One book at a time
As a child, before I developed my reading skills, I remember that I loved to look at magazines and brochures. Usually my stepfather would carry catalogs of appliances (he worked in a furniture & appliances company) and left them in the dining room for whoever wanted to read them. Usually I was the one who took the brochures from him and got ready to “read.”
I remember looking through the magazines and looking at the photos, I used to wonder how those artists did to “draw” humans to make them look so real. I still did not know what a photograph was anyways. One day I tried, and as best I could, I “drew” one of those people who appeared in the magazine, in fact, I tried to trace the lines perfectly, one after another, but I did not achieve perfection. My question remained! How good those cartoonists have to be to make people look this real!
I think that at some point I got frustrated and decided to ignore my path as an artist, because I didn’t feel that I could “draw” as well as the artists they hired in those magazines. Maybe I just needed time to find out that everything was done through a device called a camera, and that the artists or cartoonists were actually Photographers.
I decided to continue enjoying the magazines as a spectator. What I found in them wasn’t very interesting, and I usually didn’t understand anything, but it kept me distracted.
When I was 10 years old, after finishing elementary school, I moved to another town to live with another family; I didn’t have many friends in this place. In the house where I lived, I noticed that they had a small library with books of all kinds, from science, history, geography, to medicine, stories and novels. I was surprised that this library was more used as an ornament or decoration to make the house look “smarter”, and that its content was mostly ignored by the people who lived with me. Where everyone saw one more piece of furniture, I saw a sanctuary, a place of fantastic travels through which I could not only enrich my knowledge, but also allow me to let my imagination fly to the farthest reaches of the universe.
I had only one good friend at school, with whom I could not spend much time, because the adults who took care of me did not consider him a pleasant person for my life. They considered him a rebellious boy, who did not study, and that he would only teach me bad habits and make me a bad person. It was very sad that my tutors did not take the time to at least meet my good friend, perhaps let him visit me to realize that it was not what they thought. Sure, we weren’t the wisest kids; and we did sometimes played in other people’s yards, or distract other friends while they were in their classes at school. Sometimes we might play dangerous games, like climbing very tall trees, trying to grab the furthest fruit; roll his bike at full speed in the middle of a busy street; or getting into fights with other people who wanted to challenge us to the fists (which sometimes makes me laugh to remember, considering how of a coward I am today). Still, I think none of this defined us as people. We were just a pair of tweens with all the energy and creativity to imagine fun ways to spend the moment. And this was especially important to me, since arriving home meant entering the cold, hostile and painful environment in which I lived at that age. For me, going out to be irreverent with my friend from school meant moments of infinite joy that I was never going to get at home.
However, the time came when they forbade their friendship. Because my friend “did not give them a good feeling”, “that boy is going to get you in trouble”, “if he keeps on the streets it is because his mother does not want him.”
In the midst of despair, and questioning on what to do with my free time since I could not leave the house. In the midst of all the dilemma of being an educated pre-adolescent and of which my tutors were proud, in the midst of that I rediscovered my great passion for reading. At that time, I already knew how to read very well, and I was very interested in knowing everything the world had for me. I went to the sanctuary of knowledge that I had discovered in that house, the “ornament” that contained thousands of secrets that only I would go to discover — because no one else saw books as something to which you have to spend a little time.
My afternoons started to be reading afternoons. With the incessant heat and deafening silence of the town, at the time when people usually took their naps and everything went into a moment of trance, time seemed to stop for that space of two hours; in those moments when the trees were only heard when the breeze blew, or when a dry leaf fell, or when a lizard walked through the grass; in those moments when it was easier to perceive what you usually did not perceive, when it was easier to notice the stain on the patio wall, the semi-erased letters of the white shirt hanging on the wire, the voice of the person selling mangoes two blocks from where I lived, the breeze swaying in different directions, the sunbeam moving through the shadows of the tree that covered me. It was said ray of sunshine that gave me clues that my moment of silence and happiness was about to end.
It was during these fleeting moments that I took the opportunity to read. I always had a favorite subject that I was obsessed with at certain times.
I read about geography and learned about the rivers of Colombia, the great mountains and the famous cities. I read about world records, I learned that the Nile River used to be the longest river in the world, but our Amazon surpassed it at some point. I read about history, I understood that Tupac Amaru was the Aztec emperor (wrong, actually I think he was Inca, but not sure anymore), and that apparently the Spaniards murdered him by beheading, I don’t remember the clear details, I only remember what I felt while reading all this. There was a drawing of Tupac Amaru, I watched it for many minutes, trying to understand what happened.
I read about the independence of Colombia, I learned about the Beatles and their members, I read about Marilyn Monroe and about Abraham Lincoln. I read a lot of grammar books in English, I learned the pronouns, the conjugations, the possessives, the different tenses. I learned about anatomy and understood the systems of the human body before anyone in my class. I studied rope knots for tying animals on farms, dozens of knots both easy and impossible to loosen. I identified names from the history of Colombia although I never studied why they were famous, such as Rafael Uribe Uribe and Policarpa Salavarrieta. I learned what a catapult was and what a guillotine was, in fact, I tried to make one to “decapitate” insects, but my experiment failed. I tried to study chemistry and physics, but both subjects were very difficult for me. I read about home medicine, I learned how to make a tourniquet, I learned about the Heimlich maneuver (although I did not memorize its name at the time), I learned about mental illness — I was fascinated by the idea of suffering from vertigo and especially hallucinations so that I could have imaginary friends . I read and memorized stories by Rafael Pombo, Aníbal Niño, Aesop and Oscar Wilde. I read novels like “El Túnel” and “The Incredible and Sad Tale of Innocent Eréndira and Her Heartless Grandmother”. I started reading “Love in the Time of Cholera” and “100 Years of Solitude”, but I never finished them. I read “Juan Salvador Gaviota” and started reading “The Rebellion of the Rats.” One day I started reading the Spanish dictionary from the beginning, words like “abacus”, “abad”, and “abel” are the first that I remember having studied; halfway through the “a” I gave up the mission of reading the entire dictionary, as it seemed unrealistic. Likewise, I always wanted to ask my Spanish Language teacher if they were forced to learn the dictionary in order to obtain their degree; I never asked her. Then I started studying botany, and I wanted to put together my own notebook with samples of plants that I would discover; but the task became difficult for me and I abandoned it.
At the age of 11 I had developed a skill for reading, which would later become my most valuable habit, and through which I would begin to find meaning in life and the world.
When I was 15 years old, in 2004, I was already living in Medellín with my mother, and I usually spent every afternoon alone at home trying to watch something interesting on TV. Since watching TV was not my thing, and I felt that I wanted to acquire more knowledge, I walked to a bookstore and saw a Chess book; this book cost the equivalent of about 50 cents of a dollar. I begged my mother to please give me the money, she noticed the emotion with which I asked for the book, she immediately gave it to me. I still have it, and I still remember how exciting my afternoons were when I was studying techniques, repeating games, even playing against myself!
At the same time that I was practicing Chess, I was also training Taekwondo at a local club. Those were my two hobbies.
When I finished the Chess book, I began to spend my afternoons in two libraries that were close to my house. I remember reading about psychology and sports — especially martial arts; I tried to memorize self defense techniques, or tricks to get better at Taekwondo. I also read magic tricks, and I imagined doing several of these in a presentation at school; I wrote down several on a sheet, but I never practiced them, and I think that the sheet where I had my notes was thrown away by my mother when she didn’t know what it was. The library where I went had a quiet environment, I used to read under the umbrellas, listening only to the voices of people who whispered so as not to disturb, and at times I was distracted when a pretty girl passed by me, or when someone accidentally opened the door. I used to go to the library with my younger sister, who used to look for Lazy Town or princess books; Sometimes she would get bored and she would ask me what I was reading, I would try to explain to her, to which she responded with a mock of “I didn’t understand but if you like it that’s fine”. One day I saw a Taekwondo book that I found very interesting, so much so that I wanted to take it home. I asked to make photocopies of the entire book! I still remember what it was like to bring so much emotion with me to my home.
My mom had a job with a somewhat difficult schedule. She used to leave at 3 or 4 PM, and she would come home almost at midnight. I almost always waited awake for her; sometimes I would cook something for her to eat before sleeping, sometimes we had conflict, so I preferred not to talk to her.
Maybe it was my passion for reading that made me a freak at school. And while I tried to have fun like everyone else, I actually didn’t do it like everyone else. For me the fun consisted of being at a party for certain hours and then going back to babysit my younger sister, or spending some time playing Chess or Monopoly with my best friend, training Tae Kwon Do alone, or reading something interesting. My definition of fun clashed with that of other boys my age, at 16 I had become a boring guy in the eyes of my friends and girls my age. I think I never learned to dance like the boys of my generation did, only as an adult I learned to dance salsa with my wife, and maybe a bit of Champeta in my own way. People say that I know how to dance very well, what they don’t know is that I don’t dance, I just follow the beats very well and that makes it seem like I dance well; Over time, several of the invented movements have become steps that I incorporated into my routine when I want to do the show in front of my family and friends, you know: Fake it till you make it
My love for books was what led me to be self-taught when one day in June at the age of 20 I began to reconsider my life. I had a daughter and a home, and I had a job I did not love. I exposed my life to the dangers of the night as I returned home, and I slept very little. I decided to study to be a Software Engineer, and independently I used internet manuals to read in my spare time.
My goal of changing careers was achieved, and through it I got closer and closer to each of the dreams that I traced for my life. However, reading became my job rather than my hobby. Because of this, it became a habit for me to quickly read documentations to find a solution to my problem, instead of studying the topics in depth to understand the basics. My knowledge was getting flat, and my ability to read was slowly fading.
I spent at least 10 years starting books and then not finishing them. I remember starting readings always with the highest motivation, and then being distracted by something else, especially desperation to “do something productive” rather than sitting “doing nothing” — my subconscious was misleading me by telling me that reading was wasting time .
In 2019 I changed jobs, I made a definite career change from Software Development to Engineering Management. It has been a very positive change for my career that has brought me so many good experiences and has helped me to know myself as a professional and understand even more clearly that I know absolutely nothing about anything. At the same time, family challenges were presented to me, the COVID-19 crisis occurred and all this brought many conflicts.
In the midst of so many challenges, between defining if I could be good as a Manager and if at the same time I could overcome family situations; In the midst of the indecisions and confusion I began to read again. I learned that proactivity generates much more value than reactivity.
From there my passion for books was reborn. Due to pressure to understand my work in the best way, and due to pressure to be the best Engineering Manager I could be, I started to read a lot more. In addition to the pressure to be a better person, better understand conflicts and be able to bring my interpersonal relationships (wife, children, friends, extended family) to success.
So far these months I have read more books than I have ever read in my life. And I feel that my ability to read is improving little by little. The side effect is that my own reading ability and comprehension has improved a lot and this has been reflected in my work. I feel like I was being very negligent in that area.
I am rediscovering that beautiful passion I had for reading, and now I feel that I will finally be able to read 100 years of Solitude, after postponing it for more than 20 years.
My greatest achievement is that I can transmit the love of reading to my children by setting an example, and that I can begin to cultivate the spark of creativity through such a valuable hobby.
One book at a time.