HISTORY OF A LIFE
Introduction
It was at my family’s suggestion that I decided, on my 87th birthday, to put pen to paper
and to record aspects of my life that I trust may be of interest to the reader. It is a
somewhat risky project because there are by now some gaps in my memory and
some dates and names have become blurred, as has also the chronology of events.
Further, I had never intended that my name be recorded for posterity, and I have
never kept diaries nor made notes of events. All that remains is what my memory
recalls.
But, if there are lapses, what is written here has been set down with honesty and
without any desire for misrepresentation. Many letters that Molly wrote to her mother,
from Timor and Australia, provided help: letters that her brother Ian had retrieved
and kindly sent to her after their mother’s death. These letters were useful in reminding
me of dates and episodes that had fallen into obscurity.
The language is simple and direct, without embellishments. Indeed, no sophisticated
style of writing should be expected, considering that I left Portugal more than 60
years ago. Nor does the sequence of events follow any plan or methodology: I kept
on writing as I remembered.
This is therefore not a literary work. Rather, it is a record of events relating to a life
that was varied and interesting, and I hope well lived.
Preface
Written in a simple, clear, colloquial language, which engages us from the
first page to the last, this first-person narrative never ceases to amaze and
delight us, as it recounts a breathtaking succession of facts, adventures and
encounters with people, in a context of diverse socio-cultural
backgrounds, in faraway locations. It is a distinctive, meteoric life-story that
we follow when we accept the author’s invitation to accompany him on a
long journey down the years, across time and continents, from remote areas
in Alto Minho, such as Cousso, Cubalhão, Serra da Peneda
(where an underprivileged little boy would seem to be condemned to grow
up and work in insurmountable isolation), to immense open spaces, horizons
he opened for himself with his non-conformism and his insatiable desire for
knowledge, moving on, his feet firmly on the ground, from place to place,
indefatigably, going each time a little further – first in a Portugal
which the New State discourse conceptualised as a national, multi-continental
unity, stretching, under the same flag, “from Minho to Timor.” The young
Carlos Lemos will indeed go precisely from Minho to Timor, crossing the
seas, helping to clear virgin woodland on the banks of African rivers,
exploring the coasts of the then Portuguese territories from the Indian
to the Pacific Oceans, crossing borders and participating in the very
Portuguese destiny of the migrant, in faraway southern Africa and Oceania.
“Story of a life,” as he entitles it with characteristic modesty, is a
fascinating collection of tales, confidences, instructive observations
and comments of great historical, anthropological and political
interest. The first temptation for the reader is to add some
expressive adjectives: “an exceptional life” or maybe “a fantastic life”!
From the very beginning, from childhood, what is most unusual and amazing
is that all the decisions, so judicious in the end, are his and his alone,
after leaving school at an early age and being left responsible for himself,
in difficult jobs, jobs meant for adults, which awaken his precocity and
strength of spirit. And thus, through endless difficulties and challenges,
he forged a character that is independent, honest and tenacious, as well
as sensitive and gentle.
In one of his first town jobs, in a popular café in Monção, an
elderly, perspicacious doctor, a regular customer there, unexpectedly
tells him: “you are a perfect diplomat!”
That prophetic comment in particular has stayed in my mind because,
about four decades later, when Carlos Lemos organised my first visit
to Melbourne, Australia, and I began to know him better, I did not
express (but could well have done) a similar appraisal. Here was a
born diplomat, extremely considerate and pragmatic, qualities that
are rarely found together. Here also was a migrant who was
passionate about his native country, who recognised and expounded
the history and values of the Portuguese-speaking world and promoted
the interests of his fellow countrymen—even before he was appointed
honorary consul.
His natural gift for getting close to people (irrespective of their social
class, academic status, ideological tendencies, ethnic origin, age etc.),
together with his uncommon intelligence, explains something that
he never mentions: the ease with which, as a solitary young man,
coming from a small rural village, he is accepted into the restricted,
selective circles of the elites of the time, or into social gatherings
of students, with whom he undoubtedly learned to reflect
upon and debate all manner of questions.
In his new profession as an assistant surveyor, he happens
to have a conversation, in Cascais, with President Carmona, and
he socialises with the President’s grandchildren, that is, with
young people of the upper bourgeoisie. Póvoa de Varzim is his next
destination, a defining moment on the long road that lay ahead of
him. He joins groups of students and graduates. It is then that he
decides to resume his studies, completing five years of high school
in one single year!
Later, in Mozambique, he counts among his close friends Paulo
Vallada and João Maria Tudela and, together, they belong to the
most exclusive of clubs, the Lourenço Marques Club. In Johannesburg
he is friends with Mary, Henry Oppenheimer’s daughter, and with
Tamara, the ex-bullfighter; in Durban, with Jonathan, Alan Paton’s
son, as well as with Alan Paton himself, who held him in high regard
and in whose house he meets personalities such as Nelson
Mandela, Oliver Tambo, Walter Sisulu and Albert Lutuli, and he
has the privilege of being present at countless conversations
among them; in Hong Kong he was friends with Comendador
Arnaldo Sales, who, as Mayor of Hong Kong, was responsible
for that city achieving high standards of excellence; in Timor,
with Ruy Cinatti, for whom he had enormous admiration; in
Australia, with Kenneth McIntyre, whose thesis on the Portuguese
discovery of that country he defended and publicised everywhere,
from Portugal to Macau, where, thanks to his influence, there is
now a section of the Maritime Museum devoted to that unpublicised
discovery and where McIntyre’s original book on The Secret
Discovery of Australia, 250 years before Captain Cook, has been
translated into Portuguese.
These are but a few examples of the many illustrious personalities
we become familiar with in the pages of this book. Among his
less common, occasional acquaintances, Samora Machel
stands out (who cared for him as a patient at the Lourenço
Marques Hospital!); there was also, in a troubled Indonesia
and during a most improbable Balinese holiday, his meeting
with the celebrity wife of the then Army Chief of Staff,
General Yani. Mrs Yani immediately invited the friendly Lemos
couple to interesting tours around notable sites, to receptions
and dinners, and even to a visit to Sukarno’s summer palace in Bali.
A Portuguese man whom everybody seems to like: Mozambicans,
Timorese, Indonesians, Egyptians, South Africans, Aboriginal
people of the Australian desert, artists, men of letters and scientists,
entrepreneurs, ambassadors, politicians from countless countries.
An impressive, worldwide network of fraternal contacts, who
remain friends forever, whom he cultivates and often meets again
during his many travels. How could he possibly not feel tempted
to look back at centuries of history and remember the Portuguese
art of making friends among the peoples of the world? In the
twenty-first century, this Portuguese man assures us that we are
still the same people, with the same strong desire to wander
the world which was at the heart of the “golden age” of The Lusiads:
the movement of caravels, men, ideas, and, frequently, also of
affections.
In the mid-twentieth century, at little more than 20 years of age,
the adventurous Carlos Lemos, a specialist in topography and
hydrography, applied modern techniques for surveying land and
sea, first in Portugal’s small European rectangle, then in
Mozambique, in the Limpopo Valley on the northern border
with South Africa, then in Timor, from one end of the island to
the other, and later, in the Australian desert, where he travelled
34,000 km traversing the Tanami Desert, mapping the territory
for subsequent exploration by the Bureau of Mineral Resources,
and inscribing his name as a pioneer in numerous sparsely
populated locations in the central northern parts of Australia.
As I attempt to write this short preface (no doubt arbitrary and
simplified) to his autobiography, I must add that I consider it a
worthy heir in the rich tradition of travel literature, with a flavour
of the sixteenth century, inasmuch as the author goes well
beyond the mere mention of facts and notes on locations of exotic
beauty—which also abound—to give us his appreciation of local
customs, social and political conflicts, and personalities who have
left an indelible historical mark. It is the worldview of a cultivated
and cosmopolitan man, a sociologist, an observer of politics,
qualities that he displayed even before completing his university
studies in these fields. He had begun those studies
in South Africa, where he met Molly, his future wife, and
completed them in Melbourne, a few years later. Here is an
indefatigable “pilgrim in foreign lands” (as Adriano Moreira
would define him), willing to share with his reader a thousand
and one vivid experiences, vicissitudes and sentiments, as well
as his sense of humour, which comes through here and there
and is usually aimed at himself as he mentions some misadventures,
chastising himself with great wit.
He married Marion (Molly) Murray, a young woman of British
origin with a Masters degree in psychology, who joined him on
the “island at the end of the world”, Timor, revealing her similar
taste for adventure and wandering. This marriage would, very
soon, lead to the beginning of a “second life” for both of them:
the life of migrants, finally rooted in a new country. Molly’s
academic career in Australia would be the stabilising factor.
From then on, this autobiography recounts new career interests
pursued by Carlos Lemos in Melbourne: university lecturer,
secondary school teacher, commercial bank agent, manager.
It likewise reveals a new quality: as a leader and the principal
builder of a strong and cohesive community, where before
there were only scattered Portuguese, unknown to their
host country. From then on, with his “impetus from
Portugal” (as Fernando Pessoa would say) and his capacity for
mobilising people, the history of the Portuguese in Victoria
becomes intimately entwined with his own story, an example
that scholars of the genesis of contemporary migrant
communities and of the Portuguese diaspora should analyse,
I would emphasise, as a case study. Indeed, many Portuguese
families were already settled in that Australian state of Victoria,
but they lacked the impetus for coming together. All that changed
thanks to the action and charisma of this “man of causes”. He began
with the essentials: he founded a Portuguese language school
(in 1972), a radio program in Portuguese, of which he was the
director and the presenter, a “Committee for Community Activities”
(which he chaired between 1976 and 1984), the “Portuguese
Community Trust” (in 1983), a cooperative which aimed to
collect funds to establish a worthy community headquarters,
a project which, due to bureaucratic obstacles, was converted
into the famous Café Lisboa, a high-quality Portuguese
restaurant in fashionable Fitzroy, near the centre of
Melbourne, which attracted many customers, including
academics from the University of Melbourne, and, as was its
initial intent, provided a space open to community initiatives.
Dr Lemos felt obliged to manage the converted project, making
it a great success. This is where he welcomed many leading
figures of the Portuguese-speaking world in their visits to
Australia: Dom Ximenes Belo, Dr Ramos-Horta, Dr Alberto
João Jardim, Carlos do Carmo, writers of the diaspora Vasco
Calixto and Marcial Alves, the Secretary of State Correia de Jesus,
Governor Rocha Vieira (through whom a close collaboration with
Macau began), successive ambassadors and consuls from Sydney,
and many others.
Unforgettable was the high-profile launch of a CD of music for
the children of Timor, personally delivered by Bishop Hilton
Deakin as he stepped out of a helicopter that landed on a plot
of land near Café Lisboa!
Previously, as head of the Committee for Community Activities,
Carlos Lemos sponsored the first festivities of Our Lady of Fátima,
with a procession that moved through the streets of Melbourne
and was attended by the Archbishop of the Diocese, Archbishop
Frank Little, the Minister for Immigration, the Consul-General
from Sydney and othe leading figures (who naturally had accepted
the invitation from a very special friend), as well as a crowd of
thousands of Portuguese who thus gained a profile in Australian society.
The profile also of his mother country, of its history, its traditions
and qualities, which were very much in evidence in the migrant
community, was a major cause that Carlos Lemos embraced,
very actively. In this connection, we should highlight his promotion of
Australian historian Kenneth McIntyre’s thesis on the unpublicised
discovery of Australia by Portuguese navigators, endorsed in the
research of Peter Trickett and Professor John Moloney (concerning
place-names of Portuguese origin shown on Dutch and French
maps, particularly in the Vallard Atlas of 1547). Further, Carlos
Lemos has pursued the search for other links with Australia.
First, the fact that Governor Arthur Phillip, considered the founder
of the modern nation, was an officer in the Portuguese Navy.
Second, the fact of the Portuguese nationality of Artur Loureiro,
the great painter from Porto, possibly better remembered nowadays
in Melbourne, where he resided for seventeen years, than in his
native country. And third, the Portuguese-Timorese solidarity
extended to Bernard Callinan, an Australian military hero
who commanded the Independent Company during the resistance
to the Japanese invaders of Portuguese Timor during the Second
World War, and who was also his friend.
There is, further, one outstanding achievement that I must
emphasise, as in itself it would fully justify the prestigious
award that President Sampaio bestowed on him in 2002: his
proposal, eventually realised, to erect a monument on Australian
soil commemorating Portuguese navigators. Many and
time-consuming were the negotiations which made possible the
procurement of the perfect location, on a beautiful hilltop against
a backdrop of the vast Southern Ocean, in Warrnambool
(where, in the 1800s, numerous eye-witnesses reported
sightings of the probable remains of a 16th-century Portuguese caravel)
and subsequently the inauguration of a replica of a Portuguese
Padrão in the presence of the highest representative of the State,
the Governor of Victoria, together with other dignitaries, including
the Portuguese Ambassador, Ministers, Members of Parliament,
Kenneth McIntyre, a huge number of onlookers, and, last but not
least, an enormous media contingent. Warrnambool has since
become a place of homage to the history and presence
of Portugal. The annual (now biennial) Portuguese Festival
attracts hundreds of Portuguese to the monument, which
has been enhanced since the inauguration of the Padrao by the
installation of busts of Henry the Navigator and Vasco da Gama,
both gifts, at Carlos Lemos’ suggestion, from the last Governor
of Macau. This too received very extensive media
coverage, which brought Portugal yet again into the spotlight.
In which other countries or continents, among those we know
were, without publicity, discovered by the Portuguese, has
Portuguese diplomacy ever achieved anything similar?
Clearly, nowhere else.
This is, thus, a splendid and unique achievement, crowning a
trajectory of advocacy for Portuguese people and values
before governments of one country or another: a lucid and
courageous involvement in the domains of migration and the
Portuguese-speaking world, international politics, with very
active participation in forums and world congresses of the
diaspora, with a voice that cries out forthrightly against the
negativity of historians who reject plausible theses proposing
Portuguese greatness, against the mediocrity of politicians and
public servants, against injustice and intolerance.
A final word of thanks to Dr Carlos Lemos for his friendship
and his precious collaboration over the decades in the fight
for Portuguese migrants and for the Timorese. I also declare
to him, both as Man and as Portuguese, my admiration for the
way in which he has imbued his ever-dynamic life with a
humanistic and fraternal spirit.
[Photo of Manuela Aguiar]
Manuela Aguiar
Ex-Secretary of State for the Portuguese Communities
Ex-Vice President of the Portuguese Parliament
Ex-Member of the Portuguese Parliament
