I survived E-Book

Clodomir Santos

• Herausgeber: Unipro
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 231

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

"I Survived: My Book of Memories" is more than just an adventure tale. It's a raw and powerful account of a young man's life, marked by loss, suffering, and anguish. Driven to desperation by the relentless spread of poverty in his home, he makes the drastic decision to abandon his studies and plunge into a life of crime. Little did he know that this path, fraught with violence and death, would make him a target of revenge-seeking former friends, law enforcement, and lethal extermination squads of the era. Caught in this whirlwind of chaos and despair, he finds himself at a loss for how to survive. As the noose tightens and his friends fall victim to brutal murders, he takes a life-altering step. "I Survived" is a testament to the fact that our choices can lead us down various paths, but only one path leads to life. Dive into this book and uncover the journey for yourself.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2018 by Unipro Editora

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Managing editor: Sandra Gouvea

Art director: Paulo Junior

Designer: Alison Leite

Cover: Paulo Junior

Photos: Demetrio Koch, Personal Archive, Internet Reproduction and CEDOC — Unipro

English version: Sandra Gouvea and Evelyn Higginbotham

eBook version: Ricardo Rodrigues

The information presented here regarding religious practices and experiences of potentially illegal nature solely reflects the author’s individual perspective. It may not necessarily align with the actual practices or the understanding of Unipro Editora and its professionals on the subject.

S237s

Santos, Clodomir

I Survived: My Book of Memories / Clodomir Santos. – 1. Ed. – Sao Paulo: Unipro Editora, 2021.

Original title: Sobrevivi: Meu livro de memórias

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 978-65-89769-99-6

1. Autobiography. 2. Memories. 3. Christian life. I. Title.

DDC 920

V.0109/23

Rua João Boemer, 296 – São Paulo / SP

CEP: 03018-000 – Brasil

[phone]

unipro.com.br

[email protected]

Dedication

I dedicate this book to the Lord God, who didn’t judge me by the state of my life but by my heart. Every day I surrender my life to Him who protected, freed, and saved me.

Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks to Arlete Souza, Claudia Matos, Eliana Caetano, Isis Regina, Luiz Carlos Matos, Marco Antonio Matos, Marcus Souza, Monica Matos, Nildo Maciel, Paulo Roberto da Silva, Rita Cassia Cruz, Soraya Campos, Vagner Silva, Valcemira Pinheiro, Valdirene Pinheiro, and Vera Regina Pinheiro.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

The cause of chaos in my life

A dysfunctional family

On my way into the pit

My father’s double life

“Wretch!”

Almonds and frogs to alleviate hunger

From school to a life of crime

Chapter 2

Kill or be killed

A labyrinth of crime

Scared twice

A mother’s heartbreak

Release my son!

Robin Hood

A few enemies

The White Hand

Every man for himself

Chapter 3

The decree was fulfilled

A risky plan

A fatal mistake

One by one

Not this time

My father’s sad death

You won’t make it past June!

The saving hand

Chapter 4

Life mission: winning souls

How the seed was sown

From hate to redemption

The greatest miracle

My family’s lack of understanding

An uncontrollable thirst

From rock bottom to the altar

A shock for my mum

Stop, thief!

The Third Man

Reckoning

Chapter 5

From a wrecked home to building my own home

A new heart

The devil doesn’t give up

It was worth the wait

Being the father I never had

My challenges in the Work of God

Eternal longing

A letter from my children

A letter from the love of my life

Chapter 6

Six lessons I’ve learned in life

1. I learned that humility is the first step towards change

2. I learned to deny myself

3. I learned to detach myself from the world

4. I learned that religion doesn’t save anyone

5. I learned that victory and defeat come from within us

6. I learned that my past doesn’t determine my future

There’s a way out

Photos

Bibliographical references

About the author

Introduction

My sincere desire

You’re about to read a little bit of my life story. But before you start, I’d like to introduce myself to you. I was born and raised in Rio de Janeiro, but I usually say that I stopped being a citizen of the capital of Rio de Janeiro and became a citizen of the Kingdom of God the day I gave my life to the Lord Jesus. This is what conversion is all about: we stop holding control of our lives and let the One who even controls the wind to take control.

After I surrendered my life to God, I was sure I wanted to be a pastor. When it finally happened, I was sent to various cities where I helped people who came to the Universal Church. I married Fatima and together we have two children. Years later, I became a bishop and was given the opportunity to serve God in the United States (in New York, California, New Jersey, and Chicago) and in Argentina. And to contribute to the cause of soul winning, I wrote two short books called, Evangelistic Messages, volumes 1 & 2.

My decision to serve God took me to places I’d never imagined. I was just a boy who grew up in a slum, full of dreams and expectations, but without any positive outlook. When I look back, I realize that I wouldn’t have remained in the faith had I not gone through the things I did.

I confess that it hasn’t been easy to talk about many distressing and dangerous situations described in this book, which involve people whose names have been changed to protect their identity.

I was a young man who was very active in crime. I committed many assaults, robberies, drug deals, and even planned someone’s murder, which created so many problems that I had to be on the run. All this drove my mother to despair. Even today I feel very sad when I remember how much I made her suffer.

By the grace of God, today I’m a new man, and through my ministry and now through this book I seek to show people that their suffering isn’t because they don’t have health, money, or stable relationships, but because they don’t have a relationship with God. There was a time when I also believed that my life would only change if I solved my family’s financial problems. So, I chose the world of crime and suffered things that I’d never imagined.

I was so blind to truly believe that I was taking steps towards my goal to help my family financially. But I was going the opposite way—I was heading down into an abyss.

All my friends were murdered, and it was by the skin of my teeth that I didn’t end up the same way. It was when I hit rock bottom that I looked up and grabbed hold of the mighty hand that offered me help.

Some people will say that not being killed by the police or criminals was sheer luck, after all, how can a criminal count on God’s help when he doesn’t do His will? Yet the Lord hears the supplication of those who sincerely desire to turn from evil ways.

As it is written:

All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out.

John 6:37

This book of memoirs is not an adventure story. It’s the story of a lost, miserable, and anguished young man who was so tired of a life of poverty that he decided to drop out of school and join criminals to support his family and escape his own chaos.

It’s not my intention with this memoir to expose anyone or brag about myself. I sincerely want to help people who are suffering the way I used to suffer; I want them to know that their lives can be transformed just as my life was. I also want those who’ve already surrendered their lives to the Lord Jesus to be strengthened in Him, knowing that if we remain in faith, there will always be a reason for Him to surprise us.

A decree of death

My friends and I came to the spiritism center on a Saturday morning. We decided to consult a witchdoctor to find out if an attack on a policeman would work. There we made a pact with the spirits to guarantee our protection. This is very common! Most criminals seek this kind of spiritual “help.”

The spiritual entity spoke through the witchdoctor and said that we would succeed in our plan against the police. Promises of success and glory are strategies that spiritual entities use to deceive people into believing that the spirits can do anything they want. However, when a spiritual entity gives you something, it automatically takes something away without you realizing it. The entity’s “gift” comes along with all sorts of illnesses, unpayable debts, love life problems, family problems, insomnia, fear, anguish, etc. Sadly, none of us knew about that...

We were so blind that all we cared about was the protection that the entity could offer. We completely trusted it. To seal the pact, the entity smeared the blood of an animal on the bullets we were going to use to attack the police. But that wasn’t all. Along with the “guarantee” that we would succeed, came a terrible decree of death that was fatally fulfilled over the years.

We put the bullets away and waited for the ritual to end. Suddenly, a different spiritual entity manifested in one of the mediums there—this time a woman—and it came towards us. Without beating around the bush, she started asking us a few questions.

“What’s your name?”

“John,” replied the leader of the gang.

“How long have you been on Earth?”

The entity wanted to know John’s age. I don’t remember what he said.

“You have three more years on Earth,” she said.

She then looked at my brother Claudio and asked, “And you? What’s your name?”

“Claudio.”

“How long have you been on Earth?”

“Seventeen.”

“You’ll live five more years.”

She then turned to another and asked, “And you, who are you?”

“Hawker.”

So, as soon as they said their age, she decreed their death. Tele, Ronilson, and I were the last ones.

“Your name?”

“Slim,” I replied. That was my nickname.

“How long have you been on Earth?”

“Fifteen.”

“You’ve only got two more years here.”

When she finished, none of us said a word or objected. Even though I didn’t know God, I rejected that entity’s words and, in a way, rebuked them.

I immediately said in my mind, “God forbid!” It was the first time I had rejected the words of an entity that I respected.

Despite that “decree,” we didn’t leave that place wondering what would happen to us. We were so focused on killing that policeman that we didn’t care about our own lives, which were about to end according to that entity. We were so dominated by hatred that our minds became numb.

I only realized that years later, when I understood how evil controls people’s minds, making them focus on the things they think are important while ignoring the things that really matter. The devil will use anything and anyone to distract and distance people from God. When this happens, without realizing it, people allow evil to set in.

That’s what happened to us.

As time passed, I watched my friends dying off one by one. That entity’s curses were becoming a reality. It was just a matter of time now. Exactly two years after I’d heard that demonic decree, it was my turn. Those words had somehow been confirmed in my life. In the year that was marked for my death, I died.

Chapter 1

The cause of chaos in my life

A dysfunctional family

My father blamed my mother for the life he led, as if his failure was a result of her incompetence.

My parents weren’t a good example to me and my siblings, but I can’t blame them for the fact that I became a criminal. That would be unfair. I became a criminal for several reasons, among them were financial problems, bad influences, and no notion of the reality of danger.

My father wasn’t an evil person—although he made my mother suffer and humiliated her a lot, which my brother and I never accepted. Sometimes, he’d hit her for no reason, and we’d take her side. He was a quiet, serious man; I think I took after him with his temper, but on a smaller scale. It seemed like every time he’d come home, a heavy atmosphere would invade the place. We had the impression that he walked around with a dark cloud over his head, as if he lived in darkness, so it wouldn’t take long for a fight to break out. All it took was a spark, a misspoken word, and a simple disagreement would turn into a terrible fight. I didn’t know why, but today I know it was the influence of evil.

One day, as he was shouting, cursing, and accusing my mother, he said, “All you’re good for is to have children!”

My father blamed my mother for the life he led, as if his failure was a result of her incompetence. She would throw it back in his face that she regretted not listening to her mother who had told her not to get involved with him. Since it didn’t seem to affect him, she’d retaliate more aggressively, saying, “You’re a loser! A good-for-nothing!”

That would be enough for him to go after her, and whenever this happened, we’d scream in an attempt to protect her.

“For God’s sake, Dad! No!”

Every time there was a fight, my mother would leave for my grandmother’s house, which was too small for all of us children.

My mother had seven children. My grandmother and my aunts couldn’t understand why she kept having one child after another despite the financial problems she and my father had for so many years.

Since she had been a very beautiful young woman, she had quickly caught my father’s attention. My grandmother never liked him. First, because she knew he was a criminal in the “animal lottery” (a popular illegal lottery of numbers and animals), and second, because he had a wild lifestyle. My grandmother couldn’t stand the fact that her daughter—an intelligent and hardworking young woman—was involved with a man who led a free-wheeling life and was given to drinking, women, and crime. That’s why she didn’t agree with their relationship. The problem was that my mother—only 17 at the time and very naïve—had fallen in love with him—a man who was 13 years her senior and who knew very well what she wanted. To win her over, he’d follow her, sweet-talk her, and give her gifts. She truly believed it was her chance to start her own family. Little did she know how much she’d suffer with him.

On one occasion, when I was already a gang member, I came home armed with a gun and witnessed my parents fighting. When I saw that my father was about to slap my mother, I tried to stop him.

We had such a heated argument that he punched me in the face. Thank God, and God alone, that I didn’t shoot my own father. I could’ve ended his life, but I didn’t. He kicked me out of the house and my mother ran after me, but I didn’t want to go back in. I only returned late in the evening to sleep.

Those constant fights were often caused by my father’s selfish behavior. My mother said he was very kind to other people but mean to his family.

To give an idea of how selfish he was, when he won the lottery, he said he wouldn’t give us anything because otherwise his “wretched children” would kill each other. He’d say these things especially when he was high on drugs or alcohol. Other than that, he’d stay quiet in the house.

Despite my father’s problems, he did have a good side to him. At times he’d try to do things right, but he often failed. Had he known the Lord Jesus and given himself to Him, he surely would have been a better father, husband, and man. And even though my mother had a troubled life, cursing her husband and children whenever she got angry, deep down she had a kind heart that had been hidden under so much bitterness. Even in all her grief, it was still possible to see a ray of hope hovering over her. That’s why I truly believe there were evil forces at work in their lives because, no matter how hard they tried, they simply couldn’t get along.

Sometimes I’d ask myself, “Why don’t they break up? Why stay together if they fight so much and hate each other? Wouldn’t it be better to separate?” It wasn’t that simple… My mother could have left him if she wanted, but as they say, she’d be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire! At that time, women didn’t have a voice as they do today. Besides, how was she going to support herself and seven small children, one of whom was sick and totally dependent? Leaving my father was a very tough decision, which is why my mother preferred to submit to an unhappy marriage than to force her children to sacrifice even more. And there was yet another reason: she wanted to break away from her family history of divorce.

My grandmother had four children with one man, and three children with another. The break-up of her family made my mother want the opposite for herself. Although my mother also had seven children, her concern was not the number of children, but the number of husbands.

She couldn’t bear the thought of getting married a second time. So, she stayed with my father, who was the father of all her children. The first child, Claudia, was born when my mother was 24 years old. Soon after that, Claudio and I were born. Then came Luiz Carlos, Monica, Marco Antonio, and Janaina. It was my father who chose the name of the youngest. He’d been to a spiritism center to consult the spirits and came back saying that he’d call his daughter Janaina, a name that referred to the sea.

Janaina had fair skin and black hair and was very affectionate. Sadly, she was born with a disorder of her motor skills and paralysis, which caused her to be unable to speak properly or walk. Her health condition caused my mother a great amount of sadness and suffering. Every week my mother had to take her to the hospital for treatment, but the doctors said there was no solution for her problem. Even so, we tried everything to change her situation, which was when my mother sought help in witchcraft (umbanda, quimbanda), and spiritism centers. She also participated in processions in the Catholic Church and made religious vows to see Janaina cured, but to no avail.

We all loved my sister and were very dedicated to her. I for one helped my mother to take her to all those places, believing that the situation would change. But a time came when my family’s hands were tied, and there was nothing else we could do but believe in a miracle. We finally gave up hope, since we had tried everything to reverse a situation that was considered irreversible. My sister’s health deteriorated due to our lack of resources. My father had lost everything he had, and our misery just snowballed out of control.

On my way into the pit

When you don’t know the Truth, it’s really tough to stay on the right path.

My family had a relatively good life before I was born. My parents had financial stability and my mother had even employed her own housemaid. But because my father liked gambling, he ended up losing all he had in the horse races. That was one of the reasons they argued a lot, and their relationship problems got worse after my siblings and I were born, to the point that they practically stopped talking to each other. My oldest sister, Claudia, was their mediator when they needed to talk to each other. She played a role that she didn’t belong in. She was their child who ought to have been protected and cared for by them.

In this tumultuous environment, we grew up with practically no love or attention. We didn’t have a united family mainly because of my father’s addictions to gambling, alcohol, and drugs. To give you an idea, he was so drunk that when he filled out our birth certificate forms, he mistook my mother’s surname with his own and registered our names (except one) incorrectly.

Today I know that when you don’t know the Truth—as was our case—it’s really tough to stay on the right path, so I don’t blame my father. He was a victim of the evil spirits that do everything they can to destroy families.

I believe that these evil spirits were why my father hardly ever expressed any joy, unless he was under the influence of drugs or alcohol. Whenever he was intoxicated, he’d play with us, dance to make us laugh, or give us a few coins. Other than that, he’d either come in and go out without saying a word, or fight with my mother because there was no food, as if his lack of money was our fault. He’d never blame his addiction and reckless life. In fact, his involvement with other women was one of the reasons their relationship failed.

One day I was in the car with my aunt and her husband, and I saw my father’s car parked on a street in Madureira, in the North Zone of Rio de Janeiro. I was so excited that I stuck my head out the window to see him, but to my disappointment, he was accompanied by a strange woman. I got very upset.

We drove past his car, and I felt frustrated, sad, angry, and hurt. I was only a boy, and I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my mother what I’d seen.

As soon as I got out of the car and saw her, I blurted out, “Mom, I saw Dad with another woman in his car.”

My mother turned white with rage. She didn’t want to hear anyone. When my father got home, the fighting and cursing began, and all hell broke loose. My father tried to explain, but it was useless. He knew I’d seen him in the car, and because of that, he wouldn’t speak to me for several months.

Little by little, this whole situation led me into the pit of crime.

My father’s double life

You don’t do something radical out of the blue. Something has to be growing inside of you day after day before you completely go off the rails.

Aside from the family disagreements, we suspected that my dad was also leading a double life of crime.

One day he was leaving for work and the police stopped him at the corner. We never knew why. We were left wondering what he could have done for the police to go after him.

The little that we knew about my father’s life was more than enough for us to leave him alone. We were aware that he owned an animal lottery stand and that he was the right-hand man of one of the main bookies in Rio de Janeiro, known as Natal. After Natal died, my father started working with Piruinha and Raul Capitao. At the time, we lacked nothing financially, but we sensed that something was wrong. It was true that he made a lot of money in the animal lottery, but somehow, he was getting more money than expected. How? I don’t know. For us, he was just an employee of the bookies.

We became even more suspicious the day he arrived home all bandaged up. He said he had a car accident but didn’t go into detail. He was left with scars on his arm and had to have his ribs operated on.

Days later, we saw in the news that a gang had tried to carry out a robbery in the Madureira neighborhood. We weren’t sure, but everything pointed to my father being involved in it. We believed that the extra money came from robberies, assaults, and drug dealing. In those days, crimes such as drug trafficking and homicides were covered up by the animal lottery. It was very likely that he was involved in these illicit activities, which provided the few comforts we had at the time.

Although my father had never brought a criminal into our house and tried his best to hide his life of crime from us, it was impossible to cover everything up. I remember that when I was five or six years old, my mother and I visited him at Candido Mendes, a maximum-security prison on Ilha Grande, in Rio de Janeiro.

On another occasion, we visited him at the Evaristo de Moraes prison, another maximum-security prison, also known as the Quinta da Boa Vista warehouse.

Even though I was so small, the memories of those places full of marginalized people were stuck in my head. Little did I know that later on, I’d become like those men who I saw behind bars. It was a natural turn of events that unfortunately resulted from the circumstances I lived under. You don’t do something radical out of the blue. Something has to be growing inside of you day after day—words you hear, negative thoughts—before you completely go off the rails.

Without realizing it, this was happening to me.

“Wretch!”

How could she give what she didn’t have?

“Wretch!”

That was my mother’s favorite word when she was angry. She’d curse us for no reason. I don’t judge her because I understand the struggles she faced: seven children to raise practically alone, one of them with a serious health problem; an adulterous husband; financial problems; disrespect, etc. Problem after problem made her a troubled woman. The Bible says that what people say with their mouths comes from the overflow of the heart, so she was only letting out what was already inside of her: bitterness, grief, contempt, humiliation, hurt, and anger. She nurtured all these feelings mainly because of her situation as a wife. My mother was very resentful of my father for his many betrayals. They argued so much that they slept in separate rooms. Hardly anyone outside noticed this, as they’d keep up appearances. She wasn’t a caring mother, so we lacked motherly affection. To get her attention, I’d often try to catch the flu by standing in the rain. I’d come home soaked to the skin and dragging my feet just to show her that I needed her attention. It was the only way to receive affection from her. She’d put her hand on my forehead or her face against mine to see if I was feverish, and that alone made me feel better.

But if she was upset, she’d just say, “This fever will have to wait till tomorrow!” She meant that I’d soon get better, and I knew that I wouldn’t feel her face against mine. I wasn’t the only one who felt disappointed; my brothers also came up with crazy ideas to catch her attention. We wanted a hug from her, but whenever we got close and wrapped our arms around her waist, she’d immediately yell, “Go away! I’m not in a good mood!”

Sometimes she’d ask us to leave her alone “for God’s sake,” and then begin to mutter about how miserable her life was. Poor thing, I don’t blame her. It was her way of defending herself, not against her children, but against the lack of affection, something she had never felt in her marriage. Yet despite it all, she was a very strong mother. She fought for us for as long as she could, she just couldn’t give us affection and we couldn’t even demand it. After all, how could she give what she didn’t have?

This could explain why so many parents lack wisdom, yet we should be careful with what we say or do to our children. Saying negative words to your children instead of blessing them, beating them, kicking them out of the house, or indulging them with whatever they want instead of correcting them in discernment and fairness, is not a wise way to bring them up. My parents tried their best to raise us well, but not everything went according to plan.

Almonds and frogs to alleviate hunger

If I had one word to define our situation in that house, it would be deplorable.