I made 45 years on September 23. And today, three days later, it makes
45 years that Porto Ceu, the portuguese fishing boat from my town 
where my grandfather worked as foreman, was captured on the Western
Sahara/Mauritania coast by the Polisario Front.

The guerrillas boarded the boat, holding machine guns, but someone on
the boat's bridge cut off the lights. Taking advantage of the
situation, my grandfather sneaked, in the dark, to the engine room.

Reaching the engine room he started the engine full throttle. With the
boat's impulse some of the guerrillas fell on the deck. Confused with
the situation and not knowing what was happening, they jumped
overboard to their boats and Porto Ceu was able to escape.

Shots were fired, bullets flew. Three members of Porto Ceu's crew were 
wounded and one was killed. But it's inconclusive if the guerrillas
shoot before or after the boat started to escape.                      

I still have a page from the newspaper of that time, covering the 
incident, with the picture of my family receiving my grandfather the
day he returned home.

--

Also today: I found my sister's old pager, which had a message from me 
from 1999.