MVP
The rain hasn't stopped since Saturday. My patio is on the verge flooding into the house, stymied by my valient efforts to bail out the water with a cup and bucket. Tropical Storm Noel is what they're calling it. I'm about ready to leave my apartment though. I'm tired of being stuck inside all day.
On Saturday, I went out with a friend, hoping to make it to a costume party at a nearby discoteca for Halloween. I guess they sort of celebrate Halloween here, although there's definitely no trick or tricking. We were at Bakkus, kind of like a drinks to go, and they had techno music playing on the speakers outside where we all huddled trying to avoid the rain. A truck of the Dominican police pulls up, the music cuts off, and the owner of Bakkus comes out. Antony explains to me that the police are charging a fine for the loud music, and will probably confiscate the speakers. Who knows where the money or the speakers will eventually end up. Sure enough, the police place the speakers in the back of the pick-up truck, as a group of onlookers at Bakkus, university students, friends of Antony, start chanting "MVP, MVP, MVP." Antony explains, they're calling for the election of Miguel Vargas to the Dominican presidency, of the PRD, presumably saying that Miguel Vargas would never let such an incident occur. Because Vargas is for the people. Nevertheless, Antony tells me they're all the same, and if he had to choose a president, he would stick with the PLD and Leonel, mostly because his uncle works with the current government and could lose his job otherwise. If they're all the same, why not? Luckily at that moment, the rain picked up to a downpour, and in a practical effort to save the speakers, the speakers were removed from the truck and returned to the owner of Bakkus, to the clapping and cheering of the crowd.
So we made it to Tonic, where the party was supposed to be, but we never made it past the door. They wouldn't let Antony in, because his hair was not nice and neat and straight, but was instead styled into a sort of an afro. He had told me before that he had been arrested several times because of his braids and I didn't quite understand, but now I see what he was talking about. It was just so frustrating, and Antony tried so hard to get us in. But I just wanted to leave that place and never come back. They're blatantly racist and classist, elitist. It's one thing to require everyone to be wearing dress shoes and a collared shirt, even if that discriminates against the poorest classes. But to ban all kinds of black hairstyles and pretend that everyone in the Dominican Republic has straight, smooth hair is a lie. And the women spend hours at hair salons straightening their hair to maintain this lie.
There are times I am just sick of this country, and I understand why a friend of mine is seriously considering a yola to get out. If they won't even let him get a passport, despite his Dominican citizenship, and he can't secure a job for lack of connections, what else can an ambitious, intelligent young man do? It is too much to ask him to sit around watching his family struggle while he can do nothing about it.
On Saturday, I went out with a friend, hoping to make it to a costume party at a nearby discoteca for Halloween. I guess they sort of celebrate Halloween here, although there's definitely no trick or tricking. We were at Bakkus, kind of like a drinks to go, and they had techno music playing on the speakers outside where we all huddled trying to avoid the rain. A truck of the Dominican police pulls up, the music cuts off, and the owner of Bakkus comes out. Antony explains to me that the police are charging a fine for the loud music, and will probably confiscate the speakers. Who knows where the money or the speakers will eventually end up. Sure enough, the police place the speakers in the back of the pick-up truck, as a group of onlookers at Bakkus, university students, friends of Antony, start chanting "MVP, MVP, MVP." Antony explains, they're calling for the election of Miguel Vargas to the Dominican presidency, of the PRD, presumably saying that Miguel Vargas would never let such an incident occur. Because Vargas is for the people. Nevertheless, Antony tells me they're all the same, and if he had to choose a president, he would stick with the PLD and Leonel, mostly because his uncle works with the current government and could lose his job otherwise. If they're all the same, why not? Luckily at that moment, the rain picked up to a downpour, and in a practical effort to save the speakers, the speakers were removed from the truck and returned to the owner of Bakkus, to the clapping and cheering of the crowd.
So we made it to Tonic, where the party was supposed to be, but we never made it past the door. They wouldn't let Antony in, because his hair was not nice and neat and straight, but was instead styled into a sort of an afro. He had told me before that he had been arrested several times because of his braids and I didn't quite understand, but now I see what he was talking about. It was just so frustrating, and Antony tried so hard to get us in. But I just wanted to leave that place and never come back. They're blatantly racist and classist, elitist. It's one thing to require everyone to be wearing dress shoes and a collared shirt, even if that discriminates against the poorest classes. But to ban all kinds of black hairstyles and pretend that everyone in the Dominican Republic has straight, smooth hair is a lie. And the women spend hours at hair salons straightening their hair to maintain this lie.
There are times I am just sick of this country, and I understand why a friend of mine is seriously considering a yola to get out. If they won't even let him get a passport, despite his Dominican citizenship, and he can't secure a job for lack of connections, what else can an ambitious, intelligent young man do? It is too much to ask him to sit around watching his family struggle while he can do nothing about it.