MY GRANDPARENT'S HOUSE

 

I was born in Guayaquil in 1969, October in the last days of this month, 29, I grew up in my grandparents' house. In a big, big house, maybe it is about 20X20 meters, two floors or floors. From the bottom up it is connected by an internal staircase that crossed several rooms.

I remember that from the attic you could see the city, I never thought about it, but it was so close, it was spacious, if it was, it had the warmth of home, which, if it had had a fireplace, would flood that neighborhood with smoke, for a sincere love that was breathed there.

I was a mountaineer, climbing all the secret passages of that house, having a small cave, where I could recreate my fantasies and be able to see the history of my family. As a child I played, cried, laughed in every room, living room, bathroom, loft, mezzanine, all that sum brought joy and happiness. That house apart from everything taught me to be able to SHARE ALONE and that loneliness helped me develop creativity, stories to tell, to dream of BUILDING A HOUSE, to draw. I always say, as a child I was an annoying one, close to my grandfather ELEODORO CLARK QUISPHE, following him when he got home, in my retina, I always see him, generous, tall, well dressed, his voice, his sonorous voice was lost in time. I keep many things from Grandpa Clark, because my grandmother ANGELA DE CLARK, made sure that I remember her from him not dying over time. If people are happy, having money; Well, it is not always a general rule, because it is totally false. Goods and wealth do not make you happy. I took my first steps enjoying and creating stories at the Clark's house, what an adventure. Seeing how the rain rained down in my neighborhood from my grandparents' house was the most colossal spectacle you have ever seen, seeing how the children slipped to look for the big house where there were jets of water falling towards the portals, the flooded streets looked like swimming pools Where the children had fun, it was the Guayaquil of yesteryear, in an uncomplicated way, there was no FREE FIRE, nor the bad internet games that now abound in the environment, addicting children, youth and adults. At the Clark house, there was time to kick up and rest. I read a book, I watched television, I went out to explore the large patio that this huge house had, which were almost the same meters that it had in construction. I got on the old cars that my uncle Cirilo Clark had in the yard, to the left of it the two Chevrolet or GMC brands, one with a wooden box and the other a car, nice memories. When it rained, how nice to go around that painting jumping puddles, when we did not fix the patera that is on one side of the patio and there, we cleaned it and it was our pool, we bathed in it, my cousins, my cousins, my brothers and I . What a feeling of relaxation, times that will never return. My grandmother, she used to have ducks, geese, dogs, roosters, chickens, she liked parrots, Etc. A whole zoo in that place, what beautiful memories. When we were in the garage section during the week we began to imitate the Sunday School teachers, as already at that time I had accepted JESUS ​​as my Savior, I tried to imitate the preacher who helped me make the decision for CHRIST, the DR. LUIS PALAU, Argentine, who arrived at the CLOSED COLISEUM on August 7, 1981, accepted JESUS ​​on a night in my dear Guayaquil. When they were going to hit me for some misunderstanding reason, I always went to the attic, to the stairs, sometimes I had been seeing Guayaquil for hours, which looked so close, or I also liked to see it rain in my neighborhood. The Clark House was not only a refuge for us who grew up there, under the always of my grandparents, preachers, pastors, evangelical brothers arrived there. In that same house we met all the cousins, we did not know the length of the word, in the end, but we knew that we were related, that they were the children of my uncles. The uncles always turned to their mother, my grandmother Angela de Clark, they were: My uncle Cirilo Clark, Julio Clark, who lived there, my uncle Felipe Clark, lived some years in Venezuela, my aunt Dora Clark appeared there, My aunt Esperanza Clark and my uncle Eleodoro Clark, seemed like a whole battalion, but evidently the Clarks did not multiply excessively, but the Clark House seemed very small when in December or January the Clarks arrived from their homes. Grandfather ELEODORO CLARK Q, with his hands full, where 4 little black men waited for him like the hero he was, every time he arrived, he left us very early, aged 62, the same years as his father PHILIP CLARK, when this one died. In the grandmother's room there was a drawer full of books, which I thank her for inheriting me in due time, there were her big pants, her hat, her white suit and a kind of tailcoat, which we used to get dressed and look at ourselves in front of the mirror. Christmas, stuffing, turkey in of the reprise in January, are things that are not going to go so easily out of the head. It is said that that recipe he had, salt and sweet cookies from La Universal Factory, raisins, olives, walnuts, the truth is that the Cubans gave that to my grandmother ANGELA CLARK, who in her hands was a gourmet meal . Of the toys I received at the end of the year, one for the church, one for my uncle Felipe, one for my uncle Julio Clark, I was blessed, it was a very beautiful time and years. From TV nights. With Uncle JULIO CLARK, the wonder of the color programs, on Saturdays and Sundays to see them, they only remained in the memory. In it we learned to love GOD, to listen to the word of God, to listen to good Christian music, because not also secular, we liked soccer, we became fans of the best team in ECUADOR, Barcelona. We left it, never with the ambition to stay in it, today we do not see it as the old house that belonged to Clark's grandparents, but as the one that sheltered us, that gave us their rooms, that lent us its walls to show how much We had grown up, that he let us paint legends… We lost part of our history there, but we will never forget what we experienced.

LAWYER ELEODORO PORTOCARRERO CLARK

LA CASA DE LOS CLARK

 

Nací en Guayaquil en 1969, octubre en los últimos días de este mes, 29, me crie en la casa de mis abuelos. En una casa grande, grande, quizás media unos 20X20 metros, dos plantas o pisos. Desde abajo hacia arriba esta conectada por una escalera interior que atravesaba varios cuartos.

Recuerdo que desde el altillo se veía la ciudad, nunca lo pensé, pero estaba tan cerca, era espaciosa, si que lo era, tenia el calor de hogar, que, si hubiera tenido una chimenea, inundaría aquel barrio de humo, por un sincero amor que allí se respiraba.

Yo era un alpinista, escalando todos los pasajes secretos de esa casa, teniendo una pequeña cueva, donde recrear mis fantasías y poder ver la historia de mi familia. Como niño jugaba, lloraba, reía en cada cuarto, sala, baño, altillo, entrepiso, toda esa suma traía alegría y felicidad. Esa casa aparte de todo me enseño a poder COMPARTIR SOLO y esa soledad me ayudo a desarrollar creatividad, historias que contar, a soñar con EDIFICAR UNA CASA, a dibujar.

Siempre digo, como niño era uno molestoso, pegado a mi abuelo ELEODORO CLARK QUISPHE, siguiéndolo cuando llegaba a casa, en mi retina, siempre le veo, generoso, alto, bien vestido, su voz, su sonora voz se perdió en el tiempo.

Muchas cosas conservo del abuelo Clark, porque mi abuela ANGELA DE CLARK, se encargo de que su recuerdo no se muera con el tiempo.

Si la gente es feliz, teniendo dinero; pues no siempre es una regla general, porque es totalmente falso. Los bienes y las riquezas no te hacen feliz.

Mis primeros pasos disfrutando y creando historias los di en la casa de los Clark, que aventura.

Ver como la lluvia arreciaba en mi barrio desde la casa de mis abuelos era el espectáculo más colosal que jamás hayas visto, ver como se deslizaban los niños a buscar la casa grande donde habían chorros de agua cayendo hacia los portales, las calles anegadas parecían piscinas donde los niños se divertían, era el Guayaquil de antaño, en modo descomplicado, no había el FREE FIRE, ni los juegos malos de internet que ahora abundan en el medio enviciando a niños, jóvenes y adultos.

En la casa de los Clark, había tiempo para alzar los pies y descansar. Leia un libro, veía Televisión, salía a recorrer como explorador por el patio grande que tenia esa enorme casa, que eran casi los mismos metros que tenia de construcción. Me subía a los carros antiguos que tenia mi tío Cirilo Clark en el patio, a la izquierda del mismo los dos de marca Chevrolet o GMC uno con un cajón de madera y el otro un auto, lindos recuerdos.

Cuando llovía, que lindo ir por todo ese cuadro saltando charcos, cuando no arreglábamos la patera que esta a un costado del patio y allí, la limpiábamos y era nuestra piscina, nos bañábamos en ella, mis primos, mis primas, mis hermanos y yo. Que sensación de relax, tiempos que nunca volverán.

Mi abuela, solía tener patos, gansos, perros, gallos, gallinas, gustaba de los loros, Etc. Todo un zoológico metido en ese lugar, que hermosos recuerdos.

Cuando estábamos entre semana en la sección del garaje nos poníamos a imitar a los maestros de la Escuela Dominical, como ya en ese entonces había aceptado a JESUS como mi Salvador, trataba de imitar al predicador que me ayudo a hacer la decisión por CRISTO, el DR. LUIS PALAU, argentino, que llego al COLISEO CERRADO y un 7 de agosto de 1981, acepte a JESUS en una noche de mi Guayaquil querido.

Cuando me iban a pegar por alguna razón de algún mal entendido, siempre iba a dar al altillo, a las escaleras, a veces llevaba horas viendo a Guayaquil que se veía tan cerca, o también me gustaba ver llover por ese lugar en mi barrio.

La Casa Clark, no solo fue refugio para nosotros que nos criamos allí, bajo la siempre de mis abuelos, allí llegaban predicadores, pastores, hermanos evangélicos.

En esa misma casa conocimos a todos los primos, no sabíamos la extensión de la palabra, a la final, pero sabíamos que éramos parientes, que los mismos eran hijos de mis tíos. Los tíos siempre daban vuelta a su mama, mi abuela Angela de Clark, ellos eran: Mi tío Cirilo Clark, Julio Clark, quienes vivían allí, mi tío Felipe Clark, vivió algunos años en Venezuela, por allí aparecían, mi tía Dora Clark, mi tía Esperanza Clark y mi tío Eleodoro Clark, parecía todo un batallón, pero evidentemente los Clark no se multiplicaron en exceso, pero si la Casa Clark, parecía muy pequeña cuando en Diciembre o en Enero llegaban desde sus casas Los Clark.

El abuelo ELEODORO CLARK Q, con sus manos llenas, donde 4 negritos lo esperaban como el héroe que era, cada vez que arribaba, muy temprano se nos fue, de una edad de 62 años, los mismos años que su papa PHILIP CLARK, cuando este murió. En el cuarto de la abuela había un cajón lleno de libros, los cuales le agradezco a ella que me los heredo en su debido tiempo, allí quedaban sus grandes pantalones, su sombrero, su terno blanco y una especie de frac, que utilizábamos nosotros para vestirnos y mirarnos frente al espejo.

De las navidades, del relleno, de el pavo en Diciembre del reprise en Enero, son cosas que no se van a ir tan fácil de la cabeza. Se cuenta que esa receta que llevaba, galletas de sal y de dulce de La fábrica la Universal, pasas, aceitunas, nuez, la verdad es que los cubanos le dieron eso a mi abuela ANGELA CLARK, quien en sus manos era una comida de gourmet.

De los juguetes que recibí durante el fin de año, uno por la iglesia, uno por mi tío Felipe, uno por mi tío Julio Clark, fui bendecido, fue una época y unos años muy bellos.

De las noches de TV. Con el tío JULIO CLARK, de la maravilla de los programas a colores, de los sábados y domingos de ver los mismos, solo quedaron en el recuerdo. En ella aprendimos amar a DIOS, a escuchar la palabra de Dios, a escuchar buena música cristiana, porque no también secular, nos gusto el futbol, nos hicimos hinchas del mejor equipo del ECUADOR, Barcelona.

Salimos de ella, nunca con la ambición de quedarnos en la misma, hoy no la miramos como la casa vieja que perteneció a los abuelos Clark, sino como aquella que nos cobijó, que nos dio sus cuartos, que nos presto sus paredes para señalar cuanto habíamos crecido, que dejo que pintáramos leyendas… Se nos fue parte de nuestra historia allí, pero nunca olvidaremos lo vivido.  

AB. ELEODORO ESTEBAN PORTOCARRERO CLARK IV

GUAYAQUIL, 28 FEBRERO 2021

JAMAIQUIN BLOOD IN HIS VEINS

 By: Eleodoro Portocarrero Clark

When I began to write about Jamaica in Ecuador, the full conviction that we were facing a great story took on even more dimension, because issues began to emerge of which we had not had any notion or imagination, it was only enough to know that with the passage of time began to shed as when the sea casts memories on the beach. So it was that one of the great surprises that we got in this research work is the one that affirmed that Julio Jaramillo was one of us, he could not believe it, the most valuable and the most recognized of all the Ecuadorian singers whose performance transcended the national borders, joined what Jacinta Sandiford had already done, the first medalist of the Pan American Games held in Argentina and what was executed by Alberto Spencer Herrera, the top scorer of the Copa Libertadores, the football event that called all football teams or clubs of Latin America when thinking about the passage and the trajectory of each of these characters of Jamaican origin, but born in Ecuador. With that trident that could be alluded to, that one could think, the contribution of the Jamaicans by putting their offspring in this land in a few years was more than the same contribution as the blacks already established in this land. A special gift, a generational talent, the desire to excel, I don't know? The truth is that this attachment to music, theater, writing, attitudes to certain careers always make me think of DNA, it is not that I feel special, nor spatial, but there are many wooden things that keep the aspect related conjunctural inheritance. We listened to Julio Jaramillo at the 9th house, the Clark's house, my uncles, Julio, Felipe, Eleodoro used to listen to his songs, we especially liked the songs that Julio Jaramillo sang to his mother and others taken from a Long Play that my uncle Felipe brought, who lived in Venezuela for many years and also traveled to that country almost always, Jaramillo was a regular guest at those meetings, when one is a boy, it is also in childhood and adolescence that musical taste begins to develop, without wanting as a coincidence JJ was our favorite singer without having known that Jaramillo's ancestor, his maternal grandfather, was also a Jamaicans who had come among the group of workers who arrived from Jamaica to work on the Alfaro Railroad. With the enclosure of this History, we can bring to each one of the Ecuadorian homes and people around the world a knowledge that this Ecuadorian, an exalted singer with a prodigious voice and a man of record within the artists of our country, to the having to his credit several recordings made in Ecuador and in Latin America that digging into his origins we find ourselves in the peculiarity of putting up that he was also a descendant of Jamaicans. Julio Alfredo Jaramillo Laurido, was born in La Perla del Pacifico, Guayaquil, of mountain origin by his father who was a native of Machachi Province of Pichincha and Guayaco with Jamaican origins on his mother's side because she was the daughter of a Jamaican who came to the journey of working on the Alfaro Railroad. Julio would be born on October 1, 1935, Don Juan Pantaleon Jaramillo Erazo, would leave him an orphan at age 5, his mother, Doña Polita Laurido, Apolonia Laurido Caceres. He died on February 9, 1978 at the age of 42 in the city where he was born. His performances and his wide musical repertoire exhibited in countries such as Mexico, Venezuela, Colombia, Argentina and other Latin American countries made him fame, also money and many women, JJ won based on work, effort and the musical talent that he had managed to conquer the demanding public of the Americas, who recognized in Jaramillo a true singer. The idolatry of him paradoxically as the great divos derives after his early departure, with just 42 years and the years that have passed cemented his idolatry. It is an icon and a reference, since this Guayaquil is the City of Olmedo, Rocafuerte, but it is also the City of Jaramillo, the bohemian atmosphere, the popular atmosphere, the jukebox, the record player, the Sound Team or YouTube, which continues to pay tribute to one of his most beloved children and who recently turned 40, since the fateful February 9, 1978 would deprive us of one of the best voices in Ecuador and one of the representatives of Latin America who sang to love, to heartbreak, to the office, to hatred, to betrayal, to women, etc. The memory of Jaramillo has been preserved in each of the homes of Ecuadorians who still make him sing in their halls, rooms, patios or portals and it so happens that he sings better than before ...

JULIO JARAMILLO AT HOME

21 FEBRERO 2021

Almost all of these CLARK were born loving music, it must be that they had it in their veins, there was not a December, Christmas or New Year's Eve that they met at the house of the 9th, the old house of the CLARK Grandparents, and they used to listen to music, music Good, Ecuadorian, another was part of that CUBA that had left, of Gente de Venezuela, Puerto Rico, the ALLS STAR, the Gran Combo, Pérez Prado, etc. All that music was played by my uncle JULIO CLARK in life, Well, apart from mastering the sport, my uncle was a passionate music collector. It would be, my grandmother said, the domain of the performing arts, and of music was the legacy of Don ELEODORO CLARK, his father, who in his past life before the GOSPEL, was a great guitarist and singer. wood so that many of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren would like MUSIC.

My uncles used to meet at the CASA DE LOS CLARK, at that time my uncle FELIPE CLARK, had left VENEZUELA the country where he lived for many years, there in that country, back or before he had sent a record that was undoubtedly very little known, Today everyone plays it, but at the time my uncle arrived from the plains country, nobody had it, it was an event, an Ecuadorian recording in that country in the north of SUDAMERICA, much more having JJ lived in that place and having recorded any number of albums, REMINISCENCIA was one more. For those who have followed the career of this Guayaquil interpreter, they do not realize that at that time JJ was in the best of his time, he could be classified as a RECORD MAN in terms of soloists, because in his years he had recorded any number of RECORDS, many of them with great notoriety and much admired by Latin Americans, many nations of this continent disputed the nationality of JULIO JARAMILLO, some said that he was Mexican, Argentine, Uruguayan, Venezuelan, etc. At that time I don't know if you will be able to notice it, but JJ had the Argentine-Uruguayan touch, which gave him a touch as JENY ESTRADA says, with a unique tessitura and registers. One of the best singers of popular music, of Latin American folklore, who left traces in his recordings, the same ones that cannot be equaled by modern artists. JULIO JARAMILLO was not born from the impregnation of current marketing and propaganda, he was born with a talent from the cradle, which led him to be where he was. Without knowing the origin of the criollo thrush, my uncles met to listen to music, one of the albums that became very heard by them, was REMINISCENCIAS, one of the best productions, I would say of JJ, to see the Ecuadorian JJ in that Cover with the Cigar, it was a shock, the background color was orange, it was the characteristic, Two songs to the MOTHER at least, that made the body stand up to whoever heard it. Over time in the investigation of being able to find data from JAMAICA IN EL ECUADOR (my book), we find the interesting fact that this JULIO JARAMILLO is proud of the national pentagram, one of the best exponents of ECUADORIAN MUSIC, one of the Ecuadorians best known outside the homeland borders, he was part of the trident of Ecuadorians with Jamaican roots, SANDIFORD, SPENCER AND JULIO JARAMILLO, what a barbarity, what else could one ask of HEAVEN, the pride of sports, plus music, with Caribbean blood . Vestiges of one of the smallest migrations that Ecuador had of black English workers who left JAMAICA between the years 1900-1910. Just hearing him sing one of the songs that JULIO JARAMILLO sings in this LP, LOS VOS A MI MADRE: "The verses to my mother are inspired by GOD", "She is the owner of my dreams although I am not a poet ..." In Reminiscences he says: "To love is impossible, to erase from my memory, the memory of your strange look haunts me ...". 42 years lived to the fullest, having made music one of the greatest weapons that the human being can have to be able to express what the human being has. Born in Guayaquil, on October 1, 1935 and died on February 9, 1978, he left an indelible mark, difficult to forget. He wrote the History of music from his point of view and added his style and way of being. A typical Ecuadorian, who evokes the way in which the COSTA rose, to be able to join the SIERRA, and in his veins, those thick and large hands run, of that intrinsic value, that way of seeing spontaneity and that strength to overcome adversity, winning over life. Who believed, that the train was going to have a link in the veins on the side of his blood. Whoever believed that the love of the Andes would melt in his veins, together with the love of the tropics and the Caribbean settled in ECUADOR. Ab. Eleodoro Portocarrero Clark, for JAMAICA IN ECUADOR 2021

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