Kung Fu Fighting

Black Belt karateManny was my older sister’s first husband. He used to be a God-fearing man and what I thought a good man was supposed to be.

He was a member of the SDA church, son of church committee members and an active youth group leader.

He used to be so nice! He would serenade my sister with her favorite Elvis song.
(MP3)

See, he looked, sang and danced exactly like Elvis. He even had that Elvis-the-pelvis action that drove the girls crazy.

He would sing a lullaby…
(MP3)

so my two-year old sister would fall asleep. He was even super nice to my brother and I. Every Tuesday night he would take us to see a Karate movie. I saw ‘Fist of Fury’, ‘The Chinese Connection’ and even ‘Enter the Dragon’. He would tell the usher that I was his son, so they would let me in. Strange though, I don’t recall any interaction with him and my seven-year old sister – I wonder why.

He really cared for us and everything was great – or so we thought.

My sister would always complain about Manny being too agressive, but we never saw it. That is until the other day. He got into another fight with my sister, this time while everyone was home. My parents ran upstairs to see what the banging was all about. He would not open the door, so my father charged into their apt and saw him holding my sister by a choke hold, with her neck high up against the wall. My father attacked him and they fought together – all the way down the stairs.

At the base of the stairs, the whole family was on top of him. My brother pounding at his back; my mother beating him with the broomstick over his head; me biting his ankles; and my two younger sisters screaming franticly. We all got him good – no one dares lay a hand on my sister!

Suddenly all he could do is to try to get away. He punched my dad, pushed my mother and brother away and kicked me across the hall into the wall. I lost conscienceness for a few seconds because when I came to, everybody was gathered over me – including him. I was gasping for air and could not breath.

You could see the rage bulging from his soft, blue eyes. All of a sudden a frown of sorrow struck his forehead when he realized what he had done. He stands up and bolts out the door into the dark of the night. That was the last time I saw him.

But it was also the first time that I realized that we are one as a family. No matter what the murky waters of the Bronx would throw our way, one thing was crystal clear – No one would stand between us. Our family is one.

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What’s the Point

malaquias Montoya - MigrationYesterday the local bully knocked me down into the snow. He yelled at me, “Stupid spic! – go back to where you came from!” So I have to stand tough. I will not let out that this cut was actually deeper than any knife wound could be.

At least the knife leaves a mark of war – a mark of courage. This leaves a mark on the inside that no one sees. No courage in feelings!

I started wondering what we were doing here in the first place. We left Ecuador running away from something, looking for a place to hide from our fears. We came to the U.S. to have a better life. An opportunity for a better education, a place that offers the ladder of possibility. The Bronx is a place of a million such immigrant stories, this is just one of them. All the stories are the same, all with hope and possibilities, all but a dream to be fulfilled.

The problem that I see is that we are treated as misfits, and in the South Bronx we are awashed in a sea of misfits. What a perfect place to hide.

I hear my parents argue, that the point of coming to the U.S. was to find a better place. What is the point if it means having to live here.

In Spanish ‘qual es el punto’ can refer to the intent, the place or the time. What is the point? Is Hunts Point the highpoint of all this? Is it the point of breakthrough or breakdown. Or is it a point in time when I get initiated into the Savage Skulls, and time can never be turned back.

So when I got into a fight yesterday, simply because I was instigated by a gang member, I can start to see my parents concerns.

There has to be a better place. I heard my mother and father speak with such urgency of such a place, so I know that we will see it soon.

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New Arrivals

Today is a wonderful day!
My two younger sisters are arriving and will finally be living with us.

When we left Ecuador, my mother was saddened that we only received four visas. My mother had applied for six visas to bring us all together to the United States, but that was not the case. So a tear fell from her face when confronted with a rock & a hard place. What kind of choice is this!
pink coat for my sister
But a choice my mother had to make. She decided to leave the youngest two behind. They will prevent her from working as hard as possible to obtain the American Dream & to reunite us.

They were only 1 & 4 years old, so they would not notice – was the thought – they would stay with my aunt & her kids so that they would not miss us. But we missed them.

One year later, while my parents reapplied for their visas, was an eternity. But here they are!

We went to the store to buy them winter coats. One was a cute pink coat with a fur collar. The other was a tweed coat with more formality. My baby sister got the cute coat & my other sister got the tweed coat. At Kennedy Airport, we greeted them with their new Christmas presents. Their smiles and our joy could melt the snow accumulating on the road.

We arrived at our apartment on Simpson Street and surprised them with a Christmas party for their new arrival. This year we will truly have a wonderful Christmas.

… All is calm, all is bright…

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