Island Lands

Tropical storm clouds pervaded the sky for days before we got the first glimmer of sun rays.  I woke up smiling that morning, eager to go down and play by the riverbed with Xiomara and Jaime. After breakfast, we ran out of the house barefoot into the outdoors. I could hear Mama yelling after us to be home for lunch and I made a mental note. 

We ran down the foot trails to the river, breathing in the wet air and light breeze. Immediately, we dipped our toes into the cold water, shrieking and giggling. We spent hours searching for frogs and running up and down the rocks of the riverbed. Some of the other kids in the village came down to join us, and we played pretend games together until it was time for lunch. By then, the sun was beating down heavily on our sweat-slicked skin and muddied feet. As we approached the village on our way back home, we heard the first crash. At the time, we thought the sound was an earthquake and scurried home for cover. 

“What did I tell you about bringing the dirt inside?” Mama yelled when she saw us running in.

“There’s an earthquake!” I exclaimed. I reached for our valuables on the shelves before Mama stopped me. We stood in silence, waiting to feel the earth’s rumble. Then, another crash. 

“That’s not an earthquake,” Mama said. “Stay here.”

She went out onto the gravel road in front of the house where the neighbors were gathering ways down the road. My siblings and I gathered at the front window of the house, tippy-toeing to see out the window bars. It wasn’t long before a few men came running down the road from the direction of the crashes.

“Its construction machines!” One of them said.

“They’re clearing the trees up the mountain where the plateau is.”

The crowd’s quiet murmurings quickly turned into shouts. “They’re gonna build right through our homes!” Manuela, the woman that lived across the road said. The others agreed with her sentiment and I felt a pit growing in my stomach. Would we really have to go somewhere new? I slumped away from the window, the group’s shouts gnawing at my insides.

It wasn’t long before Mama came rushing in, locking the door behind her. “Is something gonna happen to us?” Asked Jaime.

“No, amor,” Mama said. “Get away from the window you two and go wash up. You too, Marisol.”

We did as we were told and washed up together with the hose’s cold water in the back of the house. Xiomara and Jaime splashed and joked the way we always did, but I could only muster an occasional laugh. My mind kept replaying the shouts of the crowd turned mob. I was terrified of going somewhere different. I liked where we were, and it wasn’t fair that we would have to go somewhere else.

As the evening darkened I stayed outside, sitting with the chickens at the side of the house. Seeing Mama act like nothing was wrong made it impossible to be in the same room with her. When Papa came home from work that night, I heard him and Mama talking in the kitchen. “I heard about what’s happening up the road,” Papa said as he took off his work boots. They fell to the ground with a thump. “Maybe it’ll be good, they’ll be new work and new life.”

“I know, but everyone else doesn’t seem too happy about it,” Mama said. “They’re saying if it becomes filled with gringos there’s going to be a lot more guardias snooping around.”

“It’s not likely then that they’ll want to keep us around if they’re planning on making a tourist spot,” Papa sighed. “They’ll probably want to buy these lands too so they’ll have better access to the rivers.”

“Where will we go then?” Mama asked.

Shouts filled the streets before Papa could respond. I walked around the side of the house to see some of the village men gathered in the streets. Some had guns, most had machetes. One of the boys who lived next door, Nestor, came outside. He was a few years older than my siblings and me, but he had been with us at the river that morning. The two of us watched in silence as the men took off towards the construction site. “We should follow them!” Nestor whispered excitedly.

I knew that Mama and Papa probably didn’t want me up by the construction site. I knew that it was dangerous, more so now that the village men were going with weapons. But they were going to be fighting for our homes! I wanted to see them stop the construction and save all of us.

I agreed with Nestor and we took off running through the foliage adjacent to the gravel road. I only had sandalias on and navigating through the thick palm fronds was near impossible. Nestor and I used the men’s voices to guide us and we soon reached the land being cleared for construction. We ducked into the shadows of the trees and watched as the police guards approached the village men. 

“You guys can’t build here!” One of the village men said. The others joined in, shouting and spitting at the guards.

“You’re not authorized to be here,” One of the guards said. He reached his hand over to his rifle.

“Move out of the way!” The village men roared. I could see them growing more feral with every passing moment. Soon, more guards began to assemble. They vastly outnumbered the men from my village, but neither group seemed willing to back down.

The back and forth continued until the guards had formed an impenetrable barrier between the village men and the construction site. With one final battle cry, one of the village men with a machete lunged forward. Nestor and I hit the ground when the spray of bullets sounded. The village man hadn’t made it two steps before being gunned down by a few of the guards. He lay limp on the ground, a pool of his blood slowly enveloping the surrounding earth. 

The other village men seemed to have dispersed at the sound of the bullets, likely ill-prepared for the battle that would have taken place. My hands shook under me as I watched the guards move the limp man to the side of the road. 

“We have to go,” Nestor said, tugging my shirt. But, I couldn’t remove my eyes from the sight of the bloodied man. I wanted to reach out and touch him, ask him if he was okay. “Come on, Marisol.”

I wanted to push Nestor away. I didn’t understand how he could bear to leave the man there on the ground. He was one of us, we couldn’t leave him behind. I thought about crawling over to the man without letting the guards see me when Nestor pulled me towards him. His face was wet with tears, “There’s nothing we can do.”

I hesitated before nodding, taking one last look at the scene before we took off through the jungle. Leaves smacked my face and I could hear the nightly orchestra of crickets and insects. The wind pushed us along as we stumbled over vines and twigs. It was an eternity before we had finally collapsed in the dirt behind our homes. We were panting heavily and all I could see was the silhouette of the dead man etched in the constellations above. “Nestor,” I said. “I’m scared.”

---

It wasn’t until later when the village men returned to retrieve the dead man that they found he was still clinging to life. The nearest hospital was close to an hour away, and it was unlikely he would’ve survived the worn-out roads there. Instead, he was taken to our healer. She did what she could, but the man was gone before the sun rose.

The construction continued as if nothing had happened, and more guards were brought in to supervise the site. Mama barred Jaime, Xiomara, and I from going too far from the house. Restricting us to the backyard and keeping us around to do farm chores to keep us out of trouble. I would occasionally see Nestor completing his own farm chores. But, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. Thinking about what we had seen was enough to bring me to tears, I couldn’t imagine talking about it to anyone. 

As the months went by, the construction grew closer and closer to home. Coming in contact with the guardias was next to impossible, and the tension was palpable. However, neither side acted out. I’d like to think that it was because the guards understood the pain that they were causing us. They were Dominican just like us, surely, they had an inkling of what it felt like to be in our circumstances. However, it seemed more likely that whoever was in charge of construction had told them not to resort to violence anymore.

Whoever had purchased the land was looking to make a luxurious jungle eco escape resort. Create the experience of being out in the tropics without losing any amenities. I was told there would be horseback riding and guests would be able to bathe in natural rivers. It was unlikely they'd get much business if the gringos found out they would be staying on grounds where Dominicans had been killed. 

When my parents had us pack up our things and presented us with the small house they had bought on the outskirts of a nearby town, I was quiet. There were no rivers or expanses of jungle. Our goat and chickens were relegated to small coops in our new yard. For a long time, I was terrified of leaving the new house. Not used to the sounds of motorbikes and the buzz of bodegas waking me up each morning. 

Once it was time for me to get a job I was hired by the resort company to give hikes to the guests. The money was more than I would get anywhere else, but it didn’t make it easier to force a smile as I walked tourists through the foundations of my old village. I dream of rebuilding the stone rocks of my childhood home. To reunite with my neighbors on Sunday evenings and eat sancocho. I refuse to let go of the life that was taken from me. And one day, my land will help me reclaim it.