It was in September 2015 that the invitation — and the opportunity to return — arose.

My first trip back to Portugal took place 20 months after I had started working and living abroad. Over four years, I made three trips to Portugal. None of them during Easter, summer or Christmas. Always just outside those Christian festive periods considered peak season by airlines.

Whenever we came to Portugal, time did not pass — it flew.

We tried, at all costs, to be with family and friends, but it was always too little. We wanted desperately to enjoy everything we loved about our land, our corner of the world, our territory — and it was never enough. Never.

Family meals. Moments with friends. Trips to Sagres, Faro beach, São Brás de Alportel, boat parties in the Ria Formosa, nights without sleep… Faro was ours. The waves of Sagres were mine (all of them). The Algarve was ours. Portugal was ours. Europe was ours.

We tried not to sleep so as to make the most of every second. We only slept when we could no longer keep going. Extreme. Our schedule was impossible.

It was on one of those endless days that I ran into a friend at the first edition of Festival F. One of those nights. In one of those streets.

What began as a simple “hello”, followed by a hug and a “stay strong, all the best, good to see you”, turned into something far deeper and longer.

An informal conversation with an educator – a good man. At that time, by coincidence, he held the position of Mayor of Faro. He invited us to O Castelo, “Jaime’s bar”, later that evening, for a coffee.

At that Festival F – conceived and planned by the great Joaquim Guerreiro, founder of Festival Med many years earlier – we could not walk ten meters without seeing, greeting, hugging or kissing people who meant a great deal to us and made us feel at home.

It was at O Castelo that I listened and spoke with my friend. He invited me for a coffee, though I have serious doubts, because at that point in time, for me, it was more about tankards.

An unexpected conversation. An unexpected invitation. An opportunity that made me look at Rute (and Rute look at me).

I was presented with a very interesting possibility of returning and embracing a simple cause: helping a friend in action, doing what I know how to do – plan, execute, communicate, evaluate. All with purpose. All with a mission.

That moment lasted until we were swept away into other moments of love, family, friendship and madness. But, in practice, it gave rise to a set of contacts that made that opportunity real – or at least, the promise of it.

It was in November 2015 that email exchanges began with one of his representatives – a certain individual who would later disappoint me greatly, but to whom I am nonetheless grateful for having managed to formalize my return, more specifically to this unique corner that blends childhood and the Ria Formosa. Faro is, and will always be, my home.

I write “disappointed” because he promised me an employment contract that never existed; because he never valued or emphasized that detail – he simply omitted it. He led me to believe it would be that way, without ever telling me or warning me that – something that is easy to understand today, but at the time I was living in Mozambique, where everything seems possible with money or when you know the right people – it was not, in fact, so easy to establish an employment contract with someone external to the entities overseen by the municipality. But, as I said, none of this was explained to me. I was not warned once. On the contrary, the project always appeared to be well-oiled. I simply did not question it.

In my second year in Mozambique, after having worked at Grupo SOICO – a media group very similar to Portugal’s Grupo Impresa – I received a headhunting offer from DDB Mozambique. Everything was effortless. Nothing was negotiated. I did not have to lift a finger. Everything was handled smoothly by that communications group. I honestly thought the process in Faro would be similar. I felt my services were desired and that they would therefore ensure the entire process unfolded with minimal inconvenience on my side. That was not what happened. Quite the opposite. I was reduced to the smallness they attributed to me, and I should have put an end to that episode. I let things drift, and at the critical moment, I came face to face with reality.

November… December… and in January 2016 I returned to Portugal alone (Rute followed two months later), to join the team and the project led by my friend, Rogério Bacalhau.

I had a personal debt towards him. A serious one. I am a simple person, but my parents taught me to have principles. Let me explain: in my 9th year of schooling – in 1992 – at João de Deus Secondary School in Faro, I had an unpleasant incident during the final week of classes. I was a teenage skater in the 1990s! Good-looking, curious, lively, adventurous, rebellious. I missed many classes but always performed well academically. Always. That final week, already “blocked by absences” (unable to miss any more classes), I wanted to take a photograph of my class and, when prevented by the biology teacher, I committed the foolish act of assaulting her – a slap to the face. It is true. I am not proud of it. It was not serious – quite the opposite, it was light – but the aggressive gesture was enough to be considered assault. I felt it. That same day I was suspended and, with no absences left to give, that meant I would fail the year. The following day, an extraordinary meeting was held between the school’s board, the class director, the assaulted teacher, myself and my parents (!!!). At that meeting, everyone voted in favour of my suspension and, consequently, my expulsion from the school. Sitting at that table was Professor Rogério Bacalhau, then deputy headmaster. He was the one who proposed an alternative: he told everyone present that it made no sense to suspend me and make me repeat the year; instead, they should allow me to complete the remaining three school days, pass the year, and transfer to another school the following year – Pinheiro e Rosa Secondary School, where he would become headmaster. He also stated, to everyone present, that he would personally be responsible for ensuring my proper conduct during that future academic year. Something I did not understand at the time, but came to understand later. Today, as a father, I have no words to express my gratitude for such a gesture and concern. And so it was. I passed that year and transferred to Pinheiro e Rosa in its very first year of operation – the most dangerous school in the municipality! That first year was extremely violent. Verbal and physical conflicts, fights, thefts, schemes, drama, disrespect – so many things that contrasted sharply with the life I had led at João de Deus. Bullying?! Lol! At that school, my rebelliousness was child’s play compared to the long list of hand-picked “mafiosos” I met there and with whom I formed lifelong friendships. And it was in my 10th year that, surprisingly, I saw how Rogério Bacalhau honored his word. Believe it or not, throughout that entire year, EVERY SINGLE DAY, that teacher would knock and open the door of one of my random classes, peek inside until he caught my eye, wink at me, smile, or simply say “Hello”. An entire year, EVERY DAY, making sure I behaved “well”, attended classes, and committed no further “crimes”. Over time, it became clear to everyone that I was a “good kid” compared to the local alpha males. Pedagogically, his attitude was irreproachable. I am, and will always be, deeply grateful for it. A teacher concerned with the person, the student, the adolescent child. He left a mark on me. He passed on values. He taught responsibility, commitment, seriousness and loyalty. In the years that followed, he continued to show concern through small gestures. As headmaster of Pinheiro e Rosa, he made spaces available to student bands (Punkekas, for example), theatre groups, IT clubs – and believe it or not! – he allowed us to use the carpentry workshop to build skate ramps and train at school on weekends. At that time, there were no skateparks like there are today, on every corner. There were none! I have written about this elsewhere. For us, who competed in the national skateboarding circuit, it was an opportunity to improve, to take the sport more seriously. Looking back today, I recognise in him an uncommon educational integrity. We were there, not somewhere else. And I saw many “friends” drift into far less healthy paths. That was the debt I felt I had to “repay” with my professional commitment. It came from within. It was personal. And as Captain Nascimento said: “A mission given is a mission accomplished.”

The initial offer in November consisted of joining the working team of Faro City Council, with an employment contract and dignified conditions, albeit substantially below what we earned in Mozambique.

But…
… that is not quite how things happened.

I – who to this day still hold a romantic view of politics, and who believe there are altruistic people capable of representing and serving the common good through public office – once again succumbed to reality in a harsh and abrupt way, months later. If in the past I had already been disappointed by politics through my various attempts to work with the public system, this time I received a true punch to the stomach. Disappointment does not even begin to describe what I felt. When that individual told me there was no way to hire my services as promised, I was genuinely incredulous and speechless. With goodwill and naïveté, I tried to solve the problem (a habit of mine: I don’t dwell on causes – I fix things and move on). But later, my subconscious began telling me it was not that simple… and at no point did I want to trouble Professor Bacalhau with the issue.

Unexpectedly, that employment contract was no longer possible. It had to be done another way.

To this detail I added another 1,000 km to my distance parallel. It was here, in this small “misunderstanding”, that I faced a real affront and encountered further difficulties, surprises and disappointment. Another 1,000 km in my journey. Just like that: here you go – take it. We’re now at 2,000 km of distance.

Upon returning with all my belongings in 2016, I realized that the promise made to me – which included a specific set of working conditions – was no longer the same. That individual indicated by my friend had deceived me.

Already in Portugal, with no ties left to Mozambique, I was forced to find a solution. I had to accept the dilemma and live with it because, at that time, I did not have a bag full of banknotes to say, “OK, in that case, let it go”, as I could today – even without such a bag. There were several moments when I should have taken a stand. This was the first time I did not. I did not want to destabilize or create friction. I wanted the process to flow and I wanted to start working as soon as possible. My mistake.

Today, it was no mistake at all – it was simply the natural unfolding of things. This was how it had to be. This was the path.

The alternative was to open a business activity by setting up a limited liability company (LDA), allowing me to provide my services under public procurement rules.

And so it happened.

I am here. I am happy. B16 is 10 years old. And I have more than my dreams ever managed to build.