los Barrios who left home and went thousands of miles away to study in foreign lands. In his adult life, he would live and work in three continents and would shake hands with some of the world’s notable and powerful.

On that April of 1934, however, Roger Fernández became the fifth child of a family that would eventually number eight children, four boys and four girls. Since 1931, the Fernández family, like the other sixty-or-so families of Salas, had been anguished and terrorized by national waves of crime, mass imprisonments, ceaseless persecution of the Church, hunger, hatred, blood and tears.

Roger came from parents opposite in ancestral background, formal education and purposeful aspiration. Don Antonio, the father, was born in Villar, near Salas de los Barrios, from a humble and poor family. He was the last of nine children and the only boy. He grew with little education, indulged by his parents and spoiled by his sisters. He had a heart of gold and a very generous disposition. A true peasant, he loved to work the outdoors and to attend fairs to exchange domestic animals to work the fields. He loved his children, who loved him very dearly in return, though he would not hesitate to use the belt as an instrument to discipline them. He was a warm human being, but his lack of education and the protective family life he led in Villar predisposed him to some harmful mistakes of judgment.

Doña Rosario, his very attractive wife, was born to a wealthy family. Her parents had left Spain for the Americas and settled in Rosario, Argentina where she was born. They returned to their native region of El Bierzo when she was ten years old. Unlike her husband, she was highly educated and very well read. Her ambition was to have her children attain good education as well. To that end, she spared no sacrifice. When the civil war ended in 1939, times became very rough. She would sell her ration of coffee, sugar and other supplies to pay someone to teach her children how to read.

She was a chapter of love, filled with pages of her children’s illusions and hurts, for her tenderness made them joyful when close to her and sorrowful when separated from her. When they faltered or when they felt sad and lonely, they turned to her for comfort, they sought her guiding light. She was the love, the life and the leaven that made children smile when they met her and men admire her gentle genius when around her. In truth, near her, people found a tender meaning to their lives.

MOLDING INFLUENCES

Throughout his life, Roger will not forget his father’s generosity and affection, nor his mother’s tenderness and spirit of sacrifice. In fact, he would quite often talk about his parents, especially his mother, as having been the ones who molded him into a caring and dedicated human being.

He noticed his father’s hard work in the fields, and his mother’s unselfishness and self-denial at home. He was proud of his father for opening his home to the farmers of Espinoso and Compludo who when traveling to the fair in Ponferrada on their screeching, oxen-driven carts, would stop to warm their hands and feet at the furnace, or to quench their thirst with a glass of wine. He marvelled at his mother’s kindness and warmth towards stranded travelers who would stop by the house in the middle of the night, seeking protection from the vicious cold of winter.

Unfortunately, the kindness and spirit of giving that Roger observed at home when he became of age to understand them were not the virtues prevailing in the nation at his birth. Killing of priests, burning of churches, highway robberies, political acts of vengeance, terrorizing chaos in the streets and countless crises in the central government: this was the social milieu in which Roger was born.

The downfall of the Lerroux government on April 28, 1934, did not do much to improve the situation, for the new government of Ricardo Samper and those that followed it were unable to check the radicalization of political positions that would lead Spain precipitously towards a catastrophic civil war.

A ravaging civil war did in fact engulf the country in flames two years later. It caused devastation and bloodshed to the nation in general, and great amount of suffering and deprivation to the once comfortable Fernández family in particular. The pain was indeed overwhelming, for the weight of the scarcity of food was compounded by the sorrow of political division at home.

Yet, in this climate of political violence and religious persecution, Don Florencio, the village priest who frequently had to go in hiding, exercised a decisive influence on little Roger. That holy man initiated this future educator to an intellectual as well as spiritual life. Roger loved to serve Mass for Don Florencio, who, recognizing a certain ability in him, decided to teach him reading and the elements of Latin and mathematics. Occasionally, when he saw hunger in Roger’s face, he would invite him to the garden and treat him to the fruit of several trees to satisfy that appetite.

Roger was baptized in San Martín, a sixteenth century church declared a monumento in 1976. No other church could best symbolize his future life than San Martín where he loved to go to ring the bells and serve Mass. Perched in a little hill, it majestically overlooks the colorful Bierzo valley, rich in agricultural products and vegetation. In its solitude, it evokes peace, tranquility, recollection, spirituality and eternal hope, the appropriate recipe for the forging of Roger’s character.

The religious pageantry produced great impression on Roger or Gerín, as he used to be called with affection. The Christmas nativity scene in the village main church and the Easter procession with the meeting at the main plaza of the crying Virgin and her son carrying the heavy cross were among the happiest memories of his childhood. He frequently evoked them in later life to relive them in his mind and remind himself of some moments of bliss in a village whose political intrigues brought pain and tears to his struggling family.

The first blow to the Fernández family unity and happiness came when Don Antonio, the father, ignored his wife’s advice and left the village with their second oldest son Antonio, and their oldest daughter Delia, to look for work in Irún, near the French border, hundreds of miles away. They stayed near Doña Aurora, Delia’s favorite aunt. The move was disastrous, however, for within six months they returned with no money in their pockets and many debts to be paid.

Life in Salas de los Barrios became a difficult ordeal for the Fernández family. Doña Rosario, the mother, took care of the rest of the children and kept them busy working the fields in their father’s absence. This clairvoyant and courageous woman managed the family affairs well, defying the prevailing wisdom that a woman could not attend to the needs of a farming family.

Some incidents occurred, however, that would have never occurred had she not been required to be both a father and a mother to the children. Once, she had to go to Ponferrada to buy coal for the house. She had to walk. It took her five hours. During that time, Roger, either to assert his masculinity or to show his strength, took a wooden hammer and hit his older sister Dorita over the head with it. Turning on the floor with pain and tears in her eyes she kept saying: Wait till mom returns. I’ll tell her on you. Fearing that he had done some serious damage to his sister and fearing his mom’s wrath, Roger knelt down and asked repeatedly for forgiveness. The family learned about this only a few years later.

On another occasion, Roger and his younger sister Lidia were playing, coming down a little hill on a wooden raft, right in front of the house. Roger was to ride the raft and Lidia was to push it down the slope. Soon Lidia wised-up and decided that she should go down the slope too and told her brother of her wish. Roger complied but showed unhappiness. He pushed his sister down the slope, ran to the bottom to meet her and when they were both at the bottom of the hill and she was still in the raft, he decided to pee on her head. Lidia ran home crying and screaming, letting everyone know what he had just done. This time, he got a well deserved spanking, and was retired to bed without supper.

So, when Don Antonio and Delia returned from Irún, Roger was not the same innocent little boy they had left behind. He no longer enjoyed serving Mass or being taught by the village priest. He would rather play with his friends, much to the chagrin of his aunt and god-mother, Doña Antonia, whose whole ambition was for Roger to become a priest. When at table his father or mother would ask the question: How is Don Florencio? or what did he teach you today? he could not tell a lie because his pious, but nagging aunt would uncover it by asking a question of her own: what was the color of the chasuble the priest used for Mass? Since she had been at Mass she knew the answer. He did not.

Roger loved his teacher, Don José, and established a good relation with him. Don José used to tell Roger’s parents how well he was doing in school. However, he would like to play rather than to study, to observe nature rather than to sit in a classroom. In fact, the classes he enjoyed most were those that Don José frequently held in the meadows or in the woods. So, he decided to play hooky and enjoy nature on his own. This time his nagging aunt could not say anything, he thought to himself. His aunt did not, of course, but his teacher did.

Don Antonio did not hesitate to use the belt when Roger failed to fulfill his study duties, and Roger feared the belt. So, he thought of a way to outsmart his father. He would take the road to school, with his father watching, until he had turned into the street where the school was. Then he would turn back to the main street to verify that his father had gone back home. After that he would disappear into the vineyards until school was over.

This went on for a few days until Don José, suspecting that Roger’s absence was not due to illness, decided one day to go from school to the Fernández house and find the truth. Unaware of this, Roger went home too, as if nothing unusual was going on. Very soon he discovered that his nagging aunt was there. He overheard her saying: I told you he was up to no good. I told you he is becoming a bad boy.

That was enough for him to decide instantly to run away from home. He returned to the vineyards and stayed there, wandering around for some three to four long, agonizing hours until late that evening. Not knowing where to spend the night he opted to go back home to surrender and face the music. He figured that his parents would show sympathy towards him, just as in the case of the prodigal son in the Bible. What he got instead was a stern warning and the severe punishment of going to bed without supper, a very harsh and inhuman punishment, Roger thought, for though, he had stayed in the vineyards the whole day, he had not had anything to eat since breakfast. The grapes he so loved were not ripe yet.

Roger learned his lesson. From then on he faithfully attended classes and caught up with the work he had missed. It was a little difficult because Don José conducted his classes very professionally and did not feel compelled to waste other students’ time to repeat explanations for students who had missed class on purpose. Roger made up for time lost by staying during recreation time, doing work for a while.

TORMENTING REALITIES

After the Civil War, Spain was scorned by the rest of the world. At the urging of the United States, England and France, the United Nations ordered its members to recall their ambassadors from Madrid. Only two countries refused to go along, and helped the Spanish people: Argentina, because of Evita Perón, and Portugal.

Spain suffered not only from scarcity of food, but also from lack of medical supplies. In Salas de los Barrios this situation caused some deaths that could have easily been prevented had the world cared more about the suffering of the Spanish people and less about the political leanings of their new leader, Franco.

Don Sergio, owner of the only store in town and father of two of Roger’s friends, died one night, after a desperate effort by many people to save him failed. The doctor had come from Villar, and Roger’s oldest brother, Joaquín, rode a mule to Ponferrada, four miles away, to get the needed medication. When Joaquín returned, Don Sergio had already died.

More than any other death, Don Sergio’s symbolized the death of a town, for after Don Sergio’s burial, there seemed to be no more life in Salas. The town was quiet. The town was sad and pensive. Don Sergio’s children would no longer play with their many friends in their huge mansion. Roger had lost the warmth of a very loving and caring person, and what’s more, the pleasant companionship of his children who withdrew in mourning.

As sad and painful as Don Sergio’s death was to Roger, it was not as devastating, however, as that of his nine-year-old best friend Andresito. This was also another preventable death that happened at night. He died of diptheria. Andresito and Roger played together, served Mass together, were altar boys together at Don Sergio’s funeral. Now Roger had to be an altar boy at Andresito’s own burial.

Roger, closer to Andresito than to any other boy in town, could hardly control his emotions. Reliving happier occasions in his mind, he cried all the way up the hill to the cemetery, near San Martín church where they had shared so many fun and joyous moments, including their first holy communion and the daily games at the Roman ruins of San Juan’s arch near the school.

Those precious moments were to be no more. Gone were the cheerful visits to San Martín church and the nearby fountain. Gone were the games they used to play around San Juan’s arch. What remained were the happy memories of a warm friendship and a daily reminder of its tragic conclusion. For now, these were to be two real constants in Roger’s life, for he would have to pass by Andresito’s house on his way to school and think about his missing friend and the fragility of life.

In a very real sense, Andresito’s death became Roger’s awakening to the appreciation of life. This was a drama unnoticed by world leaders, but caused by their insensitivity and indifference to the Spanish people’s suffering, and their misdirected isolation and punishment of the Franco regime. Therein lies the tragedy of postwar Spain, a true and bitter tragedy, dampened with the dry but real tears of millions of innocent Spaniards who continued hurting while the United Nations directed the rest of the world to ignore their plight.

The guns of the war had long been silenced, but the signs of civil turmoil were still visible in Salas de los Barrios. A small detachment of soldiers was stationed there not only to maintain peace, but also to keep people in line and to prevent looting. At first, they used Don Sergio’s huge cellar as their barracks, adjacent to Roger’s house. Later on, they moved their barracks to a mansion that was located at the entrance of town to control the curfew better and to make their surveillance easier.

While they were still at Don Sergio’s place, strong bonds of friendship developed between the soldiers and the Fernández children. Roger was fascinated by their uniform and attracted by their kindness towards the young people of the village. He would often go to see them march towards the hills for shooting practice and would say: Some day, I too, will wear that uniform. He was unaware, then, of the deadly power of the gun, he commented in later years.

Another function of the soldiers stationed at Salas was to keep in check the armed individuals who roamed through the hills, refusing to surrender to the new regime that was governing Spain. Though known as rojos (red ones) for their leftist views, some of them were decent men who wanted to continue fighting for their principles. They had sympathizers in town.

One such rojo was Señor Losada, a very kind man who had many friends and supporters. His home was a patrician home which had given shelter to many in the past. At the end of the civil war, Señor Losada went in hiding. Though many secretly knew his hiding place, no one would report it to the authorities. On the contrary, many men took food to him quite regularly, taking great care in evading the mayor’s watchful eyes. One of those men was Roger’s father, political twin of Señor Losada. The village mayor, Don Aurelio, a mean and vindictive man, determined that Losada and his followers should pay a price for their political stands. He organized week-end posses to apprehend him and drew a list of men whose heads had to roll. In that list was Losada’s friend and admirer, Roger’s father, Don Antonio.

Aurelio got his first wish. During one of the organized posses, a young man observed Losada drinking water from the stream at the bottom of the hill near Villar. He triumphally yelled out his discovery, forcing Losada to rush back to his hiding cave, too late, however. His body, riddled with shots, was displayed through the town to serve as an example to those who still refused to surrender. He was buried outside the village cemetery as an outcast. His desolate widow and confused son of Roger’s age, Esteban, left town in mourning, leaving their once warm house to the cold winds of change.

Outraged by the senseless killing of a respected citizen, strong voices rose to condemn Aurelio’s revenge and to stop his madness. Daniel Tahoces, Roger’s uncle on his mother’s side, perhaps the richest man in the Bierzo valley and the most powerful councilman of Salas de los Barrios, grabbed him one day by the lapel yelling: If you touch any one of those men in your ignoble list, particularly Don Antonio, I, myself will hang you. The hit list was promptly disregarded.

PAINFUL DEPARTURE

Life was becoming unbearable for the Fernández family at Salas, however. Mysteriously, the water of the well inside their home turned undrinkable. Roger’s father and his two older brothers, Joaquín and Antonio, had to dig another well in front of the house. Many people used that well, particularly to mix its water with sulphur to spray the vineyards in the spring. To dig that well, a big fig tree had to be sacrificed. That tree meant a lot to Roger, for it had satisfied his hunger on many occasions. It was as if hope had been uprooted with it, and