The InstigatorThe People Who Shaped Me Writing Contest was a part of the 2023 Salem Reads: One Book, One Community, which delved into the themes and messages of Born a Crime by Trevor Noah. The contest invited writers to submit essays, creative nonfiction and fictionalized stories that honored real people who had a profound impact on their lives.
2nd place
Love: The Special Ingredient by Laura Herrmann
“We must visit them,” I explained. I was newly married and excited to share my whole life, including a piece of my heart that lives far away. That was twenty years ago. And so, twenty years ago, we went. It is a long journey to the small community on a hilltop in the interior of the Dominican Republic, near the Haitian border. That place is home to the far-away piece of my heart and the person at its center is a woman called Neida, my Dominican mami.
Mami is small in stature and robust in personality, easy to laugh and full of advice. I was 17 when she welcomed me into her family. Her love carried me through eight weeks of immersion into life in the island countryside as a community sanitation youth volunteer, an experience that I cherish to this day. My limited Spanish at the time did not diminish my connection with Mami. Indeed, it was in the quiet moments sitting together over sweet coffee, bathed in the fresh morning sun, hearing the soft tapping of doves on the tin roof and a distant bachata melody on the mango-scented breeze that I felt the comfort of her love for me. No words were needed, yet it became my ambition to improve my language skills to be able to return and engage in meaningful conversation. I went back as a college student and again as a young married woman, twenty (too many) years ago.
In those many years I have traveled to other places and have always come home to Oregon. I honed my Spanish language ability and am now a bilingual teacher for Salem-Keizer Public Schools. Additionally, our children are students in the dual-language program at Grant and Parrish. We have grown and labored and grieved and celebrated many different seasons of life. So has Neida. The deep loss of her oldest son, a Dominican brother whom I loved, as well as the loss of her husband, my Dominican papi, have made me appreciate her resilience. “Hola, mi hija,” Mami would frequently croon into WhatsApp over the last couple of years, “sabes que siempre tienes una familia dominicana.” I appreciated her reminding me of the fact that I always have a Dominican family and now, with a family of my own, the time had come again to return.
“We must visit them,” we told our two children, ages 9 and 11. “There are people who love you and who need to meet you.” And so, the four of us went, arriving at Neida’s house in early January, the peak of avocado season. Mami’s fierce embrace, first of my child and then of me, made the too-many years slip away. Like a reprise to a melody of my youth, I cherished watching my children joyfully discover the coolness of the river, the lush fields, the peaceful hillsides, the delicious foods, the upbeat music and most of all the family we will always have at Mami’s, para siempre.
The burros bray
The gallos call
The chivos greet
One and all
We head down the path
Off the hilltop road
To Mami’s house
Her warm abode
Hugs and kisses
Shouts and tears
Quickly turn back
The many years
Hermanas, hijos
Bebés, jovencitos
El río, la loma
La finca, paloma
Set up some chairs
Visit for hours
Shelling guandules
Surrounded by flowers
I close my eyes
Hear the music of my heart
A journey’s reprise
And a delightful new start
Our recent trip reminds me that my memories of how Mami and my Dominican family shaped my present life do not have to remain in the past. We continue to be influenced by their love and friendship. This trip I asked Mami to please help me learn how to cook some of her favorite meals. I was struck by the sheer miracle of food preparation, all made with her special ingredient, she told me, which is love. Now my home in Salem can also be filled with aromas of her amor: guandules and auyama squash steeped in coconut milk, warm avena with ginger and spices, tostones served with salami, arepitas with hints of anise, sweet coffee, fresh avocados, salted mango spritzed with lime, un chin de chocolate… all prepared with love.
Here in the Willamette Valley, as our rain-soaked days turn into months, I will miss the palms and hibiscus right outside the sunny kitchen door, the hens running loose and even the ability to live despite the uncertainty of when running water will come and go. Access to water is something so easily taken for granted! There, winter is the dry season and the spigot had not run since we had arrived. The morning of our departure we woke before sunrise to catch an early bus back to the capital, a four-hour ride. Sounds of gushing water from the open spigot into an empty basin in front of the house spurred us into action and spared me from being overly sentimental. We busied ourselves, bustling around to bring empty jugs to fill and store for Mami for the days ahead when she would have fewer helping hands at home. I am thankful for my children to have had this experience and develop a better appreciation for simple, life-giving things. Leaving Mami was easier knowing she would be busy that day, enjoying her water. Kisses and hugs, bidding farewell for now, with full hearts and full bellies, we made promises to keep in touch and to come again.
Now in my own community here in Salem, I can hear Mami reminding me of this or that in my daily routine. “¿Y el ingrediente especial, hija?” Love, Mami. Life together is made with love.
amor – love
arepitas – fried cornbread
auyama – winter squash
bebés – babies
burros – donkeys
chivos – goats
finca – field
gallos – roosters
guandules – Dominican pigeon peas
hermanas – sisters
hija – daughter
hijos – children
ingrediente especial – special ingredient
jovencitos – youngsters
río – river loma – hill
paloma – dove
para siempre – forever
un chin – a bit
This story is connected to Press Play Salem issue 16 (Spring/Summer 2023)
