We created this blog in order to share memories and stories of our dear friend Ignacio Celedon (aka Fito), who was killed in an attempted robbery early in the morning on Sunday, September 12th in South Berkeley. Fito led an amazing and enthusiastic life, and we invite everyone who knew him to contribute your memories and pictures. You can also find updates here on community meetings and links to news stories about his passing and the ongoing effort to bring his killers to justice.

Fito was from Chile, and since his death his family and his fiancee's family have spent a lot of money on travel back and forth between there and the Bay Area. We've created an opportunity for you to donate in order to help offset some of these costs.

Hemos creado este blog para compartir recuerdos e historias de nuestro querido amigo Ignacio Celedón (alias Fito), quien fue asesinado en un intento de robo por la mañana temprano el domingo, 12 de septiembre en el sur de Berkeley. Fito llevado una vida increíble y entusiasta, e invitamos a todos los que lo conocieron a contribuir con sus recuerdos y fotografías. Usted también puede encontrar las actualizaciones de aquí en reuniones comunitarias y enlaces a las noticias sobre su muerte y el esfuerzo en curso para llevar a sus asesinos ante la justicia.

Fito fue de Chile, y desde su muerte, su familia y la familia de su novia han pasado un montón de dinero en viajes de ida y vuelta entre ésta y el Área de la Bahía. Hemos creado una oportunidad para que usted pueda donar para ayudar a compensar algunos de estos costos.

Sunday, September 13, 2020

10 years: Where is Fito now?

Dear Friends, Family, and World:

We have not forgotten Fito and we have not stopped fighting for justice!

Here are a few of the places Fito still thrives. Countless others are lived out everyday in acts large and small from people who love him around the world.

10 years Remembered

Recuerdos en Español (English speakers please translate)


—————Francisco, amigo de la Universidad —————

Es imposible no pasar por septiembre sin acordarnos del gran Fito, un gran amigo que se me acompaña desde algún lugar. La verdad son tanto s los recuerdos que se vienen y también la tristeza de no haber sabido mucho de él en su último tiempo, pero la vida es así, hasta que te remece. Como paso con nuestro amigo. . .


—————Peque Cañas, amiga de la Arrayán, artista visual convertida en “vagabunda”————— 

. . . Queda claro como Fito (Adolfito) fue y es un alma iluminada, y se demuestra que después de 10 años eres capaz de hablar no solo para ti, sino para todos sus queridos, dice mucho de Fito. 

Por mi lado te comento el espíritu de Fito, llegamos a compartir por más de una año en el Arrayán, fui testigo de alguno de sus cambios trascendentales de su vida, como dejar IBM para estudiar teatro, buscando hacer su camino, su propio camino rompiendo las reglas establecidas, admirable. Compartimos largas charlas en mi terraza mirando el maravilloso valle de Santiago junto a unas cervezas, no sólo fue uno de mis arrendatarios, paso a hacer un amigo, y ser testigo de su crecimiento. Fito, trabajo para mi en un proyecto de arte en mi taller y luego partimos por una semana al sur a instalarlo, compartiendo la emoción y desafío para lograr una buena obra y cosa que resultó en creces y no solo es mérito mío él también aportó a su resultado. Así que como verás que cada vez que veo esa obra él está presente con su entusiasmo, con su alegría y su mirada transparente. Comparto plenamente contigo que los que no estan en cuerpo estan en espíritu y es otra aventura de la vida, no la veo como fin, sino algo que descubrir y liberarse de las limitaciones del cuerpo, una libertad plena. . .


En breve, yo tambien di un vuelco dramático a mi vida, torcí el destino y hace tres años vendí todo lo que poseo materialmente y me reduje a una maleta y pase a hace una "homeless by choice" en el planeta y sin ticket de regreso a ningun lugar y mi casa es donde me pille ese dia. Últimamente en Asia. Soy muy feliz en esta etapa de mi vida, llena de energía y mucho que entregar a los demás, desde una sonrisa a una mano, ya que no poseo nada más. Funciona solo en  inglés un lema de las 5 "L" :  Live, Laugh, Love, Learn and Listen. Al momento de la pandemia me encuentro en Tailandia y la mayor parte del tiempo en una isla paradisiaca así que en eso estamos en la misma.


Amber, te mando la foto de la obra en que Fito me asistió y que sepas que también hay algo de su espíritu ahí y esa gente que va todos los días a ese hospital la observa y le da un instante de belleza y distracción a las malas ondas que se viven en los hospitales.

Hice un blog a pedido de mis amigos de frecuencia irregular que quieren saber de mis andanzas y ha pasado para mi como un tipo de bitácora, no es blog de viaje, es de vida y gente con quien vivo y conozco sus culturas. Si quieres dale una mirada.   "ojosdelavagabunda.com"    . . . 





—————Jose, amigo de la escuela—————

Ciertamente está presente en estos momentos revueltos, lo imagino teniendo extensas conversaciones y más de una fuerte discusión sobre nuestra nueva constitución, participando del "estallido social" del año pasado y todo lo que está moviendo a Chile hoy.


—————Yanko, amigo del teatro, “hermano adoptado”—————

Al bello ser humano del Fito, lo recuerdo siempre. Pero justo hace unos días Dianita, una de sus tantas entrañables amistades, compartió en Facebook un extracto de uno de los proféticos mails que Ignacio siempre escribía. Dónde le refería que viajaría al sur de Chile para encontrarse con su madre y con éste temporalmente transterrado cubano, con el cuál en un corto período de tiempo, apenas un año y medio de sueños y praxis teatrales, se transmutó en uno de sus más cercanos hermanos adoptados.


VIENTO SUR


El Fito llegó a la X Región de Chile con poco equipaje. Apenas con su mochila al hombro cargada de sueños quiméricos. Luego de las risas de rigor, Ignacio tomó prestado el 4x4 rojo vino de Mariluz y me invitó a que lo acompañara a dar un recorrido por su Puerto Octay extrañado. La primera parada fue en el pequeño barcito del siempre apacible poblado. Si la memoria no me falla ya estaba oscureciendo y dentro del pequeño local ordenamos dos botellas de la cerveza Escudo de a litro y una suculenta Chorrillana, mientras sonaban proletarias cumbias de fondo, que a ratos cantaban sus estribillos, unos pocos simpáticos borrachitos de rostros curtidos por los rigores del campo, desde barnizadas mesas de fonda tabernera.


Cómo era usual en Fito hablamos de todo! Pero principalmente de teatro. De su anhelada idea de comprar una sesentera Combi Volkswagen Hippie e irnos por latinoamérica haciendo teatro lecoquiano. Hacer teatro bajo las estrellas, en las poblaciones, comunidades y territorios apartados de éste gran y variopinto continente multilingüe. Allá dónde la cultura sólo llega a través de las pantallas del televisor. Dónde el fenómeno del teatro se desconoce por completo, y dónde por alguna razón inexplicable, el suceso escénico se comprende con mayor nitidez. Pues el teatro, contiene fundamentalmente una carga social poderosa que las capas sociales más bajas, interpretan, disfrutan y acradecen en mayor medida. De ello y muchísimo más discutimos, reímos, peleamos y conversamos con Fito. Al salir de la fondita, Ignacio quiso llegarse hasta Osorno. Nos montamos nuevanente en el 4x4 y mientas Ignacio conducía le comenté que yo todavía no sabía conducir y que me gustaría aprender, a lo que el Fito me contestó entre sus eternas risas burlonas, de que al regreso a Viento Sur me explicaría cómo hacerlo y que me dejaría tomar el volante unos kilómetros antes de entrar en el pueblo de Puerto Octay. 


Por Osorno, una pequeñísima ciudad un tanto gris comparativamente con Puerto Octay, anduvimos recorriendo sus calles sin un rumbo fijo. Al regreso la carretera permanecía desierta y el frío eterno todo lo calmaba y silenciaba entre el mugir ocasional del ganado mayor que se amontonaba somnoliento en los amplios terrenos parcelados de pasto corto, a cada lado de la vía. A Mitad de camino, Fito detuvo el 4x4 nos bajamos e intercambiamos asientos. Al sentarme en el asiento del piloto, sin mucho preambulo y con su eterna seguridad en sí mismo, me explicó con claridad las diferentes combinaciones para accionar el motor y poner el auto en marcha. Luego de unos primeros intentos infructuosos, finalmente logré hacer rodar el auto y nos pusimos en movimiento. Mientras yo conducía un tanto nervioso, Ignacio se reía y se burlaba de mí amateur forma de conducir, pues yo iba muy rígido al volante. Luego de un par de kilómetros y algunos frenazos mal coordinados con el embriague, me fuí relajando y el recorrido en verdad fue todo un éxito a pesar de la carretera estar tan oscura hasta llegar a la entrada del apacible Viento Sur, lugar de descanso de la bella familia Celedón Bravo y de los turistas de disímiles confines que se acercaban para reponer fuerzas y continuar viaje.


Tal grato recuerdo que guardo del Fito, aunque quizás intrascendente en su esencia, demuestra con claridad su afable naturaleza. Pues inspiraba confianza, ya no tan sólo en sí mismo, sino también le inculcaba confianza a los demás, con su sola presencia. Instando a tod@s que lo conocimos a que confiáramos y desarrolláramos nuestro potencial y capacidades innatas, por difícil y compleja que fuera la nueva tarea.



—————Alejandra, hermana mayor—————

Se que el Pito desde donde esta, esta cuidando por todos nosotros, especialmente en estas fechas. El tiempo todo lo cura, pero la verdad es que creo que solo lo adormece.

Han pasado 10 años!!! una vida. y parece que fue ayer.


—————Mariluz, Mamá—————

El destino cruel quiso que mi hijo partiera de esta vida a tan temprana edad con todos sus sueños sin cumplir  y sin las posibilidades que la vida le podria haber dado. No es facil para mi ni para su padre  y sus hermanas sus amigos aceptar esta desdichada realidad.

Han pasado los años y la herida sigue en mi pecho sangrando ...no hay dia que no lo recuerde ni instante feliz o triste que no este ahi presente con su risa sus tallas sus e xpresiones de dicha o dolor. Y ahi vuelve la pena al saber que nunca nunca mas lo volveremos a abrazar.

Tienes razon lo veo en esa luna gigante que aparece en el cielo en esas noches del sur donde se ilumina el campo el  lago  el volcan y todala naturaleza entera donde pasaron tantos momentos felices ustedes y yo.

Recuerdo su risa sus tallas sus retos que ahora amo ..cuanto daria por tenerlo de nuevo un solo instante escuchar un solo acento de sus labios un solo abrazo gigante con  sus manotas grandes.

Este año con este virus y la pandemia no podra haber ni misa ni nada. El viernes iremos con el papa al cementerio que hace 8 meses que no podemos ir.

Y asi la vida sigue pasando mis nietas crecen y suempre se recuerdan del tio Pito y la Mane que no lo conocio escucha con sus ojitos gigantes historias de su TIO.y sus distintas maneras de enfrentar la vida.

De la policia no sabemos nada ni una palabra hemos escrito llamado y nada a nafie le interesa en ese pais maldito mi hijo y su muerte. Los odio con toda mi alma. Trato de no pensar y solo esta de viaje este mas largo que otros y algun dia proximo nos volveremos a abrazar. . .




Memories in English (hablantes de español, porfavor traducelo)



—————CP, friend of Fito’s Place—————

you can't imagine as the ten year date approaches.....how much I think about .....both Fito, and the role he played/is playing in your life........and mine as well......I still have several of his pics in the yurt, and ....in the sleeping loft........sanctum....sanctorum..........as well as what has become of the garden.....and so many more memories of everything that happened .....and that has sewed our lives together........the brief times we get to speak give me .....scant little time to bring these .......utterly amazing and life defining events back to life... . . . you.....and this story......L I T E R A L L Y .....saved my life, and gave it so much hope....and reason to continue on..........and now......look at what the world has become.........C R A Z Y .......


—————Randy Hester, friend and Professor Emeritus of Department of Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning, UC- Berkeley—————

I have observed Bon Festival for over thirty years, starting when we first worked in Japan. This year and every year since Fito was murdered I extend Bon Season through September. And each year he visits me if ever so briefly. It is as if he is stopping by Mathews Street to say hello on his way from the Marina.
Bon is special to me because if we pause the ancestors reenter our lives. They too want to relive beautiful moments of love.


—————Joe McBride, Professor Emeritus of Department of Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning, UC- Berkeley—————

It is also good to be reminded of Fito and the 10th anniversary of his passing.  I only met him once but I think about the two of you every time I pass by his garden on Telegraph.  My recollection of meeting him was in the studio in Wurster Hall.  I was doing an informal desk crit when I came across the two of you working at your drawing table.  He was carefully coloring in an area of a map or outline of a perspective drawing you had prepared, while you were working on another drawing.  I made some feeble joke about  his being conscripted  to do your work and he replied in a very positive, cheerful way that he was happy to be helping you.  It really struck me that it was coming from his heart.


—————Alex, friend from UC Berkeley—————

I think of Fito often when I am in Berkeley and every time I pass by Fito's place. I remember the love in your eyes when you talked about him. I remember how fun it was to have the two of you join me at my co-op for a little while when you were looking for apartments.


—————Daphne, landscape architect, supporter of healing—————

I will always remember that Fito's entry into freedom is what brought you into my life. I love you and I love him.

—————Shaleece, friend and journalist—————

I wanted to share with you that Fito also lives on my altar here in Los Angeles. He hangs out with my grandfather, Milton, and with many of Juli's and my beloved relatives and friends. He enjoys pan de muerte with us every Día de los Muertos and I each year I remember being with you and making sugar skulls and an alter for him almost a decade ago. 


I have so many beautiful memories of Fito. Most of them involve his easy joy and perpetual wonder at the world. I remember how easily he made friends or started a conversation with strangers—and how open he was to new adventures. I remember his kindness and his big heart. And how passionately he would argue his viewpoints, but always with love. 


I am also grateful to Fito because of what he taught me about gratitude. In the weeks and months after his passing, I made a commitment to a daily gratitude practice. I would talk to him every day and share what I was grateful for. Somehow, knowing he was listening from wherever he was, without judgement, made it feel so much easier. It changed how I felt about grief and loss in ways it’s still difficult to fully explain. 


When I moved out of Oakland 3 1/2 years ago, Fito’s Place was one of the things I was saddest to leave. I knew he was there with us, making that corner beautiful and abundant. But he has traveled with me and I am so happy to hear about all the places he inhabits today.



—————Elisa, capoeirista who traveled to Brazil by bike with Amber—————

I first met Fito through a photograph. 


When I was in college, I often studied at Jump 'N Java, a cafe right around the corner from my house on Shattuck and 61st. One day I was waiting in line to order my cup of coffee and a picture below the counter caught my attention. It was a picture of Fito, and, if my memory is correct, I believe Amber was in the picture with him. Below the picture was his story and a call for justice. I was so saddened by the story. It stuck with me for the rest of the week. I remember going home to my then boyfriend and telling him about it and thinking of the girlfriend who had posted these fliers around town-- perhaps the fliers were a  search for healing, for justice, for some kind of an answer-- why Fito? 


Little did I know then, that I would one day meet the girl in the picture at UCA Berkeley- the capoeira school that I later joined after leaving a different group in the city. Amber was vibrant, bold and kind. She had this playful, sisterly, 'i'm gonna kick your ass' attitude, and at the same time a certain sadness that was present but didn't take over her. I liked her right away. She seemed really familiar, like I knew her from somewhere but couldn't remember where or why. 


I don't remember when we first connected or how our friendship began exactly. I do remember one day grabbing a bite at Casa Latina either before or after class and that's when she told me Fito's story.  There were tears and rage. Suddenly a bell rang in my head-- she's the girl from the picture many years ago ( at that point it had been a few years since I'd seen the picture.)


Maybe a year or so after connecting over tacos, the B2B bike trip from Berkeley to Bahia, Brasil with Mestre Acordeon came up. At first, I didn't even consider the trip. I never thought people like me could do things like that. I thought only fancy biker folks like the ones in the REI catalogues did these kinds of adventures. I honestly didn't even know bike touring was such a common thing. I was just your ordinary bike commuter, and a girl that always loved my bike since I was young. I would lie to my mom in highschool that I was taking the bus to school and would bike all the way from El Sobrante to Berkeley Highschool-- things like that gave me a thrill. Anyways, when my partner Diego decided he was definitely going to join Mestre. I decided to throw my cards in the air and join as well. I wasn't going to let him have all the fun by himself! 


As the months went by more folks started committing to the trip, somewhat to Mestre's dismay, even though he was the one inviting everyone! Then Amber comes along with her support vehicle idea and presentation. At that point, it would be Mestra, Amber, Ashlee and I holding it down for the women and the trip was seeming more and more like it was really going to happen. Then on August 31st, 2013, we shed our tears, said our goodbyes, ready or not, we took off for the unknown and the uncertain and embarked on the journey of our lives together. 


Our reasons for joining this trip were different. Amber was there to support but also to live out a mission and a dream of Fito's, to bike to Brasil for the World Cup.  I was glad that Amber was there. Many times I envied her, in a good way, when she would go off on her own for a day or two. The invitation to join was always there, but my loyalty to standing my Mestre got the better of me and I would end up staying back. My role in this trip, I later realized, was really to be by Mestre's side and help get him through this journey. I worried about Amber when she would sleep off on her own or be a few days ahead of us. I worried that someone might see her car and have bad intentions-- but at the same time, I knew that Fito was always right there with 

her, guiding her way to a safe place to park at night and bringing the right people her way. Not that Amber couldn't fend for herself, but I knew that Fito was watching over her. I always admired her courage and strength throughout the journey. Plus, I knew Mestre worried about us all. Even though he didn't want to have to worry about us, he couldn't help but feeling responsible for us like a father for his children. It's just his nature to care-- even when he says he doesn't want to. 

There were blissful and beautiful moments. There were difficult group dynamics, trying moments, misunderstandings and miscommunications-- lost in translation. Overall, an incredible experience that I would repeat a thousand times over if I could. And, I think Fito was a big part of this journey for all of us. His dream brought Amber to us, and us to her. . .


—————Janny, Amber’s Aunt—————

Ok so you know my all time favorite memory right??!!!

Thanksgiving!! When he tasted my gravy for the first time!!! Now when I am making it I imagine that look in his face and it comes out perfectly every time! As if he was there tasting it for approval

He has been at every Thanksgiving dinner since! Each year when i set out the gravy we always talk about him. Each person sharing all their memories of him. So it’s really like he is there every year!!



—————Laura, Amber’s Mom—————

Still praying for peace for you, Fito’s family and justice for Fito!!


—————Amber, fiancée—————

In times so uncertain such as these, I’m teaching my girls that when someone transitions into the next world, it’s a form of freedom. That the person is no longer bound by the physical confines of their tangible body, but is instead free to be anywhere and everywhere, at any moment. It’s just that we can’t see or hear them with the same instruments that we are used to in our bodies. And so, as we arrive to the day that marks 10 years since Fito “became spirit,” as my daughter Ramona says, who is now four years old, I remember all of the things he taught me, and all of the places he still lives, around me and around the world:

He lives in Berkeley, at Fito’s Place, which is where he took his last breath, and where myself and the community returned time after time to turn hatred into beauty. And a place that persists still today, as a garden and community gathering place, because of Fito’s presence and bravery.

Of course he lives in Chile all over the place, with his family, all of his friends and the innumerable amount of people that he touched, that perhaps never even learned his name or have forgotten his face. But they surely have taken his lessons of “Todo es posible” along with them for the rest of their lives, and their children’s lives.

He’s here in Brazil, at Maracanã Stadium, the football temple in Rio de Janeiro. He’s on my fridge: a photo of him taken in San Francisco, with two hands on his cheeks and his mouth wide open as if to say “OH MY GOD WHAT IS GOING ON?!?” That picture’s travelled with me everywhere since I printed it, probably 9 1/2 years ago. 

He’s in my children, as anytime they see an actor being goofy or declaring himself passionately, we remind them that it’s “Tio Fito.” That you can become anyone that you want to be, as long as there is love and passion involved.

He’s in Peru, where he and I discovered dignified humility in simple people who live within their means with respect to all of the complex intermingling of all life’s creatures. 

And he’s with every single person who have taken him along on their journeys as they proceed through their lives. I call on them now to raise their voices to explain how it is and where it is he is living with them, so we can all understand.
But for me, he is alive in the music he listens to through me, he’s alive in the adventures I take out into the unknown with friends I’ve yet to meet. And every time I have a deep conversation with a stranger, I have him to thank. 

And in every full moon he is there, saying hello, and that he is watching, nearby, showering us with soft blue light.



10 Years Fighting for Justice

I won't lie, there are times when it seems that Fito will never have justice. There are times when I pretend I don't care about it. But, now stronger than ever I know that justice is crucial to healing. 

My Aunt Janny did something incredible for Fito, and for all of us. She called the Berkeley Police Department and began with a demanding attitude to get their attention to inquire about Fito's case. Before her first sentence was even finished, the person on the other end interrupted, "You are talking about Adolfo Ignacio Celedón Bravo. Of course I know him, we all know him." The person was a young Chilean detective, who did not work in the department in 2010, but who was so touched by Fito's case that he reviewed the case of his own will and is working to renew the investigation. This is a needed balm on the wound after so many years. As Fito was so easy to remember in life, he is also impossible to forget in death. I'm not going to stop looking for justice, because that's how Fito was, even in his last moment. I have my life thanks to his courage in the face of injustice.

Here is a video I made recently, pleading for someone in the community to speak up and close this case.


And here is one my Aunt made after spending the day raising awareness of the crime at Fito's Place!


Also, there was a considerable amount of press covering the date.

Prensa en Español


Press in English

Berkeley Police Department: Today marks the 10th anniversary . . .

No comments:

Post a Comment