English
Português
Deutsch
Eco123 Revista da Economia e Ecologia
Saturday, 20th March 2021
It was a tragic accident. He fell at home, in his garden, from a height of three metres, off his ladder, sustaining lethal injuries. My friend Carlos has now entered the eternal hunting grounds. For me he was an Indian, who came to Monchique from the Alentejo and a foreigner in a community, a friend of nature, wise and modest, calm and well-read, a rather quiet but always attentive fellow. There will be no second Carlos in this world. He gifted us wonderful trees, two pecan nut trees, a chestnut and a cork oak, a token of friendship as they say in Alentejo. I have bedded them out and will raise the four little trees, and once I myself am no longer around, the members of our still recent cooperative will carry on.
Carlos had exceptional talents. He was a painter, draughtsman and caricaturist, with his very own view of this world, and always carried his pad and pens with him. He was kind enough to draw two cover images of ECO123 for us. Before I started to try finding these words I decided to pause my mourning for a moment and to think about what he would have wanted if he was in my place. For as tragic as his sudden and unfair his death may be, it is equally important to try to step into his shoes in my mind. And in that place there is no mourning, only joy about the time shaped together, spent together. It was him who showed me where the mushrooms can be found in the forest, and what their uses are. Some of them we shared during a meal taken together, opening a good bottle of wine for the occasion. These meals have not only stayed in my mind, they are and will always be present for me. He was equally good at cooking as he was as a friend, partner, colleague, teacher and counsel. Last week Carlos Abafa gave me a call to ask my advice. At the ripe old age of 75 he wanted to scrap his petrol car and trade it in for an electric car. He asked a lot of thoughtful and interesting questions. Carlos remained young in spirit and also open towards those of us who live in Portugal and have not emigrated for better money elsewhere.
For many years Carlos was a professor at the Technical College for Art and Design in Portalegre, educating generations of lay-outers and designers. Carlos came to Monchique for love, having met Ana through this shared art. Carlos Abafa measured 1.65 metres and was a great Portuguese, but a lot more, a great human being in this world and a good father.
Often I ask myself why are there so many of us on Earth and what are we really doing here (and doing wrong)? Now Carlos was someone where I never asked myself this question. In the various world religions the soul of the dying is either accepted into the eternal hunting grounds (paradise) or restlessly wanders the Universe, condemned to one day come back down onto our Earth, this wonderful blue planet, as a punishment as it were. I’m not worried that this fate will befall Carlos. He was slow, he was prudent. Many people from the Alentejo have this incredible gift of lightness. The slower people are, the lighter they become; you learn to fly, floating effortlessly, and only light people are granted access to the eternal hunting grounds and are not sent back to start all over from scratch, again and again. And this lightness stands for a lot of different qualities: for compassion and empathy, for social, cultural, ecological, etc. intelligence, for clarity and a life lived in balance.
Carlos Abafa also always felt very much at home in the forest. Together with Ana and the friends of the “Monchique Alerta” association he brought the building of the first “Fighting Forest Fires With Water” cistern to a successful finish, even perfecting it. Sometimes we’d look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. Yes, there is a deep sense of grief, a longing for more time to spend together, but there is also a form of lightness in letting go. And supposedly we should let go at the most beautiful moment. Right? I have lost a friend, but what has to be much more important is that over many years we were allowed so many wonderful hours together. That is the value that life gifts us. That is the form of sustainability that we’re always looking for and sometimes manage to find when we try to be close to each other but also keep the right distance. An artist would call this way of being unconditional. So, to make sure my esteemed friend Carlos Abafa is never forgotten, my suggestion would be to name the Botanic Garden after him. This decision will also have to be carried by his family, those left behind and the cooperative. Whatever happens, hopefully we’ll meet again soon, my dear friend.
