¡Viva el dominicano!

[Your Papi, Hanari Carnes]

El humo del rifle llena el aire, es el olor y los sonidos de la rebelión



The smoke from the rifle fills the air, is the smell and sounds of rebellion. 

Sometimes when something isn't working out, democracy isn't the answer. Sometimes it needs to be overthrown, it needs to fall at the whim of gunpowder and human will. Sometimes, change is bad, but sometimes, change is for the best. Sometimes, all it takes is the want to. Nations are founded and shaped by the will of the humans running them, the people humping to make a living every day, not the politicians in suits who delegate in an attempt to regulate but never seem to have anyone but themselves in mind. Sometimes force is the only way to make a point. The Caribbean is an uneasy place where political change is as quick and easy as some gun powder and a couple of bullets.



The people live free and easy now because if they don't like something, they feel like they have the power to change it. Blood stains from generations past still stain the beaches and trees grow from the nourishment of the rotting bodies buried below them. Bullets change governments far faster than votes do.



People hate dictators, but are so quickly transformed into dictators themselves. Sheep in the fields, and they want all the grass for themselves. People want the best life for themselves, they don't want to be controlled by systems and politics. People want power, control, and they want to hide it under the illusion of "hope". There is no hope, there is only ego. Politicians preach hope, but all they want is to take away that control and package it in a way that makes you feel like you have it. They make you feel safe all while taking your liberties for themselves more and more and more.



That is why you need to take it into your own hands sometimes, why you need to, as a person, do your civic duty and be the change you want to see.

Four Years Ago:

The ocean was rolling in, the beach with the pristine white and the water with its blue hue. Sitting in a lawn chair, puffing a cigar with one hand and reaching down to pick up his rocks glass with the other, Hanari Carnes was enjoying life. As much as he loved the Dominican, he was anxious about getting out, anxious about his upcoming debut, and anxious for the first time in his life being in the United States. Picking up his glass, he swirled it, the ice clicking against the edges, he took a sip. Setting it back down he brought the cigar back to his mouth. "Hanari!, Hanari!" people walked by him on the beach, waving. The entire country was behind him, and it made him feel good. He could bring a little pride back to a country that often gets overlooked.



Sitting up in his chair, Hanari took another sip and stood up. A man was walking down the beach towards him, holding a manila folder. The man was well dressed, almost in a full three piece suit, save a few details, despite the heat, and tipped his hat towards Hanari when he saw him. The two men came together, and shook hands. Hanari smiled when he saw the envelope had a customs stamp on it.



"Tu pasaporte está listo, Hanari" the man told him. He handed Hanari the envelope and the newest member of the XWF roster opened the top with excitement. Pulling out a passport, he flipped through it like one of those old cartoon flip books, and then opened just the front flap and looked at his photo.



"Camina conmigo (walk with me)", he puts a hand on the mans shoulder. The two walked up the beach towards the cabana bar.

Dialogue spoken in Spanish, this is the translation:

"I leave tomorrow for America", Hanari said. "I get to start off in the wrestling business and I couldn't be more pleased. It is a new start for me, a new start for my family, and a paycheck that is actually made the honest way."

"The community is sure going to miss you, Hanari. You've become quite the public figure. The children follow you when you walk, the people leave their houses to get a glimpse of you when you pass by, the homeless even stand up."

Hanari looked at the man, the took another puff of his cigar.

"My entire life, I have done what I needed to do to get by. My parents were survivors of the civil war that damn near tore this nation apart. We grew up with nothing, but I wouldn't want it any other way. I learned to value the little things, to enjoy life because I have learned with my own two eyes that you only get one of those."

The two men reach the bar, sitting down. Hanari continues to puff on his cigar. They both order drinks and the attractive girl behind the bar smiles and bites her tongue through her teeth after a vintage Hanari wink.

"My parents lived through the El Jefe times. Coming up, I had learn to make due with what I had. But the main thing I learned was respect. I learned to respect my people, my country, my family, because I had nobody else worth respecting. I have learned that respect goes a long way. These people, they respect me because I have busted my ass every day to make sure that they do."

The attractive bartender sets both drinks down and Hanari slides a 50 Dominican Peso towards her, well more then the price of the two drinks.

"But this life, sure, its good, but there is so much more to see. So much more out there to experience. Here I am, at my age, and I have never left the island. I want to see the world, I want to experience the things that the normal Dominican doesn't get to, and I want to bring those experiences back home."

The man sipped his drink, pulling a cigar out of the inside of his coat pocket.

"But you aren't a wrestler, Hanari. You aren't even a fighter."

"I will fight if I have to fight, brother!"

"That is the point, you don't have to fight. You are choosing to embark on this crusade of yours to earn a paycheck in American Dollars and bring notoriety and fame to yourself. You've never been about yourself, why change that now?"

Hanari ashed his cigar in the ashtray, took a sip of his new drink and looked down with a smile. Looking back up he touched the well dressed man's shoulder.

"Look at this, Pedro, look at this place. Look at how we live. This is paradise to some, but those people are ignorant. This isn't paradise. The beach, the ocean, yes, that is all nice, but go a mile in shore and the people are starving, Pedro! Shacks, boarded up buildings, overgrown weeds. Disease, hunger, drugs, gambling. This is my home and I love my home, but maybe I need to bring a sense of pride back to these people. Maybe I need to be the one to show the world that the Dominican Republic is more than just a few resorts and some beaches. Maybe I need to be the one to put this nation on the map, give them some pride to re-build everything that the generation before us fought for!"

He took a sip of his drink.

"Pedro, I have been training in the gym for countless hours to perfect this craft. This is what I want to do, and it is what the country needs! They need a champion."

Pedro lit his cigar, the smoke billowing in the slight ocean breeze as the orange flame overtook the perfectly rolled brown leafs.

"You have been training, eh? And just what is it you expect when you get to America? What is it you expect when you first get into that ring? Pride? Glory? Wealth?"

"There is more to it than that, Pedro. Do you remember when we first got color TV's here? When we were kids and we only got one or two channels, and those channels were fuzzy, but we thought it was the greatest thing in the world? Our parents hated it because we didn't want to play outside as much--we were captivated! Then we found wrestling one day, do you remember, friend? The ooh's and ahh's, the eye pain the next day from watching it for far too long in our dark living rooms? The moves we would practice on each other? The dreams and visions of one day doing it? What happened to those? You work for the government and I am...well....an entrepreneur. We watched it then because we loved it. I am not doing this because I want to become something different in life, I am doing it because of the way it made us feel. The freedom it gave us. When we would come home and have to eat leftover rice and empanada's because we couldn't afford new ones. When the clothes we wore became who we were because we wore them everyday. Simple times, great times, free times. Free to be a kid, free to do what we pleased despite the chains kept on us everday by society. I am doing it for us, Pedro, for that freedom it let us feel when the world around us was so dark! I do this for what we've gone through, for what our families have! I may not succeed right away but best believe I will not give up. I cannot give up."

The man was halfway done with his cigar now, and Hanari set his now empty drink back on the bar.

"I appreciate you getting my passport squared away, Pedro. I leave in the morning, and I just hope you will watch me in that ring Saturday Night and get the same joy out of it as we did as kids. That is all I ask."

He called over the attractive bartender and wrote down his number on a piece of paper. She smiled, biting her lip.

Pedro smiled, Hanari smiled. The Dominican had a reason to hope again.

PRESENT DAY:



“Santa Mierda! That chica is fast! If OCW management was as fast at getting my visa approved as Vicky Stone was at opening her dick trap, Hanari Carnes would have been partying in Miami as a Campeón OCW months ago! Instead, I sit around and watch mis amigos from XWF make their debuts in ‘chaotic’ fashion, I watch Sideshow Susan become Campeón OCW, and I watch all the pretty females OCW has to offer live their life without Hanari Carnes in it. No mas, no bueno.



So now, I get here, I land at Miami-Dade, and is there a car for me? No. Nobody waiting with a sign, nobody pulled up to the curb, nobody to carry my luggage. Tamika has been so enamored with making senorita Myst happy she forgot about the other spoke on the Chaotic Inc wheel, the Latin Love Machine! It’s okay, it’ll just give me more incentive to break Vicky’s arm on national TV. Make her squeal, beg, scream, beg some more, and break it anyway, ya know? Hanari is known to make the chica’s scream, he-ha!



Chu seem to be overlooking Hanari Carnes. Bad move, mamacita. For someone who lost, I’d imagine they would be working harder to advance their career rather than huffing glue and living the fiesta life. It seems, to me, that you don’t care about winning and losing. Hanari Carnes knows a thing or two about partying baby, just look up my yacht, but I also enjoy success. It drives me, chica. 

I have been successful in everything I have done. I won the XWF television title in my third EVER match. I’ve been X-treme, Tag Team, tournament winner, the FINALS of March Madness in my first six months…..Chu? Chu lose at the Pay Per View then make a culo out yourself on camera. You’re not successful, Vicky, you're a loser. A loser with no motivation to get better. I do this for the people of my country, but I also do this for me. I want the lavish life. I want the watches, the cars, the boats, the designer clothes. I want to eat at the best restaurants, go to the best clubs, have sex with the hottest women. Do you think I’d be able to do all the things I want to do if I had the same work ethic as you?

No! I’d be homeless on the streets of Santo Domingo, begging for change in a cup.



Yes, I will admit, I enjoy hurting people, too. I like breaking arms. I like hearing them beg me to stop before I do it anyway.



But one thing I DO have, chica, is respect. Respect for the business that gave me all these lavish things. I am not going to sit here and make silly name comparisons to discredit you–your work in the ring does that. I am going to look at you as another competitor, and I respect my competition. I love to force them to respect me. When Piledriver is over, and chu are looking up into those lights, wincing as they fit you for an arm cast, chu are going to know exactly who Hanari Carnes is."

He grins at the camera with a wink as the big-busted bartender slides him his next shot of Tequila.