In 2014, I had already been living in New York for seven years. However, the wisdom, knowledge, secrets, and mysteries of our indigenous and African ancestors in the Dominican countryside have never left me. They were constantly present in my dreams and daily life.
It was a cold winter day in the northeastern part of Turtle Island when I received a phone call that made my heart skip a beat. Soon after, I had a meeting and was offered a job as a consultant for a project that aimed to showcase the traditional, rural, and provincial culture of the Dominican Republic.
After leaving their office in the middle of Manhattan, I headed toward Brooklyn, where I used to live. On my way back home, I made a stop at Prospect Park to offer a prayer of gratitude at my sacred place. Since relocating to New York, I found a new sacred place in nature. There, I practiced my Taino spirituality and prayed to my cosmic and the blood ancestors of my maternal and paternal lineages.
I wondered who had planted those trees in that place. I was sure it had been with a ceremonial intention. The trees followed each other in a perfect circle, with a boulder at their center; I named it the Batey and the stone cemi in Prospect Park. I performed rituals there for years, bringing offerings to the place's boulder, the trees, and guardian spirits. Every time I visit New York, it's an essential visit that gives meaning to my stay in the city.
My new job required me to travel to Kiskeya every month. During my trip, I would spend a week in each town to document certain traditions that are unique to the area. This opportunity filled me with joy because it allowed me to immerse myself in the countryside that I love so much while continuing to research and document the Taino cultural presence in Kiskeya.
During those trips to Kiskeya, I had a strong interest in the continuing practice of ancestral agricultural rituals still found alive in the countryside, which became my main research at the time. On my first trip, I met a woman from Azua, a town in the southwest of the island. I asked her the question that had been on my mind for a while: Did she know someone who buried a stone in the conucos to bless the harvest? To my surprise, she answered in the affirmative and even revealed that her own mother performed the ritual!
During our conversation, she shared with me that her mother planted and harvested beans on a remote hill and it was uncertain when she would return to Azua where she usually lived. Therefore, we had to wait for her to come down before we could proceed with the interview.
Dominican farmers typically cultivate their conucos on these remote hills, where they grow and harvest crops such as yuca, yautia, beans, pigeon peas, and more. They construct temporary shelters to spend the nights and rest, a pavilion (enrramada) for socializing, and a communal kitchen for preparing meals. They transport construction materials and crops on mules and horses, traversing the hills and valleys. Some of these paths that they use are the same ones used by their Taino ancestors and are still visible on the land they once walked on.
After several months and multiple trips from New York to Kiskeya, I finally made it to the Azua to interview her. Just when I thought I would have to wait for the next trip, I received a call that she was finally available at her house. Unfortunately, it was short notice for the person who would help me with the recording, but I still managed to arrive at her house the next day, despite my stay on the island coming to an end.
I couldn't wait any longer. I was scheduled to depart in two days, and I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity. After all, one can never predict what destiny holds for us. So, despite getting lost on the way, I finally made it to her house with only an old cell phone that had almost no battery life, a low-quality camera, and no lighting. Despite these adverse technical circumstances, we documented the ritual that would bring a bright light to the survival of the spirituality of our Taino ancestors.
When I met Doña Colasa, she seemed confused and didn’t understand the importance of the ritual. It was a simple farm in a humble countryside. She was greatly surprised to learn that her family had preserved an ancestral indigenous ritual that was believed to be lost for centuries. After our interview and the following conversation, she came to understand the importance of her ritual. Tears flowed from her eyes as she raised a prayer to heaven, holding in her hands a ceramic Yucahu that I had brought her as a gift.
This video is part of the living traditions in Kiskeya that I share in the short film “Yucahu, Remembering our Taino Spirituality” that we will watch together on Tuesday, October 10, at 5:30 pm PT / 8:30 pm ET. I will see you there!
Enjoy it!
