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Cristino Alberto Gómez Luciano
Cristino Alberto Gómez Luciano
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Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
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August 12, 2008 | 3:23 PM Comments  0 comments



Dios bendiga a los maestros
Related to country: Dominican Republic

Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

God blesses the teachers
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
Today the day of the teacher in the Dominican Republic is celebrated. I want to extend a general congratulation to all the teachers of the country and the world, men and women.

I take advantage of east day to remember one of the conversations that I have had with my first teacher of the school, professor Sebastián Trejo Go'mez, better well-known like Radhamés in which it told me that he from very small dreamed about the office of the education, mainly when reflecting on the readings of the catechism, through which knew the Teacher, Jesus, whose example inspired to him.

Thus it was: professor Radhamés began to exert the function finished his formal race in the university not well, which he attended every Saturday. It was nineteen or twenty years old. Memory the day in which it fulfilled the twenty or veintiuno (my mathematical one still was not even very good), when her mother went to congratulate it back in the small school where he gave classes to the three first degrees. It was year 1991. “This is the daughter older mine”, said the professor. I, who then was four years old, was believed it until listening to say to him that she was his mother, Doña Jacinta Go'mez Pichardo.

Before I fulfilled the four years, and five my brother Welcome Luis, both we had been instructed by our parents in the reading, and with them we had also learned the numbers of the one until the one hundred. Our Brunilda sister Catherine had happened to third, but she had been victim, next to all its companions of course, of a brutal action that his previous professor exerted, who to the transferred being reduced two degrees to all the children.

I remember like now who the companions in the three degrees, as well as other neighbors, amused with me requesting to tell to me up to one hundred. Small boy, that initially attended like listener (a species of preparation later to enter first, because we did not have prestudent), took care of the classes of all the courses and in few days it would understand the mathematical operations and texts destined for those of the second and third course.

The professor presented/displayed my case to the scholastic district, then, in spite of the little age that he had, reflected Radhamés, that boy counted on the capacity to take normal classes with the other students; it is more, with those of the second degree. Indeed, in days the supervisor from the district would get at a to evaluate the situation, reason why Radhamés asked for my parents who let to me go with him to study some words. Thus it was. In the morning of a Sunday, in house they put clothes and shoes to me, helping itself with a handle of a spoon to be able to me to put these last ones, because profe came.

The means of predominant transport era “the eleven”, as we called familiarly when walking on foot. The Radhamés teacher took me to the shoulder during the hour that separated our house of hers. There it taught the numbers to me of three numbers and it gave a reinforcing me in the lectoescritura. Soon it did a dictation to me of numbers and words.

That same week was the visit of the distrital supervisor, who limited itself to request to me that he drew a small house in the slate. I was admitted next to Luis in the first degree.

From that first educative experience, I had in Radhamés an excellent example of which it is to be a true teacher… the one that shares what knows unconditionally, with vocation and gives.

Later I was student of other true teachers, like Ignacio Ferreira, Teodoro Muñoz, Manuel of the Saints (today passed away), Darío Núñez, among others. Each one of them has contributed much to my formation, and is pleasing to remember that they have contributed with the education of thousands of young people in our communities.

Each one of that we have lived the beautiful experience to be student we have in our memory, in addition to the knowledge who has contributed to us, the memories that help us to recognize the excellent work time and time again that has made our teachers.

Dominican congratulations in this and every day, teachers. God fills to them of blessings.

Cristino Alberto Go'mez
30 of June of the 2008

June 30, 2008 | 7:45 PM Comments  0 comments



Los niños tampoco son becerros
Related to country: Dominican Republic

Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

The children are not yearling calves either
Automatically translated into English thanks to WorldLingo
By: Cristino Alberto Go'mez
Saturday 21 of June of the 2008

would enchant to Me to be able to say that it is not certain, that in only ínsula of the Caribbean shared by two nations it is not happening what during the last days they have been revealing mass media, and through them the organizations who are in charge to protect the human rights in countries both brothers.

Haitian children to four dollars? , he last night says the title of a information published by Univision.com, one of the means that are been giving pursuit to the subject.

I know that through the years the international community has incessantly been in charge to catalogue to the Dominican Republic like a country of racists, false asseveration that does not need the nature the scene that is lived in our island. Therefore, I notice the reader who the present article does not try to be part of this defamation, but to plead so that the children have right to a worthy life, of healthy physical growth, moral and intellectual.

According to the information appeared in newspapers, Dominican and Haitian networks of are in charge to kidnap those children and to take them to Dominican Republic. In some occasions their same parents give them to the dealers so that supposedly their children have a better life and they do not perish between the cruel claws of the misery that has sunk to them in the hopelessness.

Fifteen days ago a Haitian man was surprised dealing four young compatriots his, after an official of Ejercito Nacional (Dominican), border guard, let to him pass after the reasonable payment of 150 pesos gold through each boy. Is before which I cannot remain shut up! Memory at this moment the words of a text that Regino Father wrote Martinez in January of year 2006, in occasion of the death of 24 people of Haitian nationality within a closed van that transported to them through territory of the Eastern part of the island. In this writing, the Jesuit priest said: here we are not? cows? , we are human beings.

The children are not yearling calves either. They are not chickens that can be sold to 150 pesos, nor merchandise objects whose crossing pays a tax and that are exported from a country to another one. What destiny will have those children? This is the great question that until the moment has not had more answer than the indifference of the responsible organisms to make justice, which, instead of investigating thorough the situation in search of the best solutions, have been in charge to accuse of anti-Dominican to those who raise the voice to demand the respect to the rights that have so much Dominican and the Haitians like any other human being, not being concerned the country of the world where it has been born.

June 21, 2008 | 12:28 PM Comments  0 comments

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Corta Pie

¡Qué tenebrosa es la noche en Corta Pie! Se detiene el caminante cuando ve arriba dos luceros que le miran y caminan hacia él. Abajo suena profunda la voz que emite otro ser. Se paraliza y no sabe hacia qué lado coger. El canto triste de un ave le hace estremecer. "A tí sea, Padre Nuestro, todo honor, gloria y poder. Tú, Señor, que todo puedes, dame pies para correr". Cada vez está más cerca


June 16, 2008 | 3:06 AM Comments  0 comments

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Désespoir

La nuit mugit, Triste et vide. Les hiboux ressentent Ton absence et pleurent. Les lucioles Rehaussent tes yeux, Dessinent tes larmes Sur chaque feuille qu’ils éclairent et d’ou jaillissent mes poèmes. J'évoque ta peau Gracile comme le vent, Ton doux chant Qui rend suave mes nuits. Le silence me fait peur, Le silence de chaque seconde Infinie. Le temps m'indigne. Le cri strident des grillons


June 15, 2008 | 4:06 AM Comments  0 comments

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El galoncito

A Luis Bienvenido Ay, Manito. Ay, Manito que se va tu galoncito por el río. Se lo lleva la cañada. Va llenándose de agua. ¿Por qué no para? Hermanito, se te fue el galoncito y no sé si ha de volver. Ya no llores, hermanito. Seguro que en un ratito viene contigo. Cuando llegue hasta la mar lo veremos regresar, lleno de sal. Se ha perdido el galoncito. Ese era el más bonito del bohío.


June 14, 2008 | 10:06 AM Comments  1 comments

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Desesperación

La noche muge, triste y vacía. Sienten los búhos tu ausencia y lloran. Los cocuyos rehacen tus ojos, y dibujan tus lágrimas en cada hoja que aluzan de donde brotan mis versos. Evoco tu piel grácil como el viento, y tu dulce canto que endulzaba mis noches. Me asusta el silencio de cada segundo infinito. Me indigna el tiempo. El chillido de los grillos desespera mis oídos. Respiro. Cuento mil


June 13, 2008 | 4:06 AM Comments  0 comments

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Mejor educación; menos trabajo infantil
Translations available in: Spanish (original) | French | Italian | German | Portuguese | English | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic