Sunday, August 10, 1975 And a Happy birthday to You, Rich, Famous Siamese Twins Almost a vear has passed since the Siamese twins — Altagracia and Clara Rodriguez — were separated in an operation that made medical history Sept. 18, 1974, at Philadelphia’s Children’s Hospigal. They are celebrating their second birthday, which if Tuerday, wed a small party today in their native Dominican Republic. Inquirer medical writer Donald Drake, who began covering the twins with the operation, By DONALD C. DRAKE Inunuirer Medical Writer SAN JOSE de OCOA, Dominican Republic — ‘“‘MariLIN!’ MariLIN!” the grandmother yelled to the 9-year- old girl with the sad, beautiful face. “We have visitors. They have come to see the twins. Go quickly. Prepare them at once.”’ The girl disappeared, and soon the room was filled with people running in and out of doorways with wet washcloths and baby clothes. Neigh- bors crowded outside the house and peered through the open windows and doorways. They wanted to know who these foreigners were who had come down their street in a new car with Sister Cecilia. It was 1 p.m., midway through the went to the Dorntitcan Republic to the first of two re: . ts, two-hour siesta whe. °veryone in the Dominican Republic escapes from the sun for shade, food and sleep, and the twins were asleep. But that did not matter. The visitors were very important. They came from Philade!- phia, which has become almost a holy place for these people in the mountains. The twins should be awakened. ; The grandmother, a thin old woman with a weather beaten face, see how they were doing. This is apparently was becoming nervous about keeping the visitors waiting, 30 she invited everyone into the bed- room even though the twins were still napping. It was a small, airy corner room with cross-ventilation from the two, giassless windows with aluminum jal- ousies. Haif of the small room was filled with an old bureau and double bed where the twins’ mother sleeps; Twins, Now 2, Ceiebrities ina Rustic Setting TWINS, From 1-A the other half contained the two cribs. - And there they were, the now world-famous twins, eyes closed, obli- vious to the excitement, but dressed as if they were ready for a party. Most Dominican children this age— especially the poorer ones in the campo—which is what people call the rugged, beautiful countryside here— wear simple clothes that frequently aren't clean. But the twins are al- ways clad in immaculate, frilly dresses. The twins, approaching their sec- ond birthday, looked a little bigger, perhaps slightly more pensive than they did in Philadelphia, but they were the same adorable babies who had captured the attention of every nurse in Children’s Hospital. The most significant change since they returned seven months ago was symbolized by the big, specially made orthopedic shoes that they wore even while sleeping in their cribs. They can walk now. And though short on endurance and speed, they can even run a little. But they don’t do it exactly the same way as other children their age. Because of the way they were joined at the pelvis, surgeons had to reshape the bony structure. But na- ture couldn’t be reproduced exactly. Thus Clara walks with a wide gait, almost as if straddling an invisible fat dog. And Alta, who must wear a corset because she has no abdominal muscles, walks with her left foot pointed out. But they get around, and it takes a close look to notice that something is wrong. Everyone is still very excited about their walking because it’s been only a few weeks since they returned from the Rehabilitation Center in Santo Domingo, where specialists spent two months developing strength in their legs and abdomen and teach- ing them to walk. A New Role Farida Rodriguez is the inother of the twins and as such has achieved fame, a new self-image and essen- tially a supervisory position in the family. It is for the grandmother and Marilin Guerrero, the twins’ cousin, to take care of the mundane matters while Farida contemplates more im- portant and international affairs— like returning to Philadelphia to hold a Mass of Thanksgiving. The twins will return next month to the United States to be examined by Dr. C. Everett Koop, who preformed the operation separating the babies. When the visitors arrived, Farida Rodriguez was with her husband in the small village of Las Auyamas taking care of matters there, un- aware of all that was happening the other house. Otherwise she would have been there herself to handle protocol. Marilin, always on call in the household, is as close to the twins as a sister. Her mother lives with her eight other children in a shack in Santo Domingo and is too poor to care for her, so Farida brought her into her home. If the twins need something, Far- ida immediately barks out the order “MariLIN.” If someone should want water, the name is heard again: MariLIN!” She is generally stand- ing silently near the adults, ready to do their bidding. In San Jose, they say that Marilin is the twins’ mother. Fame’s Rewards The twins were moved from their native village in Campo,, because it has no electricity, running water or medical facilities. They haven't slept overnight in their old home in Las Auyamas since their separation. But Salvador, their father, ‘still runs his store there. Their new home here in San Jose, a town of 13,000 people, is a white, cinder-block building that the family rents for $50 a month. The govern- ‘ment has promised to build them a $10,000 house soon. By Dominican standards the twins’ family is doing exceptionally well.. As a small businessman, Salvador. Ro- driguez makes more than the poor peasants who are his customers. A $150-a-month allotment, granted the famous babies until they are 18 by President Joaquin Balaguer, takes care of most problems. It is a lot of money in a country where the aver- age working man makes $2 a day if he is lucky enough to have a job. Unfortunately for Salvador, who must tend his little mountain store, fame has turned him into a com- muter who sees his daughters only on weekends. Although Las Auyamas is only 10 mile: away, it is a long 10 miles be- cx ihe twisting road is narrow atu: vieep and a peso ($1) is a lot to pay for the Land Rover bus that makes the trip each day. So the growing crowd in the twins’ small bedroom was startled by Sister Cecilia’s suggestion. “Oh, I have an idea,” she an- nounced cheerfully. “‘Let’s surprise Farida and Salvador and take the twins to Las Auyamas.” Také the twins to Las Auyamas! It was a shocking idea. The last time Clara and Alta went back to theif na-- tive village was in April when Dr; | Koop visited. But that was a very important day. No one is more im- portant than “‘Papa’’ Koop. Could such a trip be justified now? Could they dare expose the twins to the heat and dust of the road between here and there? Would Farida be angry? Then. It’s All Right “If Sister Cecilia says it is all right,” the grandmother said to the expectant crowd of upturned little faces, “then at is all right with Far- ida.” Pandemonium! Everyone ran to prepare for the trip. Alta’s corset was made ready. Marilin prepared two nursing bottles. The grandmother ruled that she and Yuderki, who is 16 and also a cousin, would be the ones to make the trip with the twins. The group bundled into the small Japanese car, two adults in the front, five people in the back, including the twins. The heavily ladened car made its way down the dusty road, the air - conditioner useless in the heat. Ther- mometers in the sun read 150 de- grees. In the shade it was 106. Struggling against the steep grade of the boulder-strewn road, the car climbed farther into the mountains. The countryside was green ; with majestic royal palm trees, but the rivers were almost dry. The area was going through the worst drought in memory and the peo ple were suffering. Malnutrition which is always bad here, had wor sened. Sister Cecilia’s hospital wa filled with babies with bloated bellie and gaunt eyes. The twins were quiet, as they usu ally are when visitors are presen! during the hour long trip. Alta was Yuderki’s lap and Clara in Marilin’s They looked at each other, dozed an: drank from the plastic nursing bol tles. A Rare Nourishment Most children in the campo don’t drink milk because it costs too much and malnutrition dries up the milk in their mothers’ breasts. Instead they dring sugared water. The more fortu- nate drink unpasteurized cows’ milk. The twins, however, get special dried milk provided, for a year, by the Nestle Co. Though Marilin is charged with preparing the milk and feed the babies, the girl drinks none of it herself, getting unpasteurized milk instead.. Why not drink the better milk that the twins get? “Because it is theirs,’ she says simply. The twins are special. Every- one knows that. And special people are entitled to special privileges. Non-special peaple don’t even ques- _ tion such things. _ Making way for an oncoming Land Rover bus, the car edged precari- ously close to the rim of the road, 1,000 feet straight up from the val- ley’s floor. It bumped through a rock- strewn section of the road and then started down toward Las Auyamas. The incredible beauty of the campo, even in the aftermath of the deadly drought, clashed with the shacks and buildings, topped with thatched or corrugated roofs. Women in dirty dresses and chil- dren in brown school uniforms gazed at the car, a strange sight on a re- mote road usually traveled only by the Land Rover bus. Home Again Two girls saw Marilin, their long- lost friend, and waved. Taking an arm from around the twin, she smiled proudly and waved back. As villagers recognized the twins, the apprehen- sion on their faces turned to delight. Divining in some way that a car was coming down the road, people were already waiting in their door- ways. Chickens scurried from the road and hogs sluggishly moved aside. The twins were really home now. Not the new, cinderblock home that fame brought them, but the building made from raw bamboo planks with a corrugated tin roof. It was quiet. Suppertime was still a few hours off, so the children with food pails and coins tied in handker- chiefs hadn’t begun to arrive at Sal- vador’s store to buy food for the eve- ning meal. Food is bought on a daily basis be- cause the money for the evening meal comes from the work done dur- ing the day. Farida came out of the house at- tached to the little one-room store. She could not believe what she saw. She hugged Sister Cecilia and her twins and the reporter from Philadel- phia, whom she recognized from ear-- lier encounters. The Reunion Bare chested, Salvador came to the doorway, smiling also. Everyone was invited into the small, dark living room with the shiny concrete floors. The twins played under a photograph of ‘Papa’ Koop while Marilin pushed the chickens away. “Marilin” Farida barked, order- ing the little girl to wash and change the twins’ soiled clothes. Marilin and Yuderky disappeared, each with a twin in her arms. . People gathered in the open door- way to see what was happening now with their famous neighbors. Salva- dor put on a shirt, and Farida sat down in an old, plank-wood rocking chair to sew the border on a dish towel with the words “Balaguer 74 78” written on it. It was material left in the house she had rented, and out here cloth is never thrown away. Outside in the crowd of people was Adetaid Zuceno Soto, a 9-year-old girl with lovely unafraid brown eyes and a ready smile. She is the only girl of eight children. A ninth child died a few months ago. They do not know what she died of, but her mother, who watched the goings-on from her , duorway across the road, is sure that - it was witchcraft. There was Bievenido Rodrigues Ro- driguez, Salvador’s cousin, a thin but handsome man who speaks little. The drought wiped out his beans and peanuts, and he has no food for his family of seven children. What will he do? “What God decides,” he said with resignation. A Woman of Means And there was also Ida Caldaron Subero, a stylishly dressed woman with matching ton and pants, who sneaked a look into the room as she goes by but did not stop because it would not be fitting for a woman of her means, even though a relative, to stop at this moment. She runs the single pool table in Las Auyamas, a sad, broken-down old table for which the men pay 5 cents a game. Her husband owns one of the Land Rover buses, making him a man of consid- erable substance. ; Rocking in her chair and sewing on the dish towel while the twins were freshened, Farida said she wanted to thank the people of Philadelphia for all they have done. She explained thet she had not written because she knows otty Spanish, but that she was very thankful. Farida said she enjoyed the fame that her twins had brought her. Peo- ple come up and talk to her in San Jose and Santo Domingo, and she makes new friends. _ As she spoke, a laborer worked on an addition to the house. A modest room made of bamboo, it would be ' just big enough to provide space for the twins to sleep with their small court of attendants when they come for visits. Soon, thick Dominican coffeé was served with a very sweet milk cake. Sitting there in the chair, sewing and talking every now and then whenever a question is asked, Farida looked like a simple, country woman content to be in her home with her family. America’s Temptation But she is more complex than that, and she has been tempted by what America has to offer the privileged people of the world. Her husband, a good-natured man who is forever smiling and combing the gray hair that tops a handsome face framed by huge sideburns, goes along with whatever Farida decides. Farida said she was eager to come back to Philadelphia, where the peo- ple have been so kind. She was too carefu} to say she wanted to live per- “ manently’ in Philadelphia, “but her friends in America think she does. They have warned her that she knows ‘only what it is like to be a fa- mous person in the United States. . ‘America treats its average people — . especially if they speak only Spanish ‘+ with less generosity, they say. Farida spoke of sending a teenage son to school in the United States. And she complained about the house she now rents in San Jose, which she said uses up $85 of the $150 each month when utilities are in- cluded. Also she doesn’t like the new house, she said, even though it has five rooms, — because the rooms are small and have no screens, a fact verified by the many mosquito bites on the twins’ arms and legs. There are no trees for shade, and the house is hot. Selling Their Story The family received $10,000 from the Ladies’ Home Journal magazine for the exclusive rights to their story. Farida did not makee it clear where the money went, but she said she; spent $1,900 for the land where the government is supposed to build the house it promised and $1,200 for the furniture in the house she now rents. Farida recently told the writer for the Ladies’ Home Journal that she was satisfied with the arrangement and instructed her to tell her boss in the United States that she wanted tc renew the magazine contract for next year. After the cakes were eaten and the coffee drunk, Farida got up, piled many belongings into a carton and packed them into the car that brought the twins. There was no dis- cussion. She had decided to return home that night and, of course, there was room for her in the car, because in Las Auyamas there is always room for one more. It is not unusual for 10 to 15 people to crowd into a Land Rover or a Chevrolet tari. While everyone else got into the car, Farida marched off with the twins to show them to the apprecia- tive neighbors. It was not every day that the twins visited Las Auyamas, and everyone was waiting outside for the chance to see them, NEXT: How the twins are faring under Dominican medical care.