From Santa Comba to Santa Clara: The Incredible Journey of Chaves

I was born on a beautiful morning on February 13, 1959, at the Hospital of Cela, in Santa Comba, which today is known as Waku Kungo. That February day seemed like just another ordinary day, but fate had already planned an extraordinary journey for me. Growing up in Santa Comba meant living in a world that mixed the charm of rural life with the challenges of a community developing in the heart of Angola.

From an early age, I was part of the routine at our family store, where my father, João de Deus Chaves, worked tirelessly to support us. He was a man of admirable dedication, and I often accompanied him, observing and learning about the value of honest work and solidarity. My mother, a talented seamstress, made clothes for our store's customers using her 'Oliva' sewing machine, and I would sometimes venture to learn how to sew a few pieces myself. Our shop was a gathering place for the community, where news and life stories were shared among customers who came not only to buy goods but also for company and friendship.

I grew up in a community where hard work and companionship shaped everyone’s lives. I completed my primary and secondary education at the Escola Industrial e Comercial Narciso do Espírito Santo. I remember the lessons in the gymnasium and the games during the breaks. I also took part in a play called "The Trial of Jesus," in which I played John the Baptist. That moment on stage was one of the most striking memories of my childhood, teaching me about courage and the importance of standing before an audience, defending something we believe in.

On August 6, 1975, a day engraved in my memory, we were abruptly forced to leave everything we knew in Santa Comba—our home, our comfort, our dreams—fleeing from a war we did not choose but that left a deep mark on us. On that day, my family and I became part of a convoy of refugees, a group of people who, like us, were leaving an entire life behind. I remember vividly the convoy to Huambo, the dusty roads filled with uncertainty, my mother holding my hand as we walked, trying to give us courage as our lives crumbled around us. The courage we found was in each other’s eyes, in the shared hope that this was just a phase and that better days would come.

Thanks to the International Red Cross, 16 days later we boarded a plane bound for Lisbon, an oasis of hope in the midst of the chaos of decolonization. Arriving in Lisbon was like breathing after nearly drowning—a relief as intense as exhaustion. In Portugal, we divided our time between the mainland and the Azores, where my father found work as a truck driver. It was in these Portuguese lands that I began to rebuild my sense of normalcy. I spent some time in Celorico da Beira, where we stayed with my grandparents, and later in the Azores, on Terceira Island, a place where I felt hope for a new beginning.

Then, once again, August 6 changed my fate. In 1976, I landed in Los Angeles, no longer as a refugee but as a permanent resident of the United States. The beginning in Los Angeles was challenging, but each day carried the promise of renewal. Not long after, I moved to Santa Clara, California, where I settled. This new chapter was written with the determination of someone who knows they need to start over, but also with gratitude for having a second chance.

Exactly one year after my arrival, on August 6, 1977, I began basic training with the U.S. Navy in San Diego, California. I remember how each day in training felt like a monumental challenge, but there, amidst the rigors of training and the camaraderie of fellow recruits, I forged a new identity. I served aboard the aircraft carrier USS John F. Kennedy, where every mission on deck was a reminder of how far I had come since that day of fleeing and despair in Angola. The early mornings in the Atlantic, the constant sound of planes taking off, and the camaraderie of my fellow sailors became part of my story, profoundly shaping who I am today.

After the honor of military service came love and family. I met Judy, my wife, and together we built a home filled with love and hope. With her by my side, and with the children that came after, I completed my advanced education at Santa Clara University. Studying at Santa Clara University was a transformative moment. It was a new beginning in many ways, and there I was able to combine my quest for knowledge with my relentless desire for growth. I remember the sleepless nights studying electronic engineering, Judy's unconditional support, and the immense joy of seeing each sacrifice turn into an achievement.

I graduated as an electronic engineer and found my place in the world of technology, contributing my experience to help build the future. I worked diligently at renowned companies such as ROLM, IBM, and Micron, participating in the development of technologies that, in some way, helped shape the modern world. I remember the challenges faced in each project, the teams I led, and the friends I made along the way. Each company, each project, was another step on the ladder that brought me here.

Today, as I look back, I see a journey defined by survival, self-determination, resilience, sacrifice, and tenacity. Every August 6th is a milestone in my life, a reminder of the abrupt changes that, though painful, paved the way for a bright future. From Santa Comba to Santa Clara, my journey is a testament to the fact that we can overcome any adversity and that dreams can be rebuilt, no matter how shattered they may seem.

To my childhood friends, to the companions of a life left behind, know that although the years and miles have separated us, you are always with me. Every lesson learned, every success achieved, is also a part of you. I carry with me the memories of Santa Comba and our people—the laughter of children, the playground games, the familiar faces in the streets, the hot afternoons of Angola, the smell of mangoes during harvest time, the sounds that defined my childhood.

Today, I am grateful for every moment, every challenge, every valley, and every peak. The journey was not solitary; it was full of friendly hands that extended when I needed them, of hearts that welcomed me, of family that never gave up. To my children, I am thankful for being the reason for my perseverance. You are the true embodiment of what is possible with love and determination. Every step I take, I take for you too, and I hope this story inspires you to never give up on your dreams.

With affection and always looking up to the stars,

João Elmiro da Rocha Chaves