Making Change

In the US we go to church on average once per week.  Now there are not many opportunities for extra curricular activities here in the barrio, so faith is the backbone of our community.  In our barrio we get invited to church every night.  We should actually accept since there are 14 different churches in our very small barrio, but our sane minds can only handle about 2 nights per week of the endless chanting of, “Gloria a Dios!” and “a su nombre…GLORIA!!! A su nombre…GLORIA!!!!”  Now I appreciate the Christian faith, which is why I want to talk about this one church in particular.  We decided to accept an offer to accompany this nice couple to church one night.  We did our normal walk through the unlit dirt roads of the barrio, trying to avoid the mud and pools of water with only the flashlight from my Dominican cell phone.  When we arrived, the church was one of the nicer buildings I have seen in our neck of the woods, with a grassy area outlined by a vegetable garden.

We were told that church started at 7:30pm and we arrived at that time, but when we entered the church, members were greeting one another for roughly another 30 minutes. There really is no actually notice when the service starts, or maybe I just didn’t pick up on it.  All of a sudden the bands slowly starts tuning their instruments and people make their way to the front to form a circle, where I was invited to join.  On the way up, I tried to grab Tina, but she declined. I was on my own.  For literally the next 30 minutes I mumbled Spanish words to a song I didn’t know and mostly swayed back and forth while holding hands in a circle to start the service. 

After that somewhat decent experience I got a good laugh from what I witnessed next.  While clapping and swaying side to side from my seat, the collection plate was being passed around.  One older woman decided that her peso bill was too large to give to the church so she decided to make change from the collection plate right there on the spot.  I was so in shock that I just stood there and watched.  I didn’t even get Tina’s attention to look.  I felt like I was the only person observing this.  Every day I am more in awe of how bold this country is, or maybe in the States we are overly sensitive.  So if you have heard comedians talk about making change from the collection plate like I have, it really does happen, right here in my barrio.

I know you will get a kick out of this Jason

Gracias a Dios

            57= Number of active (i.e. not yet scars) mosquito bites covering my body. 2= Number of current semi- infections from mosquito bites. O Dios Mio. Hay mucho.  However, the odds seem to be in my favor, obviously not regarding the plethora of mosquitoes, but given the relatively few infections from these mosquitoes in light of my crazy skin sensitivities. I did wake up one day this week and fear I had a staph infection. Some doñas insisted it was a centipede bite or a spider bite, but alas, it was only an infected mosquito bite. Gracias a Dios. I have also been battling a cold/ cough duo this week. I showered in the evening (I use the word “shower” loosely. I actually poured a bucket over my head and washed my hair). My hair was wet when I went to bed, similar to how it is every time I wash my hair (I’m a night washer). When I woke up, I had a cold, that later turned into whooping cough-esque symptoms. My doña insisted it was because I went to bed with wet hair, and continued to tell the whole town why I was sick, muttering under breath how she told me not to, how I need to wash my hair in the day, how I can’t wash my hair at night, how she knew I was going to get sick…So now I get scolding looks from her every time I cough or sneeze. On top of being sick, I feel like I am about 4 years old, but without the coddling that a sick 4 year-old would typically receive. She made me some limonada to help me feel better, so I think I am back in her graces. Gracias a Dios. In light of the aforementioned ailments, I feel pretty good today, and hope to feel even better tomorrow, si Dios quiere.

      To set the mood, I am writing this blog with a headlamp on (la luz se fue), sitting on my bed in the dark, tucked into my mosquitero, bobbing my head to the Pentacostal/ Evangelical church screaming singing. Also, I wanted to include some of my daily vernacular in the paragraph above, clearly influenced from my Evangelical community.

O Dios Mio= O My God, You don’t say, What the h*ll (ironically enough), and a bunch of other meanings. It is used as in English but is more common here. The preachers use it; the Evangelicals use it; the children use it.

Gracias a Dios =“Thank God,” but it is used after nearly every sentence. I had a super Dominican moment the other day when someone asked my how I was doing, and my automatic response was, “Bien, gracias a Dios,” all in one breath.

Si Dios Quiere= if God wants/ God willing. This is also used commonly here, and after plans are made, this is thrown in, signifying uncertainty or blatant doubt about the plans that have been made. Por ejemplo, a conversation might go like this. Person 1, “Quires ir a la iglesia mañana?” (Want to go to church tomorrow). Person 2 responds, “Sí, claro, si Dios quiere.” The actual translation is more like “God-willing,” but the implied message is “Probably not.” It is a pretty good noncommittal response to any obligation presented. Who can argue with God?

     

      I went to visit my first batey today, and visited with three other volunteers. It was my friend’s birthday so we went to surprise her in her batey. We brought her a piece of bizcocho, 2 packages of Cracker Barrel sharp and extra sharp cheese, a wheat baguette, 3 Fuji apples, and Hershey Kisses. Pretty sweet birthday package J We went into the sugar canes, and the men (our husbands and a boy from the batey) hacked us some sugar cane, which we happily ate. The cane fields were amazingly beautiful. They kind of looked like corn fields in the Midwest, and the grasses looked like “amber waves of grain.” All this breadbasket nostalgia, and I was born and bred in Arizona. There was a slight breeze, some clouds, and all in all, it was a pretty amazing sight and experience. I will try to post a picture of me holding a machete in my teeth, and of Dominic and I on a motorcycle together, with our helmets on (like good Peace Corps volunteers), cuddling with our motoconchista.

      This week is Thanksgiving, so we are going to go to the Capital, and Peace Corps is having a dinner and festivities all for a pretty penny. I am excited, though I will be jealously thinking of all of you in the states, more for the fact of the leftovers rather than of the actual meal. I love Thanksgiving. What a great holiday. A day dedicated to expressing thanks. Me gusta. I love it- a day just for being thankful and recognizing it as such. Regardless of religion or anything- simply just being thankful. On that note, I am thankful to be here in the D.R. I am thankful to have such wonderful friends and family, both back in the States and also my new family and friends here. I am thankful that Claire and Georgi called me tonight to chat for the first time in over 3 months. I am thankful to have such a fabulous husband. I am blessed and thankful in many ways, Gracias a Dios.

     

Photos

The beginning of the Next Two Years of My Life (by Dominic)

I have almost three months in country and things are going well. I have learned that this county is an aggressive one. If you are walking down the street and a motoconcho rides by while you are on foot, they will ask a donde va? I will reply I don’t need a ride, I’m walking. But, that is not enough they will reply with pero hace calor, muy incomodo a caminar, it’s not an uncomfortable aggressive but it’s very funny. Guess what, my job is working with the ayutamiento (city hall) in the city of San Pedro De Macoris. We live in this barrio of about 4,000 gentes called El Brisal. I am going to do an analysis of the community to find strengths, weakness, needs, etc. of the community and will then work with the city hall and present those finding to them for their presupuesto participatorio (participatory budget) program. This will give funds to my community for needs like paved roads and street lights. Everyone in the community acknowledges that they have had funds in the past but because there was no intermediary the funds were not used efficiently (that’s where I come in).

After about 2 weeks at our site, it feels good to be making progress on what I will be doing. The first week was great just hanging out with our host family. Our family consist of a Don who is about 54 and a Dona who‘s about 38. I can not count with two hands the times that Tina and I laugh during the day. There relationship is like this…he acts like a 16 year old joking around and playing around all day, she gets annoyed at him and tells him to stop talking so much. He responds by sitting in the chair not talking at all acting like a big baby. My Don also calls me a tiguere and a ladron roughly 20 times a day in good humor. Por ejemplo, now when I arrive home the first thing I do is take off my shirt and hang it on the outside line. I also cut down branches from a tree with a machete sin camisa, which was a highlight so far in country. Tina will not like this, but it has not taken me long to be sin vergüenza.

Our host parent’s relationship makes spending hours on the porch quit comical. This came into play our second week in site when it rained 4 days straight because of the hurricane. We did not have to be evacuated like some volunteers in rural areas. The thought of a comfortable hotel with bed, hot water and television did sound like a great idea. Our reality was not setting foot outside our property for 3 days. Our roads were flooded and some houses as well. The people are resilient though; they just sweep the water from the concrete floor and get on with life as they know. From talking with our vecinos the roads are definitely a priority and a major concern of this community. It doesn’t rain much in our area but when it does our calles cannot handle it…

Su hombre,

Dominic

Dominic´s land of aguacates

For five weeks each program sector separated and went to different campo communities. My sector went to the northwest part of the country to Altamira. My first day there I realized that my Doña was “la jefe” in charge of the entire campo. Campos are small rural communities scattered throughout the country. She had her “stuff” together. I would benefit from her owning a “colmado” by receiving numerous snacks during the day. When it was time for dinner she would ask me what I would prefer. I would reply by saying eggs. She would then grab two eggs out of her “colmado” to cook for her American “hijo”. I felt bad that she was taking money out of her business, but she had the biggest house in the campo so I figured she knew what she was doing.

I lived in an agricultural community. This meant that there was arboles de orange, grapefruit, coconuts, cocao (the stuff chocolate is made from), bananas, guava and my favorite, drum roll please…avocados. I was in heaven once I saw a tree with giant avocados hanging from them. The entire campo knew of my love for avocados, so every meal for breakfast, lunch and dinner I had a giant piece of avocado. Sometimes on a lucky day I would have chopped pieces of avocado mixed with onion and vinegar. Now in the States avocados are small, black and expensive. Here in Altamira they are giant, green, and free.

In the morning we had Spanish class for four hours, then went home for lunch for an hour and a half, then off to technical training for another four hours. It was like drinking water out of a fire hydrant; so much information and not enough time. But, now I know I have two years to refer back to all that information I took notes on.

After our brains were spun in the dryer, which we called Spanish class, one of my class mates and I would go to our happy place of playing catch with his football. It was almost like a bonding therapy; thank God for that football. His Doña definitely gets the hospitable award for our campo. People would walk by and yell, “MILAGRO” she would reply by grunting a lazy “entre”. She would then shove a plastic chair and a cafecito in your face.
While living in different towns hours apart from each other during technical training, Tina and I supported our relationship by buying expensive phone cards to call in-country with cell service of one-bar that frequently (i.e. always) dropped calls. In sum, we spoke 3 times for a grand total of 5 minutes during the 5 separated weeks.

I would pass what down time I had with my Dona in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the street of her “colmado”, because that is were the shade was. One day I was attempting to put together four questions in Spanish which, no lie, took me three hours. To my defense I had some distractions; she was loofahing her feet with actual sand paper, LOL. As well as every day at 5 pm when the older kids got out of “escuela” the street would be filled with the noise of “motors” racing down it. And yes, it was the “estudiantes” driving; no certain age here needed to be handed the keys to a vehicle or motoconcho.

Our last night in our campo our community totally threw us a block party “despedida” (going away party). We had a giant outdoor flame where they cooked a giant pot of asopoa (a mix of rice, broth, chicken parts). My Dona sold beer out of here “colmado” to keep the party going and gave me a few for free as well:). During dinner we shared tears when all the families and volunteers spoke about the experience of the past five weeks.

¡Neli, voy a volver en el futuro con mi esposa!

Tina’s Technical Training y un poca mas

Tina speaking: I loved my training in Constanza! I lived with this amazing family, a dog (se llama Doggy), and a cat (se llama Pinky). The family was unbelievably warm, friendly, hospitable, and it was fun having a little sister and brother. I loved hanging out and playing cards with my Doña and my little sister. I got along really well with them and cannot wait to go back to visit. I’ll probably reference Luisanna (my little sister), Anyelina (my Doña), and Doggy as I think fondly of them. Side note: in the past, I have had terrible allergies and a genuine loathing of cats, but that has slowly diminished. The reasoning: I abhor rats, mice, cockroaches, centipedes and other tropical insects significantly more than flu-like symptoms from a cat. Cats here eat or at least kill, nearly every annoying creature (excluding mosquitoes), which is a pretty miraculous feat. That being noted, we will probably get a cat while we are here, as the alternative is not pleasant. Back to Constanza.
Constanza was a farming valley surrounded by rolling hills. It was cold, a sensation pretty foreign in this country, and beautiful, not very uncommon in this county. There were 25 trainees in Constanza, and we were all volunteers in the youth sector. We had Spanish and youth technical training in Spanish every day. I am considered an “Extreme Needs Youth Volunteer.” Extreme Need Volunteers usually work with more at-risk youth in organizational settings. The nature of the title is unimportant, except it lent itself to a good joke for our Spanish class. There were 4 of us in our Spanish class, and we all came to the country speaking little to no Spanish. We also burned through a total of 4 Spanish teachers during our training, which coined our class the name, “Extreme Needs Spanish Class.” Sad, but true. However, despite the challenges, we all learned (some) Spanish. Despite being separated from Dom, Constanza was perfect. It was very conducive to learning Spanish, studying, team building, learning meringue y bachata, developing a genuine love of Dominican food, mastering the bucket shower. Also, my neighbor had a nail salon so I got manicures and pedicures with wicked Dominican designs for 100 pesos total, which is about $2.50. We all survived our training and made it back to the capital to finish training. Successfully completing the training, we were sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteers on October 27, 2010.
Now we are living in San Pedro de Marcoris, in a barrio on the northern outskirts of town. We love it. We live with a neat couple, and the man, Juan, is hilarious. While writing, I just got a mosquito bite on top of another mosquito bite. I did not know that could even happen. More impressive, they are both on my backside, so two mosquitoes got through my underwear and pants to get to my booty. We live in an Evangelical community so we hear praises to G*d all throughout the day, afternoons, evenings, wee hours of the night…There are 13 or 14 churches in our community, which is a lot considering we do not have paved roads, an elementary school or high school, concrete houses (the houses are constructed from scraps of tin), regular toilets (we use latrines i.e. outhouses), supermercado, or anything more than small colmados.
We are still trying to learn Spanish. You will inevitably hear subsequent blogs and complaints about the Dominican Spanish, so I will keep it minimal at this point: Dominican Spanish is painstakingly difficult to learn and/or understand because they drop the r, the s, and the occasional d from nearly all words. It is equivalent to learning English in the Deep South, and is sure to bring humor to our friends who actually speak Spanish. Our accents will make your ears bleed, but we can speak it!
I also bought my first pair of semi- Dominican jeans. Dominican jeans have crazy designs, glitter, gold, and are tighter than the tightest leggings. This is applicable to jeans for both men and women. Admittedly, I love the gold and glitter but have not yet mustered the courage to get a fantastically Dominican pair yet. I managed to find some jeans that are a little more subdued (except for the pockets that zipper up with leather tassles), and they allow me to breathe, even after eating rice, beans, yucca, platanos. Ahh, Dominican food. More to write in the future about that, but as for now, I miss you all, and would gladly welcome any phone calls, texts, emails, facebu messages, or care packages:) Saludos, Tania (as my family here calls me, as Tina is apparently harder to pronounce).

Not in Kansas Anymore

After months of talking about it, we finally started our blog. It took 4 days of being rained in without leaving the house, our street, or our mud-filled dirt road, but here it is. Also, after over a year of preparation, endless medical exams, phone calls, and interviews, we are finally official Peace Corps Volunteers. Ya. We arrived in the República Dominicana in August as 2 of 59 trainees, one of the largest groups of volunteers to enter the D.R. Our training consisted of rapid Spanish language (te ta= como tu estas in Dominican Spanish), technical (based on sector- youth for Tina and business for Dominic), and medical components (how to avoid and/or deal with dengue fever, amoebas, cholera, and other bowel issues).

We lived with separate host families for the 10 weeks of training. We were in Santo Domingo, for 3 weeks, and then for 5 weeks, Tina went to Constanza and Dominic to Altamira for technical training. We then had training back in Santo Domingo for another 2 weeks.

Our marital bliss in Santo Domingo consisted of lots of hand holding, and, always the gentleman, Dominic walked Tina to her home every afternoon. How elementary-school romantic it was! Luckily, our host families were very supportive of our relationship, so we were allowed occasional conjugal visitations. Tina lived with a rad Doña, and the Doña’s blind mother, who occasionally wore glasses (we were never able to quite figure this out). Tina’s blind abuela was insanely difficult to understand, but through the weeks, she became easier to understand, once we realized that she repeated everything she said about 4-5 times within the hour. As long as we understood the first time, we were good to go. She would always ask for the “Americana,” while holding Tina’s hand, to which Tina dutifully replied, “Pero, estoy aqui, abuela.” When Dominic would leave to go to his respective host family, he would say his goodbyes, inevitably followed by the abuela saying, “Mas temprano, por que?” Our blind and usually incomprehensible grandmother took a liking to us. Santo Domingo was hot, humid, and infested with mosquitoes. Despite that, we enjoyed it and will forever have smile-inducing memories from the town.