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PERSONAL
WITNESS GIVEN BY
At the initiative of Eduardo
Bonnín and by kind invitation
of Francisco Oliver, both outstanding leaders of Palma de Mallorca and
of my birthplace, Felanitx, I attended the "Cursillo" at the chalet of
Figuera Cove (Cala Figuera) of Santanyí in August of 1944, along
with 13 young people. I never imagined - nor could anyone
else ever have imagined the unpredictable repercussions that
singular experience would have on the world, the millions of people who
from then on would live a similar experience that would radically
transform their lives, and less still, that 60 years later I would be
here, in front of you, digging amongst the dusty archives of my rusty
memory, looking for something to share about that beloved
experience. SALVADOR ESCRIBANO HERNÁNDEZ PARTICIPANT OF THE FIRST CURSILLO AT CALA FIGUERA DE SANTANYÍ, MALLORCA, SPAIN (AUGUST 20-23, 1944) FOREWORD
It must be important, for my friends from far away lands and now from my own diocese have asked me to speak to you about the Cursillo at Cala Figuera. I do not believe I am the most appropriate witness, but being one of the few that are still living, and since you have no one else better at hand, it seems neither you nor I have any other alternative. Some details have faded from memory. They got lost with the passing and weight of the years. Others details are conserved, they are intact there. I know them clearly, in my very soul, as if they happened yesterday. It is of these, of the memories that lasted and stayed fresh, of which I will speak to you. So you do not take me wrongly, I would like to begin by telling you a little about me, of my short history. Perhaps this way you will be able to have a clearer and better idea of what the Cursillo of Cala Figuera was and what it meant to one of those 14 youngsters, who without suspecting it in the least, attended his appointment with history that August 20 of 1944. MY SHORT HISTORY I came from a modest, not numerous family, whose roots are lost in the Province of Salamanca, back in Old Castille. Forced by circumstances, my parents emigrated to Felanitx in 1921 where my father was assigned as compensation to wounds, after participating in the War of the Riff in north Africa, when Spain had the protectorate of Morocco. Of my grandparents, I only know that on my father's side they were called Josefa Martinez y Salvador, Escribano Hernandez. And on my mother's side, Bonifacia Martín and Romualdo Hernandez. Other relatives are a cloudy and fleeting memory. My parents were Antonio Escribano Martinez (1900-1977) and Valentina Hernández Martín (1901-1982). He was a working and courteous man of contrasting temperament and sensibility at plain sight. She, a pacific woman, was a homebody, a person quick to do favors and always attentive to her children and the house chores. Her hobby was to raise us and keep us content. It was she who was responsible for our education and religious direction. We were three siblings: Pedro (1939 -) the youngest, Josefa (1931-1934) the middle child, passed away, and I, the oldest of the three. My full name is SALVADOR ESCRIBANO HERNANDEZ. I was born September 1st of 1929, in the town of Felanitx, located on the south side of the Island, 50 kilometers from Palma de Mallorca and 10 from Santanyí (Cala Figuera). My childhood and puberty passed quietly and happily, at times shaken by the Civil war (1936-1939), which from time to time interrupted the local monotony. From age 12, I began to attend the Spiritual Exercises that were held during the summer, year after year, where Don Juan Vidal Ollers, Councilman of Catholic Action, an association, gathered young people between the ages of 12 to 17. Not much later, just before I turned 15, I lived the famous Cursillo in Cala Figuera, of which I will speak to you later. I became an adolescent during the worldwide depression. We learned of it because of the lack of food. We ate what there was, maize bread which they rationed, not much, and some things that my father was able to buy. Meanwhile, my wings grew and were fortified, as if preparing to take flight. When I was 19 (1948), I was transferred to Barcelona to have my degree certified. I was certified along with Paco Grimalt and Toni Binimelis. With my certification and a desire to make a career, along with the necessity to make it on my own, I moved to Madrid. This is how the fledgling bond with Cursillo was interrupted. I moved away from Felanitx and as I separated from my parents, they advised me to "not engage in trivialities and not to squander". My mother dampened her eyes. The time passed. I entered the Academy. I prepared and I presented the opposition in the Customs Service, which I got in 1961 with a post in Port Bou. I occasionally traveled to Felanitx. It was during a vacation in 1953 that I met Maria Mesquida Perelló, who I married 8 years later (September 27, 1961). We had beautiful sprouts, Antonio Miguel (1962 -) who has given us two adored grandchildren (Miqel Angel and Marc) and Valentina Maria de los Angeles (1963-1997) who passed away in a fatal accident. From Port Bou, I went on to Inspection of Ports of Palma de Mallorca in 1965, where I remained until 1992, when I decided to retire by reasons of health, after suffering a heart attack. As the years passed, came health problems, and also to my dear Maria, who after a prolonged and painful sickness passed away (March 14, 2002). After the death of Maria, nothing was the same. My life lost sense and reason. I sank into a terrible depression. I felt I was dying and wanted to die; moments of anguish that were truly difficult. The Eucharist and praying of the rosary of the Marian Cenacle of the Virgin of La Paz of Buenos Aires were my support and balsam to my wounds. Very recently, without hardly realizing it, the seed planted in the Cursillo at Cala Figuera began to sprout, to show life. It had been there sleeping and imperceptible for almost sixty years, awaiting germination to give its desired fruits. The miracle was about to come. "Something" (I know now it was "somebody") encouraged me to write some lines on the internet, without a particular addressee. After fruitless attempts, somebody responded to my laconic note. The spontaneous answer, fraternal and with a sincere interest in meeting me, was surprising. He knew my name, knew of me, of Cala Figuera, of Eduardo. It moved me to tears and almost to shock. I could not believe that something which I had practically forgotten, and which happened almost 60 years before in a solitary and far away village, had such large dimensions. Without knowing it, my unknown friend and his increasingly frequent emails instilled encouragement in me, returned me to life; awakened the seed. His emails followed other emails; and soon others, and others from so many "internet cursillistas", who generously and fraternally wanted to know of me, of us, of Cala Figuera. The seed finally burst, germinating in my very soul. The miracle was being completed. This is the reason, my friends, that I have been emboldened to write, to speak to you not only of the Cursillo at Cala Figuera but of the miracle that it worked in me, indeed not at that moment, as happens to many, but 60 years later. The Lord has been merciful and providing, because that seed came up, grew, and gave fruit in abundance. The nightmare was behind me. I have returned to Him. My life has sense. Maria, Valentina, and I are at peace. I have my son and little grandchildren, things to do, experiences to live, close bows of friendship to enjoy, that are multiplied day by day everywhere. It is all the unquestionable expression of the love that God has for us. With extreme emotion, I want to tell you that I have been able to re-find myself, God, and my brethren, and very specially with the man who planted the seed in my heart, Eduardo Bonnín Aguiló, with whom, in case all this wasn't enough, I group with every Thursday at six o'clock in the evening. Could I ask for anything more? Thank you Lord, great thanks I give you for Eduardo and all the very good friends with which you allow me to share every day. Thank you for his solid and fraternal friendship that has given back my faith, confidence in mankind, and a desire to live. My dear friends, in broad strokes this is the short history which has been and is my life: encounters and alienations. I have experienced joy, sadness, and all kinds of hardships, and thanks to God, the Cursillo at Cala Figuera. There is still plenty of room for illusion, dedication, and a spirit of charity. THE CURSILLO AT CALA FIGUERA (1944) When I was almost 15, one day at the Catholic Action house, Francisco Oliver, a beloved leader from Felanitx approached me, in order to invite me to some "short courses" which were being organized by Eduardo Bonnín, at that time an outstanding leader of Catholic Action. The news reached other friends from the locality and surrounding places in the same way. Nobody objected. We all gladly accepted. No one could say "no" to the always amiable and noble Oliver. My parents didn't object either, as they always gave me permission to attend the Spiritual Exercises. And besides, this "Cursillo" wouldn't cost us a dime. If my memory doesn't fail me, we met on the evening of August 20, 1944 in the facilities of Catholic Action. As soon as the group gathered, Francisco Oliver said a few words to introduce Eduardo Bonnín, Jaime Riutort, and José Ferragut, who, according him would be the ones in charge of giving us the "short course." Then Eduardo briefly invited us to live and to share the experience with joy and a brotherly spirit of friendship. He made a pleasant impression from the first moment. Someone transported us to the place of the event by way of Cas Concos des Cavaller (House of the Uncles of the Horseman). It was not far. We soon arrived at Santanyí and then at Cala Figuera in the twilight. It was still light. We went out and walked to the chalet, which I never knew to whom it belonged or who facilitated it to this end, but I remember it was isolated (as there were hardly any buildings around), very close to the cove that gives it its name. Once in the chalet, Eduardo gave us welcoming words, gave some general recommendations, exhorted us to share with healthy and blessed joy, and invited us to take our places. We settled as best we could in the rooms that had been set aside, which were no more than three. THE 14 AND SOMETHING MORE We were the 14 chosen ones, some more anxious that others, between 14 and 23 years of age, approximately. 1. Antonio (Toni) Binimelis Sagrera (+). He is now deceased, tragically. He was a very good boy, without a doubt the most intelligent. He was the one that prepared the most, of all those who went to Cala. His parents were farmers (payeses), but they lived comfortably. He had the intelligence to study those rare Indo-European things, dead languages. I found that in Madrid he studied Hispanic philology and many other things. He made friends with one of his professors, a priest friend of the Spanish ambassador to India, who turned out to be a Mallorcan and was the reason he went to New Delhi, where he additionally gave classes in the University. I did not hear of him any more, until I came back to Palma and found out had been killed in New Delhi. I did not know why. In my job, was called on to allow entry to some of his properties that his relatives brought to Palma de Mallorca. 2. Antonio (Toni) Mas. (+). He was a native of Felanitx and I do not know his second last name. He had a kind character, a very good person, of very simple manners, one of those people you love to chat with. He was probably the oldest in the group, 5 or 6 years older. I understand that he married and was in the National Institute of Prevision (equivalent to today's Social Security). I don't know his position there. I knew he lived in Palma, and that his parents, also payeses, were still in Felanitx. I have not come to know more of him except that he died while I was still in the Peninsula. 3. Antonio (Toni) Mesquida Nebot. This one I never forgot his second last name, we called him double Nebot, because he was the nephew of a priest who taught us philosophy at the Institute named "Nebot" Mesquida. In the Mallorcan language, Nebot means "nephew". So in Mallorcan, we called this Antonio "nebot des vicari Nebot." It is translated, "Nephew of the vicar Nephew." We saw each other and said "hello" frequently. At one time, he told me he was going away to Salamanca to study to become a priest. Years later, I found him again. He was already a priest in San Agustín Parish, near the Palace of "Maryvent" (Sea and Wind), where usually the Kings of Spain spend the summer in the south coast of Palma. I saw him again several times because he was my children's religion professor at the Juan Alcover Institute. Lately I have lost site of him. I suppose he no longer goes to the Institute, but Eduardo told me that he is still in the Parrish of San Agustín. 4. Antonio (Toni) Obrador Albons. Antonio was high middle-class. His parents lived on their own land and lived well. He passed the assessment exams and later became a Veterinarian, but his joy was to play chess. He was a very good natured person. We often traveled together by train to Madrid, where he studied. We greeted each other with brotherly joy. I remember he would miss classes to go to chess championships matches. It seems to me that he later transferred his scholarship to Bilbao. No, he did not have any kinship with Bartholome Obrador. He married a woman named Francisca, who urged him to finish his career. I have not heard from him in many years. I know he used to live in calle Mayor, in Felanitx, and he now lives in Porto Colom, about 12 kilometers from Felanitx. 5. Bartholomew (Toméu) Obrador Sagrera (+). He is also deceased. I had a good friendship with Toméu. We were good friends and frequently went out together. He was very amiable, a little introverted, did everything very parsimoniously, and was not in a hurry for anything. He was like me. I remember his mother made him eat raw swallow hearts "so that he would be very intelligent". We went to college together and used to copy the Greek and Latin translations from Antonio Binimelis, things students do. When I was in Mallorca, I heard he married and later died of a heart attack. I do not know any more about him. I really felt his loss. 6. Damián (Damià) Bover (+). I do not know his second last name. He was also from Felanitx. We didn't know each other very well, but always kept a good relationship. Just like me, Damián was a close friend of Francisco Oliver. I used to see him and say "hello" at Catholic Action. He was very pleasant. His family also worked a lighthouse and lived well. It seems to me that he went to "Graduate School." I understand he married and that he died. I do not know more. 7. Francisco (Xisco) Estarellas Llaneras (+). He was great person, a friend to his friends, and I was amongst them. We studied together. We saw and frequented the school every day. He finished his bachelorship, but never took the assessment exams nor got his title. He was a man of faith. I used to see him with some frequency at Mass or visiting the Blessed Sacrament. His father had a knife factory and he worked with his father. He later opened a variety store and got married. It seems to me had a daughter. He passed away recently, at the beginning of this year 2004, because of complications from diabetes. He suffered from this problem all his life, as he inherited diabetes from his mother. I tried to see him in the last few years, but his health problems prevented it. 8. Francisco (Xisco) Grimalt Sancho. I knew him very well. We studied for our bachelor's degree together. He was a Catalonian from Rubí, near Barcelona, and he was a good Catalonian "pela is pela", a good "penny-pincher." As a good Catalan, he was very much into himself, but a good person. He came to Felanitx in 1940 during the Second World War, when food was scarce. It must have been tough to leave his father and mother to be with his uncles (Don Francisco Grimalt and Doña Magdalena), who didn't have any children and treated him as one of their own. His uncle was director of the "Graduate School." When he finished his bachelors, he returned home. I have not heard from him since. I understand he studied to be a doctor and went to live at Terrassa, closer to Tarragona, but I do not know if he still lives or not. 9. Francisco Oliver Oliver (+). He was very amiable and warm of character, never raised his voice, and seemed to live only to help others. Nothing bad could be said of him. He always answered attentively and with respect. He insisted that you always give in to the Lord. He was always worried about everyone and made no exceptions. When we were together, we chatted about many things. He always ready to listen, always had time for you. If you complained, he said; "don't hold it against him, he meant no harm." We called him Francisco, never "Xisco". I had a great friendship with him. It was him, in close coordination with Eduardo, who convinced us to go to Cala Figuera, and he got his wish. When he invited us in his friendly way, every one agreed, no one argued against it. By the way, he lived that Cursillo - like one of us. This Francisco was not from Felanitx but from Son Oliver, at the entrance to Felanitx, on the way from Campos, about three or four kilometers before. He must have lived more or less well, because he dedicated all of his time to the apostolate. And he never married, that I know of. I heard that he passed away last year (2003). I don't know the details. I deeply felt his passing. 10. Leopoldo Febrer (+). I do not know his second last name. He was two years older than I and never went to the Institute. I didn't know him well. I only know he lived in Felanitx with an aunt who had a pension, "a Pension Riera". I remember that, after the Cala Cursillo, he would visit the Blessed Sacrament daily. At Cala, he behaved very well. It was thru Eduardo that I found out he had passed away. 11. Miguel (Miqel) Rigo. I do not know his second last name. He was a carpenter. I knew it because my parents refurbished an old house and his brother did the work. He did not go to the Institute either. He was from Felanitx, a little distant, but we got along well. Since he was older than I by two or three years, we did not have much contact. I don't know if he still lives, but I heard that his wife was very ill. 12. Onofre (Nofre) Arbona. I do not know his second last name. Even though he later became one of the outstanding leaders of Cursillo, he is perhaps the one I least knew. I did not know him before. He was older than us, perhaps three or four years. He seemed a good person. I know that he was from Montuiri, an intermediate place between Palma and Manacor. It seems to me that he still lives, but I do not have more news of him. I never saw him again. 13. Sebastián (Tiá) Mestre Roig (+). "Tiá" was a good friend of mine. He was a magnificent person who was also from Felanitx, same age as I. He loved poetry. He wrote a poem for the blessing of the "candidates" banner. He didn't do well in studies, did not finish the bachelors', or at least did not make the assessment exams. I stopped seeing him after I married. It was not until I returned to Palma, after several years, that I saw him again. He told me that he passed the opposition for national teacher. I don't know in what subject. It seems to me he was first of the group that died, of a heart attack (1964 or 1965). Francisco Oliver told me and invited me to a mass celebrated at the Church of the Trinitarians for the eternal rest of his soul. 14. And finally I, your servant, Salvador (Saved) Escribano Hernandez of whom I have already spoken to you. THE TEAM AND RESOURCES It was Reverend Don Juan Juliá who acted as Spiritual Director at the Cursillo. He celebrated the eucharist and the reflections which took place in the solitary chapel there. Every day, he celebrated the Mass and we would take Communion. We did not have many dealings with him during the Cursillo. He was a man who laughed at the least provocation. He spoke to us with tenderness, as if he were Christ. I have good memories of him. I already knew him, and had been in previous retreats with him. Eduardo Bonnín Aguiló was "rector". We did not know him before, at least not I. It was Francisco Oliver who gave us his background and introduced him to us. I still remember the joy, the sense of humor and the magnetic personality of Eduardo, who from the first moment impacted us positively. During the breaks in Cursillo, he was always in contact with us, always had something pleasant that to tell us. He was (and continues to be) a great communicator. Jaime (Jaume) Riutort and Jose (Jusep) Ferragut acted as "professors." Both have already passed away, according to Eduardo, although I don't know the circumstances. I understand that Jaime Riutort has a brother who lives, but I don't know him. I remember them in coat and tie, in contrast with Eduardo who always wore short sleeves like us. I especially remember the enormous good will that they had to give rollos and to make us feel at home, always attentive to what ever was needed. I didn't know their second last names and I did not hear from them after Cala. As far as the physical resources, they were not plentiful, but we did not lack anything. A good water hose calmed the thirst, decreased the heat and also helped to keep us relatively tidy. In the shade and shelter of pines and carob trees which are plentiful, the smooth grass served (in more than one occasion) as "hall" for the rollos, which Eduardo, Jaime, and José gave their best to witness, as well as a table and lunch room in order to share the bread and the salt which we never lacked. The local chapel housed the Eucharist, the reflections and meditations that Don Juan Juliá gave in the morning and at night, as well as our daily visit to the Blessed Sacrament. And we did not lack a warm blanket to cover us during the night which disguised the hardness of the floor or the projections of an old cot. I keep an invaluable treasure from that experience, six photographs that are like "fingerprints" of that Cursillo at Cala Figuera. Whenever I see them, I always tremble and remember those unforgettable days. In them are contained indelible engravings of its participants and some of the more relevant happenings and circumstances; indelible memory of a pioneering experience. The first page of a story that is still being.. There it is, the "group of the 14." Their faces are left there for history, with full names, a reliable proof that it happened and how it happened. There you can see the rosary and Way of the Cross, prayed in an open field. It was Antonio Mesquida who carried that cross made of two dry branches of carob tree, which in a moment of inspiration he managed to construct. There is the chapel that opened its doors to gather our prayers and to visit the Lord, as we used to say. You can see the woods with its carob trees, pines and bushes. And if you pay attention, you will hear the songs of the finches and other birds. There is also the blue sky, surrounded with swallows, hawks, menacing vultures, and owls at night. There are forests, paths and the green turf where the voice of three young men resonated with singular vehemence: Eduardo Bonnín, Jaime Riutort and Jose Ferragut. There were others who were present but not noticed; those whose prayers accompanied us during its celebration; those like Don Sebastián de San Gayá, our generous benefactor, who was in charge of supplying and transporting the food and supplies in his "carreto en molles" hauled by a mule, without failing a single a day. And how could we ever forget "Papa Consuelo" who was always punctual, opportune and of good will. He was in charge of preparing foods (stewed meat, vegetables, chips, fried eggs, also sobreasada), which we gladly went to gather at the kitchen. And there was the grace of God and intercession of the Blessed Mary, which without doubt accompanied us at every moment and made it possible to crown this first stellar moment successfully. TO MY FRIENDS OF THE CURSILLO AT CALA I have been in contact with some of you more than with others, of some I have had news, of others not. I have given account of something which is known to me. Life has lead us in different ways, sometimes distant. But I remember all and love you deeply. For some reason, which I now begin to understand more and more, amongst us was born an indissoluble bond that planted and germinated divine Grace, like the beginning link in a long chain of multicolor friendship that will not stop until not we celebrate Cursillo on the Moon. TO ALL MY CURSILLISTAS FRIENDS Today, 60 years from that first event, I elevate a grateful prayer to God for the men who dreamed and made it possible, for Eduardo Bonnín Aguiló its rector, for Don Juan Juliá its Spiritual Director, for Jose Ferragut and Jaime Riutort its professors, for Don Sebastián de Son Gayá, his aunt, and sister, its benefactors; for "Papa Consuelo" its likeable and helpful cook; for the 14; and very specially for all those laymen and priests. From all the latitudes of the world, that with an inflamed heart, head full of ideas, and an iron-like determination, you take pains to bring to those who are far from Christ the fundamental Christian message: THAT GOD THROUGH CHRIST LOVES US! I thank the Almighty for having allowed me the privilege to be a part of this happy adventure. At Palma de Mallorca, Spain, August 20, 2004 DE COLORES SALVADOR ESCRIBANO HERNÁNDEZ GO BACK to Central Indiana Cursillo
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