In the 1960s, a great deal of people migrated to the United States of America seeking financial gain and for other reasons too many to list. The situation at those times in the Dominican Republic was not the best for my parents financially. According to my parents, although the country itself was not doing badly financially, my parents were not personally doing that well. They were living in a rented room with no space for us, and they had three children at this time—my two brothers and myself. My sister would be born later.

My father was a barber; a musician; and, of course, a jack of all trades. You see, my father had an eighth-grade education level, but he was one smart man when it came to bringing home what the family needed. He was always an excellent provider. He was very good with math and other school subjects. However, he never pursued any other level of education. His best trade was the knowledge that he had from the streets. He was well oriented there. No one could beat him on that front. He used street knowledge to make a living and pay for the little room in which we lived.

Those qualities were what brought my mother into his life. He had enthusiasm toward doing things and making things happen. He was never scared of anything. He faced life like a champ or like a tiguere (tiger). (This word is used in our country, and it refers to a man who is a wise or tricky person.)

My parents were very much in love, and they were both the envy of the town. The women were always after my father. My mother was a beautiful woman, size three, who resembled a Hollywood star, but she didn't know it at the time. Her self-esteem was low, and she was not aware of her looks or how much she had to offer.

She had no knowledge of evil or what the world would be like in this little town of Janico. On the other hand, she also didn't know what this town could offer her as a person who came from the countryside, or we can call it "the hills," where people came with total innocence and a naive sense of the world. People from the hills knew nothing but the fact that everyone around them was good and willing to help.

My mother was innocent, and she trusted everyone around her. She was unable to see behind the devious minds of those around her, who had much more experience and worldly sense of knowledge than she had ever known. The fact that, in her eyes, no one could do wrong and everyone was there to help and guide her was her downfall.

My father, on the other hand, had another sense of the world and also had his ways with the ladies. The rule in the Dominican Republic at that time was the following: If you were a serious woman and a homemaker, you would stay put at home and take care of your children. Meanwhile, the man of the house went out and partied, and in addition, was unfaithful to his wife. This was "okay" with the women in my grandmother's generation, and so it was with my mother.

My mother suffered so much, but she never let those filthy, dirty women with whom my father cheated know that his unfaithfulness was bothering her. As a child growing up, I never saw that she was suffering any type of emotional disturbance in her life. She was always a very calm and happy person. You see, in those times, people, especially wives, played a game of appearance and made believe that everything in the home was fine. The machismo was so strong in that type of social environment that there was no space for expressing feelings or complaining of a lack of time or talking about one's needs. We women had to take whatever came to us, just because.

God forbid that my father ever carried us and we soiled his clothing at any given time. We were clean, and my father did not participate in the caring for or cleaning of his children. That was the job of the woman and not of the man. If another man saw a father carrying out this type of work, the latter was looked upon as a maricon, or a weakling. The caretakers were the nannies and the mothers; the men had no part in their children's lives up to a point.

My mother did just as was expected of women at the time. She was always home with the children, and although she sensed that my father was being unfaithful, she was unable to do anything about what was happening in her marriage. She had no facts, but the rumors from the people of the town of Janico were killing her slowly. She had only a third-grade level of education. What was she to do with three mouths to feed? She had never worked before, but she had the wonderful skill of sewing. She often saw herself as someone who was worthless when it came to providing for her children financially. Although in those times it didn't take much money to feed a family, she had no means of obtaining money outside the home. My mother started to sew and made a little money here and there. However, no matter what she did to occupy her time, taking care of the three kids in the home required a little too much.

One day, my mother noticed that she was getting very sick and that, for no reason, her arm was getting thinner. My father's lover made fun of her and would shout out things like, "Here comes the tuberculosa" (the lady with tuberculosis). People who didn't know her would move away from her, crossing to the other side of the street, in town. The pain was unbearable, and her arm became so thin that she was at a loss as to what to do. The doctors had no idea what was wrong.

Someone told her that, due to envy, someone who wanted my father had placed a spell on her so that my father would not look at her as his wife any more. She was forced to enter some type of spiritual witchcraft center. The people at the center confirmed that it was, indeed, a spell; they needed to do some type of work to remove what had been done to her. My mother didn't believe in those things and wanted to run away from that dark and dreary place, but the person who brought her there insisted that she had the work done. Apparently, it worked, and my mother's arm became normal and healthy shortly after that visit to the witch doctor. She was happy, and many other things began to fall into place. Her marriage was working out. Things were looking good, and my father's attitude started to change.

My parents were in more harmony than ever, and they had a little money to spend here and there. It took about twenty-five cents for her to make a meal in those times, and they could eat like kings according to her and my dad. However, they were going nowhere very fast.

One day, my mother obtained facts concerning the woman who was sleeping with my father. She was ready to leave him...