Foster Child by Choice, Adoptive Mother by Chance—Behind the Scenes

When I first asked Shanika Acosta if she’s done anything the average person usually doesn’t, her answer was “no.”

She said she’s just a normal person, and that life’s good.

I can’t tell you how many people responded with, “No, life’s good” to “Is there anything interesting going on in your life?” Everyone assumed ‘interesting’ meant ‘ bad’.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m sure everyone has something unique about them.”

Acosta froze, glanced away, looked back at me and said, “Well, I do have an adopted daughter. I started taking care of her when I was 16.”

“Wow! Really?” I blurted.

“Hmmm, yeah,” she said, “I guess that’s different, isn’t it?”

She sounded as surprised as I was.

So for three months, Acosta shared her story with me via several interview sessions, multiple phone calls, and numerous e-mails. I studied her photos, letters, and legal documents.

I wrote the story for Harvard’s ALM in Journalism program news reporting course. The comments I got from professors Mark Pothier, Boston Globe’s senior assistant business editor, and David Beard, editor of boston.com, guided me through various drafts. One of the course’s guest speakers, editor of Telling True Stories Mark Kramer, also saw the story’s potential early on.

Acosta’s story is really ten in one. The more I knew, the more questions I had, the more astounding information I found, the more overwhelmed I got. The trick was to filter out the excess and include what highlights the essence of her experience as a foster child and a mother figure. The experience and feedback of Pothier, Beard and Kramer helped shape the story, and I’m grateful for their encouragement and support.

My focus went from abuse to education to the neighbor effect, and, finally, to an in depth profile. Isn’t the writing process magical?    

Foster Child by Choice, Adoptive Mother by Chance is published in El Planeta, the leading publication for the Hispanic market in Massachusetts. It has been translated to Spanish for print, and appears in English and Spanish online.

Acosta was nominated for El Planeta’s Powermeter 2009, which awards 100 of Massachusetts’s most influential people in the Latino community. And so a simple “no” turned into a great story of struggle and success. Who would’ve thought...

Haymarket - A Cheap Ticket Around the World

Like many working at Boston's Haymarket, 23-year-old Kristina Bramante's Saturdays start at 2am.

After loading and unloading trucks, setting up stands, piling up packs of strawberries, pineapples or whatever is available for the day, and marking negotiable prices, a long, “crazy” day at work starts. 

“Something crazy happens here every [Satur]day!” Bramante says. She started working at the market a year ago. “Just this morning I had to call 911 because a man had a seizure.”

On Blackstone Street, vendors of different ethnicities invite people of equally diverse backgrounds to dig for a bargain. Empty boxes line one side of the street, while a stampede of bodies sneaks its way between stands, hunting for the best deals. The smell of fruits and vegetables swarms the air, before a whiff of stench prickles from the garbage truck parked at the corner of Blackstone and Hanover.

“Everyone thinks you’re out to get them, to rip them off, when you’re not. You’re just trying not to work for free when you’re working 12 hours a day,” says Bramante just when a lady with frizzy, short, bleached hair offers $1.50 for a $2-container of pineapples. Bramante shouts, “Go for it,” and grabs the change.

“But if you really wanna see crazy,” Bramante says, “be here around 5pm, when everyone’s agitated. Then, you’ll know which ethnicities fight with each other.”

Haymarket is no short of an ethnic melting pot. North African women, covered in long, floral clothing from head to toe zoom by, carrying half-a-dozen bags full of tomatoes, string beans, cucumbers, and a medley of berries. Elderly Asian couples, with their hands clenched behind their backs, eye the stack of broccoli for a fresh bunch. An Italian vendor whistles and shouts, “Common guys! Get strawberries! 2 pounds, 2 dollahs!” before a Mexican seller mimics her volume with, “Papaya’s from Mexico! Common! It’s good!”

Ahmed Eitelheg, a man with salt-and-pepper hair from south of Morocco, who has been coming every Saturday ever since he immigrated with his family in 1990, says that being at the Haymarket “is good communication.”

Likewise, George Conterados, a 27-year-old Mexican who has been working at the market for 7 years says, “There’s not too much [trouble]. It’s easy to get [trouble] here.” He nods around at the people selling produce and at others passing by. “But I haven’t got any.” He carries empty boxes to the garbage truck. 

But for vendor Ghada Helmy, a 32-year-old Egyptian, it’s a different story.

“There are Moroccan, Haiti, Spanish people, Italian, Brazil. It’s good, but some not so good,” Helmy says while selling $1-watermelons. Her curly brown hair is tied back. Her eyebrows sag. She half-folds her arms and rests her chin on her left palm. “Some tell me, ‘Go back to your country.’ And some give away free stuff. You understand me? Not good for me when I try to sell, but where to go to make
complain?”

Beyond the frustration, which may sometimes tense the atmosphere as the long day reaches its end, lies a commonality. Everyone, regardless of racial background, agrees on one fact: Haymarket is where you want to be to find good quality food for cheap.

“I love Haymarket. You can find the same quality as in the supermarket, but with huge discounts, especially if you buy in bulk,” said Vasilios Roussous, a 34-year-old from Belmont who has been coming to the Haymarket for a few years.

“I like [the diversity] here. I think it adds a lot of character to the market and to the city.”

Written for Feature Writing course at Harvard Summer School 2009

By Nadia Qasmieh