So, we just got back from visiting our sites, finished training, got sworn in as volunteers by the US consul, celebrated Thanksgiving, and then attended an all volunteer conference. This was definitely the busiest week we’ve had in country.
I am officially no longer a trainee and now a full-fledged Peace Corps Volunteer! WOO HOO! What that means is that I should be getting more money, that I will be at my site consistently for the next 2 years, and that after a 3 month long community diagnostic, I can begin to get to work to make my community healthier. Or at least that’s what’s supposed to happen.
Swearing in was nice. The US Consul to the DR had to fill in for the Ambassador because the new DR Ambassador hasn’t gotten to the DR yet. They rented tents and set them up at the training site. It rained, as it apparently always does but the tents kept us pretty dry. I looked fancier than usual, which was fine except that I realized, once again, that I hate to dress up. All of the girls really looked nice in all their makeup and whatnot. We were all supposed to get up and introduce ourselves and say where we were going, and I got up to do that and looked out into the faces of all of my friends and their host families all dressed up, and completely forgot the name of my site. My boss was standing up next to me and helped me out. But yes, it was embarrassing.
The next morning we said goodbye to our host families in the capital and headed down to a large, very fancy country club that PC had rented out for us for Thanksgiving. We played games, swam, jumped off the high dive, danced, sang, ate a ton of food, all of it American and all of it delicious, especially the stuffing and pumpkin pie, and had fun. That night and the following I stayed at a hostal in the colonial zone of the city which was lovely. We had hot showers, which are such a lovely treat. My family invested greatly, all of them were gathered at my house for Thanksgiving, and called me up on my new cell phone. I felt so blessed. Adjusting to being away from home for such a momentous day as Thanksgiving really wasn’t as hard as I thought it could be. There’s something about being a room with over 100 people going through exactly what you are, being away from home and all of that, that really helped me to feel fine. Still, it was wonderful to hear the voices of them all.
The next day was the All Volunteer Conference. It was at a lovely hotel which I ended up getting to spend the night in last night. The conference was long and informative, and included a slide show. Of the pictures of my trainee group, I’d say easily over 50 % of them were from my camera. Shock shock surprise surprise. I was proud. The volunteers in general are pretty friendly and meeting them all was awesome. I wish I’d had more chances to converse and learn more about them, but what we had was great.
The rest of the weekend was spent meeting other volunteers and hanging out with the group I trained with. We all had to say goodbye and good luck to each other as every has been heading off to their sites. It’s not easy for training to be over. We used to get to see each other pretty much every day, and now we might not see each other again for a very long time. We are trying to get together for New Years, but lord knows how many people will be able to get there. We had a great time during training. I’m definitely now appreciating the accuracy of a statement my friend (who is serving in St. Kitts) said, It’s a mean joke the PC plays on us, having us get together for so long and become such good friends, and then shipping us off to the ends of the earth. We aren’t quite the ends of the earth, considering we can see one another, and get back to the US in a matter of hours, but it sometimes feels really far.
So now I’m off to my site. Wish me luck!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
La Travesia
After a long journey including 2.5 weeks of training in the capital, .5 weeks of a volunteer visit, and 5.5 weeks of community based training I am finally in my site! Now, don’t get too excited, I’m only here for a 4 day visit, but at least I’m here!
Tuesday November 13th, exactly 2 months after we arrived in country was our project partner day. What that means is that the people we all, now 50 of us, are working with, came into the capital to meet us and take us home. I was told that it would be one of the scariest days of my experience in this country, and as you can probably imagine it was a day full of many emotions for many people. Those emotions ranged from stressful excitement, to emotionally nerve-wracking for just about everyone. I wouldn’t say it was super scary, and felt nervous for about 1 minute. Lately I’ve just been doing pretty darn well at talking myself out of feeling anything but happy. My project partners arrived on time, though they had one of the furthest journeys of anyone; they were wise and came in a day early. We met when I looked over and saw a familiar name on the name tag of a well-dressed, friendly-looking woman. She soon introduced me to another woman from our town and we fell into conversation very soon after.
After some Peace Corps-organized activities we were able to take off for our sites. We took a taxi to the bus station, then took a bus to Santiago. From there we took a taxi to another bus station. After that bus ride we got into the car belonging to my new host brother. This all took about 5 hours. After about a 45 minute drive in his car we arrived at my new host family’s house. It was after dark, but I could tell it was a very lovely home and I was extremely well-greeted by everyone. As I was eating dinner and conversing with my host mother I started to hear the sound of singing voices and turned around to see a group of neighbors who had gathered with my project partners to welcome me to the town in song. Although I was very tired, I was of course, very touched. My project partners were the most enthusiastic during all of the Peace Corps activities and seem very enthusiastic to have me here now. I feel quite blessed and think I have every reason to hope that this continues. I feel certain that it will.
From what I can tell of the north so far, it is as beautiful as everyone describes. As we were driving towards the site I saw the greatest sunset over white clouds and a flat mountain range, which were framed by fields of palm trees. My house is situated near the town school. Up the road from my house is a road that is situated just below a beautiful set of rolling hills covered in trees and tall grass. The town consists of approximately 100 houses, with an estimated 400 inhabitants. They are mostly Dominicans, but there is a Haitian population as well, including one family that lives right next door. When I asked my host mother about them, she told me they speak Spanish, work in agriculture around here, and pretty much keep to themselves.
The town in general seems pretty well off economically. From what I’ve seen, I live in one of the fanciest homes here, and it’s nicer than either of the homes I’ve lived in so far in this country. Of course we have neighbors that live in not much more than glorified shacks as well, just as exist all over the country. But this might be the first time I’ve seen such a nice house that belongs to someone who isn’t a foreigner, a politician, or rumored to be a drug dealer. The only reason I can see so far for the wealth is a cheese factory (yes I know, you’re totally jealous of me right now). I’ve been a few times to visit it and it’s pretty nifty. They make 3 kinds of cheese that they seal in red wax and cover in red paper with a black and yellow sticker. I’ll be sure to find out if any of it makes its way to the US so you can all try some. My host father owns some land where he and his son graze cattle for milk (and probably cheese as well) and my host mother is a school teacher at the school in our town and in the nearby larger town.
When I say nearby, I don’t actually mean it. We are a good 45 minute bumpy ride from the nearest highway to the big city near here (Santiago), and a good 25 minute bumpy ride from the nearest town. That town, truth be told, is a beach town. Poor me, I know. I got to go and visit it the other day with another volunteer who is stationed there. Poor her, I know. She is an environment volunteer and was very adventurous and hopped on a moto to come find me in my town even though she’d never been up this way before and didn’t know where I lived or where I’d be. So of course I had to reciprocate with joining her for an exersion to the beach. It was beautiful. She said the water was colder than usual but let me tell you it couldn’t have been lower than 85 degrees. It was my first time in the Caribbean Sea since arriving here and it was gorgeous! The only downside was that I stepped on a very large sea creature of some sort which I am praying was a large fish, but which the volunteer told me was likely a baby shark. Yikes.
But back to my village… we are pretty isolated being so far from other towns and we don’t have a cell phone signal. We do have electricity about half of the time and running water most of the time (and my family even has a faucet above my head in the shower! I haven’t had that before in this country.) There is plenty of room to move around in the house as well, we even have a hallway. I have a room with 2 beds (although one is a crib, I use it for storage and could probably have a visitor spend the night there) and we have 2 bathrooms in the house. There are a few places to sit and gather indoors but it is much more pleasant to sit outside especially because my host family has a yard with grass and bushes and trees and flowers and everything. There is one tree in particular that is huge and old and provides a ton of shade that I know I’m going to love.
What all of this means for me is that in addition to feeling pretty comfortable for the time being, I can only move down from here, which might help me to change my mind about living in my own home at the end of the 3 required months of a homestay. It might also prove difficult to find a home. The volunteer I visited lived in a much larger community and she had only 2 homes to pick from to live in. The volunteer who I just recently visited who lives on the beach lives in a community about the size of mine, or perhaps a bit larger and there were no homes for her to live in so she decided to stay with her host mother. There are positives and negatives to both living with a host family for the whole 2 years and living alone , but it is certainly not something I need to decide anytime soon.
After living with 2 incredible host families I was beginning to get nervous that my luck would run up. Well I am so pleased to say that it hasn’t. This host family is different from the others in that they seem to be a lot more enthusiastic and are a lot less shy, for lack of a better word. I have my dona, my don, and a host brother who is 23, and who used to play for the Washington Nationals summer league here in the DR. We also have a cooking and cleaning helper who is pretty friendly as well. My dona hurt her back a while ago and hired this woman to help out around the house. Sadly, who don’t have any pets, but my dona did tell me that there’s a horse somewhere and that they’d like to get another pet sometime soon. I have seen quite a few cute animals here, so perhaps I can talk them into letting me get one. Having a pet here, as I’ve mentioned, is not only a huge responsibility in terms of money and time, and in finding someone to look after the pet when you leave the site (which is usually at least once a month,) but also in terms of the risk involved. Dogs fight almost constantly, and the ones that are able to survive the fights and the lack of ever being fed are doing all they can to survive and are likely ruthless. Cats are seen as mouse, rat, cockroach, and tarantula killers and dogs aren’t seen as much besides food-stealers. (Cats are seen as food-stealers too.) For that, it isn’t uncommon for someone to poison an animal if they repeatedly, or even just one time, get into human food. It seems terrible I know, and perhaps it is, but consider that a lot of people exist day to day here and if some dog keeps coming around and snatching your chicken, and if that was the lunch for the day, and you have 6 hungry children to feed… For that, it isn’t uncommon for Peace Corps volunteers to tell their communities that if anything should happen to their pets, they will leave the community. Being in a position like that, where I might have to threaten the community I am trying to build good relationships with, or face the potential of losing an animal so tragically seems terrible, so you can see why it is such a large investment.
A health community has been formed as a prerequisite for my being here. There is also an active neighborhood group and 2 churches, one Catholic, where my host family goes, and one Evangelical. On my visit the health community met, but I wasn’t able to attend any of the other functions. For the first 3 months I am required to interview the community in its entirety in what is called a Community Diagnostic. I will ask questions about general health, and health practices, test them on things like if they know the difference between HIV and AIDS, and use the experience to get to know everyone. Ordinarily I would have to go to 150 houses, but because my community is so small, I only have to go to the 104 houses here. After the Community Diagnostic I can begin working with the health promoters, giving classes from which they will graduate so that they can give classes. I will also work with a group of youth and train them in much of the same ways with a focus on sexual health and healthy decision making. I am very excited to get to work because the youth and health group seem very enthusiastic and I’m ready to get to know everyone and become friends.
In addition to touring the community on my visit, I also played a lot of dominoes and sat and talked to some community members. Unfortunately for me the people I’ve been playing with here are much more talented at dominoes than anyone I’ve played with before, but I’ve been holding my own ground somewhat, struggling mercilessly to do so, but doing so. I look forward to many more lazy afternoons and evenings of playing dominoes in this community.
Tuesday November 13th, exactly 2 months after we arrived in country was our project partner day. What that means is that the people we all, now 50 of us, are working with, came into the capital to meet us and take us home. I was told that it would be one of the scariest days of my experience in this country, and as you can probably imagine it was a day full of many emotions for many people. Those emotions ranged from stressful excitement, to emotionally nerve-wracking for just about everyone. I wouldn’t say it was super scary, and felt nervous for about 1 minute. Lately I’ve just been doing pretty darn well at talking myself out of feeling anything but happy. My project partners arrived on time, though they had one of the furthest journeys of anyone; they were wise and came in a day early. We met when I looked over and saw a familiar name on the name tag of a well-dressed, friendly-looking woman. She soon introduced me to another woman from our town and we fell into conversation very soon after.
After some Peace Corps-organized activities we were able to take off for our sites. We took a taxi to the bus station, then took a bus to Santiago. From there we took a taxi to another bus station. After that bus ride we got into the car belonging to my new host brother. This all took about 5 hours. After about a 45 minute drive in his car we arrived at my new host family’s house. It was after dark, but I could tell it was a very lovely home and I was extremely well-greeted by everyone. As I was eating dinner and conversing with my host mother I started to hear the sound of singing voices and turned around to see a group of neighbors who had gathered with my project partners to welcome me to the town in song. Although I was very tired, I was of course, very touched. My project partners were the most enthusiastic during all of the Peace Corps activities and seem very enthusiastic to have me here now. I feel quite blessed and think I have every reason to hope that this continues. I feel certain that it will.
From what I can tell of the north so far, it is as beautiful as everyone describes. As we were driving towards the site I saw the greatest sunset over white clouds and a flat mountain range, which were framed by fields of palm trees. My house is situated near the town school. Up the road from my house is a road that is situated just below a beautiful set of rolling hills covered in trees and tall grass. The town consists of approximately 100 houses, with an estimated 400 inhabitants. They are mostly Dominicans, but there is a Haitian population as well, including one family that lives right next door. When I asked my host mother about them, she told me they speak Spanish, work in agriculture around here, and pretty much keep to themselves.
The town in general seems pretty well off economically. From what I’ve seen, I live in one of the fanciest homes here, and it’s nicer than either of the homes I’ve lived in so far in this country. Of course we have neighbors that live in not much more than glorified shacks as well, just as exist all over the country. But this might be the first time I’ve seen such a nice house that belongs to someone who isn’t a foreigner, a politician, or rumored to be a drug dealer. The only reason I can see so far for the wealth is a cheese factory (yes I know, you’re totally jealous of me right now). I’ve been a few times to visit it and it’s pretty nifty. They make 3 kinds of cheese that they seal in red wax and cover in red paper with a black and yellow sticker. I’ll be sure to find out if any of it makes its way to the US so you can all try some. My host father owns some land where he and his son graze cattle for milk (and probably cheese as well) and my host mother is a school teacher at the school in our town and in the nearby larger town.
When I say nearby, I don’t actually mean it. We are a good 45 minute bumpy ride from the nearest highway to the big city near here (Santiago), and a good 25 minute bumpy ride from the nearest town. That town, truth be told, is a beach town. Poor me, I know. I got to go and visit it the other day with another volunteer who is stationed there. Poor her, I know. She is an environment volunteer and was very adventurous and hopped on a moto to come find me in my town even though she’d never been up this way before and didn’t know where I lived or where I’d be. So of course I had to reciprocate with joining her for an exersion to the beach. It was beautiful. She said the water was colder than usual but let me tell you it couldn’t have been lower than 85 degrees. It was my first time in the Caribbean Sea since arriving here and it was gorgeous! The only downside was that I stepped on a very large sea creature of some sort which I am praying was a large fish, but which the volunteer told me was likely a baby shark. Yikes.
But back to my village… we are pretty isolated being so far from other towns and we don’t have a cell phone signal. We do have electricity about half of the time and running water most of the time (and my family even has a faucet above my head in the shower! I haven’t had that before in this country.) There is plenty of room to move around in the house as well, we even have a hallway. I have a room with 2 beds (although one is a crib, I use it for storage and could probably have a visitor spend the night there) and we have 2 bathrooms in the house. There are a few places to sit and gather indoors but it is much more pleasant to sit outside especially because my host family has a yard with grass and bushes and trees and flowers and everything. There is one tree in particular that is huge and old and provides a ton of shade that I know I’m going to love.
What all of this means for me is that in addition to feeling pretty comfortable for the time being, I can only move down from here, which might help me to change my mind about living in my own home at the end of the 3 required months of a homestay. It might also prove difficult to find a home. The volunteer I visited lived in a much larger community and she had only 2 homes to pick from to live in. The volunteer who I just recently visited who lives on the beach lives in a community about the size of mine, or perhaps a bit larger and there were no homes for her to live in so she decided to stay with her host mother. There are positives and negatives to both living with a host family for the whole 2 years and living alone , but it is certainly not something I need to decide anytime soon.
After living with 2 incredible host families I was beginning to get nervous that my luck would run up. Well I am so pleased to say that it hasn’t. This host family is different from the others in that they seem to be a lot more enthusiastic and are a lot less shy, for lack of a better word. I have my dona, my don, and a host brother who is 23, and who used to play for the Washington Nationals summer league here in the DR. We also have a cooking and cleaning helper who is pretty friendly as well. My dona hurt her back a while ago and hired this woman to help out around the house. Sadly, who don’t have any pets, but my dona did tell me that there’s a horse somewhere and that they’d like to get another pet sometime soon. I have seen quite a few cute animals here, so perhaps I can talk them into letting me get one. Having a pet here, as I’ve mentioned, is not only a huge responsibility in terms of money and time, and in finding someone to look after the pet when you leave the site (which is usually at least once a month,) but also in terms of the risk involved. Dogs fight almost constantly, and the ones that are able to survive the fights and the lack of ever being fed are doing all they can to survive and are likely ruthless. Cats are seen as mouse, rat, cockroach, and tarantula killers and dogs aren’t seen as much besides food-stealers. (Cats are seen as food-stealers too.) For that, it isn’t uncommon for someone to poison an animal if they repeatedly, or even just one time, get into human food. It seems terrible I know, and perhaps it is, but consider that a lot of people exist day to day here and if some dog keeps coming around and snatching your chicken, and if that was the lunch for the day, and you have 6 hungry children to feed… For that, it isn’t uncommon for Peace Corps volunteers to tell their communities that if anything should happen to their pets, they will leave the community. Being in a position like that, where I might have to threaten the community I am trying to build good relationships with, or face the potential of losing an animal so tragically seems terrible, so you can see why it is such a large investment.
A health community has been formed as a prerequisite for my being here. There is also an active neighborhood group and 2 churches, one Catholic, where my host family goes, and one Evangelical. On my visit the health community met, but I wasn’t able to attend any of the other functions. For the first 3 months I am required to interview the community in its entirety in what is called a Community Diagnostic. I will ask questions about general health, and health practices, test them on things like if they know the difference between HIV and AIDS, and use the experience to get to know everyone. Ordinarily I would have to go to 150 houses, but because my community is so small, I only have to go to the 104 houses here. After the Community Diagnostic I can begin working with the health promoters, giving classes from which they will graduate so that they can give classes. I will also work with a group of youth and train them in much of the same ways with a focus on sexual health and healthy decision making. I am very excited to get to work because the youth and health group seem very enthusiastic and I’m ready to get to know everyone and become friends.
In addition to touring the community on my visit, I also played a lot of dominoes and sat and talked to some community members. Unfortunately for me the people I’ve been playing with here are much more talented at dominoes than anyone I’ve played with before, but I’ve been holding my own ground somewhat, struggling mercilessly to do so, but doing so. I look forward to many more lazy afternoons and evenings of playing dominoes in this community.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Great Inscape
The last night in our Community Based Training was also the night that the local group of community leaders threw a party for us. It was lovely, just lovely. We played games and said “thank-yous” and goodbyes and then ate a lot of really good food and cake.
The party went pretty late, and after the walk home we were pretty tired. Well, when we got there, my host sister realized that her brother wasn’t here and he had the keys to the house. His cell is broken and I’m pretty sure we couldn’t have called him from here anyways. So, we were stuck. My host mother went off to look for help, while my host sister and I sat down and waited in defeat.
Suddenly, something occurred to me. I’d cleaned out my backpack in an effort to pack efficiently and had removed the set of keys they gave me to the house and left them on the dresser. I also realized that my window was open and remembered that I’d seen a large, long, thin stick outside of the house. (How all of these things worked together so well I’ll never know.) I retrieved the stick and sure enough, it was long enough to reach the keys. Now the only problem was configuring a way to get the keys on the end of the stick. Luckily, my host sister was right there with the solution. We’d built a chicken coop at my house as a group the weekend before and some of the supplies were outside. She found a rock and hit a nail into the end of the stick. Then I got to be Ms. McGyver once again and finagle a way to get the key ring over the nail and onto the stick. Well, I was successful, and we were in the house in less than 5 minutes after having arrived.
Sometimes you hear sad being locked out stories. Other times you get to hear good ones. This is one of those good ones because it is very rare that I get to be the hero, and even more rare that I get to be in a country where I don’t speak the language well and end up looking a fool more often than I’d like. I was such a hero that night.
That wonderful song from The Great Escape was totally playing as this all happened, by the way.
Another by the way, the more you tell me you like my photos and blogs, the more photos I will take and blogs I will write. I respond quite strongly to this sort of reinforcement. So for those of you who have been telling me you read or enjoy those 2 websites, you have only yourselves to thank for the updates because without you having told me you do that, I wouldn’t do my part nearly as often.
The party went pretty late, and after the walk home we were pretty tired. Well, when we got there, my host sister realized that her brother wasn’t here and he had the keys to the house. His cell is broken and I’m pretty sure we couldn’t have called him from here anyways. So, we were stuck. My host mother went off to look for help, while my host sister and I sat down and waited in defeat.
Suddenly, something occurred to me. I’d cleaned out my backpack in an effort to pack efficiently and had removed the set of keys they gave me to the house and left them on the dresser. I also realized that my window was open and remembered that I’d seen a large, long, thin stick outside of the house. (How all of these things worked together so well I’ll never know.) I retrieved the stick and sure enough, it was long enough to reach the keys. Now the only problem was configuring a way to get the keys on the end of the stick. Luckily, my host sister was right there with the solution. We’d built a chicken coop at my house as a group the weekend before and some of the supplies were outside. She found a rock and hit a nail into the end of the stick. Then I got to be Ms. McGyver once again and finagle a way to get the key ring over the nail and onto the stick. Well, I was successful, and we were in the house in less than 5 minutes after having arrived.
Sometimes you hear sad being locked out stories. Other times you get to hear good ones. This is one of those good ones because it is very rare that I get to be the hero, and even more rare that I get to be in a country where I don’t speak the language well and end up looking a fool more often than I’d like. I was such a hero that night.
That wonderful song from The Great Escape was totally playing as this all happened, by the way.
Another by the way, the more you tell me you like my photos and blogs, the more photos I will take and blogs I will write. I respond quite strongly to this sort of reinforcement. So for those of you who have been telling me you read or enjoy those 2 websites, you have only yourselves to thank for the updates because without you having told me you do that, I wouldn’t do my part nearly as often.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
It's Alive!
First it was the gripe. I survived.
Then, despite the odds, with the storm, I got better from the gripe and survived the storm.
Then I got another kind of sick that you don't want me to describe. I might be better now, but it's too soon to say.
The thing that might have provoked the new sickness was a day out walking to see the damage near my area. It was bad. A whole long line of homes and bridges was taken out. My friends took pictures so when I get them I'll pass them along.
I will be back in the capital this weekend for a few days and then off to visit my new site next week. I'll be there for a few days, then back to the capital to swear in and attend an all-volunteer conference over Thanksgiving. After that it's off to my site for good!
Then, despite the odds, with the storm, I got better from the gripe and survived the storm.
Then I got another kind of sick that you don't want me to describe. I might be better now, but it's too soon to say.
The thing that might have provoked the new sickness was a day out walking to see the damage near my area. It was bad. A whole long line of homes and bridges was taken out. My friends took pictures so when I get them I'll pass them along.
I will be back in the capital this weekend for a few days and then off to visit my new site next week. I'll be there for a few days, then back to the capital to swear in and attend an all-volunteer conference over Thanksgiving. After that it's off to my site for good!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
All I Hear is the Sound of Rain Falling...
on the roof.
It’s been raining for over 5 days. Ordinarily such a thing wouldn’t be something I’d care too much about. But because I live under a tin roof, and the walls aren’t connected to the floor or roof, and the rain and winds are fierce, and there’s no sewer system to catch the rain water on the unpaved roads, and I live a good 25-35 minute walk from any of the other volunteers, and the rivers are overflowing, and because I am sick and wouldn’t want to leave anyway, it is hard to notice anything else.
The first night was exciting. It was like I was on a little adventure. The sound of the wind on the walls, and rain on the roof, while I huddled under my bed net and sheet, with my flashlight ready in case the power went out, and sweatshirt close beside me, hoping that it might become cold enough so that I would need to put it on. I’m sure you can just see it now.
But after more than 5 days of the sound of the rain on the roof, and leaks in the roof facilitating a wet bed for me to sleep in, it’s beginning to feel less like an exciting adventure and more like the Peace Corps, even if the sound helped to drown out the roosters so I got to sleep in a bit. There was even a 4 day period where I didn’t leave the block around my house except to go to the corner store because of the weather and being sick. I used the experience as a very good, dramatic lesson in why it would suck to be in a submarine.
As I mentioned, I have the gripe. I’ve had it for some time now and it’s no fun. I’m not sure from whom I caught it; a few volunteers and their host family members had it for a few days, or something like it. The gripe, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Spanish, is anything reminiscent of the flu, a cough, or a cold. Gripe is the perfect name for what it feels like I have, because it feels like the grip of something scary. It’s as strong as the flu, with cold and flu symptoms. It might last for 1-2 weeks.
I’m beginning to get a feeling for what they mean when they describe Peace Corps as the toughest job you’ll ever love. Even in these moments though, I am amazingly inspired to just be here, and keep going with a smile. I learned the other day where I will likely be placed for the 2 years. It’s in the north, near a fellow health volunteer that I have come to know very well. I’m very excited to explore a new part of the country, and am pleased to report to all of you, who may have doubted whether or not you could swing a visit down to see me, and especially pleased to report to those of you who were already planning on coming to see me, that my site is near the coast. What that means as far as swimming opportunities and beaches remains to be seen. But I think we have every reason to hope that I’ll be within 30 minutes of some beautiful sand.
It’s been raining for over 5 days. Ordinarily such a thing wouldn’t be something I’d care too much about. But because I live under a tin roof, and the walls aren’t connected to the floor or roof, and the rain and winds are fierce, and there’s no sewer system to catch the rain water on the unpaved roads, and I live a good 25-35 minute walk from any of the other volunteers, and the rivers are overflowing, and because I am sick and wouldn’t want to leave anyway, it is hard to notice anything else.
The first night was exciting. It was like I was on a little adventure. The sound of the wind on the walls, and rain on the roof, while I huddled under my bed net and sheet, with my flashlight ready in case the power went out, and sweatshirt close beside me, hoping that it might become cold enough so that I would need to put it on. I’m sure you can just see it now.
But after more than 5 days of the sound of the rain on the roof, and leaks in the roof facilitating a wet bed for me to sleep in, it’s beginning to feel less like an exciting adventure and more like the Peace Corps, even if the sound helped to drown out the roosters so I got to sleep in a bit. There was even a 4 day period where I didn’t leave the block around my house except to go to the corner store because of the weather and being sick. I used the experience as a very good, dramatic lesson in why it would suck to be in a submarine.
As I mentioned, I have the gripe. I’ve had it for some time now and it’s no fun. I’m not sure from whom I caught it; a few volunteers and their host family members had it for a few days, or something like it. The gripe, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Spanish, is anything reminiscent of the flu, a cough, or a cold. Gripe is the perfect name for what it feels like I have, because it feels like the grip of something scary. It’s as strong as the flu, with cold and flu symptoms. It might last for 1-2 weeks.
I’m beginning to get a feeling for what they mean when they describe Peace Corps as the toughest job you’ll ever love. Even in these moments though, I am amazingly inspired to just be here, and keep going with a smile. I learned the other day where I will likely be placed for the 2 years. It’s in the north, near a fellow health volunteer that I have come to know very well. I’m very excited to explore a new part of the country, and am pleased to report to all of you, who may have doubted whether or not you could swing a visit down to see me, and especially pleased to report to those of you who were already planning on coming to see me, that my site is near the coast. What that means as far as swimming opportunities and beaches remains to be seen. But I think we have every reason to hope that I’ll be within 30 minutes of some beautiful sand.
Them That's Got Shall Get
*This one is a bit darker than most of my entries, it’s longer, perhaps a little drier as well, and definitely preachy. I tried my best to de-preach but it was just too hard. So read on, only if you’ve got a strong stomach.
I got the gripe (which I will describe later) a few days ago. The first day it really manifested itself was also the day of a tour of the hospital for the region where we are currently training. We met with 2 former Peace Corps volunteers who now work for an NGO down here called Infante Sano. It’s partnered with some Bostonian business men and the Harvard Children’s Medical Center. They were inspiring, and really motivated me to get working in the Dominican health system. But what really struck me that day, and is something I will likely remember for the rest of my life, was the tour of the facility.
Earlier in this portion of training we asked women about their pregnancies: if they saw a doctor pre or post delivery, where they gave birth, etc. At the time I was pleased that all women that I interviewed reported going to the hospital we toured, or to hospitals in the capital, as opposed to delivering at home or in a rural clinic. After seeing the hospital though, I’m less sure that they were better off there. We didn’t actually get a look inside the delivery room, but I was told there are just a few beds, with no sheets, and at the time we were there, 5 women were giving birth on one bed (perhaps they had found some sheets for that one bed) with no doctor in sight. It is not possible to have your husband or boyfriend or family member in the delivery room with you, so those women were pretty much all alone. I found this out from an American, who I was told was a Harvard grad studying medicine at the hospital, who looked panicked as she was running down the hall looking for help. She explained briefly to our guides what was happening.
I’d heard that in this part of the world nurses are scarce, so family members attend to the sick when they go to the hospital. That was the case. Most rooms had old beds with thin mattresses, only some had bed nets, and no rooms had AC. We saw people of all ages, all sharing one thing in common; they looked like they were in agony. The children’s ward was especially challenging to see, as I’m sure you can guess. One nice thing was that the women from Infante Sano had some local artists come in and paint some murals a while back, so at least the walls looked happy.
We got to see the ER. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was a room not much bigger than a walk in closet with a closed, locked door that needs to be banged on to be opened. Two patients were being attended to when we walked in. One was an old man who looked tired, but like he was being taken care of. The other was a young boy who I believe was being stitched up on his face. I saw the string, and the needle, but could not see exactly where they were going. I didn’t think the doctors or nurses were using any painkillers because he was trashing around on the bed quite a bit.
If any of this has stricken a chord within you, I hope it doesn’t make you want to write a check. The problems that this country is facing are so deep, and so difficult, and unfortunately the answers won’t be as easy as writing a check. A check will only last so long, and then the people who used it will wonder how they’re going to get the next one.
One very fundamental issue to try to understand is the way the political system works. The Dominican presidential election is coming up. There’s the incumbent, Leonel Fernandez, who was also president a few years ago, and his main opponent Miguel Vargas; both of these men have wonderful smiles, which are plastered all over the country. And then there’s Amable Aristy, who doesn’t seem to stand much of a chance. My understanding is that he is conservative, but our definitions of what is conservative and what is liberal don’t quite translate here, as I’m sure you can imagine. (Fernandez is said to be the more liberal of the two main contenders.) Aristy’s campaign is active, and I see more commercials for him than the others; he claims to be the president for the poor. Here’s where the problem comes in, his commercials, legitimately, consist of poor Dominicans attesting to his character because he gave them free stuff, like money to start a workshop, a house, a job, medications, etc. Then they say” I know he is the man for the job because of the favor he did for me.” The gifts seem to have been given out quite arbitrarily, as in someone wrote him a letter asking for a bicycle so that they could get to work, and he decided to help them out. While that is all fine and good, it’s no basis for being the head of state. And this example is not the exception. The other political parties do it too.
There’s some sort of understanding that a good political official is someone that gives handouts, including jobs. The problem then becomes what is going to happen when that elected official’s term is up. For example, President X believes that the healthcare system is in need of help, and decides to go for a national healthcare plan and appoint all of his friends to high ranking positions within the ministry of health, including the heads of hospitals, and before the plan is fully implemented, President Y comes in. Even if President Y wants the plan to move forward, he is going to remove all of President X’s men and women from their positions and put in his new people. You can see where this is going. (This is, in fact, something that President Fernandez has been working on, but of course it is slow going.)
Here are some real life examples on a local level. I’m living with our technical trainer and 3 other volunteers in a little community which has a very active community group. One of the members is the mayor. The other night at a meeting, the leadership of the community group was discussing how much they could benefit from having a group truck or bus. Everyone turned to the mayor and he agreed to buy one, with political or government funds, for the group. The following day, they took us on a smashing tour, during which we all had a lovely time. I wasn’t so much surprised that school children and working parents were able to come with us on a Friday morning (there was a teacher strike, again, so school was out, again, and people don’t tend to work in the same way we Americans imagine, ie: the money just arrives though no one really goes anywhere), rather I was surprised that the group was able to borrow the bus, pay a driver, and then take us all out to lunch. But I should have known better, they mayor paid for that too.
I’m not trying to say that handouts aren’t good, they are probably very much necessary in many places in this country. What I am saying is that they aren’t sustainable, which is crucial, as us Peace Corps trainees have been talking about since we got here, and that it might be better if the government realized it too. I shouldn’t pretend to be some expert on this subject, and very willingly acknowledge that I am just visiting and don’t know much about development, much less the Dominican Republic. It just seems as though instead of the government, or more specifically the president, doing personal favors in select areas of the country for select communities, it might be more productive in the long run for things with more lasting results (such as national scholarship programs, teaching colleges, nursing schools, free accessible, universities, perks for engineers, doctors, and other well trained professionals to stay in the country, and others) to be initiated and not only dealt to friends of the political party. It makes no sense to me why there would be free, accessible water, a public clinic, and paved roads in some small rural communities and not in others. People, Americans and Dominicans alike, who have been here a while, or all their lives, have told me that the communities with the nice stuff are the communities that have been selected by the president to receive it, likely because of their political support. But no national plans to bring all rural clinics up to some standard, or pave all roads, for example, are on the table.
So we don’t want you to write a check to fix the public health system in the DR. We would rather encourage getting involved in something sustainable, like contributing to small business loans, or coming down to visit me, or someone else, or even stepping out from the warmth of a security blanket and going to train people in what it is that you know, even if it’s just a group slightly less well off than you and it’s a cooking class, or yoga. Unfortunately my time here isn’t even sustainable, which is why I have to work tirelessly over the 2 years to ensure that someone within the community will take over the various roles I will fill when I leave. It’s going to be difficult, but I’m excited to try.
Perhaps some of you with more regular access to internet could look up what the experts are saying about this issue generally, and then also with regard to the DR. I’d love to read some insights from people much smarter than me. Try posting them here if you find anything of note.
I got the gripe (which I will describe later) a few days ago. The first day it really manifested itself was also the day of a tour of the hospital for the region where we are currently training. We met with 2 former Peace Corps volunteers who now work for an NGO down here called Infante Sano. It’s partnered with some Bostonian business men and the Harvard Children’s Medical Center. They were inspiring, and really motivated me to get working in the Dominican health system. But what really struck me that day, and is something I will likely remember for the rest of my life, was the tour of the facility.
Earlier in this portion of training we asked women about their pregnancies: if they saw a doctor pre or post delivery, where they gave birth, etc. At the time I was pleased that all women that I interviewed reported going to the hospital we toured, or to hospitals in the capital, as opposed to delivering at home or in a rural clinic. After seeing the hospital though, I’m less sure that they were better off there. We didn’t actually get a look inside the delivery room, but I was told there are just a few beds, with no sheets, and at the time we were there, 5 women were giving birth on one bed (perhaps they had found some sheets for that one bed) with no doctor in sight. It is not possible to have your husband or boyfriend or family member in the delivery room with you, so those women were pretty much all alone. I found this out from an American, who I was told was a Harvard grad studying medicine at the hospital, who looked panicked as she was running down the hall looking for help. She explained briefly to our guides what was happening.
I’d heard that in this part of the world nurses are scarce, so family members attend to the sick when they go to the hospital. That was the case. Most rooms had old beds with thin mattresses, only some had bed nets, and no rooms had AC. We saw people of all ages, all sharing one thing in common; they looked like they were in agony. The children’s ward was especially challenging to see, as I’m sure you can guess. One nice thing was that the women from Infante Sano had some local artists come in and paint some murals a while back, so at least the walls looked happy.
We got to see the ER. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was a room not much bigger than a walk in closet with a closed, locked door that needs to be banged on to be opened. Two patients were being attended to when we walked in. One was an old man who looked tired, but like he was being taken care of. The other was a young boy who I believe was being stitched up on his face. I saw the string, and the needle, but could not see exactly where they were going. I didn’t think the doctors or nurses were using any painkillers because he was trashing around on the bed quite a bit.
If any of this has stricken a chord within you, I hope it doesn’t make you want to write a check. The problems that this country is facing are so deep, and so difficult, and unfortunately the answers won’t be as easy as writing a check. A check will only last so long, and then the people who used it will wonder how they’re going to get the next one.
One very fundamental issue to try to understand is the way the political system works. The Dominican presidential election is coming up. There’s the incumbent, Leonel Fernandez, who was also president a few years ago, and his main opponent Miguel Vargas; both of these men have wonderful smiles, which are plastered all over the country. And then there’s Amable Aristy, who doesn’t seem to stand much of a chance. My understanding is that he is conservative, but our definitions of what is conservative and what is liberal don’t quite translate here, as I’m sure you can imagine. (Fernandez is said to be the more liberal of the two main contenders.) Aristy’s campaign is active, and I see more commercials for him than the others; he claims to be the president for the poor. Here’s where the problem comes in, his commercials, legitimately, consist of poor Dominicans attesting to his character because he gave them free stuff, like money to start a workshop, a house, a job, medications, etc. Then they say” I know he is the man for the job because of the favor he did for me.” The gifts seem to have been given out quite arbitrarily, as in someone wrote him a letter asking for a bicycle so that they could get to work, and he decided to help them out. While that is all fine and good, it’s no basis for being the head of state. And this example is not the exception. The other political parties do it too.
There’s some sort of understanding that a good political official is someone that gives handouts, including jobs. The problem then becomes what is going to happen when that elected official’s term is up. For example, President X believes that the healthcare system is in need of help, and decides to go for a national healthcare plan and appoint all of his friends to high ranking positions within the ministry of health, including the heads of hospitals, and before the plan is fully implemented, President Y comes in. Even if President Y wants the plan to move forward, he is going to remove all of President X’s men and women from their positions and put in his new people. You can see where this is going. (This is, in fact, something that President Fernandez has been working on, but of course it is slow going.)
Here are some real life examples on a local level. I’m living with our technical trainer and 3 other volunteers in a little community which has a very active community group. One of the members is the mayor. The other night at a meeting, the leadership of the community group was discussing how much they could benefit from having a group truck or bus. Everyone turned to the mayor and he agreed to buy one, with political or government funds, for the group. The following day, they took us on a smashing tour, during which we all had a lovely time. I wasn’t so much surprised that school children and working parents were able to come with us on a Friday morning (there was a teacher strike, again, so school was out, again, and people don’t tend to work in the same way we Americans imagine, ie: the money just arrives though no one really goes anywhere), rather I was surprised that the group was able to borrow the bus, pay a driver, and then take us all out to lunch. But I should have known better, they mayor paid for that too.
I’m not trying to say that handouts aren’t good, they are probably very much necessary in many places in this country. What I am saying is that they aren’t sustainable, which is crucial, as us Peace Corps trainees have been talking about since we got here, and that it might be better if the government realized it too. I shouldn’t pretend to be some expert on this subject, and very willingly acknowledge that I am just visiting and don’t know much about development, much less the Dominican Republic. It just seems as though instead of the government, or more specifically the president, doing personal favors in select areas of the country for select communities, it might be more productive in the long run for things with more lasting results (such as national scholarship programs, teaching colleges, nursing schools, free accessible, universities, perks for engineers, doctors, and other well trained professionals to stay in the country, and others) to be initiated and not only dealt to friends of the political party. It makes no sense to me why there would be free, accessible water, a public clinic, and paved roads in some small rural communities and not in others. People, Americans and Dominicans alike, who have been here a while, or all their lives, have told me that the communities with the nice stuff are the communities that have been selected by the president to receive it, likely because of their political support. But no national plans to bring all rural clinics up to some standard, or pave all roads, for example, are on the table.
So we don’t want you to write a check to fix the public health system in the DR. We would rather encourage getting involved in something sustainable, like contributing to small business loans, or coming down to visit me, or someone else, or even stepping out from the warmth of a security blanket and going to train people in what it is that you know, even if it’s just a group slightly less well off than you and it’s a cooking class, or yoga. Unfortunately my time here isn’t even sustainable, which is why I have to work tirelessly over the 2 years to ensure that someone within the community will take over the various roles I will fill when I leave. It’s going to be difficult, but I’m excited to try.
Perhaps some of you with more regular access to internet could look up what the experts are saying about this issue generally, and then also with regard to the DR. I’d love to read some insights from people much smarter than me. Try posting them here if you find anything of note.
The Basics
I read a few blogs of some fellow volunteers and realized that although I’ve written tons more for you to read, and I really do means tons, there are a few key topics I’ve left off in my little summaries.
1) Public Transportation
The public transportation situation in this country is probably worthy of a novel-worth of description. We’ve got gua-guas, which are more or less mini-buses that sit 4 or 5 to a row. They have a driver and a cobrador, who lists the places the bus is going to potential riders. He also tells you where to sit and collects the bus fares. Then there are the carro publicos, or conchos, which sit 4 or 5 in a back seat and 2 in the passenger seat. They, like the gua-guas, would be the sort of vehicles that those of us in the US might describe as something that shouldn’t be on the road. But after watching what some elastic bands and duct tape can do for a car, to mend broken windshields and keep doors attached, I am convinced we could be getting a lot more use out of our vehicles in the US before putting them down. I’ve already described for you a little about the motoconchos. They are everywhere on this island and are the way to get around where we are now, in the campo. Peace Corps Dominican Republic is one of only 2 Peace Corps sites where volunteers are still allowed to ride motos at all because it would just be impossible to get around here without being able to ride them. (I guess Peace Corps thinks they’re dangerous or something.) Lately, all I want to do is ride on them. There’s something cool about feeling the breeze on your skin while strutting over Caribbean roads, even if you’re the only person in the history of that road to wear a helmet while riding on a moto, and get stared at mercilessly.
2) Bugs
This one, unlike the above which was more relevant back when we were still in the capital, is actually a pretty well timed entry. The bugs and I aren’t getting along as well as we used to. Frankly, I’m a little worried about the future of our relationship. In the capital, they bit, and it itched, but they respected that sometimes I just needed my alone time, and that that time began when I entered my bed net before bed. Here, I’m getting a lot less respect for my needs.
The mosquitoes tend to leave me alone when I 1)wash with local soap, 2) wear long pants, 3) take B-Complex with breakfast and lunch (to help make my sweat stink), and 4) wear my deet. It’s not just that they are more frequent and bite at all hours of the day in the country, but also that they carry dengue, especially in the area where I am doing my training. But the biting ants are more needy. They require more one on one attention and have taken to following me everywhere I go. Thankfully they haven’t started hanging out in my food too often, as they have been with some of the other volunteers, but they do follow me pretty much everywhere else. They especially like to get into bed with me. I can’t say that I blame them, but I also don’t need to take that kind of mistreatment.
Then there are the cockroaches. Us who have lived in DC know that cockroaches are terrible and scary. Well, they are pretty common here too, but with one fundamental difference. They can fly! Seriously. They are also much larger than any I’ve seen in the states. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw one fly into my room the first time. You would have been proud of me. I grabbed a tough-heeled shoe and smacked the crap out of it. It tried to scurry away, and snuck under the door when I had it cornered, but I definitely triumphed over nature that night. I later got to observe my host mom kill one swiftly and fiercely. I feel as though that means I was born with a little Dominican in me.
Although they are not bugs, I feel it is necessary to mention the tarantulas at this point. We were told they couldn’t kill us, but we were not told whether or not they could bite and poison us. I’m thinking that means that they can. Still, I’m not too worried. So far I’ve only seen a handful lying dead at the side of the road (they’re so big, they’re road kill here) and have just heard stories. I haven’t yet seen a living one with my own eyes. I have seen caterpillars the size of a finger, and mice and rats on the rafters of my house. Would you believe me if I said I’d prefer all of that to these stupid, tiny, biting ants?
3) Baseball, Dominoes and Chisme
I’m sure some of you have heard that baseball is big in the DR. Well they weren’t lying to you. It’s huge. The 2 teams in the US are the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Socks. Both teams are from New York, which takes up the entire country. Don’t try to talk to your average-baseball-loving-Dominican about the Chicago White Blah or the Cub-blahs, much less the Colorado Rock-blahs or the Cleveland Indiblahs. Believe me, they just don’t exist. That was a little surprising to me at first. I wanted to talk to my host father in the capital about the Cubbies, and Sammy Sosa or Alfonso Soriano, to give him and his family some perspective on where I’m from. He didn’t really acknowledge that there were teams besides the Red Socks or the Yankees, although he did hear about the Mets once or twice. I thought that was strange at the time, but now I understand that it’s just the way it is. All the Dominicans that go to the US go to New York and some go to Boston. So, those are the games that get broadcasted, and those are the teams that have a Dominican fan base.
I met some boys, one was 14 and the other 16, back in the capital who wanted to play baseball with us one day. We didn’t end up getting to use a baseball field, but we did get to talking. They were both involved in recruitment to US MLB teams. Apparently, and I’m sure I’ll learn more about this with time, the MLB teams have summer baseball camps to train kids and ideally get to recruit them later in life. One of the two was involved with a Phillies camp and the other with another that I can’t remember right now.
Dominoes. It’s not just a crappy pizza company. It’s also a crappy game. No, I’m just kidding. The only reason I say that is because I used to be SO terrible at it. The version of dominoes that is played here is much less difficult to learn than that in the US, and that’s coming from someone who isn’t a quick learner and very recently was taught both versions, and had slightly more success with the Dominican version. The men play it pretty much all the time when they’re not watching baseball or watching white girls walk by. I don’t actually get to play it that often and am probably known to some as the worst white girl at it because of my lack of practice (neither host family ever plays.) But now, I am happy to say, I'm much better at it.
And that just leaves us with chisme. It means gossip and it’s definitely the most appealing of the three pass times. It’s probably more popular with Dominican women of the three, though it shows no gender boundaries. I suppose we are the subject of a fair amount of chisme here, and we probably were in the capital too. But I think where it will really be felt is once we are stationed to our project sites.
1) Public Transportation
The public transportation situation in this country is probably worthy of a novel-worth of description. We’ve got gua-guas, which are more or less mini-buses that sit 4 or 5 to a row. They have a driver and a cobrador, who lists the places the bus is going to potential riders. He also tells you where to sit and collects the bus fares. Then there are the carro publicos, or conchos, which sit 4 or 5 in a back seat and 2 in the passenger seat. They, like the gua-guas, would be the sort of vehicles that those of us in the US might describe as something that shouldn’t be on the road. But after watching what some elastic bands and duct tape can do for a car, to mend broken windshields and keep doors attached, I am convinced we could be getting a lot more use out of our vehicles in the US before putting them down. I’ve already described for you a little about the motoconchos. They are everywhere on this island and are the way to get around where we are now, in the campo. Peace Corps Dominican Republic is one of only 2 Peace Corps sites where volunteers are still allowed to ride motos at all because it would just be impossible to get around here without being able to ride them. (I guess Peace Corps thinks they’re dangerous or something.) Lately, all I want to do is ride on them. There’s something cool about feeling the breeze on your skin while strutting over Caribbean roads, even if you’re the only person in the history of that road to wear a helmet while riding on a moto, and get stared at mercilessly.
2) Bugs
This one, unlike the above which was more relevant back when we were still in the capital, is actually a pretty well timed entry. The bugs and I aren’t getting along as well as we used to. Frankly, I’m a little worried about the future of our relationship. In the capital, they bit, and it itched, but they respected that sometimes I just needed my alone time, and that that time began when I entered my bed net before bed. Here, I’m getting a lot less respect for my needs.
The mosquitoes tend to leave me alone when I 1)wash with local soap, 2) wear long pants, 3) take B-Complex with breakfast and lunch (to help make my sweat stink), and 4) wear my deet. It’s not just that they are more frequent and bite at all hours of the day in the country, but also that they carry dengue, especially in the area where I am doing my training. But the biting ants are more needy. They require more one on one attention and have taken to following me everywhere I go. Thankfully they haven’t started hanging out in my food too often, as they have been with some of the other volunteers, but they do follow me pretty much everywhere else. They especially like to get into bed with me. I can’t say that I blame them, but I also don’t need to take that kind of mistreatment.
Then there are the cockroaches. Us who have lived in DC know that cockroaches are terrible and scary. Well, they are pretty common here too, but with one fundamental difference. They can fly! Seriously. They are also much larger than any I’ve seen in the states. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw one fly into my room the first time. You would have been proud of me. I grabbed a tough-heeled shoe and smacked the crap out of it. It tried to scurry away, and snuck under the door when I had it cornered, but I definitely triumphed over nature that night. I later got to observe my host mom kill one swiftly and fiercely. I feel as though that means I was born with a little Dominican in me.
Although they are not bugs, I feel it is necessary to mention the tarantulas at this point. We were told they couldn’t kill us, but we were not told whether or not they could bite and poison us. I’m thinking that means that they can. Still, I’m not too worried. So far I’ve only seen a handful lying dead at the side of the road (they’re so big, they’re road kill here) and have just heard stories. I haven’t yet seen a living one with my own eyes. I have seen caterpillars the size of a finger, and mice and rats on the rafters of my house. Would you believe me if I said I’d prefer all of that to these stupid, tiny, biting ants?
3) Baseball, Dominoes and Chisme
I’m sure some of you have heard that baseball is big in the DR. Well they weren’t lying to you. It’s huge. The 2 teams in the US are the New York Yankees and the Boston Red Socks. Both teams are from New York, which takes up the entire country. Don’t try to talk to your average-baseball-loving-Dominican about the Chicago White Blah or the Cub-blahs, much less the Colorado Rock-blahs or the Cleveland Indiblahs. Believe me, they just don’t exist. That was a little surprising to me at first. I wanted to talk to my host father in the capital about the Cubbies, and Sammy Sosa or Alfonso Soriano, to give him and his family some perspective on where I’m from. He didn’t really acknowledge that there were teams besides the Red Socks or the Yankees, although he did hear about the Mets once or twice. I thought that was strange at the time, but now I understand that it’s just the way it is. All the Dominicans that go to the US go to New York and some go to Boston. So, those are the games that get broadcasted, and those are the teams that have a Dominican fan base.
I met some boys, one was 14 and the other 16, back in the capital who wanted to play baseball with us one day. We didn’t end up getting to use a baseball field, but we did get to talking. They were both involved in recruitment to US MLB teams. Apparently, and I’m sure I’ll learn more about this with time, the MLB teams have summer baseball camps to train kids and ideally get to recruit them later in life. One of the two was involved with a Phillies camp and the other with another that I can’t remember right now.
Dominoes. It’s not just a crappy pizza company. It’s also a crappy game. No, I’m just kidding. The only reason I say that is because I used to be SO terrible at it. The version of dominoes that is played here is much less difficult to learn than that in the US, and that’s coming from someone who isn’t a quick learner and very recently was taught both versions, and had slightly more success with the Dominican version. The men play it pretty much all the time when they’re not watching baseball or watching white girls walk by. I don’t actually get to play it that often and am probably known to some as the worst white girl at it because of my lack of practice (neither host family ever plays.) But now, I am happy to say, I'm much better at it.
And that just leaves us with chisme. It means gossip and it’s definitely the most appealing of the three pass times. It’s probably more popular with Dominican women of the three, though it shows no gender boundaries. I suppose we are the subject of a fair amount of chisme here, and we probably were in the capital too. But I think where it will really be felt is once we are stationed to our project sites.
You Know You're In the Peace Corps When...
Before you get excited that I’m going to tell you things that would fit that list, let me acknowledge that I haven’t yet lived a complete Peace Corps life and would be extremely unable to create such a list after only a month or so.
Having said that, the other day seemed to be a pretty good “Peace Corps-y” day. Our Technical Trainer, who I think is just incredible, loaded all 12 of us into a Peace Corps issued pickup truck and we headed into the mountains in search of a waterfall at the top of a river. The trip was pretty crazy. We rode on paved roads for about 1/10 of the trip. The rest ranged from flat dirt roads to rocky mountainous dirt roads. I’d never done a trip like that before in the back of a pickup. There were moments when it felt like we were falling down the hills because of the way our technical trainer switched gears. But since we could not see or hear what she was doing inside the truck, we were pretty freaked out a few times. I tried to calm everyone down by asking them, when was the last time 12 Peace Corps volunteers died in a truck accident? They didn’t seem to respond to that sort of encouragement the way I’d planned.
When we reached the river we could not have been more relieved. The water was somewhat clean and very cold and it felt great. The current was pretty strong but we found little pools to sit in and talk. Climbing on the boulders was also quite fun. A fellow volunteer and I walked up the river to spot the waterfall we’d kept hearing about. It was just beautiful, perhaps 1 ½ stories tall, plunging deep into the water below. He went for a swim under and around it and described the current as being super strong. My camera battery had died only moments before but he had his camera so when I get those pictures I’ll be sure to pass them along.
The day was such a wonderful, what I hope will turn out to be very “Peace Corps-y” set of experiences. We were able to explore the river at multiple spots and the rocks and paths along the side of it. The area was almost completely untouched by humans. It was so much fun to go exploring. On the way back from a mini-excursion me and 3 other volunteers sang “The Ants Go Marching,” as it felt like the right type of song for our adventure.
The day ended when a group of non-campo-looking Dominican men, with a gigantic bottle of rum with dead sea creatures and dried wood inside of it, showed up and wanted to have their picture taken with all of us and share the rum. As we walked away from them we heard some gunshots coming from that area and were glad we had left when we did.
A few days later we experienced another very Peace Corps-y experience. We went to one of the 3 communities we’re living in for a Patronales festival. (Patronales is a name for a festival that lasts 9-14 days generally that each town in the country has during some point in the year. They include concerts, free events, dancing, beauty competitions, and other things for the whole community.) Within a matter of seconds after having arrived we were hurried on stage, under the lights, and before a crowd of perhaps 300 people. We simply stood there for a long while, being looked at, and trying our best to smile, until the music stopped and we were introduced. We had no idea we’d be getting up on stage and were pretty scared. What didn’t help to calm our nerves was that there was some guy at the edge of the stage, perhaps a security guard, or perhaps a Patronales enthusiast, with a gun, which he was using as a pointer. At one point he took the ammo out of it and I felt calm. That only lasted a moment. Obviously no one got shot, but it was still a little nerve-wracking.
It dawned on me the other day that I am so blessed to have gone into this with the traveling experiences that I’ve had, or my adjustment might not have been nearly as smooth as it’s been. What I’m now trying to describe can best be done with an example. The example I’ve chosen is the showering situations. In high school, I went to Spain, a pretty developed Spanish speaking country for 1 month. I was told that I could shower every day, but that I should turn the water off when I didn’t need it in the shower to help conserve. I found that odd and struggled with it. In college I went to Chile, a slightly less well-off Spanish-speaking country, for 4 months. I was told I could shower every day, but that I likely wouldn’t have hot water and should still turn the water off to conserve. I found that annoying and struggled with it. And now I’m in the DR, which is much less well-off than the others, for over 2 years. I was told I could still shower every day, but that I shouldn’t expect to have clean, running water. And for some reason, now, I don’t find it annoying or odd, and I’m not struggling with it. And I’m so glad.
Having said that, the other day seemed to be a pretty good “Peace Corps-y” day. Our Technical Trainer, who I think is just incredible, loaded all 12 of us into a Peace Corps issued pickup truck and we headed into the mountains in search of a waterfall at the top of a river. The trip was pretty crazy. We rode on paved roads for about 1/10 of the trip. The rest ranged from flat dirt roads to rocky mountainous dirt roads. I’d never done a trip like that before in the back of a pickup. There were moments when it felt like we were falling down the hills because of the way our technical trainer switched gears. But since we could not see or hear what she was doing inside the truck, we were pretty freaked out a few times. I tried to calm everyone down by asking them, when was the last time 12 Peace Corps volunteers died in a truck accident? They didn’t seem to respond to that sort of encouragement the way I’d planned.
When we reached the river we could not have been more relieved. The water was somewhat clean and very cold and it felt great. The current was pretty strong but we found little pools to sit in and talk. Climbing on the boulders was also quite fun. A fellow volunteer and I walked up the river to spot the waterfall we’d kept hearing about. It was just beautiful, perhaps 1 ½ stories tall, plunging deep into the water below. He went for a swim under and around it and described the current as being super strong. My camera battery had died only moments before but he had his camera so when I get those pictures I’ll be sure to pass them along.
The day was such a wonderful, what I hope will turn out to be very “Peace Corps-y” set of experiences. We were able to explore the river at multiple spots and the rocks and paths along the side of it. The area was almost completely untouched by humans. It was so much fun to go exploring. On the way back from a mini-excursion me and 3 other volunteers sang “The Ants Go Marching,” as it felt like the right type of song for our adventure.
The day ended when a group of non-campo-looking Dominican men, with a gigantic bottle of rum with dead sea creatures and dried wood inside of it, showed up and wanted to have their picture taken with all of us and share the rum. As we walked away from them we heard some gunshots coming from that area and were glad we had left when we did.
A few days later we experienced another very Peace Corps-y experience. We went to one of the 3 communities we’re living in for a Patronales festival. (Patronales is a name for a festival that lasts 9-14 days generally that each town in the country has during some point in the year. They include concerts, free events, dancing, beauty competitions, and other things for the whole community.) Within a matter of seconds after having arrived we were hurried on stage, under the lights, and before a crowd of perhaps 300 people. We simply stood there for a long while, being looked at, and trying our best to smile, until the music stopped and we were introduced. We had no idea we’d be getting up on stage and were pretty scared. What didn’t help to calm our nerves was that there was some guy at the edge of the stage, perhaps a security guard, or perhaps a Patronales enthusiast, with a gun, which he was using as a pointer. At one point he took the ammo out of it and I felt calm. That only lasted a moment. Obviously no one got shot, but it was still a little nerve-wracking.
It dawned on me the other day that I am so blessed to have gone into this with the traveling experiences that I’ve had, or my adjustment might not have been nearly as smooth as it’s been. What I’m now trying to describe can best be done with an example. The example I’ve chosen is the showering situations. In high school, I went to Spain, a pretty developed Spanish speaking country for 1 month. I was told that I could shower every day, but that I should turn the water off when I didn’t need it in the shower to help conserve. I found that odd and struggled with it. In college I went to Chile, a slightly less well-off Spanish-speaking country, for 4 months. I was told I could shower every day, but that I likely wouldn’t have hot water and should still turn the water off to conserve. I found that annoying and struggled with it. And now I’m in the DR, which is much less well-off than the others, for over 2 years. I was told I could still shower every day, but that I shouldn’t expect to have clean, running water. And for some reason, now, I don’t find it annoying or odd, and I’m not struggling with it. And I’m so glad.
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