Child of Loveنموونە

War, Separation, Secrets, and Sorrow

On April 24, 1964, when I was almost five years old, a civil war broke out. My mother was afraid that it was too dangerous for my brother and me, so I was sent to live with my godfather’s family in Santiago de los Caballeros, the Dominican Republic’s second largest city. My brother Rolandito went to live with his paternal grandparents in the city of Barahona. That was the last time he and I were to see each other during our childhood.

By this time, Mamá was pregnant with her third child. My sister Isabel Teresa was born during the civil war. I remained in Santiago until the war ended, and then I rejoined my parents. We moved to a place known as El Patio. Valerio was able to buy a house made of cardboard for seventy-five pesos. It was located where the former dictator Rafael Trujillo had kept his riding stables. After Trujillo was assassinated, his family was forced to leave the country. All of his land holdings were then overrun by poor families who quickly constructed temporary dwellings. For many, these became permanent. We lived in that cardboard house for years.

I have always called Valerio “Papá.” He was the man who was present during my childhood, providing our family with food, clothing and shelter. But when I was about ten years old, my aunt Senelia told me that Valerio was not my real father, but rather a man by the name of Catelo. I did not want to believe her. Although I had only known Valerio as my father, he had never told me he loved me, nor hugged me, much less given me a kiss. He never offered to help me with my problems.

Yet once, when I was walking through the neighborhood of Villa Juana in Santo Domingo, a tall man suddenly approached me. He picked me up in his arms, kissed me, and said: “My son, my son!” I was quite embarrassed because the man was drunk. I yelled for him to let me down. After letting me go, he gave me three pesos. I ran home. I only saw Catelo once more before moving to New York. I was thirteen and Mamá was completing the forms for us to move. Thanks to Valerio, on 1973 we made our journey from the Dominican Republic to the United States.

God, no matter what I face, I can turn to You. Help me remember that even when my loved ones fail me, You are a good and loving Father.