| Dominican shares heart with 2 countries March 6, 2005 NATALIA MUNOZ Nelson Rosario stood proud as he watched the Dominican Republic flag rise on the pole in front of Holyoke City Hall Feb. 14 in a ceremony to mark the country's founding. It was Valentine's Day, a day not celebrated in the West Indian nation. But for the few Dominicans who braved the cold that morning, the lovely, triumphant day was also about love. Love of the country they left behind. Just 15 years after setting foot in the United States, Nelson Rosario is president of the Dominican Cultural Center in Springfield, which for three years has been celebrating quisqueyano pride every February. Last month, he raised the flag in front of Springfield City Hall as well. The Dominican Republic was founded Feb. 27, 1844, on the island of Hispaniola, which it shares with Haiti. For Dominicans, it is the Fourth of July, with the swirling steps of merengue and the sweet and savory taste of tropical foods, plentiful on the table. Rosario estimated that there are some 500 Dominican families in the Springfield area, about 2,000 people in all. As with Hispanic populations across the country, the Dominicans are growing in numbers. Rosario arrived in New York City from the capital city of Santo Domingo in 1990. A wayward brother's broken body rendered paraplegic by a bullet drew Rosario from the Caribbean sun to the island flanked by two dirty rivers and a brilliant dream. He'll tell you proudly that he stocked soda bottles in perfect rows in a small bodega during those early days. He mopped the floors and swept the grimy sidewalk and the busy street in front of the market six days a week. On the seventh, he spent the day with his brother. He was 32 and separated from his wife because of legal papers. Papers not about divorce, their love was strong, but about immigration. Three years went by before Maria was allowed to enter this country founded by immigrants. She arrived with their small children, whom Rosario had not seen since soon after their birth. But whatever complaints he may have had about that forced separation, he shows no animosity toward the country whose leaders push family values and yet, in his case, as in many others, steal time from them. September 11 tightened the ring of fire immigrants have to jump through to make a go of it here. But Rosario understands that, too. The law is the law, he said, adding, however, "They have cut the honorable ways to make a living. Institutions no longer look the other way." The threat of fines totaling thousands of dollars discouraged farmers, construction companies and institutions from hiring immigrants, who work the jobs for less than the minimum wage many Americans won't touch. But like many immigrants, Rosario sees the promise of the American dream within reach, "if you use your head right." He is the father of three, the youngest of whom, Erica, 10, could one day run for president. She is an American citizen. Emily, 17, an honor student at The High School of Commerce, and Emmanuel, 17, are in the process of naturalization. That can be a lengthy process because a bureaucratic maze separated many from the basic American dream - citizenship. When Rosario moved from Manhattan to Springfield in 1999, he went into business with a cousin, again working in a bodega. He saved and saved and opened his own business in 2004, Mexico Money Express. With the ever-growing Latino population here that works long hours to send money home to Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, his business is booming. And he looks south with every achievement. "The Dominican Republic is our patria," motherland, said Rosario, a tall and affable man who dresses with style. "We never forget our country. We have one foot here and another in the Dominican Republic," he said. "I may buy a house here, but I'm also investing in the Dominican Republic." It's like that with most Dominicans, whether they are in Venice, Italy; Barcelona, Spain; San Juan, Puerto Rico; or Springfield, Mass. The connection to home is emotional and electrical. Direct TV satellite and Comcast cable each transmit directly from La Repblica each day, 24 hours a day. "Whatever we do here, we're always looking there, too," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. As if the people back home were watching his back. Natalia Munoz can be reached at nmunoz@repub. com |