After Friday, I spent some time thinking about my loved ones who have passed over the years and of course I always think of my Abuela Pulula -the matriarch of my family. Abuela Pulula was born in Samana, Dominican Republic September 8, 1906. She was born to Sencio and Anastacia Queri. My Abuela family were cocolos. Cocolos in its' positive context is a term used to describe people who are of African descent, mostly from the West Indies and America who were either freed slaves or escaping slavery. Many cocolos settled in two major areas of the Dominican Republic, Samana and San Pedro de Macoris. My Abuela spoke English, French and of course Spanish -as did and do most cocolos in the DR.Pulula was her apodo, her nickname. Her real name was Carmen Rosa Queri Jazmin. She was and still is the toughest lady I have ever known. She cursed up a storm, used to smoke, drink and cooked up some mean rabo (oxtail) and habichuelas con dulce (yummy), my favorite dishes. I spent enoromous amounts of time with my Grandmother. While my parents were off working, my Abuela watched me. I would watch all of her favorite novelas with her. Actually she loved watching American daytime soap operas not the Telemundo/Univision ones. Her favorites were As the World Turns, ands General Hospital. She LOVED T.V. My Abuela had like every T.V. guide made since like 1980. She collected them and would do the cross-word puzzles in the back. I remember how I would sit in her lap while she would fill out her crucigrama.
My Abuela actually went to school up to the 8th grade, which in her generation was a big deal. Most folks did even know how to read and write. Abuela Pulula, I came to discover, was very powerful -according to my biological grandmother, Morena. You say whhhhaaaaatttt? Yes, it is true. Not until after my Abuela Pulula's death, did I come to know that she was not my biological grandmother. And that my biological grandma was living still in the Dominican Republic.
Days after Abuela Pulula's death, my mother sat me down, she said that she had to talk to me about something. I had no clue. And then she laid it on me. My Abuela Pulula was not her biological mother. Her biological mother is Morena how lives in the Dominican Republic. I couldn't belive it. Then everything started to click for me. I always wondered how old my grandmother must have been when she had my mother. I mean most Dominican grandmothers are relatively younger and mine was already in her 84. She only had two children -Sandocan and my mother, but her older son had passed away many years ago. My mother was 45 when she passed which would mean that Abuela would have had my mom at 41 which really is unheard but not impossible. I remember like today the day that I climbed up on her, looked really really really closely at her face to see what features I had of my grandmothers -her dark chocolate skin, her black/blue eyes, her big wide nose, her salami-looking legs. I asked her Abuela why don't I look like you? She never told me why.
When I think of this, I always wonder how different my life could have been. In 1998, I went to the DR to meet my biological grandmother. I had no idea what to expect but I knew it was something I had to do. Tio Frank took me to the place where she lived. It was a typical run down street near el Ensanche Quisqueya en Santo Domingo. We drove up into the street and I see this very dark, tall skinny man crossing when I notice the front parts of his feet are missing. Oh shit, this guy only has half his feet. I get out of the car, my uncle asks where does Morena live and the guy points to this blue wooden door that is basically falling off of its' hinges. I am welcomed in with open arms. 'M'ja pero tu si eres blanca," says Morena. I am nervous as hell and am in disbelief at how poor she is. Morena was living in a house made out of cardboard and with a tin roof. She lived there with her youngest daughter and her two children. They shared a kitchen and bathroom with three other neighbors. And all I could think, only by a matter of fate I ended up a gringa.
You see the story is Morena was my grandfather's lover. My grandfather who was married to Abuela Pulula. Apparently at the time, they were having problems -you know typical stuff- Pulula's neice who she was raising had just passed away from a childhood disease I believe (I gotta get that part of the story straight) and to cheer her up, My grandfather brought my mother home to Pulula. My Abuela Pulula took my mother in, raised her as her own and lived with her and us til the day she died. Incredible.
After leaving my grandfather (apparently because of domestic violence), she got a visa to come to the US in 1960 and became a nanny for a Jewish family in Brooklyn -and the rest is history (and another story).
I could go on and on about my Abuela. She passed away on May 31,1995. Abuela Pulula lovingly would call my brother cocolo, was greatly respected and loved by EVERYONE and will forever live in my heart.
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