César Zuleta passed away on March 18, 2025
Yo llegué a Estados Unidos en el año 1970. Pasé mis primeros cuatro años en Nueva York, pero en 1974 me mudé a Rhode Island, buscando algo más estable. Empecé a trabajar en una fábrica llamada American Insulated Wire. Estuve allí casi cinco años, trabajando duro, ahorrando, guardando cada centavo con la esperanza de poder tener, algún día, mi propio negocio. Y en 1979 se me dio la oportunidad.
Compré un pequeño restaurante en Central Falls, en este mismo local donde todavía estoy. El negocio ya existía, lo habían fundado en 1976, pero era muy pequeño, con apenas seis mesas. Lo compré a una señora a mediados del ’78, y desde entonces no me he movido. Aquí he estado siempre. Poco a poco fue creciendo. Con mucha voluntad, dedicación y sin dejar de estar al frente, todos los días. Eso ha sido clave. El negocio se convirtió en un lugar donde ahora se pueden sentar más de 100 personas. Me siento orgulloso de lo que se ha logrado.
Compré un pequeño restaurante en Central Falls, en este mismo local donde todavía estoy. El negocio ya existía, lo habían fundado en 1976, pero era muy pequeño, con apenas seis mesas. Lo compré a una señora a mediados del ’78, y desde entonces no me he movido. Aquí he estado siempre. Poco a poco fue creciendo. Con mucha voluntad, dedicación y sin dejar de estar al frente, todos los días. Eso ha sido clave. El negocio se convirtió en un lugar donde ahora se pueden sentar más de 100 personas. Me siento orgulloso de lo que se ha logrado.
César and his wife, Donatela, who co-managed El Paisa since it opened in the 1979.
I found steady work at a factory called American Insulated Wire. I was there for nearly five years. It wasn’t easy work, but it was honest work, and it gave me the chance to save a little money. I was always thinking ahead, dreaming about one day owning something of my own. I didn’t know what, exactly—just something I could build with my own hands.
Then, in 1979, that dream was answered. I heard about a small restaurant that was up for sale in Central Falls called El Paisa. Just a little spot with six tables. I didn’t have experience running a business, and I certainly didn’t know how to cook professionally. I came from the countryside in Colombia—I was more familiar with growing food than preparing it for customers! But something told me, “Give it a shot.” So I did. I bought it from a lady and her husband who had opened it a few years earlier, but then he passed away and she was not able to manage the business alone. I decided to keep the name of the restaurant.
I got to work right away.
The First Colombian Restaurant in Rhode Island
At first, it was just me and two workers. I made the food I knew from back home—simple, comforting, authentic Colombian dishes. I didn’t follow fancy recipes or have any training, but I knew what good food tasted like, and that’s what I wanted to share. Bit by bit, people started coming in. Some were curious, others just looking for something different, and many ended up becoming regulars.
I never left that little spot. Same location, same heart. Over the years, El Paisa grew—more tables, more customers, more laughter echoing off the walls. These days, we can seat over 100 people, and it’s become a bit of a local tradition. Many people, especially Colombians who come from Boston, New York—even New Jersey—tell me, “When we’re in Rhode Island, we always go to El Paisa.” That makes me proud.
I’ve always had a good experience here. I’ve never felt discriminated against. From the start, the city and the people treated me with respect. They helped me get my liquor license when the time came, which helped a lot—people like to enjoy a little wine or beer with their meal. It’s those small things that help a business grow.
And thanks to this place, I raised my family. My wife, my kids—everyone’s here. My children studied in Rhode Island and have built their own paths. Everything I worked for was so they could have that opportunity. It’s a blessing. When I think about where I came from in Colombia—how hard things were, how little we had—I feel nothing but gratitude for what we’ve been able to do here.
I never left that little spot. Same location, same heart. Over the years, El Paisa grew—more tables, more customers, more laughter echoing off the walls. These days, we can seat over 100 people, and it’s become a bit of a local tradition. Many people, especially Colombians who come from Boston, New York—even New Jersey—tell me, “When we’re in Rhode Island, we always go to El Paisa.” That makes me proud.
I’ve always had a good experience here. I’ve never felt discriminated against. From the start, the city and the people treated me with respect. They helped me get my liquor license when the time came, which helped a lot—people like to enjoy a little wine or beer with their meal. It’s those small things that help a business grow.
And thanks to this place, I raised my family. My wife, my kids—everyone’s here. My children studied in Rhode Island and have built their own paths. Everything I worked for was so they could have that opportunity. It’s a blessing. When I think about where I came from in Colombia—how hard things were, how little we had—I feel nothing but gratitude for what we’ve been able to do here.
El Paisa is not just a restaurant. It's my family's story
In those early years, I was one of the only Latinos with a business in Central Falls. For almost a decade, it was just me. Eventually, others opened their own shops and restaurants, and now the area is full of life, full of culture. I like to think El Paisa helped pave the way in some small way.
I’ve never been tempted to open a second location. People ask me that a lot — “Why not one on Broad Street? Or in Boston?” But the truth is that I’m happy with what I’ve got. Running a business is no small thing—it takes everything you've got. Your time, your heart, your patience. I’m 55 now, and at this stage, peace of mind matters more than expansion. This one restaurant has been more than enough.
I still live nearby. I could’ve moved farther out, to a fancier neighborhood, but I never wanted to be far from this place. This is my community. It’s where I belong. Rhode Island may be small, but to me, it’s home. When I arrived here, something just clicked. And all these years later, I still feel it—it’s where I was meant to be.
El Paisa is not just a restaurant. It’s my story. It’s my family's story. And it’s a piece of Colombia, right here in Central Falls. And I’m proud to be able to bring a piece of home to others who miss Colombia.
I’ve never been tempted to open a second location. People ask me that a lot — “Why not one on Broad Street? Or in Boston?” But the truth is that I’m happy with what I’ve got. Running a business is no small thing—it takes everything you've got. Your time, your heart, your patience. I’m 55 now, and at this stage, peace of mind matters more than expansion. This one restaurant has been more than enough.
I still live nearby. I could’ve moved farther out, to a fancier neighborhood, but I never wanted to be far from this place. This is my community. It’s where I belong. Rhode Island may be small, but to me, it’s home. When I arrived here, something just clicked. And all these years later, I still feel it—it’s where I was meant to be.
El Paisa is not just a restaurant. It’s my story. It’s my family's story. And it’s a piece of Colombia, right here in Central Falls. And I’m proud to be able to bring a piece of home to others who miss Colombia.
Interview in October 2000
Read about El Paisa, Places That Matter for Latinos in Rhode Island
