SOMOS Spring 1999

Brown/UwCvesryCty LcvtOvto Lit&rcwy M SprOvi%> 199

Somos Editors: Ivonne D. Ferrer '01 Vicente A. Diaz '00

MISSION STATEMENT SOMOS LATINO LITERARY MAGAZINE SOMOS is a space for las voces (the voices) of Latino students at Brown and surrounding communities. It is a venue to express ourselves in the literary, social, political, and academic realms of our experience as Latinos. Continuing to uphold its commitment from its first issue in 1996, Somos strives to: • Provide a literary forum for the appreciation, expression and presentation of Latin American and Latino culture and identity.

• Foster the growth of creativity inherent in Latino Culture • Establish a presence as a permanent organization at Brown University.

SOMOS is dedicated to the spiritual memory of three Latinas Karina de Lago, Kathy De Leon, and Dr. Maria Teresa Otoya and their commitment to the Third World Community.

Spring 1999

Somos A Latino Literary Magazine table of contents

written pieces from mother to womb

Heaven

Elizabeth Irizarry

Vicente Diaz

...pagel

Mi Ave Maria Ana Escrogima

...page 8

us

The Battle

Grismaldy Laboy

Ana Escrogima

...page 2

...page 16 ... Pensamientos Ana Escrogima

...page 9

Podre Vivir Sin Ti

Movimento

Norma Dominguez

Grismaldy Laboy

...page 17 Bubbles Ivonne Ferrer

...page 11

...page 3 Mongrel got a D

Untitled

Jorge Ignacio Cortinas

Gustavo Eicon

...page 18 I am Proud and I will Rise Pablo Quintanilla "Mitzli"

...page 12

...page 4 Gabriel

Indigenous

Rudy Sagastume

Joyce Reyes

... page 19 Fin ... page 20

...page 13

...page 5

images Artwork 1

Untitled

Stress

Marlene Hernandez

Ivonne Ferrer

Marlene Hernandez

...page 15

...page 7

...pagel Ana Maria

Enchanted Girl

Alambre de espino

Marisa Catalina Casey

Marlene Hernandez

Marisa Catalina Casey

Artwork 2

Untitled

Marlene Hernandez

America

Yesenia Santana

Vidal Torres & Vicente Diaz

...page 4

...page 2 Artwork 3

Artwork 4

Marlene Hernandez

...page 17

...page 8

...page 2

... page 20 Raindrops

Marlene Hernandez

Marlene Hernandez

..page 11

...page 3

... page 20

Untitled

Artwork 5

Motion

Ivonne Ferrer

Marlene Hernandez

Ivonne Ferrer

...page 4

..page 12

... page 20

from mother to womb Elizabeth Irizarnj

i curse these hips like i'm sure my mother did i curse these stretch marks i gave her so many and a scar down her belly i'd admire it birthed me i curse hormones and nausea swollen feet and a lower back that creaks like the rocking chair did when it was not too low for me to sit in i curse those who stand with ease who walk swiftly past without craving at 3 in the morning coiled around the toilet just barely fitting breasts full hips wider self weary i curse him for not having understood integrity is responsibility not some quick fix next town over check in at 8 AM paper dressings pay first have a cracker go home and forget that its never easy it wasn't for my mother just sitting here trying to remember i'm choosmg you she chose me he chose to leave and this life keeps on i curse these hips i pray you are comfortable

us

Grismaldy Laboy

He has made me weak.

They have made me scared.

I will become strong.

I will not despair.

She has become tolerant.

We have become followers.

I am an individual.

I am not of power.

It is conformity.

It is conspiracy.

I shall overcome it.

I shall not be of it.

You shall become one.

All shall understand.

I can make a difference.

I can not be damned.

2

Podre Vivir sin ti?

Norma Dominguez

No se cuando vine a comprender el amor que tienes por ml.

Cuando logre ver todo lo bueno que viene con tu mirada Esos ojos cafe claros, que por anos me han gulado

Todos quien te conocen pueden ver tu juventud en tu manera de hablar, de reir, de bromiar tu, solo tu, puedes llenar nuestras vidas en una manera inexplicable

Fueron tus abrazos y besos que me hicieron fuerte de nina fuistes tu la que nos dava amor cuando mi madre no estava fuistes tu la que te hacias a un lado cuando ella llegava

Cuando estoy lejos de ti, sufro escucho tu voz debil, triste se que me extrahas, y yo a ti le pregunto a mama 'ue es lo que tienes? y me contesta que ya eres mayor, ya estas cansada, ya has vivido

Me has ensenado tanto de la vida, del amor, la familia, nuestro idioma, la querida cultura me has ensenado como sonreir a la vida cuando todo aparece mal como llorar en alegria y en dolor como alzar la cara con orgullo con la mirada que solo tu dominas Me has visto crecer a lo que hoy soy a lo que siempre supiste que podria lograr tu has sido la primera en proclamar mis triunfos y hasta mis momentos de agonla

No puedo imaginar mi vida sin ti cuando pienso en el dla de mi boda, tu estas ahl en el nacimiento de mis hijos, eres la primera en lo bueno y en lo malo que me traira la vida, estas para acompanarme He aprendido tanto en la escuela, en los trabajos, en mi corta vida pero no he aprendido a vivir sin ti ni como pensar en vivir sin ti Tu, Luz Maria Castillo, abuela, nuestra "Tita" has sido nuesta luz, nuestra alegria ese dia sera la prueba de mi fuerza y de mi fe en Dios Podre vivir sin ti?

.. •

Mongrel got a D Jorge Ignacio Cortinas

in geography cause a his creative approach Said Spain is part of Africa saw the Pilipines on a map of the Antilles spells Tejas with a jota and won't tell you where New York is cause he says Depends on your neighbor hood Mongrel shoplifts poetry Mongrel says day comes for him to turn his cologne into a Molotov Cocktail he will but I don't believe him

In his nightmares Mongrel sees students and miners who disappeared in Santiago inside his sleep soldiers push students and miners into the soccer stadium the goal posts and bleachers filled with students and miners— (Mongrel bolts up opens his eyes and his Nana is gone) Mongrel leans over me sweating in single shared mattress kisses my mouth says, Zapatista. para joel barraquiel tan

Mongrel married his own second cousin so she could get a green card now we all squeezed together in Washington Heights me and Mongrel / his cousin plus her piece and all the memories we got from our parents and the TV Mongrel says Irony is for white people Mongrel yelps every time he hears a Ranchera has indigestion every election night he has spent in California Mongrel's favorite word is census

4 j

Gabriel Rudy Sagastume

I remember that for a while I was down. That's all I could see and feel. Almost everyday no matter how good I felt, at one point or another I would come back to feeling down about something. It was at this time that I began talking to God. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't praying, I was just having straight conversations with him. Of course He didn't answer because, after all, He's God. Sometimes I would ask Him about how things were in heaven and how he felt about how things were turning out here on Earth. Other times we'd just talk about myself and my childhood and how much I missed those days. I kind of thanked Him for having those fond memories.

Most of the time, however, the conversations always seemed to come back to something specific. I would make a good point: after all I had done in my past I really wasn't that bad of a person. I truly believed that to myself, alone, when nobody else was around and I could walk at night, talking to God. "I mean I know that you can't come down and talk to me personally," I would say, "I know there are others in the world who deserve it more. I know. But can't you just send me something? Something small? I mean come on."

Then one night it hit me. I had a drawn out conversation with a very religious friend of mine about this subject and when we were through we both seemed to have more questions than we started with. So I decided to ask God about it.

"So what's the deal with angels," I started asking, "I mean what is the extent of their powers? What exactly do they do?" As I crossed the street in deep thought I found it a fun thing to think about and let it go.

I didn't notice him at first as anything special. I crossed the street and kept walking like so many lonely nights I had had in my life. I probably wouldn't have stopped at all if it weren't for him introducing himself to me.

"Hello, I'm Gabriel."

I just kept walking thinking it was a shame that some people are so lonely that they'll just introduce themselves to total strangers. Then I went back to thinking about angels and how nice it would be to meet one. I wouldn't even ask a favor of the angel. I would just talk with him - it would be enough just to have a conversation with an angel.

At this point I was a block away from my dorm and feeling sad when I thought about the lonely fellow who introduced himself to me a bit ago. I walked back hurriedly to the spot where I saw him and he wasn't there. I put my head down and when I picked it up he was there again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said in a cool voice, "I thought you weren't coming back so I went to get some Pepsi." I couldn't believe it.

only that, we can tell specifically what kind of sadness you're experiencing. In your case guilt."

I was really impressed.

"I know you can't," he said. I was always a quick learner so didn't need to ask.

"Can I have some of your Pepsi?" He said sure and I took a long swig. I hadn't had Pepsi in a few days and it felt good. We made our way over to this coffee shop on Mass. Ave.. We talked for a while about me and how I was doing. He really seemed to be interested in me and that felt good.

Then I could tell he was surprised because I asked him how he was doing.

"So how are things" I asked him.

"Not too bad, Rudy, not too bad," he said. "I hear you're going through some tough times though."

"Yup. That's about right," I responded in a chuckle. "So you can read my mind then?"

"Man, I wish. No we can't do that.

See, what we can do is get a general sense of your emotions. I can basically feel or understand what you're feeling. Like I know you've been down about a lot of things lately, you know, with the things you've done in the past. I know you feel bad about how you treated people and dealt with relationships."

He had me confused.

"Well you better know that angels are very intelligent. That's about the best way I can say it. Up in heaven it's a whole different ballpark so we operate on different levels and mindsets and whatnot. That means we use all of our enhancements to our advantage. See, I can glean that you're feeling really down, but not

"You know I've done this only a few times," he said. "And usually the person I talk to is so into talking about his personal problems. Don't get me wrong I know that comes with the territory but I think it's cool that you're actually interested in me and that's not your job. You're a real stand-up guy."

"What job," I said. "Forget about it. I'm just honored that we can sit down and talk over some coffee." We both took our coffee the same way, lots of cream, lots of sugar. I then went on to ask him how heaven was, and I asked him to be honest. We were having a good talk so far so be straight with me I told him.

Don't start telling me that heaven is heaven and there's nothing like it because I can get that from any priest in the neighborhood.

"Okay, here's the truth. Heaven is heaven and there's nothing like it." We

both started to laugh. I thought that if heaven was full of angels like him it really must be like a paradise. "No really, heaven is all it's cracked up to be, for you that is."

States is no big deal, but to that poor immigrant it's...well it's - " "Heaven," I said. He smiled at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well your mortal - a human, you know. So when you guys go to heaven it's a better deal than what you had here on Earth. So in that sense heaven is heaven - for you." I could almost understand what he was telling me. It's just hard to accept something like an angel telling you the deal with heaven through his perspective. "It's like a poor immigrant coming to the United States from destitute conditions in the homeland. He comes here with nothing and a few years go by and he has something. To you and me, well I guess to you, it isn't much because you were born here, but to him it's something he could never dream of having. Get it?"

"What something are we talking about?"

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's a steady income. Maybe it's political freedom.

Maybe it's a newspaper delivered to his door every Sunday. It doesn't really matter. Because to someone like you - someone who was born here - things have always been like this. To you the United

"That's right," he said as he pointed at me. "That's exactly right."

Heaven Vicente Diaz

Like a man returning from an almost endless Odyssey I finally found my way home Scarred, battered and bruised I stumbled Into you arms, my sweet abode My residence forever Your embrace the greatest treasure That I have ever known And your smile my prized possession more precious that anything I own and your eyes, my link to your inner world I can read your every thought, Through those ojitos bellos y esos besos mio, con sabor a caramelo cada ves mas dulce y mas sincero algun dia tu sabras lo tanto que yo te quiero Tu siempre vive en mis pensamientos Even in my sleep I'm thinking of you Yo puedo tocar el cielo Cada ves que me dices, "Ilove you"

The Battle Ana Escrogima

"She committed suicide, Peter. She's mine. Unequivocally."

Lucifer took a deep drag of his sweetsmelling cigarette and smiled condescendingly. He had arrived at the bargaining table in his white pin-striped victory suit. His timing was impeccable, as always. He sat at his end of the ivory bargaining table with poise and confidence. This soul was an easy win, a no-brainer. Except of course, for that one catch...

"Considering her reasons for the suicide, and the life she led, Lucifer, it's not so clear cut. She's definitely purgatory or outer gates of heaven material." Peter looked directly into the eyes of his once best-friend turned immortal foe. His eyes were filled with the wisdom of eternity, and for a millisecond he noticed a flicker of fear in his opponent's eye. Peter was not one to give up so easily... Besides, the gatekeeper had grown especially attached to the soul in question.

Lucifer flicked his cigarette ashes towards the sky and laughed. "She was a prostitute! A petty whore, and a good one at that. She made no positive mark on the world, and probably infected half the population of Guayaquil with some disease or other. Why would you want her? What Peter...do you have a thing for her or something? In that case, I would be willing to work out a deal, you sly dog, you!"

Peter laughed, displaying more confidence than he felt. He did not enjoy bargaining sessions with Lucifer. In fact, this mission was not his idea; he did not want to be heaven's envoy in this

particular instance. Dealing with Lucifer was Gabriel's forte. Protest was futile, however. "This is something you need to do," She had insisted.

Peter drew up all his strengths and shot back, "Oh, Lucifer. You were always the creative one...you know very well she was a kindhearted woman. She only prostituted her body out of desperation, and never out of greed. She only made enough to survive on. And there is the matter of the hundreds of orphans she housed and fed throughout her life. And what of the savings she had put together to begin her seamstress enterprise?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "What of that crackpot seamstress idea? It never happened. And as for those kids, how do you explain the last six months of her life, when she was so preoccupied with her own problems that she turned away each child that came to her door? Her sporadic acts of kindness do not change who she is, and how she lived her life. Most of all, they don't change the fact that she's mine. She died fair and square. And I want her. I want her because I know for some reason or other, you have a soft spot for this tramp.

And I'm just curious as to how you plan to justify keeping her without overturning every law in the book. I'm surprised at you Peter. You're usually such a stickler. I must say, however, that I am quite amused by your efforts. Amuse me further, Gatekeeper...Tell me, what do you suggest? I know your God would not tolerate her presence among the just and righteous folk in heaven."

Peter knew he was treading on dangerous ground here. He also knew

his next suggestions were acceptable to God because She had allowed the forthcoming inspiration to enter his mind. "She's not completely gone yet. We both know the angels of death are waiting her door. I want them sent away. I want to revive the glimmering spark of life that burns within her, so that she may have a second chance.

Lucifer stood quiet for a moment. He stared into Peter's eyes, and believed his sincerity. His old friend, oaf that he was, never told a lie. Getting her back shouldn't be a problem. Throw a couple of irresistible temptations in her path, and there she'd be. He'd taken on the project himself, it would be fun -

I want her to be able to fulfill the destiny for which she was created. I'll wager that, given the appropriate circumstances, her heart will be freed from its prison and she will turn away from her life as a prostitute. She is young yet, only twenty-five. She will have her business, start a family, and bear ten beautiful, healthy children; one of which, as you well know, if allowed to be born, will discover the cure for the ravishing disease which kill most of the pop-"

"One more thing, Lucifer. You can't work on her yourself. I know you; you'd throw ridiculous obstacles in her path. It has to be one of your lesser beings."

Minor complication. "By the same token, I don't want Gabriel or Michael her., be floating on bed of clouds and It has to a rookie angel or something."

Lucifer slammed his hands on the ivory altar.

"Yes, yes, yes Peter!

That's all wonderful, but get to what happens if you lose the wager. ..."

"So we are in agreement then, •?

Any of contract ave to start all over again."

Patience, Lucifer, patience."

"Agreed" Lucifer laughed. "Why, that's my best virtue...I am perfectly willing to wait all eternity for just the right soul, as you well know. I apologize for the effort; however I must admit at times your tendency to circumvent the point aggravates me so. Now please, continue."

"If she does not break all ties with her former life within a month of her recovery, you have full rights to her soul with no protest from heaven."

Both rose and simultaneously disappeared into the atmosphere, a flurry of details to be attended to; for the battle had only just begun.

MOVIMIENTO Grismaldy Laboy

iNinita, Ninita donde esta?

Growing up.

Seeing. Hearing. Feeling.

Ups. Downs.

Where are you little girl?

Crawling. iSenorita, Sefiorita donde esta?

Rising to the challenge.

Struggling. Smiling. Sleeping.

Right. Left.

Where are you young lady?

Standing. iMujer, Mujer donde esta?

Living up to the world.

Loving. Understanding. Working.

Above. Below.

Where are you woman?

Walking. iViejita, Viejita donde esta?

Resting from the world.

Praying. Remembering. Teaching.

Backwards. Forwards.

Where are you old lady?

Running.

11

Untitled Gustavo Licdn

Una ave soared through the air, even though he was scared, he dared.

In what direction he flew, no one knew.

With no one in sight he continued with all his might.

He knew he was destined for the quest, but when put to the test, he desired his nest.

He felt alone, confused, and upset, and some times even regret.

While in despair, he felt warmth in the air, looked ahead and saw el sol, and he left behind all the cold.

He found a new strength in his soul, now he was not alone, he had el sol.

12

Indigenous Joyce Reyes At the age of three... waking up to Spanish songs that soon became the hymns with which I would salute each day.

Those lyrics embody the tales of my existence. The tunes that everyone hummed in the shower and drummed while at the table... This music, that had been composed by people long before my parents, would then entwine with the always-ontime dog bark, calling us to an early Saturday breakfast that would consist of two huevos rancheros that delightfully laid over a corn tortilla just like the tourists extranjeras in the month of June wearing tiny bright swim wear and laying out flat on the sand en Las Playas de Acapulco bronzing there pail skin for hours and hours at a time.

At the age of four... sitting on a swing crying uncontrollably and weeping for my Mami to return and llevarme a casa... Just to be consoled by Mrs. Teresa, my Preschool's T.A., and the only one there who spoke my language.

I sat mute on the reading rug as I watched my classmates bake cookies during an open house. I couldn't understand the instructionsand Mrs. Teresa was absent that day. It wasn't until the last day that I was granted the privilege to join the rest of the chamacos in the kitchen, so I baked the most beautiful cookie for my mother whose proud facial expression made her stand out from the rest

of the parents in the audience.

At the age of five... learning how to write my name... The first name that had always been too difficult for my grandparents to pronounce, and the last name that had always made me blush in class, while my teachers took roll, because my name; Joyce Reyes made people wonder why I had been blessed with an "American" first name and condemned with a "non-American" last name. Going through life with the mispronouncing of my name and the mystification of my essence.

At the age of nine... visiting Mexico for the fourth time...The children played with sticks used as guns and mazorcas as dolls.

My sister and I were not allowed to walk around bear foot, yet the other children weren't allowed to wear their school shoes unless the time was appropriate (they were also their dress shoes, church shoes, working shoes and their siblings' future shoes once the present owner couldn't fit into them).

I would complain because my mother would make my sister and me sleep with her on the same bed, but I soon stopped. I realized that the others had to sleep on cold floors with three sisters to the right and four brothers along with their pregnant mother on the left.

At the age of ten...

I noticed how much I had. My home was not like the houses that I had seen in Mexico, con los pinches moscitos that would always invade the house, entering from every crack and opening in the walls. Ugly, were the brown and yellow sheets (some that I wouldn't even dare wash my car with) that were hanging all over my abuela's house. They were used as doors to separate "un cuarto del otro," my abuela would say.

Quartos? She called a wooden bed at the corner of the house with the horrible sheet that spread from the end of the wall to the edge of the twenty year old buro (that had been through hurricane after hurricane and was still standing) a room? Yet I realized that I was, after all, the blessed child- era del Norte...

I was only on vacation with my family and our home; with strong walls, electricity, running water, wooden doors, and comfortable beds was simply the place that we had abandoned for two months... two long months At the age of eleven...

I was to go to school all by myself, without having my older sister there to defend me. I still hadn't began to menstruate.

A year later it happened on June 17, 1990, a day before I began Junior High School, and ten days after my birthday.

Llore... because I couldn't remember what I had to do.

Mami and I had already had "the conversation" before, in the end she asked whether or not I had understood todo and I lied... that was the reason why I was crying- because I had lied.

The words, "No Mami, no entiendo." kept haunting me until mom saw my tears and lifted me. She explained everything once moreand she didn't make me feel incomoda.

At the age of fifteen... we celebrated my Quinceahera. I, in the center all dressed in white with one muchacho to my left and six of my cousins dressed in forest green standing around me. El baile de Las Mariposas something like a flower blooming in spring, I rose from the middle and everyone clapped. Mi primer primavera and we danced we ate and disfrutamos all night. Muchos regalos and invitados so the night ended and it was the next

day. Without realizing another day of my life had passed me by and I was still reminiscing on what had happened years before.

14

At the age of sixteen... the beginning of the everlasting ringing of the phone and listening to my Apa yell from one end of the house to the other, "Joyce, te hablan!" Yes, the entire school knew meI was my older sister's pet muneca, la preferida, not to mention la unica.

At the age of seventeen... applying to college - "Pa que te vas?" people would ask, not understanding why I had to get out of my happy home for a while.

Doing bien en la escuela having wonderful friends and Mami as my only hero. And now, At the age of eighteen... living away from home, writing poetry behind closed doors, keeping all I feel recorded on paper.

Having to answer for the first time, "iQuien eres?" and I think before answering: "Soy de la raza indigena, la daughter de mi padre, el orgullo de mi mother, mejor amiga de mi sister, primer maestra de mis brothers, dear mamma de mis friends, la preferida de mis teachers, valedictorian de mi school, the first in my comunidad d to attend an Ivy, one of the few Chicanas que se van para volver." Yet, as I open my mouth to say itthe only sounds that escape my mouth are: -Soy Joyce...

15

Mi Ave Maria Ana Escrogima

Es Verdad, que hace tiempo que tengo en el olvido, que ni rezo Ni me acuerdo, de llevarte Rosas al altar Es Verdad, que tu nombre no lo digo desde nino Pero ahora yo necesito que me ayudes y te olvides lo que he sido Ave Maria, escuchame Ave Maria, Ave Maria Tu Sabes que yo la quiero, y eres todo lo que tengo Ave Maria, escuchame Ave Maria, Ave Maria Te pido que no termine nuestro amor Recordaras aquellas flores que adornaban tus capillas eran mias, solo mias Las robaba por las noches para ti Recordaras cuantas veces te rezabas de rodillas Mis amigos se reian, al mirarme se reian.

Se reian.

Ave Maria escuchame Ave Maria, Ave Maria Tu sabes que yo la queiro, y eres todo lo que tengo Ave Maria, escuchame Ave Maria, Ave Maria Te pido que no termines Nuestro Amor.... Nuestro Amor.... Nuestro Amor....

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...Pensamientos Ana Escrogima

An anguished heart releases its wrath in dreams when it knows mind and body can't escape it, can't ignore it...

What do you do when sleep gives you no respite from your pain?

Instead it creeps into your consciousness and hurts you in a new manner altogether...quietly, deeply, indelibly.

You awake with scars on your soul, and you can't remember how or why...

Bubbles Ivonne Ferrer I see bubbles,

People in bubbles, I'm riding on one myself...

It swiggles and tickles my skin.

But you...

You are riding the pink elephant, Free to trample over the bubbles.

I wonder if you can see me, distinguish me from the rest.

They have trapped me in this bubble, leading me to believe this is it.

a «

Life offers nothing more outside these walls But I know They lie.

I can't remember but I once rode an elephant, a long time ago I rode beside you And now...

Now I have been brainwashed into believing there are limits, But you taught me otherwise.

Will you save me, or will you continue to ride, \J Sooner or latter you will forget me and my bubble will no longer exist.

Destroy it, in that case, a blissful death instead of knowing the truth, shackles to this forsaken place, my mind tormenting me with ghostly images of the forgotten.

Unrecognizable, I ride...

I am Proud and I will Rise Pablo Quintanilla 'Miztli"

I am as tall as the sky, but don't know it.

I have Montezuma's pride, but for some reason feel ashamed I am strong like the Aztec warrior, but feel defeated.

I have two histories, but have been taught to despise one, And am excluded from another.

My skin is beautiful like the brown land, but for some reason I hide it.

WHY? All of a sudden, as if reaching down from heaven, fierce Lightning wakes me up.

Its brief light is enough to conquer the dark and give me A glimpse of who I am.

I then realize that I am tall, I am proud, I am powerful, That I have both Quetzacoatl and the Statue of Liberty.

I am a giant who has been dormant.

Twelve million strong and growing, I am ready to hold my head up and ask for what I deserve.

I have worked for this country, I have fought for this country, And I have suffered for this country.

It belongs to me as much as it does to anybody else.

I am proud and I will rise.

19

Fin

somos?