The Broken Pipe

The problem with resiliency has nothing to do with how well a community recovers after a disaster. It has to do with the frequency of the disasters and how recovering becomes habitual. Getting used to the disaster; that’s my greatest fear.

This isn’t new. For years, while growing up in Arecibo, I remember seeing the same broken pipe down the street from my house. I’ve visited many times and the same pipe remains broken; it already seems part of the natural background. That small fracture in our daily lives, faced with the need of survival, wasn’t seen as urgent and was left aside. Because of the broken pipe, the community of El Cerro always was the first without water and the last to have it restored. Sooner or later, their water always came back, so the issue was ignored. To make matters worse, if those families had no running water, they couldn’t send their children to school, enabling future school dropouts. Being fucked became a habit with the broken pipe. Those things inconvenienced our daily lives, and by focusing on the ever-evolving problem, we didn’t stop to hold the authorities in charge accountable. Those hurdles became distractions that allowed other disasters to manifest behind us. Do you see where I’m going with this?

The people don’t need a resiliency bandage when its government sees them as a problem. For us, the issue always becomes larger: from paying ridiculously high electricity bills, the question has now become when will the power be restored. Meanwhile, for elected officials, the solution has always been how to portray any problem from a generalized view, instead of focusing on the specific needs of any given community. While a single person tries to micromanage their dilemmas, the government dissolves that person’s autonomy into an anonymous "mass” that at the end of the day, no one recognizes.

It’s the problem with colonialism. And, knowing some people will read this and tell me that we’re not a colony, I’ll ask you beforehand to look up the definition of colony. Since the American invasion, it has been documented how Puerto Rico has been treated as a territory and only that. Like no one lives there. There are conversations about its geographical position, the commercial benefits it offers, how it was granted as spoils of war, and its role as an extension of the United States. The people had already been tired of being resilient against Spain, fighting for its independence for decades. With the change in sovereignty, the problem worsened, just like the broken pipe. The U.S. wanted to change our language through education, and the struggle against that ended in 1947, officializing Spanish as the teaching language in the nation’s public schools. English remained as a subject in schools as a ghostly reminder.

Agricultural measures worsened the problem, implementing the monoculture of sugar and therefore, displacing many small farmers that started migrating from the inlands to the coast and metropolitan areas. When that model no longer worked, Puerto Rico’s industrialization didn’t generate enough jobs for the thousands of unemployed peasants. The verdict for the consequent hunger and uncertainty was overpopulation and many traveled to the mainland. Some were sterilized to avoid contributing to the “problem,” about 35% of our women. Others were sent to give their lives in foreign wars. The problem always worsens, and we continue to make the ultimate sacrifices. 

You see, for those who migrated to the U.S. at the time, the English language, discrimination, and poverty became the broken pipe. This, without mentioning the isolation and mental instability. For those who stayed behind, the broken pipe looked like a different color of corruption every four years, surviving natural phenomena, and receiving federal aid to which we are entitled, but also needing it in order to survive. Little by little, a nation that cultivated its own land and ate its produce was displaced by external interests, and by the end they were expected to be grateful for the crumbs thrown at them. Conditioned gratitude is also a type of resilience.

Historically, we are predisposed to getting used to disasters, and that’s what I fear the most for my homeland. It’s my greatest fear because, on top of that, Puerto Rico is tired and continues to get scourged with chaos without fully recovering from previous disasters. The worst part? The business vultures and dishonest politicians know it. The way Puerto Rican issues are portrayed in the mainland media gives the impression that the magic formula for perpetuating disasters has been discovered. A tired nation can’t fight. And without a fight, its soil becomes no man’s land.

So, what am I doing discussing Caribbean issues from the diaspora? Well, offering an outside perspective. From here, I clearly see what we were, unfortunately, never taught in school: the solution is among us. When I see people putting their excess produce on the street so others can take them for free, cooking for the community, posts from those whose utilities are up and running so others may come over to use them, that’s when I notice the bountiful willingness of our people. What’s missing: determination and great effort. Above all, the belief that as a community we have the tools to turn those days of resiliency into days of promise and progress. It is vital to invest in local organizations and projects generated in Puerto Rico. We must explore once more the ability and willingness that we possess to survive as a nation. Former generations achieved it, and I believe their experiences shouldn’t be seen as our history, but as an instruction manual on how to reclaim the inheritance they’ve left us. 

I want you to know that I write from my personal experience of living in Puerto Rico for 16 years. I admire our ability to see possibilities where others see difficulties. Many years ago, in the middle of winter, the hot water boiler in the building I lived in gave in. The tenants wouldn’t stop complaining and threatening the management. So, being a jíbaro’s granddaughter, I boiled a pot of water, added it to a cold one, and gave myself one of those baths many of you are preparing right now. That’s what we’re made of.

For now, rest and recover from the disaster…

…but please, don’t forget the broken pipe.