GRATITUDE
When The Lights Went Out (Again) in Loíza, Puerto Rico
Being alive is a gift
Se perdió más en la guerra / More was lost in the war.
~ Puerto Rican proverb
Everyone here is familiar with it. In homes, televisions, lamps, and air conditioners automatically switch off, the clicking sounds emanating from the refrigerator stop, the internet shuts down and street lights become non-existent.
¡Se fue la luz!
In my case, my first indicators are always: when the whirling noise of my rotating fan stops (because my budget doesn’t allow for an a/c and because I prefer to sleep with the windows open).
Last night, shortly after 9 pm — as I was eagerly typing away at the keys of my MacBook Air, to get in a post for my 30-day writing challenge — it happened. The fan that was providing a much-needed [albeit, light] reprieve from the sweltering heat consuming my bedroom ceased to circulate any air. The antique-style reading lamp on my nightstand discontinued its service.
My Wi-Fi connection was also interrupted, but I didn’t worry too much because — as often is the case — when there’s a power outage here in Loíza (as in other parts of Borikén), it often comes right back on after just a few minutes.
Not the case last night.
As nearly 11pm rolled around, the darkness remained on the street outside and in my little two-bedroom rental home. All was nearly silent except for the chatter of neighbors, a car going down our street, the whirring sounds of a generator in the distance and of course, the ubiquitous lullabies of our beloved coquís.
Wanting to get my article in before midnight, I switched to Plan B. Grabbing my cellphone (fortunately, still sufficiently charged) and went to the Medium app. I typed —
It worked.
Sweating and frustrated, I set my iPhone on the nightstand (obviously, didn’t have to turn off the light!) and tried to get some sleep.
At 2:05 am, I awoke. Switching on the lamp — magic! The power was returned. I got out of bed and turned on the fan. Nearly five hours had passed (at least that’s my calculation) with zero electricity. When I think of what nearly 3 million people experienced during and after Hurricane María — when hundreds of thousands (many people close to me) went 100 days without electricity, I know I have zero to complain about.
Then when my mind goes over the horrors around the world: the Democratic Republic of Congo, Haití, Palestine, Sudan, Borikén plus other places. I have zero to fret over and I have zero right to be stressed out because I have to sleep uncomfortably without a fan or without electricity or without being able to flush the toilet.
All of this is temporary.
I am grateful for the clothes I drape over my shoulders, and the green tea I am able to sip slowly. I’m grateful to have use of my limbs and of my mind. I am filled with gratitude for the kindest of those in my tight circle: friends, family, fellow writers, and poets.
Most of all, I am grateful to my benevolent ancestors who helped return me home, to my ancestral motherland of Borikén. I owe them endless gratitude for helping me to find my roots in the jewel of Loíza and for reminding me that I am descended from a warrior and beautiful People — especially women! For all of this, I am humbled, honored, and grateful.
Because, the next millisecond is not guaranteed.
Shout out to Ruqayyah Ali for reaching out. 💛
Jajom to everyone for being here, for seeing me. (Note: Jajom is the Indigenous Taíno expression for ‘gracias’).
Acknowledging the Arawak, the First Peoples of Borikén, on whose unceded lands my work is created. In gratitude for and in honor of our Elders, past, present, and emerging. May my work always unapologetically and boldly uplift our wondrous Indigenous Taíno, Iñeri, and African roots.
