Writing my novel::Mami Luana
08/09/2009

A real-life Dominicana was also the inspiration for Domingo's mother, Mami Luana, another main character in Family of Strangers.  Like the fictitious version, the flesh-and-bone Mami Luana is “as strong and life-giving as a tree.”  Like Luana, she is good-natured, but doesn’t take any bullshit.  She once prevented our party of pleasure seekers from becoming inadvertently caught up in a crowd of drunken brawlers simply by lifting her skirt to reveal a knife strapped to her leg.  Without a word, the brawlers tumbled off in another direction. 

Like the fictional version, the real-life Luana also channels St. Michael, the Archangel of Heaven.  The word “channels,” however, implies some type of control over the process, while in reality our heroine has none.  When St. Michael is sufficiently pissed off about something, he commandeers Mami Luana’s body and lets his outrage be known.  Several of the visitations I describe in the novel are taken from actual visitations I witnessed.  Be forewarned:  if this St. Michael is a preview, heaven is not a boring place filled with harpists on clouds.

Other qualities of the fictional Mami Luana reflect the real-life woman: she is the gravitational center of her family, a resourceful manager of whatever meager resources come her way, a sought-after spiritualist, a loyal friend, and despite her plain appearance, in full command of her sexuality—living proof that sex appeal is an inside job.  She is also a feminist.  The scene in Family of Strangers where she chastises her son for dancing with another woman while he’s out with his girlfriend, Alyssa, is la verdad.  Verbatim.

Soon we were joined by Fortunato, one of Jaime’s oldest and best friends.  Although Fortunato had a long-time girlfriend with whom he lived, he was here at the bar with an underage girl, who sat down on his lap.  The girl appeared to be brain-damaged in some way, but had nothing wrong with her in the looks department.  She was dressed provocatively and wriggled uninhibitedly on Fortunato’s lap, which obviously aroused him.  He grinned at Jaime and said that the girl was expecting his baby in seven or eight months.  Jaime congratulated him, while I sat stunned, asking, “What about your girlfriend?”

Fortunato shrugged.  “What about her?”

“Are you going to break up with her?”

“No,” Fortunato replied.

“Are you going to support this girl’s baby?” I continued, growing more incensed by the moment.

“Maybe you shouldn’t comment on situations you know nothing about,” Jaime cautioned.

“Maybe someone should comment on the fact that that one of this country’s major problems seems to be that people keep having babies no one can support,” I countered.

“Maybe you don’t know anything about it,” Jaime repeated, more sharply.

I sat back, furious, but not knowing what more I could say.  Jaime got up and asked the girl to dance—both to please himself and to rub my nose in the fact that I was a female in an unashamedly male culture. 

Although I was too angry to talk when Jaime returned to the table, Mami Luana was not.  She quietly challenged Jaime’s decision to dance with another girl while he was out with me. 

“What of it?” Jaime answered.

“Carlos doesn’t dance with another woman if he’s with me,” Luana observed.

Jaime looked at Carlos, who returned Jaime’s gaze and squeezed Luana’s leg under the table.

“She’s a guest in this country and shouldn’t criticize things she knows nothing about,” Jaime said sullenly.

“Even a stranger can see what’s obvious,” Luana returned, as calm as ever.  “And if she’s your woman, why don’t you support her?”

Jaime sulked, but I felt a deep appreciation for his mother blossoming in my chest.

Photo of faux "Mami Luana and her daughter" courtesy of www.traveladventures.org