i wonder...

what would be the hardest? to lose a father that you were intimately connected with, or to lose one that you really never knew as a person? either way i guess it is painful. in my case it is the latter, i never knew my father as an individual. we never really had a relationship and i had always wanted to ask him a number of questions that puzzled me throughout the years. unfortunately, i cannot now. i found out that he passed away a while back. it was a really crappy way to find out too. i read a newspaper article where they mentioned that he was being honored at poetry reading in his home city. apparently he was a poet--i didn't know that. obviously that's where my love for poetry/literature comes from. it has taken a toll on me. i have cried a lot. i feel so hopeless. my mother will never be able to answer the questions i had for him; both because she probably doesn't know, and because in trying to protect herself, she uncontiously refuses to do so. it totally sucks.

today is also my brother's birthday so i can't call my anyone in my mother to tell her that my father's childhood friend confirmed that he died. i can't bring relatively bad news for her on a day when they probably are going to do something for my brother's birthday. this feels very lonely. my life has always been this way. i fend for myself when it comes to emotional needs and that's probably why i'm messed up in that department. i ugess all i can do is cry and let things take their course. there's so much in my head. my only hope for peace is God and i pray that He will know how to heal my heart.

what a day!

this morning as i was walking to the train station i happen to see a flock of ducks/geese flying in a perfect V formation.  i thought it was amazing how those birds have such a intricate way flying. if humans had to do that we probably would be trying to outrun each other and instead of Vs we would have a whole alphabet soup. anyway, so i was looking at them and thinking how God created all these things which a completely cool.  as i walk through the huge parking lot near the supermarket i realized that i should move towards the sidewalk if i was to continue not looking where I was going.  as i took a sharp left turn this guy behind me almost bumped into to me. then, check this out, as i tried to step onto the sidewalk i fell.  yes, i did. i freaking fell between two parked cars on the parking lot and the sidewalk step.  totally embarrassing. i don't' know if anyone was watching but totally embarrassing.   it hurt.  i fell on my knees and left hand.  so i dusted myself off and proceeded to semi-limp for a couple of steps.  when i got to work i checked out my knees and they were bleeding. completely sucks.    later during the day, i'm talking to my colleague and she bumps my knee with her foot. ouch.  

since it's the end of the semester i'm extremely busy and not looking to waste any time. there's a woman who wants to volunteer with us so after she showed up last night i asked her to come back today at 1pm to do some volunteer work.  i work for part of the morning setting things up for her and then she doesn't show up.  

my lunch from Foodies which is usually pretty yummy was not that good.  i worked all day on these certificates so at least that was more or less ok.  towards the end of my work day a volunteer i had  to "fire" showed up for an activity and with her hostile look asked where one of hte pastors was. i was like, "no way; not this, not now." luckily that was the end of that.  

i left work to go to Pier1 to buy some appreciation gifts for our volunteers and the girl packaging the stuff literally threw them into a bag like it was a nasty mother-in-law that she anted to stomp on.  so i paid,  fixed the bag, and left.  after Pier1 i went to the supermarket to get something for dinner. it is now about 9pm.  i go to the self-checkout lane and it is closed but there was a cashier open and she called me. :)  she scanned my stuff and told me the total. i was looking for my wallet.  i looked and looked and it wasn't there.  i told her to hold my order because i had left my wallet at Pier1.  she said yes.  i walked to Pier1 and they had my little purple wallet--which i love. i went back to the supermarket and now there was a different cashier but there was no problem with resuming my order after having to wait a bit in line. 

as i walked home trying to find out if my keys were in my purse so that i didn't have to walk all the way back, i dropped my CS Lewis book.  it was raining earlier so the ground was semi-wet. i sighed and said, "what a day!"  when i got home and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror i realized that i was missing an earring, which i did not take off during the day.  as i was cooking in the kitchen it fell off my scarf.  

i'm hoping that this is the end of it and nothing else happens. it wasn't such a dramatic day after all but the little annoying things i experienced made it quite, well, annoying.  my tomato, shrimp pasta was good, though.  at the end of it all i'm still happy.  this must be "that" joy that surpasses all understanding. :P 

humph

i'm tired. the climax of a really hectic time is approaching. i have to finish writing a grant report and really do not have any idea of what would even begin to discribe it. it is all my faul. i waited 'till the last minute. what the heck. this is so me. i should have called the foundation and ask some questions. i didn't write the grant proposal nor was i involved in the implementation of it. i came in in august so to write something for december it's a bit of a strech. most of stuff is also anecdotal so it's hard to just plug in numbers and get things done that way. it is not cool. but God is great and i know that it will be fine. just today we saw an amazing miracle. truly. we were short for our sponsorships for a fundraiser this year and ouf ED went to a meeting--reluctantly, mind you--and came out of it with a two grand sponsorship check; which not only covered what we needed but we are now stelar because the other fundraising parties are totally short. that was truly a miracle and there's no arguing with it. the guy wasn't even pursuing these people. he met them today at the meeting. sigh...total emotional roller coaster this week.

oh, oh, speaking of roller coasters, yesterday was a pain. one of the women here opened the database with all the ticket purchases for this gala we're involved in and filtered the information so that only a few tickets appeared. i had left the office early on tuesday and when i came yesterday the same woman tells me that there's something wrong with the database. i wanted to die. really, die I tell you. the IT guy looked things over and there was nothing wrong with the server, etc. after my initial shock that everything had been lost I went back to the document and realized that "something" looked different. after unfiltering things everything went back to normal and my weeks of hard work had not disappeared. it turns out and the same woman who kept saying that she hadn't done anything to it was the one that filtered it and forgot she had done so. i really do not understand how a person could forget that they changed a document and then ask "what happened?" i think it's a bit ridicoulous but that's ok. we're all human and mistakes are made. she was completely unsympathetic and/or concerned with the fact that i was going through hell while the IT guy looked for what was wrong. she apologized at the end for not going over and "helping" me figure out such an easy issues as that. I couldn't believe it. not for messing it up, pointing it out and then being completely defensive about it, but for not getting up from her desk and showing me how an idiot i am. really? but it's all good. i realized that she may not be as confident and admitting mistakes may take a great toll on her so i kinda feel bad for her and her inability to not take things so personal.

with all that junk said, i am so happy! sonia and i had a great conversation with Hno. Orange about his work when he was in Chile and how God has blessed him so dearly in everything. he is such a great man. i totally have a little crush on him even if he's sixty-plus. i just think he has an amazing story and i would totally love to be friends with a person like that. an older, wise person that can sit down to chat with someone that could be his son/daughter--or even a grandchild--and do so with no hint of prepotence or superioty but out of a genuine desire to share. people like that make you want to listen to them, learn from them, honor them and just amulate their example in life. such humble, sensitive and solid people are few and far between. that was great. :) and i'm totally in love but like family-love. please don't got around saying i'm into septuagenarians or about.

faith on the catwalk

i do not know why but i have spent part of my afternoon looking at pictures of the new "it-girl" in fashion,  super-model sensation Arlenis Sosa Peña.  geesh, her generic Dominican name does not do her justice. she is crazy beautiful, this girl.  i am so glad that she's Dominican and from what seems to be a not-so-uppity sector of society--sucker for underdogs here.  most importantly, however, is that she is a woman of faith (gasp!). it appears to be an oxymoron but the girl apparently likes to read the bible in-between photo sessions. how awesome is that?   i love her.  she seems pretty down-to-earth and just an overall bubbly, fun, borderline-naive girl from my lovely island--yes, it's all mine. :P 

Here's her pic in case you wanna check it out (try to guess why i chose this hair, ehem, head shot.. 

more pictures if you care... 

nov. 28th

today is my younger sister's birthday.  it's her 18th birthday, which she has been announcing for about a month. :D  i think is pretty funny when people do that.  my cousin carol used to do that too when we were younger and i could never bring myself to do the same. i thought it too needy.  i guess my views have changed.  i remember one year while in 6th or 7th grade where i forgot it was my birthday.  my family woke me up singing happy birthday, etc.--the little ritual my mom liked for all of us.  then i went to school and completely forgot about it.  :\ when i came home, Doña Blasina, the lady that cooked for us, said "Happy Birthday Miss."  i was furious... that meant i had forgotten my birthday and none of my friends at school got a chance to buy me anything because i didn't mention anything to begin with.  to top it all off, it was a friday (!) so i was not going to be able to mention it to the class until after 3 days had passed.  i missed a perfect opportunity for my friends to give me presents and/or shower me with attention that day.  since then, i have never forgotten my birthday again--at least not during the birthday and/or for the whole day. :)  

anyway, back to my sister.  i remember when we were expecting her to be born. my mom had had a number of miscarriages because of toxoplasmosis (from our old cat) and finally after a long treatment she was able to have my sister.  we didn't know if it would be a boy or a girl.  we were choosing which name to name her.  my mother really wanted her to have my great grandmother's name: Amelia. i think that's such a beautiful name now. Amelia by itself would probably have been more than enough. anyway, at that time i thought it would be cool to combine my name and my great grandmother's  and call  her jasmelia. but my little brother--6 years younger--as a good dominican said jamelia without the s and everybody thought it was great.  the little punk stole my idea and 'till this day swears that he came up with the name.   ok, ok... i'm digressing into something completely different.  so, the day she was born we were all anxiously awaiting what it was going to be. she's 12 years younger than me so i was old enough to remember things.  i remember that people would always ask if i wanted a brother or a sister, likewise to my brother.  my mom seemed to want a girl because my step-dad really wanted a girl--or so it appeared.  although he always has considered me his daughter it is only natural that he wanted to have a bond with his own daughter.  so after much anticipation, the day came. my mom gave birth through c-section so it was a scheduled delivery.  it was in the afternoon and i remember as my aunt, dad, brother--not 100% if he was there--and i were waiting in the dark hallway for the news.  i think the OR had a little blue and red light to the let people know whether it was a boy or a girl.  i'm not sure though; maybe i saw that in a movie or book.   we were all so happy. i was so happy; my aunt congratulated my dad.  it was fun. i remember that her nails were pretty long and she seemed to be hungry; at least that's what someone said. as she grew i remember telling her stories which she really liked.  my repertoire included Snow White, Cinderella, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, etc., as well as a plethora of made up stuff. i used to tickle her a lot too. i would also scold her many a times when she did something unkosher to which my dad would object and we would argue day and night about it.  i wonder how different my life would have been if i had stayed in DR. or how different my sister's temperament would be.  

she grew up pretty much alone with my parents.  my brother came to the US for high school at about 15 so she was 9 when she became an "only-child."  i always tell them that they brought her up as a grandchild more than a daughter.  but i guess that it's true what they say that parents are usually more lenient with the youngest child than the rest.  in any event many times i have considered her spoiled. but i have to say that probably compared to current standards she's just normal.    i think she's very smart, beautiful and with a sensitive heart.  i also think she has chosen to go the easy route and not challenge herself in any way.  sometimes i look at her and wish that i could make her see how much potential she has and the amazing things she could do if she only tried a bit or if she wanted to.  she could really do a lot if only she could see herself that way.  but i also understand that she is her own person and she has to choose what she feels it's best for her as well as deal with the consequences--positive or negative--of her present actions.  

this may seem like a sad post when i think of it but it is not.  i'm happy to have my sister and to how these great memories from the time of her birth to now.  i see her potential, her talents and look forward to the day when her life experiences will come together to shape the great woman she'll become.  i pray that in the meantime she is as the japanese say どんどんbecome aware of how much she is worth and start putting her value on things that are not destroyed by "ladron o polilla." i'm really looking forward to it. i'm also thankful to have her in my life because, probably unbeknownst to her, she has taught me a lot about myself, my expectations and the fact that each one of us truly has a responsibility to oneself.  well, first to God but then to oneself.  no one can force us or persuade us to be one way or another, it is our choice to be what we are.   i'm a working progress in this department but i truly hope to be able appreciate and learn to respect my sister's choices regardless of what i think they should.  i love her and that's pretty much what an older sister is for;  the other stuff is really inconsequential.  

new gig...

today i start my new job.  after 5 years working for the same employer i have decided that God has called me to do something else and i'm starting a new job with an urban ministry at the church where i congregate.  it has been an amazing journey so far.  i am going to miss my team. i felt like more than a manager I was a friend and an encourager.  i feel so blessed to have been able to work with those people.  my respect for them is so great.  the same goes for most of my co-workers.  my office-mates--Tim and Bru--they are great people.  i hope they are recognized as such when the time comes.  it is amazing what a place can do to you.  for the past few months i have been miserable there.  my boss has been completely irresponsible in the way she has handled things.  i have been struggling to manage a new program which was handed to me in disarray and with no staff.  however, i am glad it has happened that ways.  otherwise, i would not have had that as a catalyst to leave.  God is great and He knows when & how to deal with things.  at one point i was so overwhelmed that i had to lock myself in one of the bathroom stalls and cry until i could no longer.  it was horrible. there i prayed for God to deliver me from it and less than two days later everything changed.  i am so happy!  the new job will be an adjustment,  i'm starting from the bottom again but i could not be happier.  i am so lucky.  i couldn't ask for more.  i'm looking forward to this new chapter in my life and hope to fufill the task which i have been entrusted.  

 Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.  Jeremiah 33:3 

La Mancha...

I have always loved books.  From when I was a little girl I have always had this fascination with those bundles of pages that hold adventures, fears, experiences, dreams...  I remember that my grandmother loved--well, still loves--going to yard sales and Salvation Army stores where she buys a bunch of cheap stuff which really serves no purpose.  When I first got

 to the States as a teenager my eyes would scan the different stores, backyards or whatever places we ended up visiting on those bittersweet Saturday trips, mostly to New Hampshire, and automatically walk to the spot where the books were;  even if I couldn't read them because I spoke no English.  One of my favorite books of all time is Don Quijote. I rea

d it when I was about 13 years old.  The story of the crazy knight fighting every injustice and always longing for his beloved Dulcinea was just one of the most amazing reads ever. I was completely absorbed by it.   So when I finally got to visit La Mancha in Spain this summer I was in heaven.  We went to the Molinos.  Obviously, they're not the Cervantes molinos but they're still so, way cool.    I was completely in love with the Molinos to the point that my friends drove away threatening to leave me if I didn't let go.  Finally, they did drive away but had to come back just a bit so that I could get in the car.  We sat down by the Molino store--yes, capitalism is the best... the most sublime structures can become a convenience store in the middle of Saffron fields

.  In any event, we took out a blanket and sat under the shade of one of the Molinos.  There, with the fragrant wind enveloping us and overlooking the valley of Castilla-La Mancha, we had a succulent lunch of jamon, tortilla española, pan, atun among other staples of Spanish cuisine.  It was great.  I even took a little power nap until Jose--our friend, guide and driver--stopped chatting with the store attendant and we headed on our wa

y to new adventures.  I felt very Quijotesca, in a more luxurious sorta way.   Los Molinos were amazing both inside and outside.  They had names from the book, such as Rosinante and others. I was elated.  

Here are some of La Mancha pictures:  

the valley... molino...

thank God for Lisboa

so we just got to lisboa about an two hours ago. it´s such a nice city. i drove part of the way here and it wasn´t as bad as jose was saying. in any event, i will update more later since my hotel now has internet. yay... we´re on our way to dinner. yummm.

no more internet

well, after i met my friends and started travelling there´s no more internet. so i will be posting later...

1st and 2nd day...

so i decided to walk around town in Madrid to get to know things. i have been walking like a child in a remote african village. so far there are six blisters to account for it. i´m staying around the Puerta del Sol area. the hostel is ok although i have to say that it looks a bit--let´s be honest, waaaayyy--sketchy but the people who work there are nice. at least for now--until i find out that my backpack and half the stuff in it is missing.

from the airport i made my way around the Metro system. i had to change lines three times because the stop closest to my hostal is closed due to renovations. i love Madrid´s subway. it´s very clean and on time. it reminds me of the DC metro but with way more people.

day 1: got to the room. took a nap. then walked around town. later that night, at around 11pm i went to walk around town some more to check out the scenery. i went all the way from Puerta del Sol to La Latina and beyond. then came back for the metro. as i was waiting there were two ¨interesting-looking¨ fellows standing next to me. one of them said, ¨oye, estas wapa.¨with a non-spanish sounding accent. it turns out they were algerian. so they asked were i was from; i said brazilian. then i asked what they did in Madrid, etc. and one of them answered, ¨bueno aca vivo con mi familia. y pues no te miento soy traficante.¨ basically, he said he lived with his family here and that he was a dope dealer. he then proceeded to ask me if I was fine and if i needed anything to make me feel better. well, since i was in no need of tylenol or pepto bismol, i gracefully said no. as we got off the metro the two ¨pharmaceutical consultants¨ asked me follow them since they were going to give me directions. i did follow them for about 30 steps and then got ¨lost¨ in the crowd. luckily for me, the Gran Via area is a super crowded area.
after leaving my two new friends i found myself in a major rock concert kinda crowd for the gay pride festivities in the area. it was overwhelming. too many people. too many cigarettes. too many bottles. too many people stepping on my toes. : )

finally, i decided to stop walking at around 2am and headed back to the hostel. enough Madrid for the night.

day 2: more walking. i went to the royal botanical gardens (Jardin Botanico Real) close to where i´m staying. it was awesome. i mean, y´all know i love the whole taking pictures of flowers thing. there i had my fix. geesh. it´s a marvelous place. 

then i walked a bit more and ended up in the Anthropological Museum, 

which was free! yes! it was nice. towards the end of the afternoon i went back to the hostel.

that night i decided to check the latino scene in madrid and did an internet search to find some places with tropical music places. i ended up in a place called O´Zona. unbeknownst to me things in Madrid do not start until 2am. poor Boston. i feel so sad for your early bed habits. so since i was there at like midnight i had to stay at the door chatting it up with the bouncers. obviously, i was allowed to go in but the place was--literally--empty. so i was not going to be the parigüaya to go in. it turn out for the best. i met Carlos the bouncer; a peruvian fellow married with a woman from spain. he has the coolest peru-spain spanish accent. i also hit it off with the woman tending the front table where people pay to get in. by the way, the cover was a woopig 16 euros. they were making fun of me for being there so early. then i mentioned i was here from the States. Carlos is supposed to be going to a wedding in NYC soon and the lady has always dreamed of going to the US. we talked about Obama, being an immigrant in the US, speaking--or not--english, etc., etc. when people started to come my two new friends let me into the club for free and gave me a voucher for a drink! not to mention that the barwoman was a colombian who was also chatting it up with me before i went it. so by the end of the night i was like VIP. I knew the bouncers and the drink people. what else could a girl ask for? i was there until about 4am and then took a taxi back to my base of operations. the cab driver was a total riot and very nice older man. i slept like a baby.

so two days of adventures so far and counting...
ps. i always forget to bring my usb cable to the internet cafe but i´ll post some pix soon. :)

en route...

ok. so dearest Anne volunteered to give me a ride to the airport. it was crazy. between cambridge side gallery and the entrace to storrow drive it took about 45 minutes becuase of heavy traffic. i almost started getting worried. luckily, everything was fine and i made it to the airport well in advance.

on the plane i sat next to this really nice asian american guy who works in the insurance consulting business and travels a lot. he doesn´t like the travelling. it turns out that he too was going to madrid and then to portugal. he showed me his schedule--planned by his ¨friend¨--and it was something totally out of my league. they had planned everything, EVERYTHING, about this trip. it was interesting. while we were conversing these four frat-looking-sounding guys wearing custom-made San Fermin t-shirts came on and sat right behind us. it was hilarious. they were already drunk. we were all going the same way. when we got to London we all started talking and they told us about their trip to the running of the bulls. quite interesting. it turns out the T-shirts had five people pictured on them and they were all meeting in Madrid to then go do the running of the bulls in Pamplona. they invited me; of course i said no.

when we go to Madrid, one of them remembered my name and yelled it out as we were getting off the plane. they then procedeed to chat and i asked if they were taking the subway to Madrid-center. they said no but offered a ride once they were able to find their friends and rent a van. however, if the friends were nowhere to be found they would let me drive since they were all drunk out of their minds. i literally started running down the hallway and they after me. imagine this, me with a backpack and pepper-colored pants being chased down Barajas airport by four drunk frat guys wearing shorts and bright red shirts. quite the sight. they caught on. i took their pictures and lost them at baggage claim. thank you God!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pues Anne se voluntario para llevarme al aeropuerto y nos tomo casi una hora para llegar. me estaba comenzando a preocupar pero gracias a Dios todo salio bien y llegue al Logan a tiempo.

en el avion me sente al lado de un muchacho asiatico americano que tambien estaba en camino a España y Portugal. resulto muy amable el chico y me enseño su itinerario que me dio casi miedo. todo estaba planeado hasta el tuetano y con notas super detalladas. que emocion! luego llego un grupo de cuatro chicos que estaban en camino a Pamplona para la corrida de los toros. esa en las que sueltan los toros en la calle y salvese quien pueda. pues esa. resulta que ya estaban medio borrachitos y muy a lo mi tio David, con bocas de aqui a jupiter. en Londres empazamos a conversar. nos invitaron a ir con ellos pero claro que les dije que no porque yo a morir de cornada no voy. no señor. al llegar a Madrid les pregunte si usarian el metro para llegar al centro de Madrid y me dijeron que no pero que me daban un ride pues ellos rentarian una van--si encontraban a los amigos que supuestamente les estaban esperando. los chicos tenian camisetas hechas con sus caricaturas y la de sus amigos. que barbaridad. tambien me dijeron que si sus amigos no aparecian me dejarian conducir la van ya que ellos estaban demasiado borrachos para manejar. ahi fue cuando literalmente comenze a corres y ellos detras de mi. imaginense, yo corriendo en el aeropuerto Barajas con y grupo de gringos locos y borrachos con camisetas super rojas y botella en mano. que risa. pues al final los perdi en aduanas y me fui.

more on my first day in Madrid, luego.... luego les cuanto mas de mis aventuras en Madrid...

i know... i know...

it is not hidden fact that this blog is neglected by yours truly.  i have been told this many times. sorry, you my faithful readers... both you. :D  mom & dad... kidding.  i am hoping to be better now that i'm quitting my job and will have a life of my own. don't unbookmark me yet.  i promise. i will.  

on another note, i am now the proud owner of a wonderful little camera and have been taking pix of anything that moves--or not. i'm even on Flickr.  below are some of the pix there so feel free to check them out and let me know what you think.  honestly, it's borderline obsession.  

atardecer

Sosua y demas

los nuevos amigos capitalinos

Melvin aqui te van... para que por fin las puedas ver. :D

En Los Tres Ojos:
Pose 1: antes de subir a "la barquita", a no ser que no completaramos la travesia...
Pose 2: con el Capitan de "la barquita" ya en pleno apogeo de la aventura--no me ven la sonrisa de miedo...
Pose 3: mostranda completada la azanha y "Cailito", el guia, tomando la foto de la victoria--con el ultimo "Ojo" de fondo.

dream come true | suenho realizado

i have always wanted to be a street vendor. in DR i got to be one. not only that, a Chimichurri vendor. total riot. plus, in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city of Santo Domingo, with a drug bust going on at about 15feet away from my place of employment. i loved it!!!

siempre he querido ser una vendedora ambulante. en RD lo pude conseguir, y no solo eso gente, sino que una vendedora de Chimis. ademas, en una de las areas mas interesantes de la cuidad de Santo Domingo... en Invivienda. con una redada de drogas como a 15 pies de mi "lugar de trabajo". que emozion!!

here is the proof..... aqui les va la prueba.... (fui oficialmente la Chimi 3. he he)

quote of the day...

"The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little."
-- FDR

Dominican & Racist?

My friend Georgie forwarded me this link to a very interesting article. I in turn forwarded to my Dominican women and it has prompted quite an intriguing thread of responses. Here it is in case you care to take a look at it: Black Denial

Dominican Republic

Yara Matos holds her hair extensions as a stylist in the Herrera neighborhood prepares to give her the look of long, straight hair. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

Black denial

Nearly all Dominican women straighten their hair, which experts say is a direct result of a historical learned rejection of all things black

By Frances Robles

frobles@miamiherald.com

SANTO DOMINGO -- Yara Matos sat still while long, shiny locks from China were fastened, bit by bit, to her coarse hair.

Not that Matos has anything against her natural curls, even though Dominicans call that pelo malo -- bad hair.

But a professional Dominican woman just should not have bad hair, she said. "If you're working in a bank, you don't want some barrio-looking hair. Straight hair looks elegant," the bank teller said. "It's not that as a person of color I want to look white. I want to look pretty."

And to many in the Dominican Republic, to look pretty is to look less black.

Dominican hairdressers are internationally known for the best hair-straightening techniques. Store shelves are lined with rows of skin whiteners, hair relaxers and extensions.

Racial identification here is thorny and complex, defined not so much by skin color but by the texture of your hair, the width of your nose and even the depth of your pocket. The richer, the "whiter." And, experts say, it is fueled by a rejection of anything black.

"I always associated black with ugly. I was too dark and didn't have nice hair," said Catherine de la Rosa, a dark-skinned Dominican-American college student spending a semester here. "With time passing, I see I'm not black. I'm Latina.

"At home in New York everyone speaks of color of skin. Here, it's not about skin color. It's culture."

The only country in the Americas to be freed from black colonial rule -- neighboring Haiti -- the Dominican Republic still shows signs of racial wounds more than 200 years later. Presidents historically encouraged Dominicans to embrace Spanish Catholic roots rather than African ancestry.

Here, as in much of Latin America -- the "one drop rule'' works in reverse: One drop of white blood allows even very dark-skinned people to be considered white.

Capellan Dominquez, center, and Anthony Rosario, right, join others as they warm up for Carnival in February in the Cristo Rey area of Santo Domingo. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

LACK OF INTEREST

As black intellectuals here try to muster a movement to embrace the nation's African roots, they acknowledge that it has been a mostly fruitless cause. Black pride organizations such as Black Woman's Identity fizzled for lack of widespread interest. There was outcry in the media when the Brotherhood of the Congos of the Holy Spirit -- a community with roots in Africa -- was declared an oral patrimony of humanity by UNESCO. "There are many times that I think of just leaving this country because it's too hard," said Juan Rodríguez Acosta, curator of the Museum of the Dominican Man. Acosta, who is black, has pushed for the museum to include controversial exhibits that reflect many Dominicans' African background. "But then I think: Well if I don't stay here to change things, how will things ever change?"

A walk down city streets shows a country where blacks and dark-skinned people vastly outnumber whites, and most estimates say that 90 percent of Dominicans are black or of mixed race. Yet census figures say only 11 percent of the country's nine million people are black.

To many Dominicans, to be black is to be Haitian. So dark-skinned Dominicans tend to describe themselves as any of the dozen or so racial categories that date back hundreds of years -- Indian, burned Indian, dirty Indian, washed Indian, dark Indian, cinnamon, moreno or mulatto, but rarely negro.

The Dominican Republic is not the only nation with so many words to describe skin color. Asked in a 1976 census survey to describe their own complexions, Brazilians came up with 136 different terms, including café au lait, sunburned, morena, Malaysian woman, singed and "toasted."

"The Cuban black was told he was black. The Dominican black was told he was Indian," said Dominican historian Celsa Albert, who is black. "I am not Indian. That color does not exist. People used to tell me, ‘You are not black.' If I am not black, then I guess there are no blacks anywhere, because I have curly hair and dark skin."

Manuel Núñez (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

THE HISTORY

Using the word Indian to describe dark-skinned people is an attempt to distance Dominicans from any African roots, Albert and other experts said. She noted that it's not even historically accurate: The country's Taino Indians were virtually annihilated in the 1500s, shortly after Spanish colonizers arrived.

Researchers say the de-emphasizing of race in the Dominican Republic dates to the 1700s, when the sugar plantation economy collapsed and many slaves were freed and rose up in society.

Later came the rocky history with Haiti, which shares the island of Hispaniola with the Dominican Republic. Haiti's slaves revolted against the French and in 1804 established their own nation. In 1822, Haitians took over the entire island, ruling the predominantly Hispanic Dominican Republic for 22 years.

To this day, the Dominican Republic celebrates its independence not from centuries-long colonizer Spain, but from Haiti.

"The problem is Haitians developed a policy of black-centrism and . . . Dominicans don't respond to that," said scholar Manuel Núñez, who is black. "Dominican is not a color of skin, like the Haitian."

Dictator Rafael Trujillo, who ruled from 1930 to 1961, strongly promoted anti-Haitian sentiments, and is blamed for creating the many racial categories that avoided the use of the word "black."

The practice continued under President Joaquín Balaguer, who often complained that Haitians were "darkening'' the country. In the 1990s, he was blamed for thwarting the presidential aspirations of leading black candidate José Francisco Peña Gómez by spreading rumors that he was actually Haitian.

Dominican girls Luz Freiney Paulina, from left, Esther Celeste Santana, Mayelin Eloisa Valdez and Melisa Valdez, comprise the dance troupe Las Nizas. Below, Dominican author Manuel Nunez writes about the issues of 'black' and 'Dominican' as they relate to the history in his country. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

"Under Trujillo, being black was the worst thing you could be," said Afro-Dominican poet Blas Jiménez. "Now we are Dominican, because we are not Haitian. We are something, because we are not that."

Jiménez remembers when he got his first passport, the clerk labeled him "Indian." He protested to the director of the agency.

"I remember the man saying, ‘If he wants to be black, let him be black!' '' Jiménez said.

Resentment toward anything Haitian continues, as an estimated one million Haitians live in the Dominican Republic, most working in the sugar and construction industries. Mass deportations often mistakenly include black Dominicans, and Haitians have been periodically lynched in mob violence. The government has been trying to deny citizenship and public education to the Dominican-born children of illegal Haitian migrants.

When migrant-rights activist Sonia Pierre won the prestigious Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights Award in 2006, the government responded by trying to revoke her citizenship, saying she is actually Haitian.

"There's tremendous resistance to blackness -- black is something bad," said black feminist Sergia Galván. ‘‘Black is associated with dark, illegal, ugly, clandestine things. There is a prototype of beauty here and a lot of social pressure. There are schools where braids and natural hair are prohibited."

Galván and a loosely knit group of women have protested European canons of beauty, once going so far as to rally outside a beauty pageant. She and other experts say it is now more common to see darker-skinned women in the contests -- but they never win.

Mariana Ramirez smiles as she sits in Daisy Gran Salon in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

CULTURE PULL

Several women said the cultural rejection of African looking hair is so strong that people often shout insults at women with natural curls.

"I cannot take the bus because people pull my hair and stick combs in it," said wavy haired performance artist Xiomara Fortuna. "They ask me if I just got out of prison. People just don't want that image to be seen."

The hours spent on hair extensions and painful chemical straightening treatments are actually an expression of nationalism, said Ginetta Candelario, who studies the complexities of Dominican race and beauty at Smith College in Massachusetts. And to some of the women who relax their hair, it's simply a way to have soft manageable hair in the Dominican Republic's stifling humidity.

"It's not self-hate," Candelario said. "Going through that is to love yourself a lot. That's someone saying, ‘I am going to take care of me.' It's nationalist, it's affirmative and celebrating self."

Money, education, class -- and of course straight hair -- can make dark-skinned Dominicans be perceived as more "white," she said. Many black Dominicans here say they never knew they were black -- until they visited the United States.

"During the Trujillo regime, people who were dark skinned were rejected, so they created their own mechanism to fight it," said Ramona Hernández, Director of the Dominican Studies Institute at City College in New York. "When you ask, ‘What are you?' they don't give you the answer you want . . . saying we don't want to deal with our blackness is simply what you want to hear."

Hernández, who has olive-toned skin and a long mane of hair she blows out straight, acknowledges she would "never, never, never'' go to a university meeting with her natural curls.

Product promoter Margarita Munoz, right, tidies up the shelf displaying her company's hair-straightening products in a Santo Domingo market. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

"That's a woman trying to look cute; I'm a sociologist," she said.

Asked if a black Dominican woman can be considered beautiful in her country, Hernández leapt to her feet.

"You should see how they come in here with their big asses!'' she said, shuffling across her office with her arms extended behind her back, simulating an enormous rear-end. "They come in here thinking they are all that, and I think, 'doesn't she know she's not really pretty?' "

Maria Elena Polanca is a black woman with the striking good looks. She said most Dominicans look at her with curiosity, as if a black woman being beautiful were something strange.

She spends her days promoting a hair straightener at La Sirena, a Santo Domingo department store that features an astonishing array of hair straightening products.

"Look, we have bad hair, bad. Nobody says 'curly.' It's bad," she said. "You can't go out like that. People will say, 'Look at that nest! Someone light a match!' ''

Angela Martinez, 12, left, entertains friend Estefany Diaz, 10, as Estefany's sister Ariela does her hair in the Paraiso de Dios neighborhood west of Santo Domingo, a scene that plays out on the streets throughout much of the Dominican Republic. (Candace Barbot/Miami Herald)

'IT WAS HURTFUL'

Purdue University professor Dawn Stinchcomb, who is African American, said that when she came here in 1999 to study African influences in literature, people insulted her in the street.

Waiters refused to serve her. People wouldn't help Stinchcomb with her research, saying if she wanted to study Africans, she'd have to go to Haiti.

"I had people on the streets . . . yell at me to get out of the sun because I was already black enough," she said. "It was hurtful. . . . I was raised in the South and thought I could handle any racial comment. I never before experienced anything like I did in the Dominican Republic.

"I don't have a problem when people who don't look like me say hurtful things. But when it's people who look just like me?"

last day....

i think i'm clean enough. this is the end. i'll make it to 10 next time.