Confesiones a un Árbol: My Friend Bernardo

MY FRIEND BERNARDO

Bernardo Cabellos Sabino:
Provincial Councilor, 1990–92 term

I met Bernardo Cabellos Sabino in the summer of 1978, at the central headquarters of the Aprista Party in Chimbote. He impressed me from the very first moment. He had a gift for words, clear ideas, a devotion to grassroots work, and tremendous charisma.

Just a few weeks after meeting, our chairs happened to be side by side at a large bohemian table in the old Kiko bar, on the second block of Elias Aguirre Street. We talked from dusk until dawn; it was then I realized that Bernardo was the reflection of my own vision for the country and the Party.

That same year, we were elected leaders of the Aprista youth wing that faced the 1978 Constitutional Assembly election campaign, and we began a solid friendship—one that, thirty-five years later, remains as fraternal as ever.

I remember that in the early morning of October 27, 1978, while we were carrying out political activism in front of the main gate of SIDERPERÚ, the police chased us for several blocks. Bernardo, a few other guys, and I were detained by State Security. He was twenty; I was eighteen. The episode was brief, but it marked the beginning of many other detentions that would follow because of our ideals.

Coincidentally, this event is linked to another of significance in the history of the Aprista Party in Chimbote: as evening fell on that October 27, Bernardo and I were released and went directly to the Casa del Pueblo, where another great friend of that era, Julio César Sifuentes Arias, was waiting for us. The III Santa Departmental Convention had begun that day, and we entered representing the Aprista youth. At that Convention, we managed to break the back of the Party's old guard, and it was finally agreed to renew the Committee through new elections.

Our long days of activism forged a brotherhood between Bernardo and me. We ate from the same plate to stave off the hunger of those nights. We shared the same “chata" of rum to take the chill off the early morning cold. And we often lost ourselves in endless bohemian nights, sharing the same dreams of a better tomorrow and the same romantic music that marked our lives forever.

In 1981, I led a large group of young Apristas who wanted to push for a leftist line within the Party. Bernardo brilliantly organized and directed the VI Youth Departmental Convention. This event was meant to elect me general secretary that year, but the leadership in the capital suspended the elections nationwide. In 1982, Bernardo once again took charge of preparing the VII Convention, where I was finally elected to the position.

With the invaluable help of Bernardo, Julio César Sifuentes Arias, and a few other guys, we carried out successful political and social work, echoed at the adult level by Teacher Alejandro Ponce Rodríguez. Then, at the end of 1983, I moved to Trujillo; a few years later, I distanced myself from the Party definitively and forever.

Bernardo stayed and pursued a successful political career. In 1986, he won the internal Aprista elections to join the slate of candidates for provincial councilors, but the party leadership sidelined the results. Nevertheless, no one could prevent him from winning again in 1990, becoming one of the youngest and most brilliant representatives in Engineer Alberto Alfaro Beltrán’s second administration. In council debates, Bernardo was in his element thanks to his solid political background.

Meanwhile, the political and moral decay within the Aprista Party continued—as we all know—and Bernardo also withdrew from active party life. Since then, he has maintained a low profile, though without losing the only political affiliation he has ever known.

My friend Bernardo was born in Chimbote on October 16, 1958. He attended elementary school at Adventista del Santa and “La Gloriosa” 329, later completing his high school years at Erasmo Roca. After graduating as a Certified Public Accountant from San Pedro University, he established his own independent practice. He was married once—“but not for long,” as he puts it. From that union came his son, Jack Ronald, now 32; later, Flor de María, 24, and Rodrigo, 5, were born from other relationships.

When I told my friend Marco that I was writing a story about Bernardo, he asked: "And are you going to mention that there was a chapter when he was a Don Juan?" I smiled then, just as I am smiling now. The truth is that there was a chapter when good old Bernardo earned that reputation, and he once told me he wanted a phrase for his epitaph: "If Neruda confesses that he has lived, I confess that I have loved."

Thirty-five years have passed since we met, and almost two decades since I left Peru. Time and distance have served to gauge the true depth of our friendship. It’s true that the years are taking their toll—he has gained weight and I have lost hair—nevertheless, in our weekly chats, we continue to laugh with the same mischief as ever.

Those who follow my stories closely will have noticed that Bernardo’s name appears in several places. It couldn't be any other way; every time I travel to Peru, we walk the streets of Chimbote together, looking for old friends and the information I need to complete the various projects I write about.

In recent times, health has been playing tricks on good old Bernardo. It has been months of wandering through hospitals, of questions without answers, and of uncertainty. Inexorably, he has become more mystical, more philosophical—as if preparing for a great match whose outcome is not quite in his hands.

His many friends in Peru and around the world are all rooting for his recovery. Bernardo will need to draw on all the strength with which he has carved out his path in life, and which has seen him through so many other trials.

I have no doubt that this unsettling time will pass. I also know that during my next trip to Peru, I will once again gather the old friends from 1978; we will seat Bernardo at the head of the table and toast to life once more. Then, I will raise my glass and recite the words that have lived with me for thirty-five years...

Words that Bernardo himself told me that night in 1978, at the Kiko bar in Chimbote: “We must be visionaries—upright men who, in every moment of life, fight for just causes.”

New Hampshire, USA

February 2013