“I chose to come here; I chose to tell a story; I brought love and stories here.” SADAGAT ALIYEVA WE THE INTER WOVEN AN ANTHOLOGY OF BICULTURAL IOWA SADAGAT ALIYEVA MELISSA PALMA CHUY RENTERIA EDITOR ANDREA WILSON Published by the Iowa Writers’ House www.iowawritershouse.org The BIWF program and We the Interwoven was made possible by an Art Project Grant from the Iowa Arts Council and the National Endowment for the Arts. First Edition Copyright © 2018 by Sadagat Aliyeva, Melissa Palma, and Chuy Renteria Author photos by Miriam Alarcón Avila and Sarah Smith Set in Garamond, Futura, and Painting with Chocolate Designed by Skylar Alexander Moore skylaralexandermoore.com Printed by Total Printing Systems in Newton, Illinois ISBN 978-1-732406-0-1 CONTENTS Foreword by Andrea Wilson .................................................................. i Acknowledgments .............................................................................. iii CHUY RENTERIA Artist Statement ..................................................................................... 1 A Story About Work ............................................................................ 3 Una historia sobre el trabajo .............................................................. 26 Translated into Spanish by Nieves Martín López, edited by Sergio Maldonado Maijoma, My Sister ........................................................................... 51 SADAGAT ALIYEVA Artist Statement ..................................................................................... 81 Two Little Cottages ...................................................................... 83 Four Brothers ...................................................................................... 87 First There Was Love ...................................................................... 90 The Moon Child ............................................................................. 96 Ay Uşağı ............................................................................................. 101 Translated into Azerbaijani by Sadagat Aliyeva MELISSA PALMA Artist Statement ................................................................................. 107 Mi último adiós ................................................................................ 109 ORD To CID .................................................................................... 111 ORD Sa CID .................................................................................... 114 Translated into Tagalog by Marissa Bender Filial Bonds ......................................................................................... 118 CVA ...................................................................................................... 126 The Woman in the Amber Moon ................................................... 138 Glossary by Artist .............................................................................. 145 Bios ..................................................................................................... 155 FOREWORD Iowa has long been home to people of many lands, from indigenous peoples, including our namesake, the Ioway; to European settlers making their way west; to new populations arriving today from Latin America, Southeast Asia, West Africa, and beyond. Whether they came for the promise of agricultural work or picturesque family life, for a fresh start or for a return to generational roots, all have become part of the fabric of our state, interweaving to form a vivid tapestry of diverse cultures that make up the greater culture of Iowa. While often overlooked as a flyover state, our fields of opportunity quietly house the dreams of residents from all backgrounds as we continue to evolve what it means to be of this place. The Bicultural Iowa Writers’ Fellowship (BIWF) was created to bring to light the writing of Iowans who are both of this place and of another. It is the only program of its kind in the state—a fully funded residency that provides the training and the platform for telling these essential stories. The program’s inaugural fellows are individuals as artists and as people, but they all have one thing in common: they call Iowa home. Each artist uses the genres that their talents most naturally express. Chuy Renteria found his voice best expressed in essay and short fiction, while Melissa Palma chose a combination of poetry, fiction, and essays to tell her stories. Sadagat Aliyeva gifts us not only with her mystical fables but also with a talent in illustration unlike any we’ve yet seen. This collection represents their unique experiences and amalgamation of influences, from the coast of Azerbaijan to the border towns of Mexico to the archipelago of the Philippines, all now firmly rooted here in the heartland. In these times it may be easy to fall back into divisions of Self and Other, but the stories in this book remind us that the experiences of being human are grounded in universal truths that we all share. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are the founding ideals of this nation, and we hope this collection encourages all of us to ensure these unalienable rights are extended to everyone. ANDREA WILSON Founder, Iowa Writers’ House vii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The Bicultural Iowa Writers’ Fellowship (BIWF) and resulting collection owes itself to a great many people: To Hugh Ferrer of the International Writing Program and to Iowa Poet Laureate Mary Swander for their early support and believing in the vision. To Lucas Benson and Katie Roche for their passionate support as we sought grant funding for the BIWF program. To Maggie Conroy, Jennifer Fawcett, and Alisha Jeddeloh for giving their time and talent to the fellowship experience. To Iowa State University students Amalie Kwassman, Kartika Budhwar, and Danielle Buchanan for their contributions as student readers and to professor Jennifer Knox for the student connections. To Ana Merino of the University of Iowa Spanish Creative Writing Program and Aron Aji of the Translation Program for connecting us with translation assistance, and to Nieves Lopez Martin, Marissa Bender, and Sergio Maldonado for their translations and in-language proofreading. To Alisha Jeddeloh for copyediting. To Skylar Alexander for the beauty of our book. To the Iowa Arts Council and the National Endowment for the Arts for making this entire program possible. To the supporters of the Iowa Writers’ House for believing in our organization and helping us get these stories out into the world. To the Iowa literary community and the City of Literature for celebrating the Writers’ House as an essential part of our literary world. ix CHUY RENTERIA ARTIST STATEMENT I grew up believing that my life was a conduit to making art. My small hometown of West Liberty, Iowa, nurtured that belief. Where cultures of people coexisted as litmus tests for America at large. Where Mexican and Laotian immigrants intermingled with small-town Midwestern values. I learned to draw before I could walk. Started my twenty-year dance career before learning how to drive. Began writing before I realized how important my perspective was to the collective. I have always wanted to use these forms to describe how it feels to be who I am. To document the passion of the people around me. To champion vibrant, messy cultural experience not reflected in popular culture. Ultimately I want my output to represent visceral humanness. Prose describing awkward cross-cultural exchanges. Ephemeral dances into the twilight of my career. I hope that people who experience my stories feel pangs of remembrance. That they see the root of our collective story. A STORY ABOUT WORK Chuy Renteria LET ME TELL YOU about my relationship with work. ’Cause if you’re Mexican in America, you have a relationship with work. And it doesn’t matter if you’re first generation, third, undocumented, or anything in between, it’s a complicated relationship. If you’re Mexican in America, work isn’t just work. Work is how people look at you if you have an accent. Work is how dark you get when you work construction. Work is what happens when you are a bunch of Mexicans on the roof of a white person’s house. Paisas and coconuts—undocumented middle-aged men and college kids who can’t speak Spanish—all on one roof. But to the people driving along the road, we’re one and the same and hidden. Mexicans on a roof, doing a job the drivers would rather not do. One of the first jobs I had was at the grocery store. Produce section. I applied and they responded the same day. The conversation started with technicalities, availability and contacts, but veered when the HR person on the phone asked if I was responding to their ad. I wasn’t. I just needed a job and applied. The ad was for individuals who could speak English and Spanish. I don’t remember if they asked for Mexican-Americans specifically, I don’t know if they can legally do that, but that was exactly what they were looking for. HR lady asked me point blank: “You can speak to our Spanish-speaking customers then, right?” If we have a strained relationship with work, then first- generation Mexican-Americans feel that strain compounded due to Spanish. Here’s the thing: I can understand Spanish . for the most part . the percentage number I throw out is 80 percent understanding. My parents talk to me all in Spanish and I reply with this jilted, jagged Spanglish. It’s for the most part English with a few peros and comos peppered throughout. My wife even pointed out that my English changes when I talk to