Fall 2009

SOMOS

SOMOS magazine was established in the 1990s by a group of students who envisioned a medium that would bridge the gaps between communities sharing Latino experiences. Unfortunately, for a short time, SOMOS was discontinued, but it wasrevived five years ago and hassince worked to givevoice to artists in the Brown andProvidence communities.

For this years fall issue, SOMOS has published submissions that relate to poignant and pertinent issues in the Latino community.

In Alejandro Ceja's poem, "Gracias Ama," she sketches a scene of her family, focusing on her calm, supportive, beautiful mother who was her "feminist before [she] knew the meaning of gender." Ayoosh Pareek writes about a dwindlinglove andhis last reaches for saving it when looking for four leaf clovers when our time was near over." Pareek's use of word play and humor givelevity to his poem,"Little things you do make me move the earth."

In her creative nonfictionpiece about theKoch's, Amanda Machado uses foodto discuss issues of belonging and isolationin unfamiliar environments. Elote takes on atransformative power, bringing her confidence in a new place. Kelly Glaser explores exploitation and colonization inPuerto Rico in her piece, Boriken. Questioning thediscovery ond exploration of theAmericas, she asks, "Ohholy Isabel, why did youcondemn us to payyour debt?" in our closing piece, Boricua sin definicion, j.D. Andrade claims his Puerto Rican heritage by writing "En esa patriano noci, peroeso patria nacio en mi."

The art submissions we received complement the poetry ond prose pieces of this edition by reinforcing the diversity and richness of the Latino community. We are invited to look through the eyes of these artists. We ore token to all corners of the world, and we ore removed from the quotidian, as we are exposedto provocativeond exciting images.

We oreexcited ondhonored topresent this semester's issue of SOMOS.

Sincerely,

The SOMOSTeam

Special thanks to: Former SOMOS editor Bianco Figueroa-Santana '10. our University Finance tv?? ^eien,atlve Mitro Anoushiravani '11, Office of Campus Life's Rosario Navarro, and ihe Ihird World Center for their financial guidance and support. Most importantly, thanks to all of our contributors ond our readers without whom this magazine would not be possible.

Elote. Amanda Machado '10

m.*, PAREEK make me move the earth

We walk along the creepingsand Waiting for the tide to take us In

To die is nolhing but the parting of the Bongs to the left side.

I osk you dire questions because my world lies

Atop a fulcrum which is nothing but your widow's peak.

What ooout the ring, kids, a house?

Are we tooyoung, maybe too old.

You reply In non sequlturs which mane my day.

And make me forget.

I rememoer looking for four leaf clovers

When our time was near over

Because I wonted to give you something

That would bring you luck; us luck.

So cliche. That is why I decided on

Roses instead. Idream of those artificial cocktails

In o bar nowhere in Kansas or Ohio

But what I really want is milk.

And whiskey when you kiss me And you miss me in your

Living room because drooling Is something I have fun with

And you are someone Iam done with.

Son voces roncos De gritorles sus penas a los dioses que odornan mi mundo.

Son voces roncos que seaferran o las lagrimas grunidas que brotan del pasado.

Son voces roncas, casi mudas, que de un delirio nacieron y cegaron a un mundo entero.

Son voces roncas omnipotentes que una sombra proyectaron sobre el sol.

Son voces roncas, aullidos que rompen el sosiego de la luna, que adornan nuestro mundo.

AMANDA

Knew attending a university with an Ivy league reputation meant luxuries not afforded to most of the college-attending population. But never believed this would lead to the absolute best aspect of Brown University never mentioned in the brochure: all-you-can-eat Cracklin' Oat Bran for breakfast. Every single morning.

nete is notung special about Cracklin' Oat Bran. It does not contain chocolate or marshmallow horseshoes It doesnt lower cholesterol or have a charismatic cartoon character with a catchy slogan on the cover. But ever since was five, Cracklin' Oat Bran has held a special status in my life it is the only birthday present I have requested for a record thirteen yeas.

ne ace of this life-changing delicacy? An unreasonable five dollars for an undersized seven inch box far surpassing the costsof Lucky Charms and Cheerios. Somy mom. in her unwavering attempts to constantly budget, refused to purchase my culinary passioa

"Next time, mija. Let's buy the Bran Flakes. Two for one."

Of course, shed make exceptions fa holidays orspecial occasions.So every birthday. I'd get a kiss, Td get a cake, and I'd get Gacklin' OatBran.

Coming from this very middle class family who believed in modest living and necessary thriftiness, I was overwhelmed upon arriving at Brown. stood in disbelief befae the beautiful brick buildings and the lush surroundings, amazed at every aspect of this university that screamed "prestigious."

interesting It wasn't until my first meal, where a big dispenser of Cracklin' Oat Bran lay before me w - a bowi skim milk, and unlimited refills did it ever cross my mind that "Wow. I've made it."

sin titi •gAllY KIRKIAND

Close de matematicas. Elprofesor Habla de figuras. de tiempo,

De lo que vocomendo. Sin sober que lo podemos parar.

En el mundo piano dela pizarra, Puntos pason en filas.

En nuestro mundo todo Que esta cambiando. Creomos yrompemos. Aprendemos y olvidamos.

Lleno las hoias del cuaderno.

Con apuntes, con poemas.

%

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Tengo el poder secreto depalabras: « Asi es, osi fue una vez el 22 de septiembre en esta closeen este parte del mundo inmenso y ozul »

Rosana tem um segredo

Nao pode contar esse segredo a ninguem

Sabe que secontar para sua familia e amigos eles nunca aceitariam

Esse segredo

Mesmo sem ninguem saber

Afasta as pessoas

O segredoa fere sem saber

O segredoa ferese contar Seus amigos nao entendem

Porque Rosana nao liga Sua familia nao entende

Porque Rosana nao visita Seus amigos esua familia Noo sabem que Rosana Guarda urnsegredo Esse segredo

Fere quern sabe Esse segredo

Fere quern nao sabe

Os dias possam.Rosana guarda Esse segedo Que arde por dentro Os etas possam.Rosana precisa desabafar

CAMILLA 6S

Seus amigos ligam

Percebem que Rosana esta com urnproblema

Tentam conversar com ela Ajuda-la

Mas Rosana disfarpo enao conta nada Seus amigos Ihe garantem

Que sempre estariam aoseu lado

Para oque der evier

Sua familia passa por sua casa

Percebem que Rosana nao esta bem

Tentam conversar com ela Aiuda-la

Mas Rosana finge enao conta nada Sua familia Ihe garante

Que sempre sera parte dafamilia Paa oque der evier Rosana nao consegue Rosana nao aaedita Rosana tem certeza que

Esse segredo

Acabaria com tudo O segredo Fica guardado O segredo

Todo dia que passa fere mais Esse segredo Fere quern sabe Esse segredo Fere quern nao sabe

Por causa desse segredo Rosana vive uma vida infeliz

Anda pelas ruas sem rumo e de mau humor

Nao consegue expressar suas emogoes Ndo consegueadmitir sua verdade

Precisa falar Precisa guardar

O tempopassa. ea tristeza

torna-se furia Rosana briga com todos Pa qtdquercoisa

A paaencia de seusamigos Esta se esgotando A compaixao desuo familia

Esta falhando Todos tentam descobtir

0que estaerrado

Com a pobre Rosana

Sabem que prec^a de umabraco amigo Mas Rosana nao conta Rosana nao conta Esse segredo

Que continue ferindoa todos envolvidos

"Crotfes," Alex Tudela (i

Os anos passom. Rosana cansa de viver sua vida em segredo

Ela quer subir em cima de uma montanha

Critor o mais altopossivel Para todos ouvirem

Esse segredo

Ela esta muito sozinha Ndo aguenfa mais a solidao Anos guardando Esse segredo Sem poder tocar Sem poder be'ia Sem poder agir

Ela precisa de seus amigos Eb precisa de sua familia

Esta na hora deles descobrirem

A verdode

Rosana liga para seus amigos Rosana visita sua familia Agora quern ndo quer falar Saoeles Cansaram de correr atras Cansaram de esperar Rosana ndo liga

Ndo visita

Durante anos

Eles abriram seus corapoes Agora eles ndo tern mais para da Ndo querem sqber

Esse segredo

Que feriu muito

Que mudou tudo

Rosana precisava falar e ndo falou Rosana precisava confiar e ndo confiou

Agora ndo tern ninguem

Familia amigos, enem amor Esse segredo Feriu

Feriu muito mais do que pensava Ninguem saberd que

Esse segredo Era amor

Amor inexplicavel

Amor inaceitdvel Esse segredo Fere quern sabe Esse segredo Fere quern ndo sabe

KHJLY Bffil^SEP

Suspended over the edge of the world, it was

so new it forcedyour mouth open gaping,wind charging

We don't

remember

inside, prodding allyour organs, Africa, saying look,outside your skin, there is magic.

but we yearn

there were no better people.

and it isreal as a leather whip.

Stop with this self-centered seasickness! Look at these horizons condensing

The rain, droplets as big from our very own as the coqui, thundered,only to stop sweat. Dreaming ofblood dripping quick as life. Oppressive from out lips, we ate heat boils the jungle's garbanzos andbacalao. bobbingon. blood evaporates tochirps and bellows, sweats waterfalls. Happy to explore what was new, we gave them everything.Colon said we were always laughing.He wrote to theKing. He said in thewhole wide round world.

We don't remember Africa but we yearnfor it. Heat, they say it suffers unlike any place onearth. Dcrkness, they say it first, so we cannot insist, what about here?

In the fields,hiding behind saints, we dung to our ways, toeach other. Our backs like acockfight, our sweat beatingthe ground hader than they couldus. Rumble like therain anda nauseatedstomach. the murderers,the complicit, andthe naivelive in one bodynow.

for it.

how many ofus there were. did you condemn it at four times its worth)

Pot and pansto protest, us to pay your debt?

This sandy mezcla binds us. stomping remindsus of sugar cane. cement that it is. building us The addict stumbles.

into dusty back rooms,unmarked But we areproud ofthe discovery, evenstill. Our fingers tear.

graves, plastic-covered couches. Sickness plagued us. too. Mofongo, tostones, santeria. cocktails in coconuts,ghosts.

We createdsomething, we sold wonder to like faded colonialgrandeur, Dictators cede toblinding rice. the world. the mixture, ridden withdust,

Nuclear testing ends. Music does notfeed us. Speaking attracts. Tourists sweat, forget Vieques becomes the new hot a foreign tongue, our baby strains. their sunscreen. (We sell destination.

the boxin bothhands. — —

The cup teeters.

Juice drips, slow

as certainty, ontothe floor.

How can our groundwater besafe

from all the bloodin theground?

An addictivepersonality, first spice.

sugar, export markets,cocaine.

groundwater

Numbers say nothing. As a child, 1 felt too tall.

Ten thousand years andwe all die,neanderthals bellowing their way down beforeus.

Oh holyIsabel, why — —

How can our

be so safe

from all the

blood in the

ground?

ALEJAMDPA

CEifteio, a„

Shesmiles, butneverinpictures.

Porcelainfacesrun amuck. Sheembraces them.

Deephearty loughsto thetuneof Apa'sguitar. Thearomaof adishperfectedby yearsof repetition

Theycallus fanatics,too passionate,too loud

Colasasbright asquetzal feathers, I seemirraedMontezuma's fervainmy father'sgestures.

Dozensof tinyfeet pitter-patterinand out thehouse's doas.

A tortillaburning,maza fallingto thefloa.

Childrenrunningrunningrunning. Mehacenpreguntas y preguntas. I smileat my sister,her wildunrulyhair and her eternallyCuriousnature.

Mimama. inaheated discussionpoisedas aviceroy

andasbeautifulas thevery HolyMother.

ICOU

Mipapa ysu equipode futbol.

Aplate offoodin handgazeperpetually gluedtothe screen. Thesoundof heelsdickingon thefloor

Silks,reds,scarves, mi tiatwirlinground androundtheroom Doe-eyedamazement

Weallbegin todance.

of gender

I lookto Ama,and nowshe issmiling. Caringnotabout herthinning hair,false teeth.

Orher boisterouslaughter, i seewrinkles inher face,delineatingyeas oflife andlove

AndIcan't helpbut wonder...

Motherof tenhow wasitpossible? Perseveranceandhope,how ddyou garner?

Theserisks, howdidyou notfolter? Your journey,so bold.. ci.Notenias rriedo?

ToyouI owethe sceneoutside. Thesegreens, theseoranges, These3,000 miles. Youweremy feminist beforeIknew themeaningof gender. Youwere myrock before i knewI wouldbesingledout famyname.

Youencouragedmy introversion,myintricocies, myeternally pensivenature

You smiledas I heldbooks youknew youwould neverbe abletoread Achateganas, you toldme, whileonmy ivorytower A tearinher eyeto themelody ofa mariochi'sjoyous vtolin

I giveher ahugaidtellhe, Gacias,Ama

You were my feminist, before I knew the meaning

ANGEUKA Gtodas>A

"No hay lagrimas suficientes en todo el mundo para expresar todo mi dolor."

Asi dijo ental novelauna joven hermosa

Asi losuspiraba casi sin espiritu.

Cos' suplicaba. por favor, yano mas, no tengo loque falta Casi gritaba casi lloraba La voz casi dispgaba desu boca comouna pistola.

Y can esas polabtas, ya noexistia nada perola desgracia.

Noda pero to sangeque coma palas venas como veneno. Y asi contodo su cuerpo se ahogo en su clamor. Yo nomas, no tengolo quefalta no tengola fuerza

Ya no mas, nunca to tuve, mis esfuerzas estan tiradas alpiso,

Yo Qjfame estedolor antes de que seconvierta en lacoma sobre cual duermo.

Dejadas plantadas,las raices de esperanza encaiadas en la tierra secabellas. Nacidas lindas. ya comprometidas aIdstima

No hay lagimas suficientes en todoel mundo para expresar todo mi dolor

Aunque no recuerdo exactamente quiento diio. Recuerdo como me dio con una fuerza inolvidoble Un ataque de memaiasque no eran mias

Es dificil decir quien lloro mas:

La Virgen confe, sacrificada Mi abuela con arna,rechazada.

0mi mama con promesas, abandonada. Eran todasOjotes gandotes, pintodos negos alrededor, llenos delagrimas.

Pero de todos las muieres quevivieron antes y que vivirdn despues de mi. Una gomesa, sufriraa Cargcwan una cruz. Con todas sus tristezas. sus alegias. Munecas perfectas dibujando to misma historic Como el mar. que no para delamentar. que manda las olas saladas para adelante y para atrds. cortdndose una y otra vez en los ganos brutos degena

Asi somos nosotras. las lagrimas cansadas y retrosadas

SAPA MAN^tletasdenadie

I

En b calle Verbal. en una pared de ladrilb. bs principbs deun poema estan esaitos en bianco, en letra mayuscub y rdpida. Tan rapida que la cuiva de la 'D' no toca el tallo; tan rdpida que las pabbras. en vez demantenerse rectos como las pabbras delas senales detransito que bs rodeaa suben la pared rayada con esperanza. Alguna vez un autor famoso vivio en el espacio dentrodeestas paredes de bdrilb. Pero estas pabbras blancas no son deel. dSon de alguien? dSon de nadie? dSon para alguien? iSon para nadie? iY quienes son bs poetas? dQuien es nadie? sin V,?

Ouzos elpoeto sea unode bstraoaiodores que compatenlos sandwiches deiamon y queso dmediodia sentodos en cajonespara deiar lasilla disponible parausa como una mesade dmuerzo. Quizes el poeta sea elque hadejado las palitas demadera enfrente delcamion de los trabaadores paraque enmarquen elalmuerzo deiamon y queso comouna pintura. Quizas el ooeta seael queha colocadola botellade aguafresca en elparachoques delcqmion. (sfspero aue seaoareciera el oguaen bsuperficie del pldsticocomo los pequenas gotitas de sudor are se ban formadoen las caas delos trabaiadores? iEscribio sus inciales con eldedo irdice en elvapor de aguaen lasuperficie delabotella? bEso seria poesia?) Quizas el poeta sea eihombte mirando mi camera desde supuesto al ladode los trabaiadores. iEI esel unico que sabe queestd siendo observado?

iSi rodete observq sos nadie? iSi no le observaisa nadie, sos nadie? iSos poeta?

IV

rTanto como tuperspectiva cuandoestas parado enun ferrocarril haceque elespacio entre los dos lineas de hierra desaparezca en ladistoncia, tu perspectivaen laciudad haceque cosas desapaezcan tambien. De la puertade lacasa del autor famoso enla calle Yerbal, elgrafiti de los poetas denadie casino se puede ver. Lo mas cerca que estas a lamisma pared,lo mds officii resulta leer elmensaie. dEste grafiti todavia representaa los poetasdenadie si nadie to puede descifrar? ilos poetas todavia representana los "nadies —a los trabaiadores, alas som bras, a todas las personas callactos—si su esaitura desaparece? iNadie. todavia existis si nadie estd para observer tuausencia?

V

Yientras bs trabaadoresolmuerzon con eliamon y queso enla silla mientras lasombra de cfg^ien cambiq deforma mientras una muier vestidade azul carninapor una obra cte grafiti Que earned deforma y senticbmil veces con codapaso, un joven mira, desdeuna ventanaun mundo cue noesta permitted accede. Estd lleno dearte y de color, deperspectives distintas, de historiq yde bsobras deninos que ya no sonnihos. El joven pretende sacar una foto delo Que ~<ji adentro-quizas, piensa lacbmara pueda entrcr donde elno puede—peoto imagen que resultaes una reflexion deelmismo, mirando to ventana Mira, quese puedever sus qnteoios vsu chaoueta conla mono met'dodentro dela bolsilla 60 es el poeta? ?EI poeta observea bs otros, comosi estuviera detrds de unoventano? iO semiro o si mismo? bEs posible miror los dos cosasa to misma vez?

VI.

bPuede ser queun poema este abierto siempre? bAun para los poetas? <iAun para nadie?

AMANDA MACHADgiote

The summer after my sophomore year, my internship in San Francisco placedme with ahost family, theKoch's, wholivedin aposh housein the Pacific Heights neighborhoodof San Francisco with bedroom windows looking out tothe ColdenCoteBridge. Livingwith theKoch's took some odustment. I struggled to find any familiarity or parallels of their lifestyle to my mddeclass, Mexicanimmigrant family upbringing. Their housewas stacked with old Economist magazines and aRussian literature collection. Their get-togethers were the kind spent reminiscing about days at boarding school or about their kids "finishing up" graduate degrees as if they were sandwiches, or something dse as equally ordinary. I wasn't used to parents that had catch up dinners with college roommates, that even hod college roommates or who started conversations with "So what have you been reading lately?"I wasn't used topeople who quoted the New Yorker and made jokes where you had to know what the Marshall Plan was to get the punch line. A pat of it was stimulating. being aound the Kochs kept me on my toes, running through all my nineteen yeas of eduction to catch each politicaland historical reference andbe ableto respondadequately. Yet another part of me was screaming fa a conversation that didn't feel likeleopardy, where I could talk with easeabout the simple things that usually floated aound my head

Even their food seemed faeign andmade me realize how vastly different two household eatngstyles can be.They bought everything from farmer s makets and small groceries, so their kitchen contained not one generic brandof foodNo frozen vegetables,no Ritz aackers.no Peter Pan peanut butter, not even Post cereal. Dinner consisted of dishes d never head of. like "Chicken Bouillabaisse" and "WildRice Pilcf. I'd often pick slowly at my plate,observing their method ofeating to mc*e sure I was keeping up. not cuttingthings that shouldn't be cut a mixing things that shouldn't be mixed. I studed the way they rolled their linen napkins into ring holders after dnner and put their knife and fork in a

certain cross formation on their plate tosignify they were fulL And every time they offered something I hod never head of. I conscientiously hid my mystified expression andas if habitual, said 'Of course."

So naturally, during dinner one evening,I was excitedto find corn on the cob was onthe menu. Finally, asimple appetizer Iwas accustomed to. But the excitement was quickly deflated when I saw thelone ingredient on the table only organic butter from a farm nea Main County. During alull in the conversation. Idecided to casually mention:

Its funny, my mother always used to make this with sour aeam and queso bianco. Andtobasco sauce."

The Koch's raised their eyebrows in interest. "Really? I've never heard of that". Mrs. Koch saidtaking aquick glance to her row of cookbooks. ' doubted Betty Crocker hadlearned of this recipe.

Still, I couldn't really complain. I never enjoyed having dinner at someone's house as much I didwith the Koch's, even if their daily menu seemed so unusualto me. Mrs.Koch- a.Kathy. since she refusedto take her husbands last name- was afabulous cook who knewhow tomix end match her organic treasures and spiced them perfectly. I'd spend my evenings having longdinners and chatsthat began withFrench cheese andNapa Valley wine-tasting aackers andended withCerman ginger whole wheat cookies and soymilk.

One nght,what the cornon the cobemerged again,I was surprised to findthey hadtaken my suggestion- onlyof course, withall naturalsour aeam and pamesan cheese as a replacement. Even so. I appreciated their thoughtfulness and had aball havingthe closest thingIhad eaten to my version of a home-cooked meal in months.I devouredit in seconds, savoringand lickingevery flake ofcheese andsour aeam with o finesse and expertise Ihad neverrealized Ihad untilIlooked up and saw the Koch's, with sour cream smeaedacross their upper lips, cheese stuck to their chins, and looks that seemed as if they were convhced they must bedoing this wrong Guiltily, Ichuckledto myself. Whenit came to eating theMexican way, Iwas no longer out ofplace.

Ahora con la mente mas clara, siento algo diferente un respiro diferente un alma diferente

bori<cua sin deflnlcion

En esa patria no nacf, pero esa patria nacio en mi

la que no me llama pa' tras. Yo siento el color Del sol en mi frente Del asopao en mi garganta De esa mancha roja encima

Gracias a...

Oios cerrados una bianco arena un cielo azul un coqui que conta una tierra que 'iamo

Del terreno bianco. Leche no escafe Cielo de dia no es denoche No soy moreno Entonces una gente que ni me llama ni me canta ni me quiere. Esa mirada de Gringoqueestdaprendiendoespanolenelcolegio.

Pues chupate esa,Senora Porque Mi mama me crio

Criolloconarrozcongandulesycarneguisada

En esq pqtriq no naci

Pero

Esa patria nacio en mi. ...Si senor que encontre Una gente nueva de culture Que me acepta sin pensarlo Pero nunco deiare de ser Boricua sin definition.