Bicultural

20 Years Ago

/ Marlo / Leave a comment

This month marks the 20th anniversary of my first trip to the Dominican Republic. I would like to reflect on this in my blog so my boys will know the details. My life changed forever in a few short weeks.

A view from Los Marranitos looking down into valley near my husband’s town. 2015

In March of 2002, I innocently took a trip to the Dominican Republic. It was a big deal. I say innocently because I somehow arrived at my destination by sheer will power and good intentioned people or pure luck. I experienced the most profound emotional connection to the earth and a group of people that would eventually become my family. I literally became grounded.

My desire to go to DR came about because of Julia Alvarez, a Dominican writer. She spoke at Miss Porter’s School where I was a teacher at the time. She spoke about a coffee farm in the mountains and the little El Centro she and her husband created. My eyes teared while she spoke, ok yeah, I cried several times during her conversation. Ms Alvarez has a way with words, after all she is an award winning writer. She moved me deeply and the DR called to me. A few years later I wrote to Ms. Alvarez and asked her if I could stay at her little community center, El Centro and she said yes. I had initially set out to investigate this place because I was planning for a future trip to bring a group of Porter’s girls to make art. It took me years but I did finally bring a group of Porter’s girls to the mountains of DR.

Kids who worked with their families at La Finca Alta Gracia. Julia Alvarez created El Centro to help bring in more educational opportunities for the children of the families working on the coffee farm. 2002

During spring break of my school year I flew to DR. I had invited my cousin to go with me. She and I are the same age and have similar interests. I had never really been anywhere outside of the country on this kind of journey. Our first stop was Sosua, a beach town that has the most precious inlet with shade from mangrove trees. I am not going to lie we had a great time. We met a couple of Dominican and Haitian guys who were in party mode. At the time the dollar was worth 54 pesos, it has gone up and down and 20 years later is still the same 54 pesos- not shocking. We stayed in the beach town for a couple of days and then headed to the mountains to Los Marranitos where El Centro at La Finca Alta Gracia was located. My cousin’s trip would be shorter than mine and soon I would be by myself at El Centro. She only had a week off from work. I didn’t desire to be by myself it just worked out like that.

In reality because of that time by myself, I experienced an intense self awakening. It sounds hippy but it is the truth. Although I didn’t know it at the time but in the months afterward the flood of emotions clued me into the fact that I was changing.

The view on the way up from Jarabacoa to area Los Marranitos. 2015

How can I describe what I experienced? At the time it was hard for me to verbalize it. I can now. It was the smell of pine wood walls, the dry air, the very cold nights, the hot- noon time sun, the breeze, the smoke from food being cooked over an open wood flame, the woman singing Bachata in a tone that I would understand as time went on, my serious lack of understanding the Spanish language, late night walks in total darkness- there was no electricity- at all, drinking very cold Presidente- a beer, dancing the most passionate Merengue, smelling night time blooming flowers(myth?), working with clay-earth straight from the ground, meeting the most generous people, forming friendships with children of which I had been known to do- but this trait travelled with me….How can I be that magical person that children want to follow, here, there and everywhere? Developing such a deep sense of belonging that I would return again in June and then November. I felt a connection to my Puerto Rican roots. Things I understood by food made by my Nana and stories told by her translated to there. Yes, I know I am talking about two different islands and cultures but the similarities were/are undeniable.

Image from my contact sheet. El Centro is in the middle of this photo, Los Marranitos, Dominican Republic. 2002

I fell in love with a people, a culture and a land- 100%. And when asked about my trip I had no words to express or describe it. I cried, like literally for two months straight, a pure fountain of agua.

As a young person I always wanted to be a world traveler and I did so through National Geographic, through art, books and movies. I was 32 when I travelled to DR. I was well travelled within the USA but not outside of it. There are several names to call what I was feeling but no need to name anything. I chose to print my photographs, and return as soon as possible.

Pre Google maps and cell phones and translators I had made my arrangements with a young woman via email. She was a volunteer from Julia’s school where Julia taught in Vermont. I got the directions from her, printed it and brought it with me. Simple, right? No not simple at all, but so much fun. Because we didn’t know better, we took a taxi from the beach town to the mountain town of Jarabacoa. Who does that? I will try to not make fun of myself but the fact that we arrived safely is remarkable. Then from Jarabacoa we got on the back of a truck, una guagua, looking like hikers with our huge back packs, yeah we hiked. But it seemed silly to be in hiking gear when we were surrounded by people living- not hiking- in their daily lives.

Images from my contact sheets, La Finca Alta Gracia, Los Marranitos, Dominican Republic, 2002.

After reaching another stop, which was the correct stop, however we didn’t know it, we got on the back of mopeds and travelled another 20 minutes further north near Manaboa. The reality is that there were multiple places called Alta Gracia. Eventually we made it back to Los Marranitos. I now know this place like the back of my hand, so it seems odd to recall those first days with such confusion. We had finally arrived to El Centro and the reality was that this place was super isolated, even more isolated than the little surrounding communities. If you didn’t have a dirt bike or motorcycle it took 20 minutes to walk to El Centro. I was in pretty good shape at the time but it was a serious hike in and down and hike up and out. It was a coffee farm in the mountains.

Image from my contact sheet, La Finca Alta Gracia, Los Marranitos, Dominican Republic. 2002

This day of travel from the ocean side into the mountainside was unforgettable. Traveling in ways I have never experienced before leading us to experience the most grand vista with breath taking views. And it was the first day of the rest of my life.

A few things have happened since that first trip.

One of my favorite pictures of my family, Río, Angelo and Adoni, Los Dajaos, Dominican Republic. 2014
  • I married a Dominican man, Luis Manuel, muy sincero, cariñoso y hermoso también
  • We have two children together, born 2006 and 2007
  • We both learned a new language and became bilingual
  • An airport was built in Santiago making travel easier for us
  • The Porter’s community, we lived on campus, accepted Luis and because of this he grew
  • We built a functioning bathroom at his parents house-no more outhouse, we also bought property and built houses in the DR
  • I shared my photographs taken in DR in multiple places like Woodstock Center for Photography and Lightwork and others
  • Luis, opened a successful Painting business in 2006, he came here like many immigrants con nada
  • Cell phones arrived and eventually cell towers and because of this the mountain communities are changed forever
  • With my help Porter’s invited the Spanish ceramist Angels Tello Pardo, whose little school in the mountains of DR helped women make a living making Taino Pottery, to the school to share her passion and craft with the students
  • We had children who have grown up in the mountains of DR, they are bicultural and bilingual
  • My husband became a citizen of USA
  • Because of his Visa status he was able to bring family members to the USA
  • I finally brought Porter’s students on the most amazing trip to the mountains
  • Electricity was installed on the roads by the government
  • The road to Los Dajaos, my husband’s town was paved
  • I have seen the babies I photographed in those first years have their own babies
  • I have also witnessed death- regular and devastating , sickness and disease like HIV
  • I have the most beautiful photographic images etched into my memory unlike no other experience
  • We have worked so hard to make sure our children know what it means to be from the mountains of DR

I have so many photographs but they existed secondary to my feelings. I spent years going to sleep every night, breathing deeply and thinking about and visualizing the mountains. I did this with a smile on my face, it was my meditation. Earlier I had said I became grounded. After a year of multiple trips to the DR, for the first time in my life I felt like “Everything is going to be all right”.

Me and Luis Manuel in Los Dajaos, Dominican Repunlic. 2002

A Little Miracle.

/ Marlo / 2 Comments

In December of 2002 I found myself in the emergency room as I thought I had malaria. Malaria? Yes Malaria. According to the CDC travel center, I had to take malaria prevention medication during my trip to the mountians of Dominican Republic in the spring of 2002. After meeting peace corp folks while I was there, I decided to ditch the medication at their recommendation. And I didn’t take anymore upon my subsequent trips in June nor November or ever again. I was 32 at the time. After doctor visits and bloodwork, the source of my feverish night sweats and malaise was clear. I was in menopause. And to add to the gut punch, my ovaries were measured, they were tiny the size that belonged to a woman of 45 years of age. Imagine my confusion. I was also told I would never have children. If you know me, I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me what I could and couldn’t do. Never mind the fact that I never wanted to have children, or get married for that matter. For the record, I want to share this as I have never written it down. This is my story.

Me and Luis, summer, 2003. Los Dajaos, Dominican Republic. *before filters.

In the summer of 2002 I met Luis, my husband. In October of 2003 he flew to JFK, NY from Dominican Republic and we began our life together. There are many beautiful details about how our life started but this story is not about that. I did not travel to DR with the intention of falling in love, yet I did and here we are.

I know my story about infertility is not unique. I also can’t say that anything of what happened is scientifically perfect or willed out of desire or mere luck. My heart goes out to all the women whose story is different, I see you. It became abundantly clear that I am my mother’s daughter. She too had early onset of menopause in her 30’s. I never thought it would happen to me too, she didn’t either. There was no one guiding us to say “hey maybe you want to think about this”. Although, I probably would not have listened if someone had.

Even if I had wanted to do the in vitro thing I couldn’t because there weren’t any eggs to use, so I was told. At the time I was into yoga and meditation and my teacher suggested acupuncture. I scoffed at such a thought, I am a wimp around needles. However, love changed my tune. I was married and we wanted children, I wanted children. A long time friend’s sister is an acupuncturist in West Hartford, CT. Soon after my first appointments with her I was addicted to the feelings of energy and calm that became my body. Number one, I was stressed, number two, my menastral cycle was short and number three, my blood was thin. My stress was internal and deep.

I made changes, I began a heavy root, dark greens and stewed meat diet to strengthen my blood. I had been a vegetarian for about 10 years. I will not get into those details nor belittle my life in my 20’s. If I wanted to give my body a chance to produce a baby I had to change. I drank medicinal teas, received acupuncture twice a week and worked on being less stressed. And of course in order to have a baby there is sex. I took my temperature daily, took notes and timed sex to help make a baby, fertilize an egg that was said to not be there. In 2005 I miscarried.

There are very few photographs of me pregnant or things that people do to remember or record a pregnancy, just my words. I am not superstitious but clearly I acted in superstitious ways. And the reality is when I look back on the situation my artistic self, my photographic self wanted nothing to do with the moment. I compartmentalized things, for my safety.

I remember a thoughtful conversation with my head of school, she was genuinely concerned for me and my health and of course for women. She was the head of the beloved all girls boarding school, Miss Porter’s School, her name, Burch Ford. I admired her and her dedication to girls and the school even when I disagreed with her and some of her actions. She truly wanted to know if stress was the root of my situation. She wanted a definitive answer. I didn’t have one to give her. But in 2021, I think we all know that stress is a factor for many ills, and my family has sure had is share of generational trauma, deep rooted stress.

The day that the doctor called me to tell me there was nothing else they/we could do, I had intended on calling them to share that I was pregnant again. Two years in the making, that little heart beating on the monitor was a sight to see. My pregnancy was amazing, I walked on clouds. Mostly, it was regular and uneventful. What helped it stay that way was the doula that we hired to help me. A favorite student of mine recalled that I was a total bitch during my pregnancy, that is not how I remember it.

At the time my mother was in Florida and my mother in law, in Dominican Republic. I wanted to be sure that I had someone in my corner. Luis’ English was ok and all of this baby stuff was so new. There were no close friends who were having babies. The doula was my life line, she helped me not be afraid of a wonderful and natural moment. The day that Rio was born we had dropped my mom off at the airport early in the morning, she missed his birth. She had been visiting for my baby shower.

That evening my water broke during dinner while we were in the dinning room at Porter’s, my job. It was a surprise to say the least. The moments leading up to this birth were unforgettable. My midwife said to hang tight and she would see me in the morning, ha! Back at our house, Luis was nervous and I was rooting in my bed trying to get comfortable. He offered to make me tea and proceeded to boil water in the serving tea pot not the boiling tea pot. It was at that point I decided we needed the doula. Luis was a nervous wreck. She arrived around 10:30pm. Rolling and rooting in my bed, I didn’t really have signs or contractions to say the baby was coming anytime soon, also no pain. But some time after 11pm I announced the need to go to the bathroom. That moment, me sitting on the toilet, I screamed… “the baby is coming!!”.

Rio, 4 months old. Sea Horse Ranch, Cabarete, Dominican Republic, 2006. Photographer, Solangel Patino.

The miracle of Rio is that he arrived, I became pregnant against stupid odds. He also came into the world with lighting speed. I couldn’t make it to the birthing center to give birth naturally with the doula and midwife. We rushed to the emergency room at UConn, a 5 minute ride, speeding of course. It was below freezing temperatures and I needed all windows down, I was panting like a dog. The doula pleaded that I don’t push. She was afraid, as she shared with me later, that I would have the baby in the car. It was too cold that night. I was wheeled into emergency and told again “do not push”. The doula was miraculously at my side, poor Luis was parking the car and when the doctor arrived they were ready for me to push. A few pushes later baby Rio arrived. Luis missed his birth while parking the car.

A birth happened and it was incredibly uneventful and yet beautiful. My doula asked the emergency doctors for me to birth in the way I wanted, naturally. As time was of the essence, there was no time to be hooked up, or medicated or anything for that matter. All I could do was deliver my baby, our baby, naturally and in minutes. His name is Rio Jose, named with an earth name and named after the Joe’s in both of our families. Rio arrived that night of January 15th at 11:58pm to be exact, he came two weeks early. As UConn is a teaching hospital, our birth story of speed became the whispered story, many came in to see me and Rio.

Adoni, 5 months old. Farmington, CT on the grounds of Miss Porter’s School, 2008. Photographer, Solangel Patino.

Was there emotional turmoil at this time in my life, sure. But I choose to remember the beauty, trust me this is not easy to write about. We were deeply in love, acupuncture kept me calm and focused, and our doula gave me freedom to know that I could birth naturally. Our second baby came 22 months later. This time we were prepared. When my water broke we drove immediately to the birthing center. This birth lasted 3 hours. My water broke at 6:30pm and Adoni Cedar was born on that night of November 2nd at 9:30pm. So call it what you will, a miracle or two, faith, acupuncture, eating meat, or LOVE.

Homeschool 2012-2020

/ Marlo / 2 Comments

Trigger warning…for me. I registered my 14 year old, Rio for public high school. While filling out the form I was brought right back to his first year of Kindergarten, where it all started.

Río at his Kindergarten graduation. Happy kid.

The summer before kindergarten when I registered Rio, I proudly filled out the questions that asked if he spoke another language with the answer yes. When asked if we wanted the paperwork that goes home to be in English and Spanish, I said yes. When asked what language he spoke at home I answered English and Spanish. This is true, he is bilingual since the birth of his words. And there folks, is when it all began, the crumble of what I thought Kindergarten/school should be and what it actually was.

By some law here in CT to protect children, my son was tested in his first week of school because I checked a box that said he spoke another language at home. Harmless right? Well there began what I considered the problem. He failed the test, and then was taken out of his classroom for extra help, daily. None of this I knew until 1.5 months into school. Principal also said to me that most kindergarteners would fail the test. And there I was in the principal’s office crying. Could I say then what I was crying about, no, but I knew deep down something was not right.

Rio wearing his favorite shirt to our first NYC performance, STOMP. This is the shirt he was asked to remove while in school because it was considered inappropriate.

I want to preface all of this with “desire” and “need” to homeschool. We desired to homeschool but our reality would not permit that. I was employed full time at Miss Porter’s School, an all girls boarding school in CT and our family lived on campus and for the most part I liked my job and loved my students. Rio attended the local public school with all of his daycare peers, also my peer families of my employment. Our desire to homeschool was dreamy, like we will spend our winters in Dominican Republic. However, I never thought what happened to Rio at school would drive me to quit me job and decide to homeschool my kids. And in the end it was a need. By February I told my head of school I was not returning, after 14 years of employment, my beautiful, talented and amazing students who kept me returning year after year, nothing was going to stop me and our new family plan. I made a dramatic decision, even revolutionary. It changed our lives forever.

Coincidentally Rio’s entrance into high school is during a Pandemic, Covid-19 and Black Lives Matter movements, so we are raw, sensitive and I am looking at and reviewing things with the eyes of a hawk. The registration form again asks the exact same questions and I quickly find myself going back and changing my answers. All so that he will fit the norm of what is versus the reality of our home life- bilingual. How can we be proud, recognized as normal and human all at once? What I learned that year from Rio’s school even in 2011 is that he was sized up and judged before he even had a chance. I guess I was braver than the generation before me that refused to teach its children to speak Spanish, me and all my cousins the result of 100% assimilation caused by racism.

Rio Fernandez Bilingual, Father from Dominican Republic, Mother half white and half Puerto Rican

It didn’t matter that I was employed at one of the most prestigious schools, it didn’t matter that Rio actually spoke English and spent his whole little life in an English speaking daycare, it didn’t matter that he too was a loved child in his daycare and he was given the stamp of approval- ready for Kindergarten. None of it mattered, thankfully his self esteem was not destroyed that year. As I worked in all girls education I learned about what works for girls and what works for boys, also what doesn’t. What had alarmed me and had me in the principal’s office when his teacher had no time for me was the simple fact that he was being removed from the classroom daily to get reading help. Many said, come on, what is the problem? He is getting help where when he needs it.

My issue was, I didn’t want him removed from the classroom. Everything I had read said it would cause future problems, especially with self esteem and that was my major cause of concern. Here are a few negative things I remember about that year.

  • Teaching kindergarten at second grade level, too rigorous for a 5/6 year old
  • Removed from the classroom daily, seen by peers as different or less than, humiliation
  • Being asked to change his “inappropriate” shirt, humiliation
  • Being asked to stop singing an “inappropriate” song in front of his classmates, humiliation
  • Asked to read and saying a word incorrectly, laughed at by his group, humiliation
  • Not feeling supported by his teacher, abandoned
Spring baseball, happy. This was during his Kindergarten year.

Some of these points could be seen as part of life and growing up, I get that, but all bundled together weighed heavy on him and us. In late fall of that year he was playing with a group of friends right after school and they all fell to the ground together and he fractured his arm. That winter while we were in Dominican Republic, 6 weeks after the initial fracture, he slipped and fell and broke it in the exact same spot. The Dominican doctor angry asked us why he didn’t have a cast on him. Me, horrified as they, the doctors here in USA, said he didn’t need a cast. Río had a removable plastic cast and they said after 6 weeks he could remove it when not playing. It was a freak accident, he slipped on a wet floor. A lot happened to Rio in 4 months at 5 years old. It wasn’t even January yet.

Dominican doctor, “kids are monkeys, we always put a cast on them”. Our doctor here in USA, broke a sweat when cutting of the “thick” Dominican cast.

When looking back on this time with both boys, homeschooling and all of it, I would not change my decision. New to homeschool moms and dads, grandparents and guardians you will get to know the real you and the real them during this time- be ready to have every single thing you thought to be true questioned, turned over and possibly thrown right back in your face. And the truth is I am flexible, go with the flow and a spontaneous person. All of this did not matter. Two independent, stubborn and non conforming, self starter adults expected their children to be conforming, easy and submissive- not.

The image on the bottom is summer time before Kindergarten, the other two images are from the fall after Rio’s first year of Kindergarten. It is hard to not read into the drawings. That fall was very difficult too as we changed everything, we moved houses, towns and no more school or old friends.

Everyone wants to know why now, why on earth would you send your kid to public school now? Simple, he wants to go. We have been looking into attending school and prepping for freshman year for the last two years. He is an athlete among other things and wants to participate in seasonal sports. Connecticut laws do not allow homeschoolers to participate. There were other paths but we have arrived at this moment. If we wait this year out in terms of thinking of health, we are propagating fear. Masks are in our present and future.

Rio’s baseball season in the summer of 2020

Freedom to Run and Roam

/ Marlo / Leave a comment

In this current moment of quarantine we are having more movie nights. I convinced the family to watch Stand By Me. At first they had too much to say about how it is old, and who cares and all the typical kid stuff, and not enough guns for Luis. Soon after the movie started they became invested, the characters were relatable.

Screen shot from Stand by Me

‘Stand by Me’ at 30: Why This Stephen King Movie Is Timeless

Adoni at the railroad tracks here in our town.

In 2020 and all the way back to the days my kids were born, a kid’s freedom to run and roam is long gone. This movie gives glimpses into the life my boys love. Maybe today in USA if a kid lives on a farm or near woods they are lucky. Some would even call this a crisis of this generation, kid do not have freedom to roam. The picture above with Adoni was taken by me but the meeting happened by accident. He told me he was riding his bike down in an area of town that has been closed off for people to get exercise during quarantine. He didn’t exactly lie but on his way home he went exploring. I had decided to go for a walk and there he was. He was riding his bike on a route I walked a million times when I was a kid, the train tracks. He wanted to show his friend (with social distancing in mind), the route to my grandmother’s old house. This was a bold move on his part. He screamed to me, “hey I was getting my phone out to call you” yeah right.

Adoni and I went back to explore. He has a mask on.

My boys know my story about my own cross with death near these tracks. Maybe in a different post I will write about my story.

Adoni and his cousins in mountains of Dominican Republic. Over the course of a month they collected thousands of coquito nuts, organized, donated for dulce, cracked and ate and most importantly played a game where they won and lost them. The game is similar to marbles. In order to play they have to remove the outer shell.
This is a few years old, but a favorite photograph of mine shot in Dominican Republic. Rio, cousin Angelo and Adoni in the back.

Rio and Adoni are lucky because we live two lives in two different countries and there are different freedoms in each country. Their age now is giving them more freedom, living on a dead end street and homeschooling also give them some freedom. But in the Dominican, mountains and family and climate have created a vast place to explore to be a kid and create a stories, ones that might even be a story line for a movie.

Baseball, Dominican Style

/ Marlo / 2 Comments

Rio wants to learn with the best. Can you blame him? So yes, very swiftly, we made a decision to move half our family to Santo Domingo which will allow Rio to train 5 days a week. The opportunity presented itself and he grabbed it. We are supporting it. The privilege of homeschooling allowed us to make this decision.
Are there good trainers in the USA, of course. There are two things I want to list here for you to think about, money and happiness.
Money is needed to train and to play, here, there and everywhere. There is no baseball guide that will show us how to get from point A to point B. We are not part of a “club” either. The point is we were spending money running in circles, which left none of us feeling good. We, the parents and children have met good people along the way, don’t get me wrong. However, what ever it is that we have been looking for concerning the kids and baseball seemed to be out of reach.
You know when you feel good and you just know when something is right? It that happiness? Well the day we decided to meet some trainers here in DR, we went to the fields, I felt it- happiness. Most importantly Rio felt it. The kids were on the field playing their hardest but with joy. That is contagious. Can you blame him for wanting to be a part of that?
We brought up our kids bicultural and bilingual. They may look like gringos, but their hearts are here in DR – happiness.

The day we found baseball happiness.