Doña Emilia
The screen door hung open when they arrived. Standing regally in front of the stove,
Doña Emilia hummed contentedly as she stirred a fragrant mondongo [1] in the outdoor kitchen. Tired and sweaty, Violeta shuffled in with Sylvina right behind her. Sylvina, who rarely talked and with one foot inside the threshold, announced at the top of her lungs, “Mamá, Violeta went to el ingenio today and got herself a job!” Violeta’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in shocked surprise as she stared at her usually mute sister.
Well, that takes care of that, she thought, but Doña Emilia had not heard Sylvina’s words. She came rushing into the house from the outdoor kitchen wiping her hands with her apron, chickens scurrying in after her.
“¿Qué? Que paso Sylvina?”
“Violeta got a job today. She starts tomorrow!” Sylvina announced proudly. The earth
stopped its rotation momentarily. The air got very still and once again, nothing was ever the
same. For one thing, Sylvina never let on that she listened, and understood, until this moment.
“¿Qué tu dice? [2] ” Emilia’s eyes moved from Sylvina to Violeta.
“Mamíta” Violeta spoke up. “I went to the sugar plantation today,” she said tentatively.
“They offered me a job.” Violeta looked dolefully at her mother as she spoke in a near whisper. Doña Emilia’s eyes betrayed her. She knew this day would come, just not this soon.
“Aye, mija,” she said as she put up her hand in futile protest, “You’ll have to tell me all
about it over dinner. You girls go wash up. I’ll have dinner on the table in ten minutes.” Violeta felt heavy, her hand slipped from her hip. The ceiling seemed to lower itself to just above her head. What had she done? Her stomach rumbled as wafts of the delicious stew shook her out of her reverie. She darted towards Sylvina to wash her up as Emilia sank down slowly into a chair, awash in long forgotten memories.
Emilia was just fifteen years old on the island of St. Kitts when her sister, Helen, left for New York City with her grandfather, never to return. Emilia felt abandoned. Life on the island in the late 1800s was raw, challenging and unkind. On one of the many unrelentingly hot sunny days, while Emilia was walking through her village along the water, she observed, with a different eye, men and women with children crowding onto a rowboat headed for the Dominican Republic, the land of milk and honey in el Caribe. She had never considered this option before but that day was different. It was difficult conjuring up hope on the tiny island of St. Kitts, let alone a decent life. She headed back towards her home that day and without a single thought or plan, announced that, since her sister was taken to New York for a better life, she would be getting on the next boat she could squeeze on to and head to la Republica Dominicana to create her own. The next day Emilia got up to change the course of her life. After a sleepless night fantasizing about a kind husband, a home with a floor and more than plantains in the larder, Emilia arose to quietly gather a small bundle of her favorite things. She left the house without any despedidas [3] and headed to the water and towards her dream.
She arrived in the bustling colonial city of Santo Domingo and immediately went to work sewing for anyone who would let her. She darned socks, made button holes, opened and closed seams and hand crocheted doilies for food and rent. Eventually she met an elderly woman who taught her how to cut patterns to sew men’s clothing and how to advise women through the grains and stains left in their coffee cups. Emelia quickly learned the art of both. Soon she was creating quality suits for business men and dispensing advice and premonitions. Pigeon English was her native tongue, a form of the colonialists’ British English and a quick giveaway to her ethnicity.
Emilia, tall with an elegant bearing and beautiful smooth skin the color of mahogany, the island’s native tree, was no longer feeling hopeless or abandoned. She was empowered by her independence and her abilities to scratch out her own livelihood. It was a meager but satisfying life. Amy, as she liked to call herself, was attractive, gregarious and intelligent. She enjoyed her freedom. Soon enough and típico, Emilia found herself pregnant. Over the next seven years, she had three daughters from three different fathers. Over her lifetime, Emilia would have a total of 13 pregnancies and three live births. Such was life on the islands in the early 1900’s. She never found the kind husband she once dreamed of, but the nomadic and fearless Emilia created a happy and good enough life for herself and her three daughters, Elena, Violeta and Sylvina.
Emilia had been satisfied with life and it was about to change, again. She was looking
down at her hands as her mind returned to the present, her kitchen and the situation at hand. Violeta and Sylvina quietly set the table and sat down with their mother. They ate solemnly. Violeta broke the silence. “How are you feeling Mamíta?” she whispered as they finished cleaning up the dishes.
“What do you mean, mija? I’m fine. I’m happy for you.” Doña Emilia hadn’t asked why
or what or how. This daughter was different and made for another world. One she could not
fathom. “I know you have big dreams and this town is small …”
“No, no” Violeta protested as they sat back down at the table. “I love my home, my town, most of all you and my sisters, but I need to know if you are unhappy with me. Can I have your blessing? I’m worried about Sylvina. Who will take care of her? How will you get your sewing done? And the housework?” Tears streamed down Violeta’s face. She was always disappointing someone as she tried to help herself. Sylvina listened impassively from the kitchen while she fed scraps to Coquito, the rooster who lived under the sink for the pleasure of pecking at people’s feet.
“I am selfish. I was just thinking of myself. Oh! Mamíta, can you forgive me?” She
wrung her hands in her shirt. “What was I thinking? When I went to el ingenio [4] I didn’t expect the very nice lady with the tight black skirt and high heels to offer me a job on the spot. I didn’t know what to say but Yes! I’m so sorry Mamíta. Tomorrow, I can tell them I can’t work there because I lied about my age”.
“Aye mijíta, stop carrying on” Doña Emilia patted her daughter’s hand lovingly. “We all
grow up and leave home one day. Mija, you have been such a good daughter - the best a mother could have. Tu eres mi querida, [5] so much like me, so fearless and full of love. Mija querida, all children leave home eventually, she said knowingly.
“Mamá! I am not leaving home! I’m just going to go to work in the morning.”
“Si mi angelita, but the world will open up to you now.”
“And I will be home every night and on weekends I will clean the house! Mamíta, I will
never leave you.”
“Si, mija linda, si. Yo se, yo se. Pero, [6] you must understand that it is natural and right for each of us to make a life for ourselves. Look at your sister Elena. She has a husband now with her own baby and ---” Sylvina came crashing into the room, chasing Coquito, the belligerent rooster. She slammed into Violeta, who had just started painting her nails. The nail polish bottle flew across the table, spilling its mean, glossy lacquer.
“Ay! Ay! I couldn’t help it! I’m sorry!” wailed Sylvina as she shoved a strand of hair into
her mouth and sucked loudly. Violeta, hot tempered and easily enflamed, started screaming.
Sylvina fell in a sobbing heap and Doña Emilia patiently picked up a rag to clean up the mess. Violeta tried to help but each of the women quietly and instinctively dispersed into their own private sense of loss and impending change.
The quick flames of anger receded. Confused and struggling with the incessant anxious
gnawing, Violeta dragged her feet to her evening shower. The cool water running over her head and down her shoulders released a sweaty tension. She was relieved to get a moment to herself. Drying herself, she opened the small closet where they kept the few items of clothing they owned. To her surprise the dainty white eyelet dress with pink ribbon weaving in and out around the collar and down the front hung completed and ready for her to wear. She’d been waiting for this dress! It was so beautiful and just the way she imagined. The pink ribbon was a gift and her mother had been working on the dress off and on between suits for weeks. Well! This was an auspicious day after all! She would wear the dress to her first day at her new job. For now she reached for her blue gingham dress, a little frayed at the hemline, but clean and pressed.
Doña Emilia finished cleaning up the nail polish off the table and floor as she considered her steely daughter’s daring visit to el ingenio. She smiled to herself. She knew Violeta better than anyone and understood her vibrant nature would spirit her away one day. She just didn’t think it would be this soon. Her reverie was interrupted by her middle daughter holding up a pair of shoes for her to review.
“I can’t wear these shoes tomorrow!” Violeta was talking animatedly as she attempted to cover her guilt and shame. She chattered about how she would be bringing money home and they would be able to buy anything they wanted at the bodega. Doña Emilia patted her daughter’s hand knowingly. “Si, mija.” She wished her luck at her new job and told her everything would be fine at home. For now, they worried about what shoes Violeta would wear for her first day at work.
[1] Mondogo - tripe stew
[2] ¿que tu dice? - What are you saying?
[3] despedidas - farewells
[4] ingenio - refers to the sugar factory
[5] Tu eres mi querida - You are my sweetheart
[6] Yo se, yo se, pero - I know, I know, but
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