When I was a young woman, I wore purple
...written on 2001-01-19, @ 00:44:14
Thu January 15, 2001
Some Japanese teachers asked me to tell them a story yesterday and I did. It was a true story. One that happened to me when I lived in the Dominican Republic as a Peace Corps volunteer in the early '80's . . .
One afternoon I decided to walk to town to have dinner at a restaurant near the park. Before I set off though, I put on a new blouse and skirt, as I still remembered the stinging criticism I overheard from a couple of girls watching me the last time I walked through town in my work overalls, "Those Americans, they think they can wear anything!" From that day forward I took care to dress in a more appropriate manner in public.
I started my three kilometer journey, waving at the little dusty neighbor boys running beside me. In the morning they would line up at my window and ask if they could scamper to the little shack up the road for me, to buy cokes, bananas, bread or any other snacks that I might be craving at the time.
As I turned my eyes back on the road ahead I saw a large group of about 15 young men (16-23 years old) pasting political posters on trees and telephone poles and spray-painting party slogans on buildings.
It was an election year, and if anything could capture the attention of the Dominicans besides baseball and rum, it was politics. As they were loyal to their favorite baseball team, so were they to their political team and the news media would often carry stories detailing deaths by machete due to disputes over which party would eventually rule.
This political fervor also meant that the streets were often filled with caravans of jeeps, cars, trucks, motorbikes and bicycles yawning under the weight of hundreds of jubilant "party goers", cheering their support for all to hear, waving banners and wearing shirts, hats, and dresses in the party color. When these parades would pass my house, I would note what color they were wearing, change my shirt to match, run out to the porch and then, along with my neighbors, wave to the crowd flying down the dusty road in and on vehicles wildly spewing plumes of fine mother earth skyward. So far I had cheered on the Red Party and the White Party this way.
When I saw the color of the paint and posters these young men were using, I drew in a sharp breath. It was the Purple Party. The same Purple Party that was headed by a one time exile, forcefully removed from the presidency due to a military intervention by the United States in 1965. Needless to say, this party was short on love for Americans, and I was short on time to get out of their way.
Before I could cross to the opposite side of the street, they spotted me and moved amoeba-like to engulf me.We were in the center of the road and I was surrounded. I quickly scanned the group for a friendly face and spotted one young man that I knew, but when my eyes met his, he looked away nervously, implying that I was on my own.
The leader of the group stepped forward to join me in the center of the circle and asked,
"Where are you going, Rubia (light-skinned woman)?"
"I'm going to town to have dinner." I replied.
"On foot?", he asked incredulously.
"Yes, I like the exercise." I said, trying to sound light and unconcerned even though with each question the leader took another step towards me and the circle around us tightened.
"She LIKES exercise!", he announced to his clan of conspirators as if they hadn't heard, and they shifted in even closer. I saw his hands twitch and I wanted to lick my dry lips, but dared not, to avoid having any of my movements misconstrued.
The leader whipped his head back around to look at me, moved his nose in right next to mine and as the crowd inched in yet again, he whispered hotly,
"WHO are you going to VOTE for, Rubia?"
My hands were down at my sides, rubbing against the material of my skirt. In an instant, I grabbed a corner of the skirt in my damp fist and said calmly,
"Miralo aqui." (Look here)
The leader looked down, but had to step back to see, that the color of the skirt I was holding in my hand, was the exact color of party approved purple that they were defacing the countryside with. Amused, he threw his head back, let out a hearty laugh, and with an "Ella sabe" (she knows), made a motion for the crowd to part. I saw the look of relief on the face of my acquaintance, which I'm sure in no small part mirrored my own, and I shot him a smile.
The crowd moved aside and I made my way into town with my little guardian angel perched on my shoulder.