Santo Domingo on the Edge

Flashback: Dominican Republic, March 2004.

There is no beach in Santo Domingo, port capital of the Dominican Republic. The waves crash right up almost to the edge of the interminable seaside drive. No restaurants along the shore, hardly, just casinos that flash and flicker from the other side of the road. The drive from the airport at night along the oceanside is a long zoom through neon and open flame, the faraway casinos and burning trash.

Further inland, the colonial home of Diego Columbus—the country’s flagship cultural heritage site—appears about ready to slide down the bank of the Ozama River on its way to the Caribbean. The house perches on the edge of the rather dutifully named Plaza de la Hispanidad, a concept and setting wholly maintained by the mulatto descendants of Spaniards and Africans. Yet the visitor to Santo Domingo would search in vain for the Plaza de la Africanidad. Perhaps there is no such named plaza because in fact all plazas in the city are so inherently African that there is no need to commemorate such an identity. But the identity to exalt, especially with regard to the Haitian crisis on the other edge of the island, is the European one. Dominicans tend not to think of themselves as Black, because then they'd be Haitians.

In all of Latin America, the Dominican Republic is the only nation to have won its independence from a non-European country. The struggle was won against Haiti, itself newly independent from France. But the new nation sought successfully to become a Spanish colony again! When it finally won independence from Spain in 1865, it was in fact its second battle for independence. The Dominican Republic was occupied by US forces twice during the twentieth century. Arguably the Dominican Republic, like many other nations on small to mid-size islands, will always have trouble defending its sovereignty. Still, everything looks good for Dominicans when they compare their situation to that of Haiti. I happened to be in Santo Domingo shortly after Haitian president Aristide stepped down / was removed from power. Dominican soldiers, just returned from Iraq, sealed the border. There were some refugees and UN workers staying at our conference hotel. I saw a popular Dominican TV host interview a top Haitian official, in Spanish, about the crisis.

But the Haitian situation seemed much less important to Dominicans than their own impending presidential elections. A taxi driver, who had completed his law degree, told me rather dryly that he would kill president Mejía if he won re-election (Mejía lost to popular candidate Leonel Fernández in May 2004). In March, everywhere I looked people wore the colors of Fernández’s party, so I’m hoping Dominicans celebrate the fact that their votes were counted and respected.

Off the coast of Santo Domingo sits the massive Columbus Lighthouse. It’s shaped like a huge cross when seen from above, some twenty stories high. The building contains the remains of Christopher Columbus (a claim disputed by Spain), while the lighthouse on top is diminutive in comparison. It is a source of pride for only a few Dominicans; for most, it is a reminder of profligate governmental spending on grandiose projects that do little to help the everyday conditions of the populace. Beyond the beach, tourism in the country seems to be moving away from Columbus-mania toward ecotourism and African and indigenous culture tourism. Here’s hoping the Dominican Republic can wean itself off Columbus and his highly ambiguous legacy, to focus instead on the vibrant cultural manifestations of today.