We arrived in La Romana a little after five in the afternoon.   We stopped in one of its barrios, in front of two houses.  We found a group of people chatting happily below a cement gazebo and on the green grass in the front yard that both houses shared.  Some of the passengers were unknown to me; I had seen others in the other trip.  Among those, I saw Ana, the young lady that lost her camera at El Macao Beach. I approached her with a smile, and told  her:

      ---God, young lady, you're still in this! You're tough!

      She laughed and commented:

      ---Since we decided to get into this, we have to go through with it until the end.  Any way, we're screwed here ---A few seconds later she added:

      ---I live here with my mother ---and pointed to one of the two houses, and while referring to the other house, she said:

      ---See that guy over there, he lives right there ---she was referring to Pedro, who was having a meeting with Leo, Jose and Frank.  They were discussing something.

      ---Ana, will you give me a glass of water ---I told her--- It's hot, I'm thirsty.

      She walked up to her house.  I waited at the door.  When I had drunk the water, I asked:

      -Is your mother going too?

      ---My mother? Oh no! She thinks it's crazy.  That's my mother.  Her name is Maria -she was pointing to a fifty year old woman, tall, with spanish features.  She seemed to be pleased with the presence of so many people.   She was happily chatting  with some of them. We  are old friends of Pedro and Augusto -Ana added. I asked:

      -What about your girlfriend?, the one that accompanied you on the other trip.

      ---Carmen?  She got scared.  She said  for nothing in the world would she get in another yola. And what about the cibaeño that was with you?  Is he here too?

      ---No. He's not.  I think he got scared, just like your girlfriend.

      After talking with Carmen, I joined one of the groups.  She went back to talking with the people with whom she was conversing before I interrupted her.

      Maria and Pedro's were the last houses on this street.

Facing them, on the other side of the street, was an abandoned half-built basketball court.  Past this, the land stretched out to the East and South without any houses built upon it. Only weeds covered those lots where it was evident that an earlier construction of houses and streets had been stopped long ago.

      Quite some time after we arrived, Leo left with Jose and Frank.  Pedro stayed with the group.  Before their departure, Leo informed us:

      ---We're going to make some contacts and inquiries to have everything ready so we can leave before midnight.

      After the three organizers left, many of the passengers were talking to Pedro.  I got interested in what they were saying. Not long before, I had noticed Pedro with Leo's group.  But by what he was saying and by some passengers' questions, I realized that instead of being an assistant to Leo in matters concerning these trips, Pedro used to organize trips to Puerto Rico by himself.

      ---When things are going to happen, they just happen ---said Pedro as he answered some passengers questions about his last, disastrous voyage.  His account of the shipwreck did not seem to discourage anyone.  Four months had gone by since the tragedy: the yola that he was navigating sank while trying to cross the Canal de la Mona.  Of fifty shipwrecked, only twelve survived until the morning of the following day when the Puerto Rican Coast Guard rescued them almost dead; some were found grasping boards of the destroyed yola, other were hanging onto empty fuel tanks.  When Pedro was brought to Santo Domingo, in spite of some accusations, he always denied that he had organized the trip.

      ---I was tortured; but some friends of mine helped me to gather enough money to get out of jail -Pedro explained-.  Now I'm up to my eyeballs in problems.  I can't even make any money.  Some mother fuckers have been spreading stories about the death of my passengers.  The worst thing of all is, señores, the brothers of two of those who died tried to kill me the other day.  As if I were to be blame for their death...-

      And telling us about his problems and  his trips, Pedro entertained us for several hours; enough time for Leo and the other organizers to return from making their contacts and inquiries.  When I say contacts, I refer mainly to an aspect noticed by anyone who has become involved in making one of these illegal trips to Puerto Rico:  Some members of the coast guard authority, after receiving a large sum of money from these organizers, allow the boats to be launched at all costs.  Leo was splendid when it came to spending.  And when I say inquiries, I'll limited myself to say that the most important of them was to investigate the one element that would ruin all the plans: to find that the latest forecasts of the atmospheric conditions for the next few days was going to be very adverse to make the trip.  Consenting on some passengers petitions, Maria brought her TV out to the front yard.  We were all attentive to the Ten O'clock News.  The last thing was the forecast. It said: "- -... there  will be strong rainstorms, the winds will blow from East to West at a speed of more than a hundred kilometers per hour...- on the North and East coasts there will be swells that will rise up to twelve feet high.  Meteorology recommends that small tourist and fisher ships not set sail.

      ---Oh shit! And now what are we going to do? ---lamented a passenger, and his question was the beginning of a chaotic interchange.  The deliberation took quite a long time. Many were expressing reservations and were accusing the organizers of bad planning because of the last minute information.  But other passengers were presenting solutions.  After having analyzed the problem, Leo gave the final veredicto:

      ---It's impossible for us to leave with these bad reports; as soon as they change we'll depart.  Those of you who live far away should stay in La Romana until we leave.  Those who leave run the risk of being left behind.  At the moment we depart, we'll take off only with those who are present.  We won't be looking for or informing anybody.

      That night those of us who were not from La Romana slept distributed between the two houses: women stayed at Maria's house and men at Pedro's. We slept on top of some clothes  that we threw on the floor.

      The following day I awoke aching to the bones and still sleepy, since the last few days I hadn't slept due to the tension of waiting for the trip.  I remained flat on the floor until ten in the morning.  Then I stood up, picked up my school bag that I had used as a pillow and with it I went into the bathroom to take a shower.  But there was no water: when I opened the faucet of the lavatory, I could not get a drop of water. "What a shame!, I thought, here it's just like in my barrio: although  there are faucets there's no water".  In my barrio we got the water from a nearby public faucet but here I did not know where to get it.  Nevertheless, I headed to the living room.  There were people murmuring and laughing.  I found Pedro at the table with three other young men and Maria, Ana's mother.  They all looked at me at once, and one of the young men said with a smile:

      ---Hey, come and take your turn!

      I knew it was cocaine, the substance they had spread on the table.  They had been insisting that Maria should try it. I was astonished.  I had only seen that drug in magazines, movies and books.  But I hid my amazement and answered quick and naturally.  And, in order not to look stupid, I chose to answer in the same style that the young man spoke to me, which is used by many of the young men of our barrios:

      ---No, my loco! I don't do that.  What I need is water to take a shower or at least to wash my face.

      Then, Maria, who had blushed the moment she saw me, said with a hoarse voice:

      ---This barrio only gets water during the very early morning hours.  At any rate, go to my house; I have two tanks filled. These guys haven't got anything here.

      I intended to leave when I heard Maria.  But another of the young men at the table spoke to me in a loud voice.  I was closer to them than to the door and turned to look at who was taking to me.  He stared at me with a wicked smile. He was black, around twenty five years old, dressed in a white t-shirt whose jaggedly cut sleeves, nearby his shoulders showed his lean strong arms.  He had a cigarette behind one ear.  This young man looked even stronger than Pedro, although he was short, just like Pedro.  He stood up to speak to me.  He told me with great pride:

      ---"Loco", I'm -"La Fiera"-! ---he extended his hand to greet me.  I consented.  And when he got my hand, he did not want to free it.  He tightened it so hard that he was hurting me.

      ---You're from the Capital! Aren't you? ---he inquired.

      ---Yes.  From Las Cañitas ---I answered timidly.  And he, still wearing his evil smile, added:

      ---Then, come on and take a pass!  Or don't tell me that you're from the Capital or even less that you're from Las Cañitas!

      I asked him to let go of my hand, but he did not pay any attention.  Then Pedro in his usual loud voice, shouted  to him:

      ---Fiera, what's wrong with you? Leave that kid alone!

      I felt relieved, because, just then La Fiera freed my hand, sore and red.  I walked out at once. In the front yard, a group of fellow passengers was chatting under the gazebo.  I joined them after washing up.

      At one o'clock in the afternoon, Leo arrived.  He brought supplies with which Doña María prepared food for everyone.  Then we were told that from that time on, we would have to contribute money in order to buy the supplies that Doña Maria would use to cook.

      After lunch, most of the people gathered together in front of the two houses.  Under the influence of a few bottles of rum, some continued playing cards, telling stories and jokes, gossiping or making plans.  Since this was an election year, of course, people spoke about politics.  Some other passengers, instead, were watching TV at Doña Maria's house.  They could not do this at Pedro's.  At this house there was only a bed and a dinning room table.  The other furniture had been taken by Pedro's wife when she left him very soon after he was out of jail. Pedro was also in the yard, sitting on one of the benches.  It was he who spoke the most.

      ---There is nothing like Puerto Rico! ---said Pedro, animated---.  I have a girlfriend there!; she is such a pretty young woman! She is as beautiful as a movie star.  She has always wanted to marry me, but since I was  with a woman here, I didn't do  any thing... This Puerto Rican has a body you've just got to see!  In Puerto Rico clothes are practically free and with two hundred dollars you can buy a car..! Besides, there, you can buy the same rums we get here.  And, the music, just like here, you can hear a lot of Merengue and Salsa.

      ---Among other things, said Pedro excited---:

      ---I swear on my mother's grave that when we get there, I won't come back!  The only thing that  happens here is that things get more screwed up day after day.

      Pedro's stories, somehow, must have nourished my longing to get to Puerto Rico.  I did not have any reason to doubt his words.

      Before sunset, I spoke to Leo.  I explained:

      ---Its very uncomfortable for me to stay here.  And who know how long we'll have to wait!  I'm going back home.  When we are ready to depart let me know and I'll return.

      ---Don't give up hope ---he told me, as he rested his hand on my shoulder---; we'll leave any moment now. I don't want to leave you behind.  You have given up a lot of things to get into this.

      I did not insist on returning home anymore.  Besides the reasons given to me by Leo, I would hate to have to give more explanations to my mother.  As well, I did  not want to incur any more travel expenses.  At night fall, there was still no word on when we might depart.  It was then that Leo referred me to Herman Méndez.  He was a fat man, about forty five years old who was always dressed up, called -"Síndico"- by every one.  While Leo was explaining my situation, the Síndico was looking me over head to toe with his big scrutinizing eyes.

      ---No problem! ---after a few seconds, said the Síndico---. He can sleep in my house until the trip departs.

      That very same night,  I began to sleep at Herman's.  He shared his house with a younger brother.  I was allowed to sleep on an sofa that was in the living room.  It was a very old piece of furniture, but quite comfortable.  Herman was talkative and very affable.  From the beginning I wanted to know why people called Herman -"Síndico"-.  The people soon answered me.  And also Herman himself explained that it was due to the fact that he really was mayor of the Guaymate municipio of La Romana province, during the Antonio Guzmán Fernandez presidency (from 1978 to 1982).  After Herman occupied the mayor's office for four years, he abandoned politics because of some internal problems  that were affecting his party (PRD) Dominican Revolutionary Party and were causing personal problems for him.  One day when  Herman was answering some of my questions, I asked him:

      ---Why don't you try to get a visa to the United States? You are a politician who has occupied important positions in this country; I doubt that they would deny you a visa.

      He looked at me calmly and proudly said:

      ---I had a five---year visa.

      I did not doubt his words, nevertheless, he entered his bedroom and immediately returned with his passport.  It was a red passport just like the one I sent to Puerto Rico together with my clothes.

      ---This is my passport ---he said. I brought it up in front of my eyes and I could see that, besides the expired visas, the document had been stamped with several entrances to the United States.

      ---I have insisted that my visa be renewed but I haven't realized it yet.  You see, obtaining a visa gets more difficult every day;  I've decided to go with these people to Puerto Rico.  I have a bunch a good friends there.  They'll help me to get ahead.  Any way ---concluded Herman---, don't mention the fact that I'm making this trip.  You know how people are; they start asking questions and gossiping.

      I was surprised that Herman asked me such a thing, because,  at that moment, it was not news that he would make the trip.  This was, instead, one of the few interesting things to talk about in order to kill the long hours of waiting.  Although for the other passengers, the ex-mayor's decision seemed absurd, to me it did not.  I slept  and ate at Herman's, therefore, I knew that each corner of his house showed poverty, that its walls were clamoring for paint; that it had few furnishings that had seen better days; that the water ---just like in neighbors' houses--- did not have enough pressure to allow one drop to come out of the faucets.  Besides, at Herman's, wood had to be used to cook because there was no gas for the stove.  In order to prepare the lunches,  I would give Herman some change and he would leave riding a borrowed motorcycle; he went out trying to stir up enough money to buy the supplies needed to cook a very cheap meal: usually rice and eggs or rice and sardines.