A few months ago, I noticed an influx of kite flying, which resulted in many a child missing school and neglecting all other obligations to fly their kites. These kites, called chichiguas, are constructed by strings tied together around an old soup can, which are then fastened to 3 sticks tied together to form hexagon. These 3 sticks are covered with a black funda (plastic bag). It takes a while to get the kite high in the sky, but once it is there, it is nearly impossible to fell (unless you are me, and a kid asks you to hold his kite one afternoon, which I took as a huge compliment, and it promptly fell. The velocity at which it fell was almost comical, if the kid would not have been so upset. Bygones, right?) The kites fly so high in the sky that sometimes it is hard to even see them. I have seen other fancy kites in the same skies, but they pale in comparison to the chichiguas dominicanas. Ingenuity and lack of resources can lead to great improvements at times. I asked my friend Adonis (an 11-year old who recently bailed out of our barrio to bigger and better things in another nearby town by way of a guagua, alone and sin parental consent) why there were so many chichiguas. He answered matter-of-factly that it was the time of chichiguas, just like the time of bicicletas in the past, and like the time of mangos, which was coming.
Ahora, llegó mango!
The time of mangos is here, and it is glorious.
A camioneta comes through my barrio every day blaring on his soundsystem, “Mangos por un peso, mangos por un peso.” Because people are always joking around here, I thought he was asking to trade mangos for a kiss (peso=beso). As I was daydreaming about mangos and contemplating this exchange, I heard a stampede of children and Doñas alike, and I realized that he was not trying to take advantage of our love for mangos, but he was wooing us with promises of cheap instant gratification in the form of a juicy, sweet, sun-ripened mango. With that distinction in mind, I bolted out my front (and only) door, stumbling through my barbed wire fence while cursing my broken flip flops. I plucked the mangos du jour from the back of his truck, and tossed the driver a shiny 10 peso coin. With the exchange rate at approximately 37 pesos to the dollar, that equals out to be 37 mangos for a dollar. Not a bad deal. We eat mangoes like apples, but instead of swallowing, we spit (insert vulgar joke here) out the skin. The mangos here are unbelievably delicious. Were my English language a little better, I might be able to properly describe the mangoes in a way that would evoke the taste, the smell, and everything to you, the reader; however, as both my Spanish and English skills continue to dwindle, this will not happen. Just know that the time of mangos was not overrated, and is a good time to be living in la Republica Dominicana.
DISCLAIMER: shortly after this blog was written, Tina developed an allergic reaction to the skin of mangos, and can no longer touch mangos. Curse of all curses! Silver lining= the allergy is only to the skin of the mango and not to the fruit. 10 days of prednisone later, all is good, and the allergic reaction on the face is barely noticeably now. Barely.
26 mayo 2011
20 mayo 2011
Successful beach day with Dominicans? Check.
2 de mayo. Listening to the rain drop gently like a hurricane on my tin roof, which is drowning out the sounds of screaming neighbors, barking dogs, and church services. After delaying the inevitable, I broke down and finally did laundry today, which took 5, yes 5, hours to wash, only to have the rains come and wash all the hanging laundry again. Looking forward to hanging wet clothes yet again tomorrow, and hoping that no one notices that I have been wearing the same clothes for several days now, except for yesterday when I went to the beach. Some of our neighbors invited me to go to the beach with them, which turned out to be a wonderful day. While I am usually wary of Dominican invitations, which typically result in asking me to pay for everything for everyone in the near vicinity, this was a pleasant change. We had planned on renting a "guagua” that would take us for a nominal fee. This guagua turned out to be a neighbor who drives an old truck, like a Dotson or Mitsubishi, or some small type of truck that has seen better days….about 20 years ago. We fit 21 (TWENTY-ONE) people into this truck, including our food for the day and our bags of swim clothes. On the way there, I was sitting in the front with the driver and 4 little muchachas on my lap. Our first stop was a gas station, where the driver took the WHOLE gas canister out of the car. Everyone got out of the car, the driver filled the tank, put the tank back in the car, and everyone piled back in a few minutes later. We then continued on with our adventure, again. We neared the bridge out of town, which had a couple of police cars, as if they were doing random car checks. The bridge is the only way in and out of town, except for a bypass road that we had bypassed several miles before. The driver informed us that they would not let trucks through. I nod agreeingly to him as I observe several large, small, battered, clean, dirty, and other varieties of trucks cruise by, sin problema. Hmm, I think to myself, they will not let trucks or they will not let you? He asks the people in the back to start walking, because he is going to try another way, and he will pick them up in a few minutes. Now it is the driver, me, and the 4 little muchachas, alone in the front of the car. There is another side road before the bridge, but this is also blocked. The driver then tells me that he is going to go through the bypass, alone. Bueno. The muchachas and I are start walking to meet everyone else. We meet them, and we start walking. And walking. We cross the bridge. We cross the large mango trees. We cross the crab shacks. We keep walking. A couple miles later, his car pulls up from the opposite direction. On the road again. We start driving. We stall a few times. Another car drives by and hollers something out his window regarding the condition of our hoopty ride. About 30 minutes later, we arrive to our destination, a beautiful beach normally 15 minutes away from our house. The passengers collectively breathe a sigh of relief. This beach is amazingly beautiful. All 21 of us start looking for shade, which is somewhat challenging as most of the trees are coconut trees, which typically provide little shade. We find some clusters of trees and set our stuff down.
The kids and I all run toward the beach. Me in my swim suit, everyone else in their clothes. A couple of the teenagers take off their pants to swim in their boxers, but everyone else wears their clothes. One 18-year old had on cut-off jorts, a tank top, presumably bra and undies, as well as a sweater. She did not remove any article of clothing before crashing into the waves. We played in the water, ate and hung out all day at the beach. We had all cooked beforehand, so we dined on rice, beans, chicken, and spaghetti (sound familiar?). It was slightly drizzly. It was beautiful. My neighbors had brought a couple of inner tubes (possibly tires, but who cares?), which brought us endless entertainment. I loved experiencing the beach time with all of my neighbors, as my beach time usually consists of swarms of other volunteers, rum, and trashy beach novels. Don't get me wrong- without cavorting with other volunteers, I would surely go crazy; however, this was different, and I loved every minute of it. These beach experiences were diametrically different, neither one better than the other, and I cherish them both.
We left the beach around 6 pm to wait for our ride. We waited. And waited. And waited. He finally arrived, and apparently, there were not enough of us the first time so this trip he brought another friend. A large male friend. Now there are 22 of us squeezed in the truck. I declined the front seat and hopped into the back. Some random items have been collected throughout the day, including but not limited to: 2 large roof shingles, a bucket with a lid (a golden find), and some empty broken bottles. While driving, the ominous clouds gave way into a glorious rainstorm. What would have made it more glorious, you might ask? If I were not in the back of said pickup with said amount of people with said objects. Ya tu sabes. Also, because of our driver’s somewhat sketchy character, we took the backroads into town, which was a bumpy, dirt/ mud road leading directly to the northern side of our community. Once the rain subsided un chin, I took a deep breath, figuratively and literally, and I was amazing by the beauty of this island. Not just the Caribbean blue seas, white sand, etc.… but the island itself. The heart of this island has a beat that will surpass that of any bachata song (excluding my personal fav, Ramon Torres. Google him. You will not be disappointed if you like both bachata y mariachis and achy voices).With the stinging wind and rain drops slapping at my face, you would think I would have been able to tone down my joker like grin; alas, I was unable to. The only thing going through my head was, I am truly blessed to be here, in this moment, experiencing this moment. It was unforgettable, and times like these, I will never forget.
Side note: if you come to visit, I will also help to provide you with an unforgettable experience a la Dominicana.
19 mayo 2011
Bola Race 2011
Bola Race
In April all of the volunteer in country hitchhiked from one part of the country to another, getting free rides called “bolas” along the way until reaching the destination. In the Dominican Republic hitchhiking is not considered dangerous. Because gas is so expensive and the necessities of everyday living are so scarce people don’t mind helping one another along the way. I always wonder if the Dominican Republic changed into a much prosperous, income generating country, would all the people be so happy and filled with joy over the littlest things and be willing to give a stranger a ride down the road, not for money but for their conversation? Well anyway, all the volunteer met in Santiago. the north western part of the county to meet in a centralized location. All the teams dressed in costumes and had a story for why they were dressed like that and why they needed a “bola”. Tina, our friend Libby, and I were dressed in our swim suits and our alibi was that we got robbed and needed to get back to our hotel.
We all met at a mutual place in the morning with costumes on. We took photos and then were told by the event coordinators where we were going: Las Galeras Peninsula de Samana. This is a peninsula on the north tip of the island to which we had never been. As soon as we were told where to go we all ran around trying to figure out in what direction we would go. Our team decided to walk the way everyone else was. As we looked up there was a pickup truck filled with volunteers in the back with smiles screaming “adios”. We flagged down an actual taxi to give us a free ride which he agreed to do. Driving away, my ever so kind wife flagged down two other volunteers to get in as well. Without even thinking about the actual competition of the race, she decided to share the fun experience with other volunteers, which is the real point and not the actual race. We ended up doing the whole race together, the five of us.
Their story was that they were representatives of the Dominican beer company “Presidente”. They wore “Presidente” shirts and hats, which made them seem like presidents or gods in this country. During our first bola we needed to open a bottle, but no one had a bottle opener. Resourceful, like most people who don’t have many resources are, the “chofer” opened the bottle with his teeth, which I have only seen done once, by my friend Dale. Cheers to starting the fun adventure. He gave us a ride to the main “autopista” in the direction of our destination. We then flagged down a Daihatsu pickup truck. I will never forget the view standing up in the back of the truck looking out at all the agriculture in this beautiful country. Even without the help of the strong wind, I would’ve still had a smile plastered on my face the entire ride.
After 11 different “bolas” (including 2 Mercedes), and 7 hours later, we reached the Samana Peninsula. Fittingly, the last bola to drive up the mountain viewing the lush green mountains and crystal blue water was from the back of a pickup truck, just the five of us. The bola let us off and we walked to our hotel with a warm greeting from the other volunteers who made it before us. We then stripped down and jumped in the pool sharing what craziness happened along the way.
Refection de Dominic:
Not all people can get someone to stop for them and receive a free ride. It does help that you are female in this country and the biggest bonus of all is that you are “blanca tambien”. There was a team of two, one African American girl who had dreadlocks and one Indian guy, (from India Indian) with dark skin. They did not arrive till very late at night and had to end up paying normal public transport to reach the destination. Why do you think they were the only ones that had a hard time? What I think happened was that they thought the AA girl was Haitian which this county has a deep resentment to Haitians “ya tu sabes”, and the Indian guy was a random Dominican looking for a free ride. This county has an infatuation with Americans. In my opinion it’s because American are always bringing things such as tourists with money to spend or volunteers giving a helping hand with building houses or churches. And there is always the infatuation of getting out of the D.R. and moving to a place with more opportunity. Has all this help made Dominicans too dependent on others?
Regardless I had fun at the Bola Race 2011 and here are some photos along the way…
What type of peace corp work have I been doing?
Inglés Basico
On my street corner there are more English words being spoken than I would like, since I am trying to learn the Spanish language. I guess I can consider this a success since I am teaching English three times a week. This week is the last week of my 12 week Basic English course. On average, I’ve had at least 15 people in each class. My classes have allowed me to make more friendships with my students. All the students who walk by our house or see us walking in the barrio gives us a “saludar” in English. I cannot walk by the “colmado” next to our house without the owners saying, “Dominic…come…here…please.” When I enter the “colmado” he proceeds by asking me what…is...this…pointing to everything in the “colmado” and waiting for my answer in English. Since they know the class is ending they keep asking when are we going to start another class. I don’t want to be known as just the English teacher, but I am here to do what the community wants, so I must listen to them. Well before I give in to them and continue another course, we are going to celebrate the completion of our 12 week course. I am giving diplomas to the students who showed up 9 out of the 12 weeks, and I will buy “refrescos” for them and play games.
Business class for youth
I am 6 weeks into my course that teaches youth how to write a business plan. We meet twice a week under candle light because someone cut the “luz” that we paid to put in from our Peace Corps salary. We learn about missions, visions, the 4 P’s of marketing, etc. In October there will be a national competition for these youth to win funds to start a business. I get the chance to simply listen to the creativity of Dominican kids in this class. They are so outspoken about anything- it’s totally different than lecturing English words to them. I went to one student’s house this week to see if I could answer any questions. She was not there, but I was invited in, and I talked with her mom for a bit. She said her daughter “encanta su clase”, documented success number 2. I enjoy listening to the ideas they give for selling things. Did I mention they love the homework that I give as well?
“Campamento” Superman
I took two “jovenes” to an all boys camp in April. I had a hard time being a counselor and not a “joven”. We went to another volunteer’s site about 30 minutes north of our city, and there was a river, where we “banarnos” everyday. We also went on a hike to a beautiful waterfall. We played games and gave “charlas” about gender roles and HIV/AIDS awareness. This volunteer’s job is to develop a women’s group to cook food for their eco-tourism site, and we got the chance to test out their services. I had the best hot chocolate to date in country. It was made from the “cacao” trees that grow in the community. One of the things I love most about this county is that food grows right in your backyard. By the way we have 2 corn stocks and 3 “guandules” plants growing in our yard. We will most likely eat corn in about 3 months and “guandules” in November. At the camp I saw the biggest frog ever and cows grazed around our camp site. Walking with the kids through the camp with cows grazing all around us, I had a moment of realization that I am doing the work I love, in a foreign country and speaking a different language.
Enjoy some pictures from the past few months…
Business Class
Vestido como Tigueres
Tina's 30th Bday weekend
Peep the amber she is wearing. There are amber mines in this country I got her matching earrings and a neckless for her bday
05 marzo 2011
The past 4 months...
Moving locations
Since I left you we have moved twice. Things didn’t work out so nicely with our host family. We had numerous arguments about how we don’t clean anything and leave our room a mess. Now, the job of a host family is to teach you how to do things and if you are paying them, which we did, their job is to feed you and make sure your minimum needs are met. In the situation of a Peace Corps volunteer they should also help you integrate in the community. Now spreading rumors in the community such as we don’t pay them enough and we are paying other people to cook for us defeats the purpose of helping with integration. Luckily we have some very sweet people in our community that loved to compartir with us and brindar un chin de comida. So after the arguing, hearing about the gossip and having relatives of our host family come over and ignore us while we sit on the porch like redheaded step- children, we decided to move out. After expressing our decision to our host family they told us we owed them more money. We brought up this absurd statement to our volunteer leader who then explained to our host family when someone pays up until the 15th of the month and moves out on the 14th there is nothing to pay extra for. Adios host family see you sin vergüenza en la calle.
Somos Orfanatos
Luckily Tina’s orphanage, which is the organization that she works with, let us move in until we found a house. Our time there was a lot more comfortable than our previous place. We had a king size bed and internet in our room, ahhh the “normal” life. We spent many nights laughing with the 80 year old director of the organization. He made the funniest facial expressions; now he had a stroke a few years ago so I think that helped with making the faces so funny (Lord forgive me), but it was all in all clean fun. Living here also opened my eyes to realize that there is so much division and gossip in this country. I think people have so little that when others come around they feel the need to protect what little they have by any means necessary. Prime example, the director had an adult daughter who lived there with her teenage son. They did not get along with a young man who grew up in the orphanage who is like a son to the 80 year old director. Entonces, there is family involved in the business and an adult who grew up there who is like family all under the same roof. Working on bettering the organization is so difficult when you have no structure with the living situation and family being involved and other people who actually were orphans who crecered in the building. The training on conflict resolution will go a long way during our 2 years here.
Our house
Our first night in our home was 02/07/11. I had the bed, tank of gas, fan and washing machine delivered to the house the day before. When the stuff was delivered 3 women came walking in and decided to say a welcome prayer for our house. Now I don’t have a real connection with these 3 women so I was a bit suspicious because everyone told us beware of people coming in your home looking around at what you have and coming back to rob you. Here in the D.R. I don’t put anything past anyone, including 3 bible tooting women. All of our belongings were packed and ready to go on moving day for when Tina came back from her in-service training so we could pack the truck and go. Well, fue bien, now that we actually live here, things are a little different, but we are enjoying are our own space and freedom. Now that we have a home, one of the jovenes must think we are even richer Americans because all of a sudden she is thirsty, hungry and needs tape for a picture in her binder. After a few “No’s” this will all die down. This week we made an outdoor broom (i.e. a broom to sweep the dirt outside). The handle was macheted down very smoothly from a piece of wood I found. Then I went searching for this certain kind of weed that grows here that they tie around the bottom of the broom handle to sweep the dirt outside of the house. Yes, we sweep dirt. No matter what shack you live in at least you gotta keep it clean…right. Well we are starting English classes in March and other programs for youth. Are club de madres had there official Juramentacion and now we are looking to build a community center for all the groups to have meetings in. In less than 2 weeks we will take a break and live it up with Tina’s parents in an adult only all inclusive and then it’s back to the barrio.
Enjoy the photos of our home...
Enjoy the photos of our home...
11 de febrero, Tina
Sweet- just found out that Monday is a national holiday. What is it? Valentine’s Day. Really, DR government?! A holiday?! Dominic was very dominicano tonight and killed a cochroach with his machete tonight. I heart my husband. Also, despite my laziness of uploading my blog from the past few months, when we had consistent internet access, we are back to not having internet, which apparently means you will be hearing a lot more from us. Riddle me that. Also, drum roll please…. We have a house!!!! It is a cute little block house that we share with a little mouse and a few other creatures. We have a 2-part blue front door that opens at the top and bottom, a fridge, a bathroom inside (no running water inside so back to bucket baths), and a cute patio/ mini garden. I went to a volunteer conference last week where I presented my diagnostic and learned a lot of invaluable information as well as some forgettable tidbits. I am feeling really good and motivated to actually start classes and groups since I feel like I have not really done much since I have been here. I was helping out with a preschool doing story time and some literacy projects. I want to continue with that, and I also plan on doing gender-focused groups, a sala de tarea, English classes, and a documentation project, which helps (hopefully) to legalize undocumented citizens in my community. Like many people are pressing for in the U.S. Haiti
Anyway, for documentation projects, we work with local judges and the judicial system to retrieve and present documentation for them to become legal citizens. Lots of work, but it really can change the lives of those involved, or so I hope. I will try to keep you more posted, in real time, about our lives. As for now, things are great, life is great, and my house is great.
26 de enero, Tina
In my mosquitero, with my headlamp on, working on a paper, with 3 cornrows in my hair. I tried to play it off like I have three little French braids in the side of my head, but when my friend who had braided my hair greased the rest of my hair and put it in a side ponytail, there was no denying the three little corn rowed braids. The mental picture I am conjuring is not a letdown. They look that hideous. If I ever get more (God forbid a whole head) I’ll be sure to post a picture). We have a house! After over 5 months apart and living with other people, we found a cute block house in our community, and it even has a bathroom inside! It is tiny, i.e. a king-sized bed would not fit inside the house, but it is cute. If all goes as planned, which it never does, we should be in within a few weeks. Wish us luck.
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