Day 52 - Puebla de Sanabria - Requejo

POSTED A DAY LATE


It rained heavily all last night and it was still raining this morning as we left for our relatively short trip to Requejo some 12kms away.  The paths were all waterlogged so we opted for the N525 instead, arriving in Requejo very wet some two and a half hours after setting off.

Today has a special significance for me as on this day ten years ago my father, Arthur James Gomez, died.  He was 88.  He was the person I have most admired ever.  He was born to a humble background.  His father abandoned his mother just before he was born.  From a very early age he took care of his mother and his two sisters, in the days when women did not work.  When he was seven he worked running errands for an uncle of his who had a coffee stall in the market in Gibraltar.  At the age of 12 he was working full time in the stall after school every day, getting up at five every morning to get the stall ready ready before leaving for school.  At the age of 14 he started an apprenticeship at the local electricity station, soon becoming a skilled draughtsman.  Years later he became the Electricity Dept’s Mains Engineer, responsible for all the street lighting in Gibraltar.  A couple of years after he retired he was asked to return to assist in the setting up of Gibraltar’s new power station.  During the strikes in the early 60’s he stayed at his post ensuring essential electricity supplies were maintained.

Although not a religious man he had a strong set of values.  He believed a man should receive an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work.  He felt strongly that we should all strive to make a difference in everything we do.  That we should always  try our hardest.  He was a passionate supporter of the formation of the AACR, the Association for the Advancement of Civil Rights, but he became disillusioned with politics and with trade unions, saying that they always sought a compromise instead of trying to do the right thing.

Although we were relatively poor my brother and my two sisters had a very happy childhood and we never wanted for anything .  When William went to study at the Conservatory of Music  in Madrid, the Government of the day refused him a scholarship.  My father took on three jobs in order to make ends meet.  He was vociferous in attacking the Government for their lack of support for music and the arts. 

When he retired he had been one of the longest serving council employees of his generation.  Years later when it became fashionable to award MBE’s and long service medals to Govt. Employees I asked him if he missed not having received any medals.  His reply was, “I do not need any medals to remind me of who I am!”.

He was a keen fisherman and I had fond vivid memories of the two of us fishing at night at the North Mole in Gibraltar, where we used to spend the hours chatting about anything and everything, drinking coffee laced with brandy (without my mother’s knowledge!).  I miss those days.

A month after my father died, my mother Carmen passed away.  She had been suffering from a form of Alzheimer’s for many years and for the last couple of years of her life had lost the power of speech.  It was a very sad end for someone who was always a very lively and energetic person.  She was the one I always turned to when I was in trouble (which was often!), the one who could be relied upon to give me that extra bit of pocket money, who interceded with my father.  She was a hardworking woman who for many years lacked any of the creature comforts we are now accustomed to but who never complained about anything.  She taught me above everything else that we have to be tolerant of others, something with is serving me in good stead as we do this Camino where we live cheek by jowl with complete strangers, often in cramped conditions.  I used to sit at her feet while she scratched my head and told me tales of the good old days!  She was a truly beautiful person in every sense of the word.

At her funeral service at the Cathedral of St Mary the Crowned  in Gibraltar, William played one of her favourite tunes “Alfonsina del Mar”, a nursery rhyme which Ana Maria had brought with her from Argentina.  It was the last time that William played in public.  Five months later he too died, aged 61.

I think all three of them would have been proud of what Ana Maria and I have achieved so far on this mad walk of ours.