Resistencia en La Morada

“Nos quitaron tanto que nos quitaron el miedo.”

“They took away so much that they took away our fear.”

--Unknown

Oaxaca to the Bronx

The year old awning is slightly soiled from the natural accumulation of snow, rain, and all of the muck that develops during New York City winters. Yet, La Morada’s awning, featuring vibrant purple lettering suavely overlapping earthy mesa colors, bears an undeniable air of authenticity and ethos. La Morada’s awning represents Natalia Mendez and her husband Antonio Saavedra’s journey from their native Oaxaca to the Bronx.

“ It’s encouraging to see La Morada’s workers walk by with their shoulders back and their heads raised high as opposed to many of the undocumented immigrants who often live life in the shadows”

As one passes through La Morada’s doors you instantly feel a wave of social protest and  rebellion course through your veins. A party of twenty young professionals sits in front of the communal lending library - some are white, some are Latinx, a black woman is wearing a hijab. The few tables in the restaurant are lined together in two rows to accommodate this large party while smaller groups are huddled at countertop seating with storefront views of Willis Avenue. The matriarch, Natalia, is a motherly woman who proudly walks up to her patrons and inquires about their meals “¿Todo bien?” and inconspicuously returns to the ceaseless movement of cooking, packing, and speaking Spanish in the kitchen. Both, Natalia and Antonio, look weary during their shifts, but they gracefully administer their tasks and greet and wave farewell to their clients who pass in and out of the family eatery.

For nearly thirty years Natalia and Antonio have lived in the United States —paying taxes after crossing the Sonoran desert to access the American Dream for their family. After a devastating drought in Oaxaca crippled the farming micro-economy of San Miguel Ahuehuetitlan, Natalia and Antonio left their children back home in Mexico and made their way to New York City. Years of hard work led the family to be reunited in the Bronx and together they started their very own restaurant in Mott Haven. The family set up shop as a self-identifying indigenous Oaxacan restaurant owned and operated by undocumented immigrants. It’s encouraging to see La Morada’s workers walk by with their shoulders back and their heads raised high as opposed to many of the undocumented immigrants who often live life in the shadows, afraid of making waves and drawing unwanted attention to their “legal” status. My mother was one of them.

A Blade of Grass

It’s here in the South Bronx that a group of high school students came together to design a community art project funded by A Blade of Grass, a non-profit organization collaborating with artists who work with communities to enact social change through art. In unison with La Morada and led by Ecuadorian born artist Ronny Quevedo, the group of local teenagers (all Bronxites) took the responsibility of working as junior designers to develop the restaurant’s new and improved awning.

A five foot long white sign declaring “No Deportaciones” in scarlet red is suspended over La Morada’s entranceway, a clear reminder to all patrons that this safe space is owned by a family of immigrants. Ronny (who I met for the first time) and I finally find a place to nestle ourselves into and discuss the community art project, one that he does not consider solely his. Instead, Ronny views the awning as “a shared experience with the restaurant, the teens, and myself...I try to be conscious that there are elements of the project that don’t need me.” This humility motivated Ronny to lead the team of high school students from diverse backgrounds; Dominican, Puerto Rican, Honduran, and African-American, to utilize the Mott Haven library and Bronx Art Space to brainstorm concepts for the awning. They designed the mountains, buildings, and farmers featured in the artwork today. But first, Ronny and the teens interviewed every single worker at La Morada and focused on understanding and internalizing the restaurant’s mission and history. In tow, a camera crew filmed the teens during their ten week long project. According to Ronny “the documentation is helpful to understand outside perspectives of the work.”

As the South Bronx community continues to see different faces encroach upon their neighborhood from all corners, Ronny believes that the gentrification narrative says “‘What’s around is not modern’ and what I say is what’s here is valuable and can be uplifted.” For Ronny Quevedo, art is a way of life that moves him to examine and interact with many of the commonplace things he encounters in his neighborhood. As a boy in Guayaquil, Ronny sculpted toy guns and hoops out of cardboard, while his mother, a seamstress, encouraged his creativity. “What we have, like shopping bags, awnings, and billboards, they’re all part of our daily experience.” It’s this sort of utilitarian thinking that made the La Morada awning project successful.

Photo by Argenis Apolinario

Yajaira Saavedra’s Arrest

Nearly a year after the new awning was hoisted atop La Morada, January 11, 2019 saw Yajaira Saavedra, Natalia and Antonio’s daughter, arrested by the New York Police Department. After Yajaira and her family recorded an arrest in progress, police officers entered La Morada, arrested Yajaira and led her to an unmarked black van across the street from the eatery. At the time Yajaira feared the worst, as a DACA recipient living under the Trump administration’s overzealous ICE detainment measures, deportation could have become a reality. Instead, Yajaira was held at the 40th precinct for three hours where she recalls “I was thinking about my safety, my family’s safety. Who was going to take care of my niece? I was worried about my sister who had gone through a surgery due to a tough pregnancy...It wasn’t my first time getting arrested, so I recalled all my training as an activist.”

“If you want our food you need to know about our narratives”

— Yajaira Saavedra

Within a matter of minutes the 40th precinct was overflowing with Yajaira’s family, friends, and neighbors who were all worried about her safety. Later that evening Yajaira was released and bolstered by her spirit of activism and neighborhood to continue her work on behalf of Mott Haven. “This is the core of Mott Haven. One of the highest concentrations of Mexican populations in the city.” says the young restaurateur. According to Yajaira, the Bronx, specifically Mott Haven, is experiencing “food apartheid”. A condition that impedes Bronxites’ ability to access fresh and healthy food that is simply out of their price range. Yajaira states “Hunts Point is the biggest importer in the nation, yet we don’t have access to that food. Only the wealthy can afford that food.”

Four months later, Yajaira and I sit on a tree pit’s wooden railing in front of her family restaurant and discuss her arrest. The young activist nervously looks behind her and from side to side. “NYPD has their station constantly harassing us. They patrol within a one block radius and station themselves in buildings around us.” says Yajaira as she quickly looks back at me. A car pulls up and parks directly behind us and adds to the tension that has suddenly enveloped the air.

According to Yajaira “artwork is a form of community engagement, involvement and hard work.” The reality of this match made in heaven between Ronny, the socially aware artist, and La Morada, the activist restaurant, dawns on me when I look up at the farmers standing beside the concrete building. I ask Yajaira what the artwork means and she replies “The culture vultures and gentrifiers take advantage of our food. But, if you want our food you need to know about our narratives.” As I take a bite out of my savory chicken quesadillas and look around the cozy eatery I realize that this place is more than just a business. La Morada is part of the Saavedra family’s identity and it stands as a testament to the shared narrative of their journey from Oaxaca to the Bronx.

In the midst of the hip clothing and accessories and all of the boutique shops that have arrived, one must take solace in the black and brown faces in front of the barbershop, the ladies pushing their strollers down the sidewalks, and the gleeful boys howling by the basketball court. Leaders like Ronny and Yajaira are the reason why communities thrive, why businesses flourish and people come together. They are an inspiration for all and perhaps Ronny sums it up best when he states “People can see what can be done through collaboration...We don’t have to go very far to showcase our values, our agency.”  

A Blade of Grass Fellow Ronny Quevedo facilitated Higher Sails, a design workshop for Bronx teens who developed a new visual identity for Mott Haven neighborhood restaurant La Morada. The workshop allowed youth participants to contribute to the visual culture of their neighborhood and provided a platform for the restaurant to express and preserve its role as an organizing site and cultural anchor in the South Bronx. Explore A Blade of Grass films: www.abladeofgrass.org/fieldworks

A film covering the creation of La Morada’s new awning will be screened on June 6th at 6 pm at Bronx Art Space.

Please visit http://www.abladeofgrass.org/events/rooted-in-neighborhood/ for more information.

Mixtapes and Bootlegs

Growing up in the Bronx, I had many escapes to help me cope with the troubling parts of life and complications of teenage years. Some of those escapes where as simple as hanging on the stoop with friends or as dangerous as riding in between trains cars in pitch black tunnels. But I wouldn’t be doing my childhood any justice if I left out my biggest crutch of all, and that of course is music, hip-hop to be exact.

From early on in life, I enjoyed nothing more than listening to the radio alone in my room and getting lost into my thoughts, but as I grew older I would take notice to the way music made me feel as a young man who was struggling with pre-teen angst and mental health issues. I used music as my own form of personal therapy to help me get through numerous obstacles in life; whether they were small or devastating. I took advantage of drowning my emotions into music--heartbreak over a crush, grief over a friend’s death and melancholy from depression.

Music has always kept me grounded and level headed during some of the hardest years of my youth, so I feel indebted to talk about my fascination and love with it.

“Through music I also learned how to survive in a violent household, cope with trauma and how to discover myself when I barely had any time to be kid”

— Richard

Intro to the Mixes

My main source of music growing up was the radio; it was exciting and adventurous, especially when you heard that one song you’ve been waiting to hear for weeks. In New York City there were two local stations that played Hip-Hop; Hot 97.1 and Power 106.5. Both stations were great, but Hot 97.1 was my go-to, especially when I learned that I could create my own mix tape with a blank tape and my radio’s cassette deck.

I was lucky enough to have a radio with a cassette deck and a record button and knew the joys of creating your own mixtape. When it came to making your very own personalized mixtape, you had to be both patient and fast, because nothing was worse than pressing record, and that song that you had been waiting weeks to hear was actually at the end and not the beginning like you had hoped! In 1998 when Pras, (a member of the Fugees) released one of his most popular songs, Ghetto Superstar featuring Mya and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, I literally sat by my radio, waiting and waiting for the DJ to play it so I could forever capture it on tape. It wasn’t until one night, when I got up and left the room for a moment that the song finally came on. When I heard Mya sing the chorus from across my apartment, I darted back towards my room like a mad child, kicked the door open, pressed record and waited for the song to play out in its entirety, but of course it was just ending. It was pure disappointment.

I’ve always loved discovering new music and learning about new artists, and when it comes to certain songs and albums, I can remember exactly where I was when I first heard them.

In 1996 on a summer afternoon, I noticed a few of my friends and some other kids I didn’t know, all surrounding a boombox that was standing alone on the sidewalk; and it was on full blast. A friend of a friend, Adam, was playing a song I had never heard before and immediately upon hearing it, I was drawn in. Someone from the circle waved me closer so I could take part in the action. I asked Adam to start the song over because I had missed the opening; and he was kind enough to oblige me. He rewound the tape for just a few seconds and started it again. The song started playing instantly: “Strumming my pain with his fingers, Singing my life with his words, Killing me softly with his song.” It was beautiful to me—perfect even. I asked Adam who sang the song and he passed me the empty cassette case. It read, The Score by The Fugees and the singer was Lauryn Hill--the song was Killing me Softly. For the next hour Adam played the same song over and over again and we all sat there and just listened in an odd form of celebratory silence.

Summer of 1998 my brother gifted me tape that was unlike anything I had heard before. The album was by a new rapper from Yonkers NY called DMX. The album was called It's Dark and Hell is Hot and I couldn’t turn it off. One day my father asked me to accompany him while he ran errands around the Bronx, and because I didn’t have much of a choice, I went with him, but figured that I would kill time in his car with my new DMX album while he shopped. My father wasn’t exactly a fan of gangster rap, so I had to be careful. With each store he ran into, I inserted the tape into the cassette deck and took it back out as he exited the store. This was working perfectly until the last store that he went in to. When I tried to eject the tape, it got stuck and when my father got back in the car, he turned the radio on and switched it back to tape once he noticed there was a cassette inserted. When he pressed play my heart sank. The song that played was How's it Goin’ Down and after the first 38 seconds of the songs built in skit, he unstuck the tape from the deck, rolled down the window and threw it out of the car while driving up Van Cortland Park South. As my tape was being crushed by cars on what we called Snake Hill, I started to plot how I would buy the CD version and learn to hide it better; which I did, and it was great.

“Those songs would give me the strength and courage to talk to my friends about my struggles with mental health. And on the days when I felt that Hip-Hop was running dry, I was able to find peace of mind through other genres of music; Rock, R&B, Indie Folk and Classical.”

— Richard

The 90’s gave me so many great memories when it came to my childhood and music; spending summer afternoons on the corner with friends and a boombox, playing DJ in my bedroom and bonding with my brother and a new cassette. Through music I also learned how to survive in a violent household, cope with trauma and how to discover myself when I barely had any time to be kid. There were many nights when I would lay in my bed for hours, quiet and still, getting lost into whatever sounds were coming out of my headphones, because it was better than listening to the screams of a family falling apart. But in just a short amount of time, the chaos that was my life would spiral out of control and I would need something much faster than my cassette player and tape rewinder to ease the pain and drown those screams.

And then there were CD’s

Only a few years after listening to the Fugees on 238th street and DMX in my father’s Lincoln Town Car, technology was rapidly improving, but I was still behind the times with my outdated Sony Walkman Cassette player. All my friends were now collecting CD’s, and tapes had become a thing of the past. I desperately wanted to keep up. CD’s were very expensive for someone like me who was too young to have a job, so I had to rely on chore money and hand-me-downs from my older brother. In 1999 my father, on a very rare occasion, my father took me to one of the last remaining Tower Records stores in NY and allowed me to pick out one new CD--it was a miracle, as this never happened before. I scanned through the hip-hop section searching for a new artist, and I stopped shuffling when I saw a CD cover that had three men dressed in tactical and militant gear and looked like they were ready for war. I carefully showed it to my father and told him that I had heard “positive” things about this group that I had actually never heard of before and that they weren’t violent. At that moment he either bought my lie or just gave up on parenting my taste in music. The group was Onyx and the album was Shut ‘em Down. They were not entirely positive.

With the prices of CD’s showing no signs of going down, I would eventually have to resort to alternate means of owning new music; and this is where CD Mixtapes came into my life. CD mixtapes are unofficial albums created by artists, usually released in between albums. They consist of new songs, remixes, or sometimes both. They’re mostly put together to hype up a forthcoming album and create a buzz. I like to believe they’re a nice gesture to hold fans over until the official album drops. Sometimes the hardest part of getting a mixtape was knowing when they were coming out--word of mouth from classmates, friends and radio DJs were all great sources for this buzzworthy news. They were also the perfect vessel for delivering new diss tracks towards a rival rapper. The bigger the buzz from a mixtape and the more hype and drama that it created, the more likely that fans would run to buy the actual album with the hopes of a brand new, even better diss track. The anticipation of a rebuttal song was always worth the months or longer that it would take for an album to come out.

Now, there was the CD mixtape, but there was also the bootleg CD; and when I was feeling particularly cheap which was often, the bootleg reigned supreme. A bootleg is far different than a mixtape and of course the real album. So, where mixtapes are intentionally released by the artists, bootlegs are not; instead being released by a third party. Bootlegs have caused much agony for musicians, spanning all genres and there’s a few different ways to how these knock off albums are made.  

Bootleg ran about five dollars each which was nice if you didn’t want to take the gamble on an album that you weren’t entirely sure about. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up and $20 wasn’t always available at one’s disposal, so having the option of a knock off CD was great. When it came to buying bootlegs, there was one catch. After you bought your bootleg, you ran the risk of inserting the disk into your CD player, pressing play and... nothing happens, silence, no music, no beats, no lyrics. A few times I bought a dud, a fake, a poorly ripped CD. This was sometimes the price that you would have to pay for taking the cheap and easy way out. I bought most of my bootlegs on Jerome Ave or Broadway in Kingsbridge, either in a bodega or a man on a sidewalk with a suitcase full of photocopied CD covers and no-refund policy. Sometimes these purveyors would swing through a McDonald’s or pizza shop of all places, usually being asked to leave immediately.

As much as I loved spending five dollars over twenty dollars, some albums I just had to suck it up and buy the real thing. On September 12th, 2001, one day after the United States was attacked and the World Trade Center fell in lower Manhattan, I found myself walking down Broadway and 231 street in the Bronx, headed to the local FYE music store to buy the newly released album from Jay-Z--The Blueprint. The Blueprint was Jay-Z’s sixth album and it was released one day before on the 11th, but my father didn’t want me to leave the house because of the attacks on the World Trade Center, so I had to wait one more full day to buy it, which back then felt like a lifetime. I bought the CD because I was a fan, but also to keep up on the wildly popular beef between Jay-Z and Queens rapper Nas. I felt guilty after I bought the CD, thinking that maybe it was a little disrespectful that only a few miles away from where I was in the Bronx, laid Ground Zero and the bodies yet to be discovered amongst the twisted metal. I was in my bedroom with the television on mute while the news played footage of the Twin Towers falling on a constant loop. I was horrified about what happened and the best way for me not to deal with the processing part of it all at that time, was to bury my head in the booklet that came with the Blueprint CD and study the linear notes, memorizing the lyrics as fast as I could. I first became a Jay-Z fan in 1999 when I heard the single, Hard Knock Life off his 1998 album, Vol.2...Hard Knock Life, and I was immediately obsessed.

In 2002 the album Juslisten by Musiq Soulchild helped me get through a bitter and awkward rejection from a neighborhood girl, Jessica. From the Juslisten album, I played the songs Newness, Time and Something on a constant loop from a radio that laid next to me head while I slept on the floor for months.  In 2003 when my depression took a turn for the worse and I really felt alienated from friends and family, I listened to a debut album by New Jersey rapper, Joe Budden. He openly spoke about therapy, prescription pills and depression in his songs Calm Down and Walk with Me. Those songs would give me the strength and courage to talk to my friends about my struggles with mental health. And on the days when I felt that Hip-Hop was running dry, I was able to find peace of mind through other genres of music; Rock, R&B, Indie Folk and Classical.

With today’s ever-changing technology is improving at a lightspeed pace, it’s much easier for me to achieve instant gratification whether I’m looking for a certain song to clear my head or just to play an album while I cook dinner for my wife and me. The easiest and most convenient and inexpensive way to do this is through the mega-streaming site YouTube. A lot has changed in just a few years since I was running through my apartment with my finger stretched out towards the record button. But even as comforting as it may be to play any song I’m looking to hear at any given time with the press of a button, it will never match how rewarding it felt to save up a few bucks, ditch 10th grade homeroom and take a nice slow walk home from the CD spot with a new mixtape in my Sony portable CD player, walking as steady as I could so the songs didn’t skip. Sometimes I take the accessibility of music for granted and say things like, “There’s nothing to listen to” or “What am I supposed to do, I have no new music.” It’s moments like that when I must reflect and be grateful for what I have, because today, I can play Ghetto Superstar whenever and wherever I want, as many times as I want.

Meet Bronx Anchorwoman: Asha McKenzie

The control room is dark and chilly as two producers seated in swivel chairs wearing headsets cordially greet me. I nestle my way onto a chair in a nook behind the producers attempting to become inconspicuous. One of the producers looks up at the behemoth wall clad in multiple television sets of varying sizes and states “Try to stay to your right.” And there she is, anchorwoman Asha McKenzie seated next to her co-anchor Gianna Gelosi, both wearing blood red floral patterned dresses, apparently “clashing” on camera. “Cory Booker announced for president” gasps Asha, as she scans her phone for information. The paradoxical quality in the anchorwoman obtaining headlines from her cell phone while seated in a news studio humorously crosses my mind. The producer chimes in again “Go to your left, thank you.” before playfully bantering with Asha, “Why did they pick you?” referring to my presence at the news station. The jovial camaraderie permeates into the studio and workstations as staffers plan the day’s lunch order. The order of the day? Cheese, in particular, half and quarter pounds of cheese fresh from Arthur Avenue.   

The control room

“Doubles” calls out the producer, as Asha laughs alongside weatherman Mike Rizzo who walks on set to prep for his rundown of the weekend deep freeze overtaking the Bronx. The crew prepares to go live coming off a commercial break as one producer counts down “10, 9, 8, 7…” and another producer repositions a camera in the studio using an analog stick. Asha places her cell phone down on the thick glass table in front of her and brushes her hair to one side of her face. “4, 3, 2, 1…” the countdown concludes as Asha brings viewers news of Puppy Bowl 15 on Animal Planet, a Super Bowl pregame show alternative. It’s Super Bowl weekend.   

As the early morning segments wrap up, Asha calls me into the studio where I expect to find teams of cameramen and staff running around with gaffs and booms, clear indicators of my newsroom ignorance. But there’s none of that and no one’s there, except for Asha, seated in her anchor chair prepping for the next hour of news. “You can sit over there” Asha instructs me “just watch out for camera six.” Asha’s voice is commanding, full of ethos and she expertly controls her voice’s cadence and pitch as she reads through assorted news items, it’s the sort of voice that’s meant for anchoring. I settle into a directoresque chair and observe the anchorwoman in her natural habitat. All the high tech cameras, monitors and ceiling lights shift and focus on Asha, the center of attention, as she prepares for her next hour of news coverage. Asha scrolls through her cell phone again, reviews the segment scripts on the tablet in front of her, and interfaces with her co-workers “Who’s the producer? Oh, never mind” and “This script is so weird.” Asha has been filming all morning and it’s only 8 am. Asha yawns “Oh my goodness! I need a nap.” Another countdown commences as Asha’s gameface materializes and she looks up at the camera, and live from Soundview in the Bronx, News 12 is transmitted to you.  

Asha McKenzie live on air

The news is constantly in flux, ever-changing, ceaseless, and journalists have the responsibility to cover the symbiotic relationships between subjects and consumers as the news balloons into bigger stories or diminishes into mere fillers for a daily news reel. It’s the sort of neverending pace that Asha’s mother, Fay, kept up as a psychiatric nurse and a single mom to six children. Asha, the youngest of the six children, always admired her mother’s work ethic and kindness. “None of us ever became a statistic. She really did her best.” says Asha “She always told me that I had to work even harder to get what I wanted in life.” Asha’s family is a close one, some of them live in the Bronx, and others are based in New Jersey and Philadelphia, but their tight-knit bonds are a testament to Fay’s commitment to her children’s values and growth, no matter the physical distance separating them.

Asha’s resilience and work ethic, molded during her upbringing, carried over into her professional life and helped guide her as she graduated from Montclair University and later became a desk assistant for ABC. Under the mentorship of Michelle Charlesworth and Phil Lipof, Asha learned the ropes by shadowing the reporters two days per week. Asha’s hard work eventually paid off when she accepted a reporting position at WENY News in Elmira, New York, a station where Asha was only one of two minority staff members in the newsroom. This employment situation is not unique as only 22.6% of newsroom staff jobs are held by minority persons, according to the American Society of News Editors. As a black journalist, Asha falls into an even slimmer statistical category as only 12.6% of local TV station jobs are held by women of color. Suffice to say, journalism has a long way to go in diversifying newsrooms.

“You have to be mindful. Everything I say can be looked up.”

— Asha McKenzie

Opportunity knocked even louder when Asha was offered a position as a multimedia journalist with News 12 The Bronx. The AP award winning journalist has developed deep connections to her stories and sources in the borough as she fuses her passion for journalism and her commitment to the Bronx. Asha says “I will respond, I don’t ignore work. The borough needs it.”

Asha’s almost finished anchoring as the remote operated camera to my left slightly shifts to the right an inch or so. The minimalist design and phantom operated cameras in the studio have taken the place of newsroom staff that are now only specters here, memories of careers that were once essential, perhaps unimaginable, to run a newsroom without. The future of journalism has seemingly arrived as multimedia journalist positions have become more common at news stations. Multimedia journalists operate their own video cameras and serve as their own photographers, wielding their iPhones for Instagram flash briefs and scrolling through the web for new leads and information. Information, the concept at the crux of journalism, is what Asha is responsible for bringing to Bronxites everyday. And, in the era of fake news and the genesis of Google’s search engine serving as our primary source for information, it is of the utmost importance that our journalists maintain integrity and understand the great responsibility their work bears. “You have to be mindful. Everything I say can be looked up.” says Asha.

“It’s generational, my mom still watches the 5 o’clock news.” Asha smiles, referring to the different ways that people consume news. I tell Asha that I use my landlord’s Optimum subscription to watch News 12’s app on my Apple TV (I know, it sounds difficult, but it’s actually very easy!) Asha laughs and responds “Ahh, so you cheat!” I prepare to ask Asha more questions about automation, social media, and algorithms, and the effects they might have on journalism in the next five years when a congenial producer tiptoes into the studio. “I hate to interrupt but I have a REALLY important question.” whispers the producer “Does anyone want to split a bagel?”  

The internet has sped up everything: business, information, journalism, everything. But there are certain interpersonal experiences and fraternity that impossible-looking algorithms and steel equipment can’t produce or convey, like ordering cheese with co-workers, joking in the control room, or simply offering someone a bagel. It’s reassuring to know that our borough’s news is being brought to us by people like Asha, people who care about getting the facts right.

Low Flying Clouds

On a March morning, while the sun was still slowly creeping its way across a nearly-cloudless blue sky, Amina woke up with a jolt, moments before her alarm was set to go off. She went about her morning the way she usually did. Brushed her teeth, shook her half-asleep mother on the couch and started the stovetop coffee maker before anyone else was fully moving. She went through her pile of laundry, looking for a shirt she was almost positive wasn’t actually dirty but she had thrown in the basket for organizational purposes. In their shared bed, Amina’s little brother was still curled up in the tangle of blankets, protecting himself from the frigid cold that encompasses the small room that has two front-facing windows.

Amina always left the house like this, almost-frantic and unsure — taking one last look before she stepped out the door as if when she came back, it might be entirely different. And sometimes, it was. A house once organized and tidy by Amina the night before might transform into a whirlwind of clutter while her mother was in search for one specific item she absolutely needed in that moment. A fridge, filled with just enough food to hold them over for the week, emptied by her little brother who was hungry on a day there was no one to take him to school.

Today, it was the strip of stores around the corner of her apartment that had changed. As Amina was walking out of her apartment building, she noticed a cluster of neighbors holding the front door open, one foot stepping inside the building but bodies turned towards the street, the way a magnet pulls a paper clip irrevocably to its surface.

When something is strange on East 194th street, Amina, as well as most of her neighbors, didn’t flinch. It takes ten minutes of an escalating fight outside her window before she even notices the commotion, even then giving it another few seconds before she popped her head out onto the fire escape to see what was going on. When there was a strange man sleeping in the hallway of her building, she told herself she would wait a few days before mentioning it to her super. Weeks went by and she never did.

So, like any other day, Amina didn’t fully register the oddity of her neighbor’s still and drawn expressions. Until she herself stepped outside the front door, the sky opening up before her.

Mothers stood, arms crossed and feet curled in their slippers and children huddled next to them, hands gripping the arms of their bookbags. The entire bodega staff stood out in the cold without coats on — including the sweet Dominicana, Marisol, who always greeted Amina’s entrance into the bodega with a smile and made her coffee without having to ask her how she wanted. There were barricades, wet concrete and more white people on the corner of East 194th than she had ever seen before at one given time.

“The smell of summer was really the smell of charcoal grills and her father’s carne asada on Fourth of July, her uncles setting fireworks off on the street — little particles of heat hopping through the air. The smell of summer was her boyfriend throwing parties at a house that was not his in Kingsbridge Heights, the smell of burning branches in a garbage can turned fire pit, the smoke trapped in the helix of her curls for days..”

Most of them were firefighters. The rest were news reporters.

As far as she could see, the sky was blue up above but at eye level, the sky was smoke — the color of canvas notebook paper. The kind of notebook paper Amina carried in her bag where she doodled eyes and lips next to the answers to her homework assignment.

The corner laundromat, pizza shop, the beauty salon and grocery store were engulfed. The extent of the damage was indistinguishable. Where the fire started, where it ended - if it ended at all - was lost in the sounds of walkie-talkies, the shuffling of cameras and reporters and in the congestion of residents, both cornered and enthralled in the chaos.

Amina fleed, in the other direction — I still have things to do, I can’t stand here all day, she reassured herself.

The last time there was a fire on her block, only a couple months ago, Amina laid in bed, her brother snoring next to her while the smell of what she could only identify as the smell of summer seeped into her room. The smell of summer was really the smell of charcoal grills and her father’s carne asada on Fourth of July, her uncles setting fireworks off on the street — little particles of heat hopping through the air. The smell of summer was her boyfriend throwing parties at a house that was not his in Kingsbridge Heights, the smell of burning branches in a garbage can turned fire pit, the smoke trapped in the helix of her curls for days and the taste of Corona and purple Doritos scraping against on her tongue.

In actuality, the smell of summer was the fifth floor of the building on the corner of Briggs Ave and East 194th catching fire in the middle of the night last December, Amina would come to find out through social media an hour later. Her breath got caught in her throat. In a moment of both relief and mourning, Amina pulled her brother closer to her body. There was something about fires in the Bronx that sat uneasy in her stomach, a sense of history repeating itself. She felt guilty for being relieved it wasn’t her building, but relieved she was. Amina went to bed that night dreaming of empty buildings with only unharmed children’s toys left behind on the floor, the walls colored black from old fires.

In the months that followed, Amina had almost forgotten about that fire, despite its close proximity. Until this moment, her initial grief had been lost the way most tragedies that just barely touch you do, not out of disregard but by the protective nature of dissociation. Until this moment, Amina was able to evade the feeling that at any moment, a cloud of smoke can take the place of her home.

A honking car summons her out of her foggy memories. She, instinctually, takes a step back from the curb.

All of the streets leading to East 194 were closed off, except Valentine Ave which was the highest point of East 194th Street, each block thereafter gradually lowering down to where East 194 met Webster Avenue. Amina stood at the top of the hill. In front of her, a stream of cars trudged behind one another, one driver after another turning their head to look towards the smoke — wondering for a moment what caused the disruption of their morning commute, a flash of concern before going on their daily routine.

Amina could see her neighbors, still huddled around a barricade of fire trucks and firefighters, watching as places they walk past and visit every day were carved out hollow by both fire and water. It occurred to Amina then that it was only nine in the morning. The laundromat opens at six. She wondered then whose clothes were burned, lost in the midsts of their washing cycle. Her mind flashes to the pile of laundry in the corner of her room. Her brother only had a few clean pair of underwears left.

It wasn’t until that moment that Amina felt the emptiness of her hands, void of her morning coffee. She stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets, turning on her heels forcefully.

Enough, she told herself, I’m not helping anyone by standing here.

But as she ascends up the hill towards the subway station, Amina can’t help but take one last glance over her shoulder at the streets behind her.

A construction worker sticks his head out the window of a new building on the block, a helicopter hovered above in the part of the sky that was blue, untouched by smoke and chaos. The notebook-colored smoke engulfed the corner of E 194th Street and Marion Ave. From here, the smoke just looked like low-flying clouds, quiet and ready to swallow everything whole

Day in the Life of NYPL Bronx Librarian: Dawn Holloway

Bronx Narratives presents our Day in the Life Series. A collection of interviews and essay featuring individuals who are a part of our community and everyday landscape.

In part with the Bronx Narratives Day in the Life Series, I was honored when fellow staff writer Herbert Norat, introduced me to Dawn Holloway. Dawn is both an empowering figure and role model from the Bronx, dedicating over thirty years of public service by working for the New York Public Library. In this interview, I talk with Dawn about her lifelong dedication to public service, her plan to revolutionize reading in the Bronx and we get to know her personal side and funny side too.

RICHARD: Dawn, I want to thank you for your willingness to be a part of the Bronx Narratives Day in the Life Series. In this interview I want to discuss who Dawn is, the Bronx Book Box project, and what inspires you. First can you tell me a little about yourself?

DAWN: I grew up in the Castle Hill section of the Bronx and I’m the middle child of three. My parents were Irish/Italian, working class. My dad was a proud Union worker with the phone company and my mom did factory work and was a supervisor there too. I went to Holy Family School in Castle Hill and Herbert H. Lehman high school on East Tremont. While in high school I was in the Co-Operative Education program, where I worked one week and went to school one week throughout my Junior and Senior year.  Upon graduation, Irving Trust Bank offered me a full-time job which I turned down. I then attended Borough of Manhattan Community College for a couple of years seeking a degree in Business Management. While in college, I applied to the NYPL for a page position. Since I already had typing skills, they hired me for a part-time clerical vacancy in the Adult Services department at the Mid-Manhattan Branch.

Over the course of thirty-one years I became full-time in the clerical pool and left Mid-Manhattan in the pursuit of branch life at the Parkchester Library—from there I worked in many branches in the Bronx. In 2006, I came to Morris Park Library to assume the duties of Clerical Supervisor. From there I moved to Throgs Neck Library and then was promoted to Library Manager at the Melrose Branch in 2010. After a couple of years I came back home to the Morris Park Library to fill the role as the Library Manager.  I often think public service is who I am, and the library is where I belong. I even have the library logo tattooed on my wrist! During my thirty-one year career at the library, I’ve raised two kids as a single mother, provided a Catholic School education and private college for my son who is twenty-four and living on his own in Queens and works in the field of Social work. My daughter is twenty years old and has Neurofibromatosis, which entails multiple health and educational needs. She is currently attending Cooke School in Manhattan and will be transitioning out of school in June; we are actively working on a plan for her.

RICHARD: What does a day in the life at the library look like for you?

DAWN: Well, my day always starts off with a 20 oz coffee with 1 sugar and half ‘n half; this will guarantee that anything and everything throughout my day can and will get done! So, I manage the day to day operations of the branch including information, circulation, outreach and programming services. One really interesting part of my job is that I get to play an interactive role in the overall functionality of my branch. I’m responsible for the appearance and layout of the branch, including developing and implementing strategies to enhance the onsite user experience. I am able to do this by using statistics and metrics in order to tailor services to meet local community needs and drive circulation and attendance. I also get to build partnerships with local businesses, community organizations, elected officials and community leaders to try and further strengthen the branch relationship with the diverse community that we serve. My job truly allows me to integrate the community with the library.

“Did you know if you’re a card holder you can read over 300,000 ebooks for free? All you have to do is login to culturepass.nyc and visit over 40 cultural institutions throughout the city to obtain your free passes.  You can even learn a new language...”

— Dawn Holloway

Dawn drinking her coffee

RICHARD:  I think most millennials today probably have not been to a library, at least not of their own free will. What could you tell our younger generation about the library that they might  not know? How could we educate them on the benefits of having a community library?

DAWN: This is tricky because I believe with the atmosphere that we provide and the programs we offer, we actually have a strong millennial presence here at my location. The one big takeaway is everything is FREE! Did you know if you're a card holder you can read over 300,000 ebooks for free? All you have to do is login to culturepass.nyc and visit over 40 cultural institutions throughout the city to obtain your free passes.  You can even learn a new language by visiting nypl.org/mango. Learn a million and one things on Lynda.com by visiting nypl.org/lynda.  The options are endless, take citizenship classes, ESL classes, literacy classes and so much more. How about watch 10 movies free on Kanopy with the simple use of your library card? Check out up to 50 books & 10 dvds at select Hub libraries and so much more!

RICHARD: I spoke with Herbert not too long ago and he mentioned something called the Bronx Book Box project. What is that exactly?

DAWN: Herbert and I came together to create NYPL Book Boxes which is being funded through an Innovation Project grant. The book box will serve an access point for members of the community to have books, as well as drop books off as a donation. Books will be available to anyone who wants one. We found three community organizations (Elected Officials and a Community Center) who will act as hosts of a NYPL Book Box. Books and program materials will be sent to these offices and their teams will make sure the boxes are clean and stocked with books in various languages to meet the needs of the communities they are located in. In addition, there may be more boxes purchased to meet the needs of the communities if their local library will be closed for a significant amount of time to meet facilities needs and renovations.

NYPL Book Box

RICHARD: What inspired you to start this project?

DAWN: During my travels I kept seeing these “Little Free Libraries” all over the place. I wanted to bring this project to life to meet the needs of underserved communities and bring awareness to the wealth of information and services that the NYPL provides. While working at Clason’s Point library, I chatted with Herbert many times about the little free libraries and came up with the initial plan to pitch our idea with the help of something called the Innovation Project. Launched in 2014 by the NYPL, the Innovation Project is a program that supports and funds the ideas of its staff members who propose concepts that would promote a positive change in culture in the community.

RICHARD: Did you face any pushback or negativity?

DAWN: Not at all; I mean staff all over the library voted us winners!  The only issue we are encountering now is there is little to no publicity for these projects.  We want to make sure that we can create a hashtag or Facebook, Twitter and Instagram account with the permission of the Library; this way we can do some self-promotion and create a buzz. Granted we haven’t delivered any Book Boxes yet because we’re currently focused on getting inventory and creating book plate labels translated into multiple languages.

RICHARD: What is your overall goal with the book box?

DAWN:  My goal is creating a judgment free zone as simple as bringing the books to communities who are vastly underserved and have limited opportunity for self-development. Getting books and information into the hands of ALL people who aren’t likely to visit their neighborhood library, whether it’s due to illiteracy, displacement, or not knowing that there is a library in their community.

A few books in Dawn’s office.

RICHARD: What do you love the most about the Bronx?

DAWN: You’re going to laugh. My favorite place on earth is “The Bronx Riviera - Orchard Beach”. I’ve been going there every summer for over 40 years.  If anyone ever needs to find me, even on cloudy Sundays they can catch me at section 7 on the left side of the blue wheelchair mat as close to the water’s edge as possible! My second favorite place, Yankee Stadium; I’m a diehard Yankee Fan! Annually I get to about 12-18 games and if you ask my kids where I want to be buried, they’d say, “Well Mom wants to be cremated, half goes to Orchard Beach the other half Yankee Stadium.”

“My goal is creating a judgment free zone as simple as bringing the books to communities who are vastly underserved and have limited opportunity for self-development.”

— Dawn Holloway

RICHARD: What was your favorite street pastime as a kid? Did you play manhunt, stickball, or just hang with friends?

DAWN: All of the above! We also played skelzy, we thought we were masters of weighing our caps down with just the right number of melted crayons. I was a bit of a tomboy, always hanging out with the boys. My mom had a collection of Time Life books that we would use to plan and build these hang out huts in the back yard or open lots around the neighborhood. They were made so well that sometimes we’d sleep in them overnight. Boy, times really have changed…stupid video games! I’m sort of glad I grew up working poor; we’d crumple up newspapers to make a ball when the Wiffle ball got roofed.

RICHARD: What are you most proud of, and it can be from your prospective as a Bronxite, an inspiring woman, or just as Dawn Holloway?

DAWN: I’m a proud Daughter, Sister, Mother, Friend, Colleague and Leader. I think all the hats I wear create who Dawn Holloway is. I still have hope that one day we will all live in harmony regardless of race, creed, color or finance. I’m proud to say that every day, I give it my all to be nice, to smile, and acknowledge and be kind.

RICHARD: Is there something that you can tell us about yourself that you want people to know?

DAWN: Shameless plug goes here--I’m a bit of a comedian. I am recognized in the City of New York as an ordained minister; I am authorized to perform marriage ceremonies, baptisms and funerals. I also make bachelorette cakes (naughty ones). I love 80’s and 90’s music, hip hop and R&B are my favorites, and I really love to dance and be social. Yankee Fan until I die.

Dawn’s work station.

“My job truly allows me to integrate the community with the library.”

— Dawn Holloway

Dawn’s Yankee collectible.

RICHARD: I wanted to thank you again Dawn for allowing me to conduct this interview and to get to know the real you. I am speechless and taken aback by your dedication and selflessness to such a wonderful cause. Your commitment to seeing the Bronx Book Box from initial idea all the way to launch, is something to be marveled by. You have honestly inspired me to continue to put others before myself and to be the best neighbor that I can be; also, your comments about having half of cremated remains going to Yankee Stadium made me laugh out loud. I truly hope that everything continues to move forward with this project and that you’re able to accomplish your goals. Knowing what I know about you now, I’m sure that you’ll have no trouble at all in being successful. Thank you Dawn for all that you do by making the Bronx a better place one book box at a time. You really are an inspiration.

DAWN: Richard, I want to thank you and Bronx Narratives for showing an interest in Dawn Holloway and the NYPL Book Box Project. I'll see you at Orchard Beach starting in May 2019!

Griot Man, Alhassan Susso: 2018 New York State Teacher of the Year

Observed on the cover page of the Inspiring Teens’ Futures Program Book

“Don’t wish for less problems, wish for more skills.” Jim Rohn

In the poorest congressional district in the United States, Alhassan Susso urgently arrives at work before school begins and leads zero period, or, the Inspiring Teens’ Futures program. Alhassan teaches his students about leadership, professionalism, and communication skills. But, it’s Alhassan’s mastery of communication that allows him to clearly connect with his pupils: “The more you learn and understand the world, the better you can see.” he says. Mr. Susso, who is legally blind and has lived with 20/80 vision in one eye for most of his life due to retinitis pigmentation (a rare disease that blinds by working its way from the periphery to the eye’s center), doesn’t let any obstacle stand in his way. Alhassan wakes up at 4:00 am every morning to travel four hours to and from work in the South Bronx. Alhassan’s relentless commitment to his students has been formed by personal hardship, tragedy and, most importantly, perseverance.

As the son of one of Gambia’s most renowned Griots, Alhaji “Papa” Susso of the Mandinka tribe, Alhassan knows the importance of communication, more specifically, the power of storytelling. “Griots have a long history dating back to the Mali Empire during the 13th Century. They were important to leaders as they helped them maintain power” says Alhassan. The Griot storyteller is responsible for preserving and orating the stories of West African families in order to keep the culture and traditions of their people alive. As a history teacher Alhassan helps his students better understand where they are in their own particular stories and how to create a vision for what they want in life. Mr. Susso often guides his class in creating Dream Boards (paper boards featuring magazine and print out clippings pasted onto them) to illustrate what students want to achieve and how to begin developing their goals and accomplishing them. This “show and tell” subtly allows Alhassan to teach his students the ways of the Griot, a reality they may not even be aware of.

“The future belongs to those with a clear sense of direction.”

— Alhassan Susso

At Bronx International High School all of the students are immigrants, like Alhassan once was, newly arrived and unsure of their new environment. To be admitted into the school, students must not have lived more than four years in the United States, and with sparse parental involvement in their daily lives (as many of them work multiple minimum wage jobs), assimilation can be tough. On a recent class trip to Philadelphia funded by the Rockefeller Foundation, Alhassan’s students were able to bond and develop camaraderie. “The trip really serves as the culmination of the things we learned in class,” says Alhassan “they become much closer than ever before and over the weekend they shared personal struggles and realized they’re in this together.”

When Alhassan arrived in America from Gambia at the age of sixteen, he enrolled at Poughkeepsie High School. It was there, under the tutelage of Alhassan’s favorite teacher, Ms. Felter, that the young man developed the skills that have propelled him to write a memoir, obtain a masters degree in education, and become the 2018 New York State Teacher of the Year. Among other things, Ms. Felter laid the groundwork for the Inspiring Teens’ Futures program by helping Alhassan find shelter when he was homeless and welcoming him to Poughkeepsie High with open arms. Ms. Felter‘s warmth and dedication to her students is visible to this day in Mr. Susso’s teaching methodology, as her practices of allowing students to keep their coats securely stowed away in her classroom and meeting with students before and after class to have one on one conversations, are some of the things that Mr. Susso often does. Ms. Felter’s belief in treating her students with respect and dignity allowed Alhassan to embrace his importance as an individual. Alhassan relates one of his favorite quotes to his favorite teacher “If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants, well, my giant was Ms. Felter.”

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In 2008, Alhassan and his family fought to bring his sister, Binta, to the United States after she had contracted Hepatitis B,  to properly treat her disease. Two conditions needed to be met in order for Binta to receive a visa to travel to the United States. First, a doctor and a hospital would need to be pre-arranged for Binta’s treatment upon her arrival in America. Secondly, proof of $25,000 for Binta’s treatment would need to be raised and presented to the American embassy in Gambia. Alhassan was able to arrange both requirements. Bronx Lebanon Hospital would host Binta and Dr. Umana (another Gambian in Alhassan’s journey) would treat her. The money for Binta’s treatment was lent to Alhassan by his boss Mark, the owner of the Stop and Shop where he bagged groceries at. After a seemingly well interview, Binta returned home enthusiastic about the impending visa she would be granted, but she never received the visa and to this day Alhassan doesn’t know why. “We provided everything that they had asked for and Dr. Umana even had a connection with the visa counselor. But they denied it.” says Alhassan.

After an ensuing four month legal battle Alhassan received a phone call, while eating a slice of pizza, that changed his life forever. On November 21, 2008 at 7:33 pm (around 1:00 am in Gambia), Alhassan’s father phoned him and simply stated “Your sister is gone.” Alhassan fainted. When he woke and got his bearings Alhassan called his grandmother, Aminata, who lived in Gambia who consoled him and tried to make him feel better. “You’ve done everything that you could for your sister,” said Aminata “now it’s time to move on.” But three hours later Alhassan received another phone call, once again it was his father, this time he said “Your grandmother is gone.” Aminata Susso died of a heart attack. In the Muslim tradition of his people Alhassan flew to his homeland the following day, buried his sister at 10:00 am, and his grandmother at 3:00 pm. Today they rest side by side in Gambia.

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The passing of Alhassan’s grandmother and sister are two of the events that have motivated him to help his students reach out and try to grasp the American dream, something that Binta was desperately trying to do. What gives Alhassan the greatest satisfaction as a teacher is the sight of his students on graduation day. “To see where they started, their daily progress, and where they are going brings me most joy.” says Alhassan. Whether it’s waking up early to attend Mr. Susso’s program or reading Victor Frankl’s, Man’s Search for Meaning in class, students are taught to never give up and to continue striving to obtain their dreams. Alhassan notes “Teens think their problems are cumbersome, but when they read about someone like Victor Frankl finding meaning in Auschwitz, they realize there is no problem they cannot solve.”  

The foreseeable future looks bright for Alhassan and the students of Bronx International High. A trip to Massachusetts is being planned for the spring and Mr. Susso’s popularity has already attracted Department of Education officials to observe the Inspiring Teens’ Futures program for other schools. After all, the school’s graduation rate shot up from 31% to over 80% since Alhassan arrived at Bronx International High. But in the meantime, the 2018 New York State teacher of the year is able to help his students remember where they came from, who they are and focus on where they want to go. Day by day, during every 8:00 am zero period, a Griot in the South Bronx helps his students tell their own stories.

Bronx Sidewalks Need a Cleanup

Take a walk down Bronx Boulevard and you’re sure to be greeted by food wrappers, used toothpicks and most notoriously, dog feces. In fact, at the Montefiore Medical facilities between East 234th and East 236th street, lab tests placed in outside pickup bins, sit just a few feet from piles of dog waste.

There are very few public litter baskets in this North Bronx community, so pedestrians tend to throw personal garbage right on the sidewalk. Although residents have the right to request public litter baskets, a September request for a litter basket was denied by the Department of Sanitation (DSNY). “It’s a low trafficked area and placing a litter basket there would attract further dumping,” James O’Connor, a Community Associate at DSNY informed Bronx Narratives.

However, with the presence of a cardiovascular facility, an OB/GYN and Geriatrics center, along with the Metro North Railroad Woodlawn Station just two blocks away, many would argue that the area receives a moderate amount of traffic – enough traffic to deserve a garbage bin.

“[The Department of Sanitation] should come clean the sidewalk, but they don’t.”

— Tanairy Gonzalez

Although street cleaning happens here six days a week, sidewalks are not included in that process. Business owners and employees on that street gave cleanliness a poor rating. Pedestrians have also spotted rats in the daytime. “[The Department of Sanitation] should come clean the sidewalk, but they don’t,” says Tanairy Gonzalez, a medical secretary at the OBGYN facility on the block.

And that’s where finger pointing and the blame-game come to play.

Tamar, a Customer Service Representative at NYC’s 311, says the DSNY is not responsible for sidewalk cleaning. They are only held responsible for garbage removal, street cleaning and snow removal. “Residential property owners must clean the sidewalks adjoining their property and 18 inches from the curb into the street.”

As for the neighborhood’s animal waste problem, there are no “Curb Your Dog” signs to remind dog walkers of their responsibility. In fact, since 2013, there has been a cutback on more than 1,000 dog waste signs, in an attempt to clear up sign clutter across NYC. At the time, former DOT Commissioner Janette Sadik-Khan told the New York Post that, “New Yorkers know they need to clean up after their dogs, so I don’t foresee any problems....”  Four years later and residents feel dog waste continues to be an ongoing issue.

Employees in the neighborhood also agree they have witnessed the DSNY police hand out more fines for parking violations than for dog waste.

According to the city’s Pooper Scooper Law, property owners are expected to clean up animal waste, even if the animal doesn’t belong to them. So when a dog litters on your sidewalk, if the dog walker doesn’t clean up, that waste becomes your responsibility. However, property owners do have the right to report any dog walkers who fail to pick up after their dogs. Property owners can call 311 or file a Dog or Animal Waste Complaint online. Violators are subject to a $250 fine. This law does not apply to Service Dogs being walked by those who have special needs.

Since Bronx Narratives began researching this story in late September, sidewalks have become visibly cleaner, proving that, neighborhood cleanliness is not just one party's responsibility. When the DSNY, property owners and pedestrians each do their part to pick up trash and properly dispose of litter, residents experience a cleaner, more improved Bronx.

Neighborhood Tales (Episode 01): Reynaldo Jefferson of Gun Hill Road

We're excited to share a new editorial series we've been working on called Neighborhood Tales. This was inspired by the idea of showing the diversity of Bronx neighborhoods and giving them more of a visual identity. First up, we have Reynaldo Jefferson of Gun HIll Road show us around. Watch below: