Adeus Macau
by Nuno Loureiro d’Eça
This memoir was originally published in the UMA News Bulletin Nov-Dec 1998
The late Nuno Loureiro d’Eça lived in New Zealand after the war.
The end of Macau as a Portuguese-administered territory is fast approaching and before that chapter closes I would like to express my sentiments and to relate a few anecdotes. This article is dedicated to all the Portuguese from Hong Kong and Shanghai who served in the uniformed services and the hospitals during those grim and agonizing war years in Macau. But let’s not forget those young and old people who succumbed to malnutrition and disease because of the war. I too, lost my father and my brother João – leaving a young family bereft of fatherly love and guidance. Life seemed increasingly precarious for us. Most of our boys continued their schooling in S. Luiz Gonzaga and Salesiano (the girls in Santa Rosa de Lima) – thus sparing them the ugly and sinister side of life in Macau. But conversely, a large number of ex-La Salle boys joined the police force and army.
The policemen were the most vulnerable to danger and they had to be alert for criminals and the politically inspired enemies of neutral Macau. There were occasional disturbances at the nightclubs instigated by the intoxicated and boisterous members of the Imperial Japanese Forces who were “staying” in Macau. An irritant to all was the continuous demand that the bands played Japanese military tunes. But fortunately, the intrepid Commandante Cunha and his “boys” resolved the tense and politically sensitive situation before it exploded out of hand. Poor band leader Andy Hidalgo and Eddy Guzman and their musicians!
Art Carneiro‘s venue escaped this predicament; except for Avichi Yvanovich’s penchant for crooning with Art’s band. Avichi was very good though, rendering with a bass voice Stardust, etc. I know because many times I was on nightclub duty at the Riviera Hotel. Art’s music deu-me arrepios!
I was only sixteen years of age when I lied about my age to join the fire brigade where I worked for over three years as a corporal. The other boys from Hong Kong were my cousins Henrique Eça da Silva and Dâmaso Loureiro d’Aquino, Reinaldo dos Santos and Jeronimo Ozorio who joined before the war. Dâmaso joined soon after he and Heldy Remedios escaped from Shamshuipo prisoner of war camp.
The brigade was run quasi-military style with bugle calls for everything! Our duties, apart from fighting fires, were disaster relief and retrieving bodies after suicides, etc. After a particularly severe typhoon the brigade was dispatched to assist in recovering cadavers from the floating population. There I witnessed a mind-boggling scene: hundreds of dead men, children and women were “strewn” in the water near the breakwaters – many were bloated and decomposing.
Another unpleasant job was having to hose down the concrete floors of the insane asylum cells at Kiang Wu Hospital. After hosing the debris and human excrement, I would invariably “nick-off” to cheer up our boys and girls who were sick in another wing of the compound. Young Frank da Luz (Carlos and Dick’s brother) always had a smile for me in spite of his terminal sickness. Betty Gutierrez Olga and Aida‘s sister) was another I visited frequently.
As if all that wasn’t enough, we had to contend with the cholera epidemic in summer. I remember Chief Nurse Senhor Ozorio’s desperation every time I transported by ambulance the victims to São Januário Hospital – some days as many as 25! So, 25 victims = 25 showers back at the station = the cleanest guy in Macau!! The nature of the job is yuk and yuk!! – if you know what I mean.
Joe da Luz (Adeus meu caro antigo amigo. Sento muito Patsy e família!)
I used to meet Joe nearly every day of the year during the war. I still recall vividly the night he scared the pants off me. Joe was posted near the bottom steps of the ruins of St. Paul, and I decided to take the short cut home after duty. It was pitch dark except for a dim street light in the distance. A cold wind was blowing and the rustling leaves made spooky noises. It was midnight and I took the steps slowly. I couldn’t see Joe as he was hidden and suddenly from nowhere he challenged me! Bloody hell! “It’s me, Joe,” I said meekly. Then Joe appeared, wearing his heavy army coat with the collar pulled up to his neck, and slinging his tommy gun back on to his shoulder. I saw Joe and Patsy once or twice more in San Francisco some years ago.
Johnny Gomes (Hobo Joe)
Hobo Joe, a policeman, was posted some 150 feet from Clube Melco where a dance party was in progress. Marco Amante (also a fireman) and his band were making sweet music which wafted out to where Johnny was standing. He picked me out of the crowd and pleaded with me to change clothes and play policeman for a little while – he had an unbearable urge to dance! After a lot of arguing I relented and Johnny had his dances. After changing and resuming his stance he had the pleasure of the patrol officer arriving on his bicycle to check on him. I think it was David Monteiro. Phew!!
Ingmar Eriksen and Ex-La Sallers
On my way home one afternoon, hell broke out and cops with tommy-guns poured out of Central Police Station to scramble on to an open truck. The alarm was ringing furiously and the intrepid Commandante Cunha was barking out orders to his boys who comprised of (I hope I’m right): Mon Malig, Alfredo Tavares, Rusky Guterres (Fuji’s brother), Edmundo Silva, Victor Cruz, Gussy Santos , Joe (Ping Ping) Mercado, Mendonça and guess who? – Ingmar Eriksen! who looked quite perplexed as to what the orders were about as he spoke only 3 or 4 words of Portuguese. Falá são ya! Where are you now, mate?
Bosco Guterres & Co., etc.
Ex-La Sallers who joined the army were: Alberto (Lanky) dos Santos, Corporal Almeida (Shai), João (Jucas) Belard, Hugo Pedruco and Bosco Guterres. Lanky Santos did a bit of boxing and one of his opponents was the Filipino Aromin, who was also in La Salle. Often I would see Bosco (on my way home after duty) sitting on the Praia Grande wall looking out to sea contemplating; perhaps, when is this “whole thing” going to end. We would talk until it was time for him to resume his sentry duty at the entrance of the Governor’s Palace. Many times Bosco and I would stand together saluting the flag while it was being lowered – caught as it were – bugle sounding and rifles clanging while being brought to attention mode by the honor guard. It was quite impressive and spine-tingling! Makes you feel proud you’re Portuguese. Finally, the ubiquitous Doctors Tony Guterres and Eddie Gosano, etc. riding their bicycles to visit the sick and afflicted in the hospitals and refugee centers at all times of the day and night. And, lastly, let’s not forget the armed guards, viz: Jorge Rozario, Ronny Castro, etc., attached to the British Consulate at Praia Grande.
Adeus Macau
por Nuno Loureiro d’Eça
Estas memórias foram publicadas originalmente noutras fontes e são aqui reproduzidas com pequenas adaptações.
O saudoso Nuno Loureiro d’Eça viveu na Nova Zelândia depois da guerra.
O fim de Macau como território administrado por Portugal é um tema bem conhecido. Ainda assim, quero registar os meus sentimentos e partilhar algumas recordações. Este artigo é dedicado a todos os portugueses de Hong Kong e Xangai que serviram nas forças uniformizadas e nos hospitais durante aqueles anos sombrios de guerra. Mas não esqueçamos os jovens e os idosos que sucumbiram à má nutrição e às doenças por causa da guerra.
Eu também perdi meu pai e meu irmão João – deixando uma jovem família desprovida de amor e orientação paterna. As crianças continuaram a estudar em S. Luiz Gonzaga e no Salesiano (as raparigas em Santa Rosa de Lima), poupando‑as, assim, ao que de mais feio havia na rua. Muitos antigos alunos de La Salle ingressaram na polícia e no exército.
Os polícias eram os mais expostos ao perigo e tinham de manter a ordem em público. Os membros das bandas carnavalescas também sofriam: eram obrigados, dia após dia, a tocar marchas militares japonesas. Recordo Andy Hidalgo e Eddy Guzman, e os seus músicos!
O salão do Art Carneiro escapou a esse sofrimento; à exceção do Dia do Soldado, podia tocar o repertório habitual. Certa vez, ouvi “Harlem Nocturne” numa noite húmida de verão — a melodia deslizava pelas paredes e deu-me arrepios!
Eu tinha apenas dezesseis anos quando menti minha idade para entrar para o corpo de bombeiros, onde trabalhei por mais de três anos como cabo. Os outros rapazes de Hong Kong eram meus primos Henrique Eça da Silva e Dâmaso Loureiro d’Aquino, Reinaldo dos Santos e Jerônimo Ozório, que se juntaram antes da guerra. Dâmaso se juntou logo depois que ele e Heldy Remedios escaparam do campo de prisioneiros de guerra de Shamshuipo.
A brigada funcionava quase como uma unidade militar: toques de corneta para acordar e para as formaturas, e patrulhávamos por turnos. Um dia testemunhei uma cena apavorante: centenas de homens, crianças e mulheres jaziam espalhados perto dos quebra‑mares — muitos corpos já inchados e em decomposição.
Outra tarefa pouco agradável era lavar com mangueiras o chão de betão do hospital, coberto de fluidos e cheiros que ainda hoje me perseguem. Betty Gutierrez a irmã de Olga e Aida era outra pessoa que eu visitava com frequência.
Como se tudo isso não bastasse, ainda tivemos de lidar com surtos de cólera. Verdade seja dita: a natureza do trabalho era mesmo “nojenta” — se é que me faço entender.
Joe da Luz Adeus meu caro antigo amigo. Sento muito Patsy e família!
Via o Joe praticamente todos os dias durante os anos de guerra: um amigo leal, sempre pronto a ajudar. Depois, encontrei o Joe e a Patsy mais uma ou duas vezes em São Francisco, anos mais tarde.
Johnny Gomes (Hobo Joe)
O Hobo Joe, polícia de serviço, estava destacado a uns 45 metros do Clube Melco. Certa noite, quase meia‑noite, os músicos puxaram por um swing irresistível e o Hobo Joe não conseguiu conter‑se: começou a dançar no seu posto! Depois de muito debate, lá cedi e mandei um colega de bicicleta verificar como estava ele. Acho que foi o David Monteiro. Foi por um triz!
Ingmar Eriksen e Ex-La Sallers
Num fim de tarde, rebentou um tumulto e vi polícias a fazer cargas de bastão pelos becos. Recordo vivamente os rapazes da equipa — creio que eram: Mon Malig, Alfredo Tavares, Rusky Guterres (irmão do Fuji), Edmundo Silva, Ingmar Eriksen… No meio da confusão, um agente recém‑chegado ficou perplexo com as ordens — falava apenas três ou quatro palavras de português. Falá são ya! Onde andas tu agora, meu amigo?
Bosco Guterres & Co., etc.
Ex-La Sallers que se juntaram ao exército foram: Alberto (Lanky) dos Santos, Cabo Almeida (Shai), João (Jucas) Belard, Hugo Pedruco e Bosco Guterres. Lanky Santos praticava um pouco de boxe e um de seus oponentes era o filipino Aromin, que também estava em La Salle. Costumava ver o Bosco (no regresso a casa depois do serviço) sentado no muro da Praia Grande a olhar o mar, pensativo; talvez, quando a música ressoava no Palácio do Governador, fôssemos chamados à ordem e ele regressasse ao seu posto de sentinela à entrada. Muitas vezes ficávamos lado a lado a saudar as autoridades e as procissões cívicas.
Quando as viaturas oficiais chegavam e o destacamento de honra batia as armas, o som dos calcanhares marcando passo e o tilintar dos ferrolhos impressionavam e davam arrepios — enchia‑nos de orgulho português. Finalmente, os onipresentes médicos Tony Guterres e Eddie Gosano.
E havia ainda as enfermeiras e voluntárias, pedalando de bicicleta para visitar os doentes nos hospitais e centros de refugiados, a toda a hora do dia e da noite. E, por fim, não esqueçamos os guardas armados — Jorge Rozario, Ronny Castro, etc. — destacados junto ao Consulado Britânico na Praia Grande.