On Death and Dying

My neighbor died a few days ago. I’ve been to two other funerals in my town, both for people I’d never met. But this neighbor was actually someone I knew, and she was someone I would have like to have considered a friend. She was sick, always going to the doctor, too thin, and apparently had a blood disease. She was in her 30s.

My project partner came to my window to wake me up to tell me this neighbor had died. I was shocked and sad and went to see her mother. Her mother was a wreck. I’ve never been held so tight by a Dominican. She just sat, crying her daughter’s name, and then mine, and then her daughter’s… They bury the casket the day the person dies. The casket is wood with a window near the face. My neighbor looked exactly the same, but they’d bound a ribbon around her face, perhaps to hold her chin to her face.

I sat for a while in the house, listening to my neighbor cry and watching the reactions of people who came to visit her. A few hours later some snacks were given out and then we went to the town where we’d bury her.

I’d kept it all together until we got there. I didn’t break down, but it did finally reach me that my neighbor had died. It struck me when I watched the men in charge of moving her casket. One of the men was another neighbor, a gruff guy who carries himself like he’s a farmhand with somewhere important to go and then after work like he’s a guy with some serious rum to drink. Seeing him cry over the women who hardly had any visitors, but you could still tell everyone loved, was heartbreaking. I pictured this gruff guy going to school with her, back when they were younger; in my imagination they were the same age, though I don’t really know how old he is. Still, it pained me to look as he cried, openly in a culture where machismo rules. As I looked around at other people, it was the subtle ones that kept me thinking about how sad it really was, and how much it affected so many people.

You see, in this culture there tends to be either lots of acceptance or perhaps even encouragement for people (and particularly women) to be dramatic when someone dies. I’ve heard stories of women crying and screaming so dramatically that they pass out, and I saw people get so emotional that they had to be carried away, one because she collapsed and one because she couldn’t stop shaking. But, it wasn’t them that made me sad-it was all of the women whom I see on a daily basis whom I’ve never seem be anything but friendly and happy, who subtly reacted to the loss of their neighbor, a woman they’d known for their entire lives. But mostly it was the men.

Gettin' Healthy in the DR

A few weeks ago us northern health girls got together (in the mountains) to hold a health conference. We were each able to bring 3 women from our communities to learn about different health topics. I tried to bring 4 women (one neighbor with a friend of hers and my neighbor’s two daughters) but the other 3 couldn’t come and so I left my neighbor to find the others to come with us, and amazingly, she did! All three women that came with me are incredibly dynamic and had a lot of fun.

We headed into the hills of the Caribbean (it was SO cold) and then went further on the back of a truck. It was beautiful, at the base of the highest peak in the Caribbean, but as I said, freezing. There was no cell phone signal where we were, and it was funny to watch the women from my town, who’d only gotten signal a matter of days in their town before the conference, to be unable to believe there was no signal in the area! We gave sessions on nutrition, health campaigns, cancer, HIV, STIs, and I gave one on First Aid, which I am pleased to report went very well. I also gave a yoga class which went very well- it’s fantastic to watch donas doing the yoga!

Immediately after the conference I went off to a stove-making workshop led by a volunteer living very far from me. It was great-I learned how to construct one of these improved, cement stoves and was glad to be able to get in there and get my hands dirty with the work. So, I look forward to the day when I can start construction in my town on these stoves!

This Land Is Your Land, Might We Have Some?

Since September we’ve been working, slowly, but steadily at getting land on which to put a library. When I say we I mean me and my fantastic youth group. We’ve gone back and forth trying to decide whether closing off a public road is a good idea. I guess we decided it wasn’t a good idea and instead of trying to find a donation of land from the farmers (we tried many times, unsuccessfully) we decided to find a way to buy some land (hopefully at a discount) on which to put our library/community center (and perhaps also a community garden or playground or something else because the land is a lot larger than I was hoping for). So, if we’re able to get the land, we’ll have a large space which thrills me.

I just switched power over from me and 2 teens to a new group of 4 teens for our youth group. There’s a new president (I was the former president), vice president, treasurer and secretary. I have passed a lot of responsibilities over to the new president including soliciting donations to buy the land (and get that giant discount we are hoping for) for the next few weeks while I am home. We’ll see how it all pans out!

I’m Still Serving in the Caribbean

I woke up this morning, like every other morning and let Lina out my back door on her leash. After a few minutes, like most mornings, she started barking and unlike most mornings, I went to see why. I’m quite glad I did because what I found out there was pretty shocking. A GIANT HERMIT CRAB! Well, not giant, but quite large, much larger than any I have ever seen before. (Check out photos on the photo website.)

As I looked at the hermit crab, I couldn’t help but wonder from where it had come. I will happily acknowledge that I am but 30 minutes from the coast, but still, that’s quite a long way for a little animal. Could a bird have carried it?

Am I suggesting hermit crabs migrate?
Not at all. They could be carried.
What? A swallow, carrying a hermit crab?
It could grip it by the husk.
It’s not a question of where he grips it. It’s a simple question of weight ratios. A 5 ounce bird could not carry a 1 pound hermit crab.
Well it doesn’t matter.
Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings 43 times every second, right?
Please!Am I right?
I’m not interested.
It could be carried by an African swallow.
Oh yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow, that’s my point.
Oh yeah I agree with that.
But then of course, the African swallows are non-migratory.
Oh yeah.
So they couldn’t bring a hermit crab anyway.
Wait a minute, supposing two swallows carried it together?
No, they’d have to have it on a line.
Well simple! They just use a strand of tree bark.
What, held under the dorsal guiding feathers?
Well why not?

Water, Water Everywhere

In the last few days of October and the first few of November I finally went to visit my 3 water volunteer friends who actually live only about 3 hours from me (which is close in DR travel speak). But first, I started the trip at the site of an environment volunteer to get a look at the stoves that are in that town which are the same that I would like to put into my community at some point in the very near future. The stoves were HUGE and just by first glance I could tell how much better they are than the stoves that are typically used. The stove owner and the volunteer then explained how the stoves work and I was even more sold on the project.

We then went on a hike to the town of the first water volunteer that I visited. They supposedly live 1 ½ hours from one another but the hike ended up taking over 3 hours, partly because me and another volunteer that I did the hike with aren’t the fastest, but also because I had to keep changing shoes. You see, the path wound around a river that was easily crossed with the proper footwear that neither I nor the other female volunteer in our hiking group had. She had flip flops and I had both sneakers and flip flops. So, we were slow. The views from up in the hills were lovely, check out some photos on the website. We hiked also with the environment volunteer’s puppy, Wind. Adorable.

The water volunteer I visited first has a very small and very spread out community. I felt I was walking around in a jungle when I was visiting there. We had a lot of fun on the visit, although it was pretty short. (The next day I went to vote in Santiago by general absentee ballot that I cannot be sure ever made it to Cook County. On the trip I was able to pick up a tee-shirt that volunteers made which support our favorite candidate. So at least there was that.)

Later that day I went to visit another water volunteer and due to heavy rains, spent two nights at his site and put off a visit to water volunteer number three until the following week. On this visit I got a chance to take a walk of his town (hilly, very sweaty in the high heats of October.) We also watched lots of DVDs and cable. Yes that’s right, he still lives with his host family and so still has a television and so can somewhat still be in touch with the world. It was nice, as were the members of his host family. We cooked dinner for them one night (spaghetti with red sauce) and it was met with mixed results. Food that is liked by Americans is often just tolerated, if not hated, but Dominicans. This has been my experience.

So then in that following week I went to visit the third and final water volunteer in my area. The trip to his site was probably the most educational on what exactly it is that the water volunteers do. I went up to his water source and to watch the water brigades work (ridiculously quickly). It was actually pretty simple-looking, or maybe that was just my friend’s ability to explain it so well. I couldn’t get over how quickly the men were able to dig the trenches where the piping will go. My trip to his site took place just days after we did the “double dig” in the garden project that we are working on in my community. It was difficult to get hardly anyone motivated to do the digging for the garden and since it was mostly kids working on it, it went pretty slowly, and actually ended up being me doing most of the work. Meanwhile, at my friend’s site, 4 days a week, organized groups go out and up to work on their water supply. And while I’m happy for him, and my other friends who are having success on their aqueducts, it still makes me want to scream, “WHY WON’T PEOPLE DIG FOR GARDENS!?” I think I’m learning firsthand about Dominican (or human) priorities: power, paved roads, plumbing, and then who knows. I don’t think first aid classes, nutrition classes, or gardening projects are up there… I get the feeling that some of my friends in other groups such as community economic development, youth, or special education feel the same way. Water can give aqueducts, environment can give stoves or trees, but the rest of us are supposed to just train to make new fisherman.

So, I’m going to need these library and stove projects to work out. I might be reformatting the financing of these projects, switching the two grants so that I might be able to actually get some funding. What this means for you, my supporters, is that I might be asking you for money for a grant for stoves instead of for the library. But don’t worry, you can still get Spanish books and hand them off to be over my winter break. WHOOPDEEDOO!

Drama, Drama Everywhere

I’ll fill you in on the drama that’s been taking place in my town.

First: a 17 year-old friend of mine has a 40 something year-old man who has been writing her love letters. This man is the father of a 15 year-old close friend of the 17 year-old. When the girl finally told me about the situation, she confided that he’d written her 3 times. She showed me one of the letters, and it was sick and I told her so. I think Dominicans a lot of times tend to be more dramatic than most Americans, and this letter was no exception. He said things that I found revolting, coming from a man so much older than her. The age thing is such an issue for us Americans, and I still don’t have a good feel on if it’s an issue to Dominicans or not.

I tend to keep my stronger opinions to myself here, trying always to make friends and avoid making enemies. I’m hesitant to talk about religion or politics, though many of you know I adore talking about those topics back home. I also try not to make statements about people, unless they are flattering, and usually only to their faces (because you never know who you might offend by speaking well of someone else.) Sometimes it feels like I’m walking on eggshells, and perhaps I go above and beyond what’s really necessary, but it’s still what I do. Only twice have I ever really spoken out, once a few months ago when this same friend showed me a book that referred to homosexuality and masturbation as unnatural (I shook the book in my hands and told her it was “shit”) and the other time when I told her how wrong I thought this situation with this man was. She didn’t react much to hearing that, mostly just listened to what I said. I told her in situations like this, you’ve got to wonder why someone with so much more life experience wants to date someone so much younger than he is. She nodded. And it’s obvious that it’s wrong that he wants to date someone just 2 years older than his own son, whom he hadn’t seen in years, apparently.

In addition to all that, the man gets on my nerves! It’s tiring to listen to people here when they think they speak perfect English, and in fact they are very far from it. He’s one of those people. He constantly throws out these words, one at a time, trying to teach the kids or something, and he tries to get me to go along with the disjointed, haphazard education. But he doesn’t even clue them in on what he’s saying, and it is my personal belief that in a group where there are people who speak more than one language, you should always go with the majority unless you specifically announce that you’re going to switch over. The man never tells anyone, which leaves us all there, looking at him stupefied, them because he hasn’t told them what he’s saying and me because he’s not saying anything that makes any kind of sense, and because he never gave a warning that he was going to switch over! ANNOYING! So even if I could ever get behind 40 something year-olds dating minors, I could never rally behind someone who abandoned their family, and has no linguistic manners.

Second: a 15 year-old friend of mine, who has a lot of problems at home, also confided in me about those problems. I referred to him in another blog as Alfie. I believe he’s gay, but he told me he wants to marry one of the girls in town. I try to be supportive with him, no matter what the circumstance, but it is hard to know what to say and how to react when he’s almost a man and still get’s smacked around at home, and when he doesn’t get a lot of support from his peers because of his flamboyance. What he told me was that his parents aren’t his birth parents, which is common enough here. He told me that he hasn’t seen his birth father in over a year or his birth mother in over 5 years; that they, or one of them, left him, a tiny, under-weight infant in a plastic bag with a very dramatic case of diarrhea, on the doorstep of the home where he lives now. That is what he told me, and that the people raising him have never hugged him. He reminded me that a hug I gave him a few weeks ago was the second hug he’s ever gotten. So of course I hugged him again. But what else can I say but that? I’m hoping to get him into training next year to be a regional coordinator for Escojo (someone who travels around, supporting the Escojo groups in their area where the volunteers have left.) In the group of regional coordinators I’ve heard that a few of the males are gay, which is interesting. In high school choir I found out that a few kids felt like they had nothing going for them but choir and our choir director, that they felt saved by him. I wonder if Alfie will end up feeling that way about Escojo.

Finally: me. Sadly, I might be the topic of some of the drama, well, me and Escojo. Before I arrived, the kids in town had very little in their daily schedules: school and church. Now, with some of them attending First Aid and gardening, and up to3 Escojo meetings a week, they are a lot busier. This has created something of a conflict among the coordinators of the various church activities. A few weeks ago we’d had a trip to the beach planned for a Saturday. The priest told the Escojo kids that if they chose to go to the beach instead of coming to mass, he’d have to kick them out of their Catholic youth group. So, a bunch decided to go to mass, leaving us without enough money to pay for the truck. So we cancelled the trip. After we’d cancelled I found out that the priest hadn’t come to our town to give mass in over 3 weeks, so when he didn’t end up coming that Saturday either, I wasn’t surprised, but was very disappointed. I told the kids, and they agreed that in the future we would make our plans and not let them be changed at the last minute by outsiders. I told them that if they agreed a date could work (even if there was mass scheduled) we would go for it. Everyone agreed that that was a great plan.

Last Sunday we were scheduled to give our first Sunday session to the group we’re forming in the other town. The priest had specifically (if indirectly) asked us to move the date from Wednesdays to Sundays at 4PM so that we wouldn’t have problems keeping track of the kids in the dark. I wholeheartedly agreed with his reasons and was happy to change. On our way out of our town, the priest showed up and asked where we were headed. Apparently he couldn’t come to give mass the Saturday before and had changed it to Sunday, at the same time we were supposed to be in the other town. Because of that, a lot of kids from our group were not going with us.

Last night, I stumbled into a meeting with practically every member of my Escojo group and the priest. Alfie was crying/screaming at someone on the other side of the circle and then she cried/screamed back. When I need my Spanish understanding to be perfect, it rarely is, and last night was no exception. Their problem had something to do with saying he’d be at mass and help clean up beforehand and as a result of not having come, a rumor spread that he was going to get in trouble. I couldn’t decide whether the awkwardness of being there was better or worse than the awkwardness of leaving, and then someone said the word “Escojo,” so then it got personal, but not as personal as I thought it could; soon after someone said the word “Elizabeth.” Only half the group new I’d even walked up, so I felt really torn about leaving. All I could understand that they were saying was that Escojo takes up a lot of their time, but I still heard my name mentioned about 4 times and couldn’t figure out what people were saying about me and Escojo.

I ended up deciding that the priest was probably very discouraged that the kids who used to have very empty schedules are now a lot busier, and as a result, his schedule is now a lot harder to manage. But I couldn’t get over the fact that people were talking about Escojo and me and no one had asked me to come to the meeting. Obviously I’d be happy to talk to anyone about Escojo, our schedule or anything else, but I didn’t like that I’d stumbled into that situation.

When the meeting ended I asked 2 kids who were in it what was happening. They asked why I’d left and told me not to worry, that everything everyone said about Escojo was great, that everyone supports it and us, and me. I asked them what people had said about me, and they said that only good things were said about me and that I shouldn’t worry. I asked why no one had told me to come to the meeting, so I could talk about things with them. They said they hadn’t known they’d be talking about Escojo and that anyways, their youth group meetings are only for the youth group members, which is also why they told me they couldn’t tell me what else people were talking about. So, I guess I just sort of have to trust them.

As for the schedule conflicts, I haven’t the foggiest. We changed the meetings to Sundays, just as the priest wanted. If he wants that time open for mass I honestly don’t know what we’ll do because there are only so many hours in a day, and a week. Without being able to meet after dark, we’re down the weekends, and since no one wants to meet in the morning (because they have to do chores) we are left to 2 weekend afternoons a week, both of which at hours other than 4PM on Sundays, are filled with other church activities in the 2 towns. So, we’ll see. But don’t we just really wish that the priest would take it up with me directly?

The Glass Is Half...

February was a big month. I finished my diagnostic, so I finally began to work in my community, I moved from my host family’s home to a home of my own (my first time truly living alone), and I got Lina. October, although it’s only half-way over, is shaping up to be a big month too. I took 3 kids to the Escojo National Conference, I found out a new health volunteer is coming within days to live just 30 minutes away from my site, (and that there’s a potential that 2 more might be coming to the big town just 10 minutes away in the not-too distant future), and I GOT PHONE SIGNAL! Unfortunately, the sort of phone signal that now reaches me is not the same kind that is compatible with the Peace Corps cell phone network, so in terms of being in touch with other volunteers, I’m pretty much where I used to be, except (hopefully) in the case of emergencies. But, the good news is that I can now be reached by anyone willing to pay for the call, 24 hours a day, unless something happens to the cell phone tower; this is unlike my old situation which was “landline” access at my neighbor’s house, so I could only be reached during polite visiting hours, and sometimes not at all because the antenna would be out of whack.

The national conference was great. The three boys I ended up taking where selected because they excelled in interviews I conducted with the entire group and for their good attendance records. I think they had a great time in the various sessions, all having to do with the theme “Breaking the Silence.” So we talked about topics that otherwise can often go unmentioned in this country: abortion, sexual orientation, family violence, sex work, drugs and alcohol, among others. I think that they (like me) enjoyed the nighttime activities the most; on the first night we had a debate in which every kid got to argue a different position on those controversial topics, and on the second night we had a huge dance with some great decorations.

Today marks my official (well at least in my mind it’s official; I seriously doubt anyone in Peace Corps keeps track of things like this) half-way mark of service! I got to country on September 13th 2007 and my official end date is November 20th 2009, which I calculated to have a half-way point of October 16th and one half. So there you have it! (Still sticking to that by-line that it only really starts to matter at my one-year-of-service-completed/one-year-of-service-left mark. I still don’t feel like I’ve accomplished enough to be already half way, and I’m technically, I’m really not. That great day will take place on the 20th of November.)

In the time between now and then I am hoping to complete 2 large projects with more success than they have started. The first is a garden project. I was able to get free seeds from the Department of Agriculture, but I have been unsuccessful in motivating my regular slew of women-participants to bring their children or husbands to come to gardening classes (as I doubted they’d be willing to do any of the heavy-lifting) so that stalled. That was, until I came up with the idea of switching the class times to weekends so that the high school kids (who have classes in the afternoons) can come to learn and to help. (They are the only super-enthusiastic people in the community anyways, and they all wanted to come when I first announced it.) I’m using the same technique to save the new youth group in that huge town one over from ours. We have been unlucky with having power on the nights of our meetings, and the sun is going down earlier and earlier now, so we had two unfortunate meetings where my kids were trying to get a group of over 50 to settle down and pay attention, in the dark! Besides that, the woman who lends us the meeting space got very irrationally angry that we were meeting in the dark and threatened to report us to the Catholic “dioceses” (which mostly consists of one (married) man on his motorcycle who totally supports us anyways.) But still, my main goal here has always been to make friends, and not enemies. So, I moved those meetings to the weekend as well, which makes me all-too-busy on weekends, and perhaps not busy enough during the week anymore.

Other updates:

FIRST AID: continues to be met with mixed results. This week it rained so attendance was limited to 4, but at least they were all adult women, the audience for which the class was originally intended. I think we have one more class, then a review session and then an exam. I don’t have a good feeling for how well people will do on the exam, mostly because I don’t really know how to differentiate between who’s really in the class and who just comes sometimes, like with the nutrition class, but actually worse in this one. After we wrap up I intend to educate the ladies (strictly ladies, I will not let the teens get involved in this part) about how to begin to spread what they’ve been learning: nutrition and first aid, as that is my primary reason for being here. (If only it was to master dominoes, which I have already done… many times over.) That will take us up to December when they’d lose interest for the holiday season (which technically already began on the 8th of this month, I was just informed) and when I go home for 3 weeks! Why start anything longer before a 3 week break, right?

ESCOJO in my town: we’re doing good. Our primary focus is the group in the town nearby, and they want to do it all again in the near year in the town one over on the other side of us. I think, more power to you! The whole main goal of Escojo is for the kids to get motivated and spread the word (about condom use, getting tested, not drinking tons or doing drugs, etc.) either in individual sessions to large groups or as a set in a course to large groups. As far as the library is concerned, we’ve hit a bit of a bump in the road: no one wants to donate the land. It’s unbelievable that in a town this size, in which every single resident is a farmer with loads of land sitting and going to squat a lot of the time, and in which everyone loves to read, we can’t get anyone to donate any land…yet. I am determined and have not given up hope. We’ve only asked a few people anyways. If no one will give it up freely, we would have to go through the government to solicit them to buy the land off of someone. That, obviously, could take years, time I, obviously, don’t have.

And a stall with the stoves project as well… the application for the funds from USAID hasn’t come through, and who knows when it might. And then, I’ll still have to apply for the money, which is dwindling. (I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re in the middle of a financial crisis here!) (I DON’T BUY IT! We’re still the richest of the rich, just give me the money to do the stoves, okay? Okay!) Anyways…that could hopefully begin in the start of the new year as well. If it doesn’t start then, then it might not ever… I know it seems crazy, but that’s a long project and I sort of have to know now to make sure I can finish it in before the more than a year that I have left.

In my personal life:

I feel like there are some people here who get me more and more each day, mostly the kids in the youth group, but also a select group of adult men and women (and even some kiddies). These relationships all thrive on my ability to laugh and myself and not take it too personally when they laugh at me.

Lina is in a phase of chewing her leashes to pieces in very clean cuts, which is frustrating. I learned just how attached to her (and defensive of her) I am when people started to tell me she gave me ringworm. I refused to believe it, and I still do. I think that it was her mother, because that dog really is dirty. Sad, but true. I try to keep Lina as clean as possible, and sadly no one says that for Lady, Lina’s mommy.

The rats and mice are back, and boy are the louder and messier than ever. I really dislike the tails. I guess I don’t like the razor-sharp teeth that can chew threw anything either… but the tails are super gross.

In the PC volunteer circle: I’m getting to know members of the group that swore in in May better and have been enjoying that. Things did, however, get a bit heated when a particular volunteer who agrees with me that Dave Matthews is good, that Jack Johnson is okay and the John Mayer sucks then said that Dire Straits and James Taylor are not good! Abomination! Obviously, he and I can no longer be friends. It’s okay though, the new group is swearing in at the end of this month.

And my hair is SO long and sadly, so unbelievable to manage! I think since my childhood this is the first time I’ve had such long hair and zero ability to do anything with it. I get comments all the time on it, mostly because it calls a lot of attention to itself, and not the good kind. People mention its length, its frizziness, and/or where exactly I have it situated on my head, but not once have I heard that it looks particularly lovely in the pony tail I have it in for the day. So the battle continues.

They Gave Her To Me

Imagine the possible ways that that phrase could be used. I came across one when a friend of mine here in my community told me about the little girl who recently came into her life.

My friend is a single, approximately 34 year-old teacher who lives with her 2 brothers and mother, recently received another member to the house, a 5 year-old little girl who is very quiet and very cute. I knew my friend didn’t have any kids and then her mother confirmed that the little girl wasn’t hers. At a party a few weeks ago I finally got a chance to ask my friend about the little girl. Apparently the girl’s father died in an accident and then her mother died of cancer a few years ago. And then, “they gave her to me.” Just like that she said it. The little 5 year-old would from that day be in the care of my friend and finally came to live with her a few weeks ago.

Imagine that.

It's Even Worse Than It Appears, But It's Alright

A friend said recently that we needn’t give this woman any more attention than she’s already getting because it’s not worth it. I wholeheartedly agree. My only comment is this: I know deep inside my heart that this is like one of those situations where it all just feels like a bad dream. Tomorrow, we’re all going to wake up and on Good Morning America Diane is going to tell us, “Wow, now here’s something you won’t believe… apparently they were just kidding! According to a statement released by the GOP this morning, the mention of her as his Vice Presidential nominee was meant as a joke! Wow, I mean, a lot of us commentators were a bit curious as to how she managed to swing that nomination and I must say, I’m a bit relieved that this was all just an attempt by the GOP to throw us for a loop! Imagine if a man who’d been in politics for that long, surrounded by so many intelligent advisors had really picked that person to run with!” And then they’d all start cracking up, as would we all as we watched. Perhaps they’d interview her and she’d be sitting there with some dead animal and a big ole smile saying, “Well, it was a fun couple of weeks, I must say!”

It’s been interesting to look at all of this from the perspective I have here, usually getting my news a few weeks (or months) late from Newsweek. What’s been even more interesting for me to realize is how very little I care about it. In 2004 I was very charged, prepped to support my man (even buying buttons and a tee-shirt) and inevitably crying when I watched his concession speech, being unable to imagine a world in which prezzy would be allowed to continue for 4 more years. But now… I’m here, and maybe it’s just that my priorities have shifted or that I can’t imagine a world in which our guys don’t win or it’s just a result of being so isolated or I know my vote (as he is my senator and I am voting absentee) won’t be counted or it’s DC withdrawal or something else... Who knows. But I really don’t care nearly as much as I used to. I feel no charge when I get a chance to watch CNN. I feel no anger when the maverick says his shpeal or righteousness when the Senator fights back. Perhaps it’s this: I’ve learned here that although it has to be dealt with, BS gets you nowhere, but in the world of US politics, when it’s coming out of these men (and women) left and right, I’m just too tired. We’re supposed to be educated; we’re supposed to be civil; we’re supposed to be the leaders of the free world. To spend so much time talking about beauty pageants and lipstick and unwed mothers and voting based on sex or race… it’s too tiring. These conversations on TV, the web, the radio, in print, they aren’t any more educated than a room full of pre-teens talking about the latest gossip in their grade.

So, perhaps it’s pretty great to be so isolated, so I can just bypass all of the ridiculousness.

One Year

The clock has just struck midnight on September 13th. That means that I have been in this country for exactly one year. Wow.

The thing I have to always say about being one year into this is that it is really only a personal thing because as far as my work is concerned, I won’t really be a year in until the end of November which marks a year from being sworn in/going to my site. And even then, I didn’t start my real work here until February once I’d finished my community diagnostic…

But even so, I suppose it’s a milestone. Plus, look how long my hair has gotten!

So, it’s been a year without stepping foot on US soil. I’ve gotten a taste for some of the little things from back home while being here… hot showers at a resort I stayed at with the fam a few weeks ago, CNN just about any time I go to Santiago or to the capital, McDonalds about that often (if I want it), Coca Cola (I could have it on a daily basis if I really wanted)… But still, there are some things I haven’t had in a year. I’m not going to say for each of these if I truly miss them or if it’s just interesting for me (and possibly for you too) to consider going a year without them…
-Lou Malnati’s
-Potbellies
-Chipotle
-Hackney’s
-Starbucks
-the Dairy Bar
-MSNBC
-The Washington Post
-Benny, my puppy
-the metro
-pantyhose
-flowers
-stuffed animals
-Monopoly
-a decent produce department
-my mom’s California roll
-tennis
-floating in an inner tube
-fall
-winter
-spring
-too many birthdays
-high heels
-radio in English
-commuting
-Halloween candy, Thanksgiving leftovers, Christmas shopping, Valentine’s silliness, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter eggs, July 4th fireworks
-standardized tests
-coats during the day
-blankets at bedtime
-bratwurst
-Target
-Old Navy
-warm laundry
-Border’s
-coupons and discount cards
-throw pillows on couches
-fireplaces
-mini golf
-celebrity sightings (except the American Ambassador and the former DR VP)
-AIM
-Frango Mints

And now, an interesting quote from a song I happened to be listening to while I wrote this blog:
“I miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms. I miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world. I miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog, and my home.”
(I also miss my brothers, and friends.)

And now that day has ended. It was a great day. Let me tell you all about it.

Well, I slept in until 10 because I couldn’t get to sleep last night… I typed my blog and listened to music and rolled around in bed a bit because of the Coca Cola I had much too close to bed time. I cleaned my cabinets which were a mess (termites, rat poop, bits of plastic from food containers that had been chewed open while I was away on storm time), then took Lina for a walk of the community. We stopped at the house where I leave her when I’m away, one of her favorite hangouts. Well, it became one of mine too. I hadn’t known it before today but the woman who lives there is a fabulous conversationalist and we spent a few hours just chatting, which was lovely. She informed me that the cell phone tower that they are building a town over from me is scheduled to be completed in 2 days! I couldn’t believe it and am trying hard not to get my hopes up. It’s hard though… you all know how badly I wish I had signal.

After that I cooked lunch for myself (teriyaki rice with corn, very yummy-thanks Stephanie for showing me how) and watched DVDs for a bit. Before long I was summoned by some little girls (ages 5-9) who invited me to the evangelical church where they were going to put on skits about drugs and HIV. They were adorable, getting all dramatic with their “drug use” and then seeing the light as soon as someone suggested they follow Jesus and stop using drugs. They danced around singing about how happy they were to be “born again.” The one about HIV was interesting… apparently the girl with HIV didn’t have enough money for the “operation” so the other girls went to prostitute themselves for the money. Well all their effort was for nothing because she died of shock after learning what they had done. A bit more of a downer, but it still worked.

Bucket bath (though if I’d gotten in there around 4!! it could have been with the tap, [yeah storms bringing tons of water to the aqueduct!] which I found out was built by Trujillo as a thank you for using the beach town near me as a base L) and then some visitors. Four of the kids from my youth group came over to talk about the new group we’re going to form in the town nearby. They are thrilled and totally prepared to give the sessions, even the one on body parts! They are so mature and grown up. I told them it was my one year anniversary of getting here and after cheering for me they asked me if they ever did anything that bothered me. It was unnecessary to ask (I would never single anyone out, obviously) but it was nice to know that they are aware that being here and doing this isn’t always the easiest job. It was nice to just sit around and shoot the shit with them… I wish it was the only thing I ever had to do here.

Then a little girl came over to play and ended up being adorable and looking at books with me. She is so curious and really wants to learn about everything (she seriously spent the entire time she was here asking me questions, which amazingly didn’t get annoying.) While she was getting ready to leave just after the lights went out for the first time in about 3 days(!!!!), some other kids came over to buy condoms, one more reminder that I serve a purpose here, and I’m thrilled.

All in all, it was a fantastic one year anniversary.

Lucky

Obviously Chicago is good for me. But, I’m pretty sure I’m good for it too.

Now, I’m not going to say that I’m inherently lucky and write a blog all about how I know that it’s true. What I am going to do is present a theory. You see, a few weeks ago I watched a football game of the Bears vs. the Colts, their challengers in Super Bowl 2007. The Bears won.
Today I heard something playing (in English!) at my neighbors as I walked by while doing errands. I thought it sounded like a Cubs game and went to check; the Cubs were losing to the Milwaukee Brewers, in the bottom of the 9th 6-3. Well, I knew it wasn’t over, though my neighbor told me “they’re losing,” with the tone like he was warning me not to get my hopes up. Of course, Soto went and scored a home run, getting 3 more runs for the Cubbies. Was it a miracle? Or was it a direct result of the fact that I had sat down to watch the game not moments before?

So, into a 10th, 11th and 12th inning the game went. No runs followed by more no runs. Finally, in the bottom of the 12th, another miracle: Cubbies win!

Except, it’s not a miracle. After 100 years of waiting for it, Cubs fans are going to get theirs. I feel it. It’s coming. And if it doesn’t, we can blame a new curse, the curse of President Bush.

And just like in the fall of 2005 (when the White Sox won), I won’t be in the country to celebrate.

In work related news, we had our first meeting for the new youth group in the town one over from us, last night. It went really well. 3 kids from here gave the whole talk, activities, teaching, all of it and they did a pretty solid job. They were very valiant to be the first to do it, but everyone else is thrilled for their opportunities. (They can’t believe that some of them have to wait a few weeks to give their talks! Success!) I was expecting a lot more kids to show up than did, we had around 30 (which is the size of the group in my town of about 450 people, whereas this other town is probably a few thousand people) but I’m sure more will come as word of mouth spreads how awesome it is. And that’s just the thing, I’m SO positive that I’m not the only one who thinks this group is awesome… these kids are thrilled to be involved, so enthusiastic and I love that! It warms my soul. My biggest hope (and thing I’m most sure of as well) is that this will be my most sustainable project I work on here. The English classes were obviously a huge failure, and the classes with the women (nutrition and now First Aid) aren’t going nearly as well, mostly because the women aren’t as enthusiastic or dedicated. So, way to go kids!

Fay, Gustav, Hanna, Ike

Are the names of the storms that have in some way affected at least the north coast of the DR.

Fay hit on the day before my family flew home and left just about as quickly as it came in.

Gustav was a bit bigger and I was apparently supposed to have stayed in my site (but I was unaware that Peace Corps had even called the "standfast" warning since I was in my site.) I saw lots of lightening and we had some rain off and on for a few days.

Hanna hit hard, and hit twice. I was in the capital for it and predicted it wouldn't be a problem again the day after it first came. But of course, it came back for another whammy. As a result of heavy rains over much of the country and the impending Ike, we were all standfasted in the capital.

Ike is coming, and I got permission to move north to Santiago to be consolidated at a safe hotel instead of being standfasted in the capital. We'll see what it brings but for right now it looks like a very strong storm that will stay pretty far north of the island.

Luckily, none of these storms has done much damage to my site (although the region just 1 town over from my town, Monti Cristi did suffer some damage.) I won't be able to see my site with my own eyes until Monday to see what Hanna and Ike brought.

I am safe and keeping positive! I'll let you know what happens!

The E True Hollywood Story of PCV E. Plewa

The day of the 25th of August started out like it would be just like any other day in the site of PCV and Van Morrison enthusiast E. Plewa.

“I remember I’d received some word that it might rain and I was thrilled when it did-it really helps to cool stuff off,” E. Plewa related in an August interview.

But cool off it would not. No, things were about to get quite hot in the town where she lived.
“I was scheduled to give a talk to my youth group about violence. I had no intentions of giving them a live demonstration.”

But despite her best intentions, at the end of the meeting, a civilized, very well-organized activity to keep the teens busy and having fun went terribly wrong. Some teens began the activity indoors while others waited outside. Some of the ones inside were circling the room stopping every once in a while to go down the “Love Train” (the name of the activity) passing a kiss on the cheek to the next participant until they reached the last person who simply got a little slap on the cheek. The activity was meant to be funny; a person leans in for a kiss and unexpectedly gets a quick slap to the face.

“What I didn’t realize before trying the activity in my town was that the whole reason the activity worked when I saw it performed quite successfully at a youth conference a few months earlier was because the kids there hardly knew one another and as a result weren’t about to slap one another with any force.”

But as the activity continued, the teens really started to get into it. One girl slapped a teen we’ll call Alfie to protect his identity, with a bit of force which this PCV took as a just one more example of Alfie’s tendency to get picked on. But she wasn’t too worried-

“When *** slapped Alfie with so much force I was of course startled a bit, but since *** is such good friends with Alfie and he tends to be the one to get lovingly made fun of, I didn’t take it too seriously.”

That, she would later look back on, as her biggest mistake of this ordeal.

“I should have told *** she shouldn’t have slapped Alfie so hard and told Alfie not to do the same to the next participant.”

Meanwhile, an unsuspecting teen girl waited in the doorway to be called in to participate. She assumed her position at the end of the line and when it came time for her “kiss” she leaned in and got an extremely powerful slap from the hand of a friend of hers, Alfie.

“I couldn’t believe what had just happened in front of my eyes, under my supervision.”
The teen girl bent over in pain, putting her hand to her face, covering her eye very delicately.
“In a situation like that, when fire just breaks out, and no one knows what to do, and you’re the one in charge, it can take a minute to react. I went to her side and started to stroke her back and head, asking if she was alright. I was obviously concerned for her, turning my back momentarily to Alfie and the rest of the group.”

With her back turned, the situation soon turned chaotic. Teens went off to different places all around the meeting room, some concerned for the girl, others reacting to themselves or with their friends, and a few even chasing after Alfie with hands waving wildly, some even began striking him.

“I left her side as soon as I saw what was happening to him. My worst nightmares of what could happen to him because of his sexuality and other differences came to mind and I flew to his side immediately.”

If things hadn’t steamed up enough, the PCV then screamed at everyone to sit down, trying to get a hold on the group.

“I just wanted everyone to sit down and give me their attention. I was sure she was going to be fine; it was probably more shock at being hit so hard by her friend than pain that she was feeling. I just knew if I could get everyone to sit, I’d come up with some way to handle this.”
While she thought it over, eventually the group settled down. Finally she knew what she was going to do.

“I told them that I was guilty for something and needed a chance to explain myself. I explained to the teenagers why I thought the activity worked at the conference and not here was because people were too shy to really make the slap hurt at all. Then I explained that it was my fault that I let the slaps escalate among the participants to get to be so strong to where it hurt. I apologized to her and turned to Alfie saying, obviously she is one of Alfie’s best friends and this was just an accident.”

But then the night took a very interesting turn. Alfie didn’t respond to the comment when PCV Plewa addressed him.

“I couldn’t believe he wasn’t saying anything. He is one of my closest friends here and I was standing there taking the heat for that and he wasn’t agreeing with me that she is one of his closest friends! Before I could even contemplate that maybe they aren’t as good friends as I thought, I turned again to the group and assured them that he’d agreed with what I’d said. I apologized once again and moved on to another topic. Then I gave her a huge handful of candy.”
Luckily, Alfie later approached the girl to apologize and she forgave him.



So, seriously now, this was a shocking night. I couldn’t believe he did it and spent a lot of time thinking over what could have motivated him to do something so reckless in front of a crowd of his peers, any one of whom could kick his ass, and most importantly, to one of his closest friends. The fact that this is “Alfie” I’m talking about here I decided has everything do with it. He gets hassled by everyone here, all the time, even his close friends for being different. No one has come out and said it, but I’m pretty sure Alfie is gay, and I think that most of the community thinks so too. In another activity I did with them a few weeks ago where everyone had to sit on each other’s laps to form a big, seated circle, no one would stand next to him so they didn’t have to have him on their lap or sit on his. That was when it first became blaringly obvious to me how badly they mistreat him.

After this whole incident with the slapping, my project partner, at whose home we hang out a lot (and were at last night) told me another story. Apparently after I went home last night all of the kids still there left Alfie laying sound asleep on a bed outside of the house, removing the light bulb from the socket above the bed. When my project partner came home later that evening she couldn’t see over to the bed (because the light was out) and so went to bed not knowing he was there. He apparently woke up around 3AM and went home getting into an extreme amount of trouble.

So, was he just fed up and saw a chance to blow off some steam and took it with a vengeance? I think so. So, what do I do.

I Hate What Caffeine Does to Me

When I had my bout of the worst diarrhea this earth has ever seen back in October, I couldn’t handle the taste of rehydration salts. See, with diarrhea, the big fear is that we’ll all die from dehydration because it is a killer in the developing world. So, the PC makes us take these ridiculously disgusting salts to get over being dehydrated (they are simply sugar and salt mixed with water, but try it and you’ll see how gross it is.) If there is Gatorade to be had, we are allowed to take those as well, thing is, it’s so much more expensive than the salts. So anyways, back in October I took them both a ton for about a week not really even drinking water (or eating any food, obviously.)

Gatorade used to sort of be a luxury in my family, a nice treat for dinner or a job well done at a soccer game or something. The other day we went golfing, my Dad, brother and sister. At the end of the day everyone was, of course, tired and thirsty so Dad ordered us some drinks, 4 Gatorades. The experience brought me back to October, and not any of the good parts. Now PC has ruined Gatorade for me.

When my brother came to visit me in March I drank a coca cola everyday with him (he drank soda here the way some people chain-smoke.) When he left, I found myself craving a coca cola every afternoon, and on the afternoons when I didn’t give in I had terrible headaches. It’s happened again. I spent the whole week my sister was here enjoying sodas when she got them and then the whole week almost all of the rest of the family was here enjoying coca-cola lights.
Now, anyone who knew me in high school (and college for that matter) will tell you I’m quite opposed to soda, it’s high in teeth-eating-sugar and unnecessary calories, but here… I just can’t resist its sugary-caffeine-pick-me-up- and most importantly COLD afternoon goodness. So I officially HATE the coca-cola company for making me a bit of an addict.

First of the Fall and There She Goes Back

Four weeks of visitors has just ended and I’m back at my site. It’s a great time to evaluate and feel and whatnot.

First was 2 weeks with Rebecca, a good friend from high school. She and I did a lot of super fun stuff and kept really busy. She was quite a hit in my town and people still ask about her, where she is, when she’s coming back, etc. She was willing to do it all and we really did. She and her wonderful family procured some Spanish-language books to donate to a library project that I want to do down here and I was so thrilled to open them all up and look at them. She also brought some candy and she and I ate that to our hearts’ delight. We also watched some DVDs, played with Lina, went for walks, went to the beach (and out to our famous sand island), and much more.

The next week was my wonderful, sweet sister’s visit to my town and she was also a great sport about it. I’d imagine she would say her favorite thing to do here was play with Lina, and she really got a lot of opportunities to do so. Unfortunately, I was visited by 2 PC peoples while Julie was here which really tied up 2 of her days here. On the second to last day we made it out to the sand island and the beach, and on the last day I took her up the mountain (with some youth group kids) to the waterfalls where I also went with Rebecca. Both of these days really tired us out.

The following day was the day we went to Puerto Plata to join our parents and our brother Tim at a 5-star resort. Walking in to that resort, especially because I was with Julie who wasn’t as used to my campo life, was INCREDIBLE for both of us! The resort (as it did all week) smelled wonderful. Everything was white and the ceilings were way off of the ground. After checking in and bringing our stuff to our rooms, Julie and I sat around and compared what made the lobby of the hotel different from my house here. There were some notable differences.

Seeing the family after the longest stretch I’d ever gone (8 whole months) was great and how beautiful it was to be greeting them in such a beautiful location as well. We spent the first few days relaxing beach and poolside. It was so lovely to have water and power 24 hours a day as well as a TV with some decent channels (although no Olympics).

Sunday night we explored the malecon in Puerto Plata and the old fort (built around 1600 to protect the city from pirates such as Sir Drake.)

On Tuesday I took them to the 27 charcos. They are 27 pools beneath something like 17 waterfalls over which you can climb with a strong guide who knows the terrain well. It’s an intense day, hiking, climbing, lifting your own body weight, swimming, wading, etc. I warned the family of that, but they still decided to go for it all, so we did. My parents’ reactions were the funniest. They both put on their “oh my God!” faces and were quite funny, but again, very good sports and really got into it after a while. (The first time I went up, with Rebecca, I remember being a bit surprised at how much involvement was required on my end to actually do it.) Tim described it as the best activity he’s ever done. SCORE! I didn’t jump many of the waterfalls when I went with Rebecca, and when I went with the family I did all but one, the biggest jump rock I’ve ever seen that only Tim was gutsy enough to do.

The next day we set out on a mission. All of us but Tim had read In the Time of the Butterflies and so we embarked to find the house of the Mirabal sisters (which is now a museum) in Salcedo. It was a bit of an adventure because we went in search of a hat (in Santiago after having looked for it when Tim was here in March and on this trip in 2 stores in Puerto Plata.) Luckily, we found it. Once getting to Salcedo we all agreed that the museum was lovely, very quiet and very beautiful. We didn’t spend too long there and on our way out encountered some more to make the trip an adventure. Some “thieves” (as they were described to me) had vandalized the road and effectively blocked it from letting traffic pass through by lighting tires and tree branches on fire. I wanted to be extra careful considering the fact that we were a car full of gringos. We waited for the police to arrive and eventually went through.

Thursday was a golf day. Playa Dorada Golf Course, ranked among the Top 100 Outside of the US by Gold Digest in 2005-06. I’m not sure we would have ranked it as high due to extremely dry conditions on the tees, fairways and greens. It’s the dry month after all. (I decided I think I’d rather the people in the towns have water before the golf course get a drop of sprinkler water… but I’m not really in charge.) It was still a very fun day. I made par once. That was nice. (For those who don’t know, between about summer 1995 and 2007 I never played golf once and of course hadn’t played since last summer until the other day.) After the waterfalls and the golf outing, I was QUITE sore.

Friday was a relaxing day both because we’d planned for one and because Tropical Storm Fay rolled overhead. Julie and I went to get massages in the afternoon and boy were those wonderful! I love massages and feel that 16 months is too long to go without getting one.
Which brings us to Saturday, today. Saying goodbye for months-long spans is never fun, as I’m sure many can relate, but this one was especially tough. Now that I’m not trying not to cry, I feel as though I let the flood gates open. I cried 3 times today and held back tears a lot more often. Every little thing almost set me off. Why was it so hard? Because it had been too long since the last time I’d seen my family? Perhaps. Because December seems far off? Perhaps. Because we’d had such a great week? Perhaps. The good thing was that I was not at all sad to be coming back to my town; it was really all about saying goodbye to them. Julie put it best, they should either stay here with me (which would be my vote) or I should go home with them. That’s what it’s really all about.

When I feel sad I find it’s the best time to gage just how I’m really doing. There were moments on my (long but not terrible) trip home when I felt disappointed to be leaving such luxury to be coming home to a bucket with which to bathe, to a home that had Julie in it last time I was there, and to wonder if I’d have power to use to drown my sorrows by watching DVDs. But, when I pulled into town and saw one of the kids from my youth group I felt a lot better and have felt okay since. And of course, picking Lina up helped a lot.

Julie Hearts Lina

Hello all, this is Julie and E

We’re here on our 2nd day in E’s community and we wanted to write a blog post together with Lina. Lina says hola because she speaks Spanish and not English. ¡Ay ay ay ay ay!
Julie can’t stop laughing.

Julie got in at 1:45 on Sunday and then we went to get a cab to the bus station in Puerto Plata and then took a bus to Santiago. There we stayed at a budget hotel (US$15 a night) and we hung out with some of E’s PCV buddies at the place where the PCVs like to stay in Santiago. Julie liked it; the official language there is English. That night was dinner at an Italian place (delicious) and then talking and singing until 1AM. The next morning we took the time for one last warm shower before leaving for shopping and a very intense few hours en route to the community.

Julie will now describe the shopping trip: It was a store kinda like Target with a grocery store on the main floor and a Kohls on the top floor. We got ramen noodles, mac and cheese, and knock-off cereals. Then we went to get me my very own pair of havaianas in green. Then we went and we left to walk to the hotel bus stop and then E wanted to leave me at the soda bar by myself and I did not want to stay alone so we ditched our groceries, ran to the hotel and grabbed our bags and came back. Then we got hit on by some creeper and I was very happy that I didn’t stay there by myself.

And now E will describe the experience in her own words: So, when you have a 16 year-old sweety coming to visit, you think about all of the best case scenarios possible for a trip. You might also think about the worst. So far, Julie has seen some of the worst, including what she so accurately describes as our run-in with that “creeper.” Biggest ass**** I’ve met in the DR and of course, Julie is there to watch me chew him out. Here’s the play by play:

(Man stares at 2 white girls in a bus station in major metropolitan area of Caribbean. It’s a hot day and the girls are unable to sit in another spot of the bus stop because of the sun.) Girl speaks.
E: What?
Creeper: You’re hot.
E: Leave me alone. (Girl looks away then turns to her companion. Man mumbles something.)
Creeper: What did you say?
E: I said leave me alone.
Creeper: (Something snotty.)
E: I’m not going to talk to you.
Creeper: I’m not talking to you!
E: Good.
Creeper: (Irate) I don’t even like American women. (Pause) I like Dominican women. (Creeper looks around at other chauvinistic Dominican men in area as if to get them to agree with the sentiment. Instead of looking at the man they look at E as if waiting for her head to explode. Head remains intact.)

So that was it. Later, once the creeper had left, the men who were watching the scene were pleasant, offering directions, seats for our wait and asking what E’s companion’s shirt said, showing an interest in English. So… I suppose it could have been worse. Still, I was thrilled to be getting out of there!

(Told from the perspective of both, again.) Then we got on the bus with our smartfood popcorn (which we dropped more on the floor than were able to get into our mouths) and then we took a long bus filled with smelly eggplants and little kids heads sticking through the seat to E’s site. Once we got to our final destination we picked up Lina!!!!!!! (Which E’s companion was looking forward to very much!!!!) Next was a youth group meeting followed by cooking 3 boxes of mac and cheese because the first 2 were discovered to have maggots in them. (Julie discovered it was the water supply. Word to the wise, when storing contaminated water for extended periods of time, put some bleach in it first to kill the potential critters who might want to make it their home.) Sodas and sitting in rockers (as Julie says, “like good-old-fashioned whities,”) was next as well as ample time for Julie to bond with Lina. They are now lovers.

The next day there was some sleeping in followed by cereal consumption with warm milk. A visitor stopped by for a while and we ate cookies. After some reading and naps on the hammock together, the fun was to begin. E was expecting a routine visit from the PC doctor. When the doctor got here, she obliged E in removing Lina’s stitches from her recent spaying. Julie fed Lina peanut butter while E held her upper half and another PCV held the lower half while the doctor went in to remove the stitches. After about 5 minutes, the hot-pink stitches had been removed. Lina seemed more comfortable afterwards. Just as a bunch of random community members were coming for a visit (which is a very rare occurrence) a glass bottle of olive oil fell and shattered leaving a delightful cleanup while trying to ensure Lina was okay and keep the visitors from coming in and prepping for a class set to start in a few minutes and wrap up the visit with the PCV and doctor. E was a bit stressed, but she calmed down. The doctor found, in a hole in wall of a back building of E’s house, a brand-new litter of kittens. One is all white, one is spotted gray and white, and Julie didn’t see the other one.

The class went well, first aid and today’s topic was CPR. Julie sat there while everyone… “no offense E, but none of them did it right.” Then we had some spaghetti and cream sauce and again sat in the rockers like good old-fashioned whities and the power came on. Around this time we saw a large spider. A while later a large flying cockroach entered and went flying all around until E clobbered it with a shoe. (This was after cleaning up hoards of mouse poop that had not been seen before Julie’s visit began.) A few minutes later, Julie spotted a mouse in the corner and we made the decision to get in our bed nets. E would later describe this in a blog as a banner day.

A Hike in the Woods

On another adventure during Rebecca’s trip in the DR we embarked on a very remarkable mission. She and I with a pretty large group from my youth group went for a hike into the hills/mountains near my town. The hike up was INTENSE to say the least. We hiked up a very steep hill (in the sun) and then up and down the hills behind that one until we reached a thick forest with very steep parts along a path up to our water source. The source, I found out upon getting there, is a beautiful set of pools under a few trickling waterfalls. (The idea that I am 30 minutes from the most beautiful beach in the world and 2.5 hours from those fantastic waterfalls was almost overwhelming, and seemed to be a great piece of info to mention in a blog so potential visitors would see one more reason to come visit.)

The other fantastic part of the trip was the fact that a young boy in my youth group cooked a fabulous Dominican meal for all us hikers when we were up in the mountains. You see, we were all responsible for bringing a few pounds of rice or spices or something to cook for the meal and he put it all together. The food was incredible, and the “con-con” (the burnt rice on the side of the pot, a Dominican delicacy, usually given to the pig, dog or other animal in the house, or the local PCV) was to die for!

The hike down the hill was much easier than up (obviously) and along the way we tried coconut water (and had limoncillo and passion fruit on the way up.) We made it home in much less time and I was delighted to see all of the little old ladies in my town waiting alongside the road to catch a glimpse of the crazy Americanas who went up the hill. They all seemed very validated when I told them that I was indeed quite tired after the hike as they knew I would be.

Lord I Was Born a Traveling (wo)Man

My good friend Rebecca came to visit me for the first 2 weeks of 4 weeks of visitors I was fortunate enough to entertain between July and August. She wanted to see the sites as well as get a feel for PC life and I’m pretty sure she was successful in both.

I decided to see some of those sites with her. We decided to make our ways up to Sosua and Cabarete on the north coast, and the experience in Sosua was quite interesting.

After a lovely (but sunny and hot) day (during which we brought my sweet Lina in to get spade), we decided to go out for the evening and discovered there wasn’t a huge night life. We found a few bars open with a good mix of a foreign and local scene. What we didn’t know at first (or perhaps always suspected but didn’t want to believe) was that the locals present at the bars were mostly prostitutes looking for clients. Rebecca and I watched as couple after couple paired up. I went to the bar to get her and I some drinks and noticed someone making eyes at me. She was a very beautiful woman, with surprisingly large shoulders, and an usually thick neck. “Oh my, that’s a man,” I then realized.

Later Rebecca and I were approached by a young man (showed his ID to us and was saw he was 20 years old or so, though he looked like he could have been 17). He looked at Rebecca a lot (she had the lower cut shirt) and got me to interpret for him. He explained to her (or was it to both of us?) that he was a decent guy, worked security at a motel, and was nothing like these prostitutes all over the place here. She and I took it all in stride and eventually went back to our hotel unaccompanied.

Sad Day

The camera of wonders and dreams is gone. With its absence I have a camera-sized hole in my heart and a ton of love for all of my wonderful friends and family members who have been nothing but supportive.

Its absence also brought me to the end of an almost 10 month cry-free spell. July 5th, in the year of our Lord, 2008, E. Plewa had her first cry session since September 10th in the year of our Lord, 2007. It was well overdue. But you know what, everyone said it would feel so good just to let it all out, and it didn’t. I felt just as guilty and deserving of being yelled at as I did before I let it all out. But, sadly for me, my family would not oblige me in the yelling, so that’s when it happened. This all took place in an internet café in a semi-private ‘workspace’ in the city of Pedernales.

How it happened: I left it on a bus and when I went back for it 3 hours later, it was gone, presumably taken by someone who was also riding the bus. I filed a police report and had it insured (as I had a feeling I wasn’t really meant to own something so lovely) and we’re pretty sure the insurance will cover most of it. Still, word to the wise: DON’T TRUST ME WITH NICE THINGS.

We were in Pedernales to go to a very beautiful bay called Bahia de las Aguilas, AKA: Eagles Bay. It was a few-day long trip to celebrate the Independence of our great land of the free and home of the brave. We had no fireworks and no BBQ but we still had an excellent day. People ate spaghetti o’s, sardines and tuna out of cans. (If you know me even a little bit, you can guess which of those I ate.)

Money, Money, Money, Money, Mon-ey!

So, I only get news through Newsweek (which PC gets us for free but not for much longer, sadly) and very rarely from CNN (but I’m okay with a lack of CNN in my life.) As such, I don’t get news too often, but always in the same way: things aren’t going so well in the world right now. I hear there’s a economy situation with things like loans and oil affecting it, as well as some wars and of course problems in Asia and Africa.

Well, I thought I’d fill you all in on how the economy situation is affecting the life of Dominicans and PC volunteers in the Dominican Republic. Gas, as expensive as it is in the US is much more expensive here, especially if your main source is from someone who sells goes to the gas station that’s 45 minutes away once a week and sells it to the community out of old beer bottles and oil containers. So, this has led to a major increase in prices on the bus. My bus ride to the capital used to be 420 pesos and its now 510. I’m no wiz at math but I’d like to now remind us all that that is a lot more.

There were rumors that the federal government was going to increase our monthly allowances because things cost more lately, but the increase, which was rumored to be given in July, was not. We’ve all got our fingers crossed for August. The amount we get now, by the way is about between $260 and $320 a month. The rumor was that it would be a 17% percent increase. So we’ll see.

How Beautiful Is This Life?

That’s the name of a great bachata song on the radio a lot lately and it certainly makes a great title for a blog which is going to be about the past few days…

My nutrition class took their final on Tuesday evening and all did quite well. We had 10 women show up to take the test, 2 are Haitians who I had to read their tests to them because they don’t know how to read or write Spanish well though they both claim to understand it (though one really didn’t.) It was very difficult to give a test orally but obviously incredibly important for me to do. In that class period the class participants also filled out evaluations of the class, all saying that they’d had a great time, learned a lot and can’t wait to start on the next class. We’ll see if that enthusiasm remains. I have a feeling that might have been my only successful class with the health committee.

I also had assigned the delightful homework assignment of cooking dishes to share with the group, all of which featured our favorite food: green leaves. This part of the class period was extremely successful. The women were laughing, talking, comparing the recipes and eating their hearts out. All of the dishes were extremely delicious. A few women said that now, the class was worth it. I chose not to let my feelings get hurt.

The Sunday night before that class was also the night before the youth group’s final exam. (Both groups had to take an exam of what they’d learned up to that part, the nutrition class because we finished with nutrition and so that we can start with another class and the youth group so that they can be officially declared youth peer-educators and can start replicating what they’ve been taught among their friends and in other communities.) I’d invited two of the boys from the group who are very talented artistically to come over to work on a sign for the graduation. As the day grew, some of their friends started to show up and we ended up having quite a group of teenagers here. They asked me to play some American dance music and so I did my best with what I had, you’ll all recall that I’m not the biggest fan of American dance music, also my ipod hasn’t been updated since September. So I played some Ciara, Gwen Stefani, Outkast and whatnot… all of which came from mix cds you all have given me in the near past, so continue with that if you’d like the youths of my town to have any idea what youth culture in the US is like. Otherwise I’ll be forced to start playing Simon and Garfunkel and James Taylor. And no one wants that.

So the gathering turned into a review session and from that into a session on sex questions. At first everyone was really timid to open up and ask that question that they’ve been dying to know the answer to, but eventually they did and then I suggested they write the questions down and submit them to me anonymously and that idea was very well received. The question and answer session was fascinating and I was so glad to get to be such a key part of it. To show that there’s no shame in talking about sex, while also admitting to them that everyone feels that way, was incredibly moving. I also admitted that I’m not sure I’d be able to talk so openly in English about it, explaining that it’s more freeing to speak in Spanish about anything, especially sensitive topics. (It’s really true. It’s much easier to say pene than penis. Wow… I’m impressed I was even able to type it.)

So the next day was the big test. It was stressful to say the least but in the best sense. I knew they’d try to cheat and was amazed at the audacity they had in their methods. Wandering eyes, talking about the test outside of the classroom and at one point someone sneaked notes in to a girl who was still working. That was the bad sort of stress. The good part was grading all the tests while looking for cheaters in the classrooms and then giving a short test individually and running back and forth between all of the classrooms. My mind was in a hundred places and I loved it. Haven’t felt like that since college. Oh and then one of the girls broke down in tears because she knew she blew the test and the other kids were picking on her. Turns out the one that was being the meanest was a cousin and is 6 years older than her. I love these kids but sometimes they aren’t the most mature.

So I graded all the tests, many kids scored perfectly and then gave out stickers (thanks Mom) and their grades. Those who failed had to come study with me the next day, which they all did, and then we went over the questions they’d gotten wrong orally and they all passed. A few times I did wonder if I was dealing with someone with a learning disability, and I struggled to find ways to help some of the kids understand the concepts of the test, but as I said, they all passed.

Wednesday was the graduation and the party. I spent the morning cleaning the locations of the 2 events with some of the more involved kids and then waiting on my boss and some volunteers he was going to bring. They all made it in time and I was so thrilled to see them all. We told everyone to come at 2 so that we could start by 3:15. Two kids were the MCs and did a great job, another girl gave the welcome address, we had a prayer and sang the national anthem and then my boss spoke. He said some very inspiring things to the kids and the women, telling them this is only the beginning and they need to spread what they’ve learned with others. He also spoke of the place this country is currently and how much still needs to be done to develop it more. Then he spoke about me and thanked me for my hard work here and gave me much too much credit for all that we’ve accomplished in the community. I wish I had the language abilities to say how humble I feel sitting among these two incredible groups of community leaders and being told that it was me that did it all. Certainly I did something, but it took a lot of work, support, dedication, and also a lot of patience, from them.

Then it was my turn to address the crowd. I told them it was the result of hard work and dedication that we were there and that I was so proud. I told them I consider them all my friends and think they are incredibly creative, enthusiastic and intelligent. Then I presented the certificates to 30 youths and 10 women. Then the youth group got up and performed a surprise they’d put together, a poem that spelled Escojo mi vida. And then… they gave me a certificate! They said some lovely things, things like you’ve showed us what we can do here, God sent you here to us, you can’t ever leave us, we love you. I was of course very touched, but again, also very humbled.

Then we made our way to the other space to have cake and soon after started the party. It was meant to be a sort of small fundraiser and ended up being more of a community gathering with no entrance fee. I bounced all over the place getting the snacks and drinks for the guests as well as dinner for myself and 2 volunteers who spent the night and other odds and ends. Luckily the party was right across the street from my house. We closed up shop around 10:15 after about 5 hours of dancing. My 2 guests danced up a storm and were both a huge hit. I also danced a ton and had a great time. It was a very sweaty affair.

I’m not sure if you can tell from what I’ve written, but a lot of hard work went into the whole day and despite a few moments of being a bit stressed, it was all completely worth it and I was really on cloud nine. It felt so incredible to be celebrating something so important and I can’t tell you how great looking around the room at all of the teenagers of the community felt. They were all so happy, dancing and laughing and that was the whole point.

It's Been Over 9 Months...

…since I left home for DC and then for the DR. Time goes really fast, doesn’t it? A full school year has gone by and I know this summer is going to race by, and soon another school year will be starting. After 9 months, my opinions of the land, the people, the job, the PC and whatnot are pretty much the same. I remember a few months ago coming to a realization, but to describe it fully I need to begin by telling you all that sometimes it seems like my life here is living from time away from my town to time away from my town. That might be conference to conference (all of which are either required by PC or I feel are necessary for me to participate in), or conference to committee weekend (all of us volunteers can be on committees of volunteers that have special interests. I’m on the batey and border committee because of the Haitian population in my town, as well as the Celebrating the Cibao committee which plans a youth conference in August that celebrates the diversity within the region of the Cibao, where I live), or a short break away (such as trips to the beach, of which I’ve taken two since getting here, or trips to volunteers sites) to trips for work (making copies, using internet, getting forms signed, medical appointments, reimbursement stuff) to Santiago or Santo Domingo. Because it’s so expensive for me to get in and out of my town, I often compile these trips which is why I’ll often go 1 or 2 weeks without internet or cell phone signal, etc.

So, it sometimes feels like I go from one of those to the other. Which is to say, sometimes it feels like I spend my life here largely looking forward to the next time I get to leave my town. Now, sometimes it’s not such a bad thing: early on in my service I have had the opportunity to bring members from my community to conferences outside of the community 3 times which has served both them and me as incredible learning opportunities. Other times, even if it’s just me leaving, the trips are incredibly necessary to get stuff done to benefit the community. But sometimes the work isn’t the main reason for leaving and doesn’t bring me nearly as much satisfaction as seeing other volunteers and speaking English. I try not to be too hard on myself, and try to remind myself that perhaps if I had cell phone signal, as almost everyone of the other volunteers do, these opportunities to see other volunteers wouldn’t seem like such an escape.
This idea first dawned on me when I flipped through my journal and realized that after a time away from my town (a 3 day conference for example) I will fill pages and pages of the details of the days, whereas on any random 3 days in my town, I’ll likely not have nearly as much. Obviously part of the reason is that a conference is a change in pace, a part of the country I likely haven’t seen yet, and so there’s more to report. But that can’t be all. I’m working on describing the details of my daily life better in my journal, and will try in blogs as well.

The trips back from these events away from my town, I think, pose an incredible opportunity for reflection because the events usually can act like something of a security blanket, a chance to see very familiar faces and whatnot. I remember the first few times going back to my town from an event and asking myself how I felt about it. I was always relieved and happy to realize that at worst I felt fine about going back and at best I sometimes even felt a little homesick for the town. Lately I always feel fine, except if I’ve gotten some great news to report in town in which case I am ecstatic to share.
So a few months ago, as the novelty started to wear off of both the campo life of my town and the thrill of leaving to take part in whatever was going on elsewhere, I realized that these feelings (all that I feel in my town on a daily basis to some extent, and to a much larger extent, all that I feel on the way in and out of activities in other places) are going to be the feelings of my life for the next two years. When that realization hit, I must say, I was a bit less thrilled then when all was still new, different, and seemingly constantly changing.

If I live from time away to time away, then that means I’m living for travel (which is being alone on obnoxious, expensive buses), for the chance that someone I know is in the PC office in Santo Domingo (but there’s always a chance that no one is), for packing and unpacking (two of my least-favorite activities because there’s always pressure to keep it to a minimum (because of the obnoxious buses) and consolidate, and because I constantly forget things), and for the chances to get together with other volunteers to hear them gripe about things here, and worse still, gripe myself. So while it’s great to have internet, phone signal, a chance to talk to English-speakers, it’s also lonely, frustrating, costly, and can leave me with a bad taste in my mouth if I’m not careful about how much complaining I allow to take place around me or allow myself to engage in.

It’s hard not to live from time away to time away though. I feel so much more productive out of my town. That’s where I’m able to communicate, get stuff to bring back for the community, and take care of buckets of stuff just for me. On my best days in my town I have a meeting where I get to teach a lesson to a hopefully attentive audience, but 4 days of the week I don’t have meetings and spend a lot of time sitting around feeling bored, whether or not I’m home alone or in a group where others are talking and I either don’t understand what they’re saying or have stopped listening for a second and lost the context (or never had it to begin with, which is the most common.)

What helps is the incredible realization that I’m still pretty early on in my service and before long I will have a lot more going on here to keep me busy. For example, the biggest day of this month is the 25th, a graduation of the youth group and the nutrition class. Over the summer I hope to train the youth group, now that they’ve learned the facts about HIV, pregnancy, birth control and family planning, healthy decision making, etc., in how they can best replicate this information among their peers and when school begins again, have a plan to start a group (or a few groups) at the high school they attend and then move out to the other communities in the area. With the women from the nutrition my plan is to give them the option about where we go from here. So far all they’ve learned is the facts about nutrition, but they too would benefit from a class on how to spread the information. After that a gardening class would be great, or women’s health, or first aid, or child care… I’d also like to have a chicken coop project and a clean/efficient burning stove project. The enthusiasm among the women is much less so than among the youths, so these next few weeks will be interesting.

Hispanola

At the end of the month of May, I participated, along with about 15 other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) in a conference called “A Look at Immigration, the Border and the Bateys.” It was put together by a committee of PCVs that deals with issues in bateys and on the border. I don’t live in a batey, nor is my community that close to the border, but I was encouraged to get involved in the committee after the events I witnessed of mistreatment of Haitians in my town last December.

The conference was thought-provoking. We heard from a number of Dominican and Haitian-Dominican experts and representatives from NGOs that are working in the area, as well as from a congressman from the capital who is very anti-immigration and caused quite a stir among the rest of the speakers.

The problems this island faces are profound and go back centuries. Being here to witness them in 2008 hasn’t been easy, although I am pleased to say that I haven’t witnessed any brutality in the way I saw it in December, since then.

But every day I am reminded of the divide and wish that there was more I could do. For instance, one of the speakers at the conference told us a story of a case in a town very close to mine where a Haitian got in a fight with or attacked a Dominican and as retribution, a clan of Dominicans got together and killed 17 Haitians and burned all of the homes where Haitians lived in the community. After this, the President visited the town and swore he would work toward improving relations between Haitians and Dominicans. I pretty sure everyone’s still waiting.
Today I made a mistake. I embarrassed myself. I felt like such an idiot afterwards, especially because my intentions were in the right place, as if that was all that matters. I know I came off as looking like the spoiled girl that I am. You see, there’s a health-promoter conference being put on by the health PCVs and only 3 of us from my group of volunteers were selected to participate, me included. Of course, just as I realized I probably should withdraw my name from consideration for participation, due to a lack of interest in that subject area in my town, I was selected. Since then I’ve been having a hard time getting women interested in accompanying me to the conference. So, on try number 6 I asked a Haitian woman who lives in my town if she’d like to come. As I was describing it to her I acknowledged that I understood she has her children to look after. She was shaking her head and I was getting more and more discouraged. She’s been the most active Haitian woman in these meetings, she speaks incredible Spanish and has helped bring other Haitian women to the meetings, so I really wanted her to come. She finally had to interrupt me to tell me she couldn’t go because she doesn’t have papers. Immediately I dismissed the idea telling her she wouldn’t need to present anything at the conference to Peace Corps in the way of papers and then realized she was referring to the multiple police check points on the high way.

Alright, I thought to myself, how are we going to solve this one? Sure, there are about 5 check points between us and Santiago, but after that (the conference is in Jarabacoa) there probably won’t be any. If we go on the bus that leaves right from here we might be okay as far as the cobrador (bus doorman) goes for bribing the police to let us pass without problems. Alright, I conceded, that’s a bit risky. So then a million other ideas ran through my head including me insisting we get through without problems because I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer, damn it! Of course, I might get the Peace Corps into trouble if I tried that one. Headlines would read, “Peace Corps Volunteers Working as Human Traffickers.” Delightful. And then, and I’m not proud to admit this, I considered that as long as the police didn’t see her face we’d be okay, so if we just put her in a hooded sweatshirt and pull the hood up real tight...

Well of course I didn’t think of that being a reason she wouldn’t be able to come because it’s not a problem for me, never has been, and never will be, and because it’s not a problem for the Dominicans who go to these conferences and who leave their town every so often. Can you imagine having to explain to some ideological-know-it-all- twenty-something year-old-white-chic that you can’t go to her great conference with her because you don’t want to get carried off by the police for not having papers? If she did come and did get caught the best case scenario would probably be deportation to some town right over the border. Her husband and children would be here, with no idea where she was. I don’t want to describe what the worst case scenario could be.

Read This

Some more insight into the situation for Haitians in the DR.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/25/world/americas/25dominican.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5070&en=fba28f02b24d8d08&ex=1212465600

Oh I Wish I Were an Oscar Mayer Weiner

I don’t have much to say about the election except that I wish it was already over. Leading up to this week, I have ridden in more vehicles where people have fought (loud voices, yelling, screaming, all common) about the upcoming election. Here’s a rundown of the last few days of the election season.

Wednesday, May 14th: 2 days to election
AM (and into the PM): The men who hang out near my house, as well as some women (yay women-way to be heard!) got together to ‘talk’ politics. There was a HUGE banner for the current president front and center and there have been little ones for both candidates for some time now. What I feel is interesting and which I’m now realizing some of you won’t, all of these banners show the name of the candidate, as well as the candidate’s picture.

PM: “Caravans” of supporters of the 2 main political parties rolled through town, beeping horns, overloaded with political ralliers, of all ages, crying our either “PRD!” or “PLD!” When they finished driving they parked out front (as you’ll remember I live in what could be referred to as the “downtown” of my town) and proceeded to yell at one another over their political differences.

Thursday, May 15th: 1 day to election
AM: Rain, completely halted all political activities.

PM: More of the same from the night prior but, a bit less dramatic, less loud, interestingly enough.

Friday, May 16th: Election Day
AM: 6:00AM to be precise, noise starts as the poll opens at the school near my house. I decide to sleep a bit more and go to visit the polls around 9ish. My dona and project partner (of course, as they are the natural leaders of the community here) are in charge and allow me extra-special clearance in to observe. (Actually, I’m pretty sure no extra-special clearance was needed, the 2 very armed guards at the gate both let me walk right back and one offered me a bit of his breakfast.) What I saw was interesting, after showing their ID cards, voters, who came into the room in groups of 5 “to keep order,” got a ballot, a large sheet of black paper with colorful squares showing the faces and political party names of the various candidates. I was later told that there are 7 people running for president though I’d only heard of 5 before then. There were no other elections on the ballot. Perhaps I did need extra special clearance to get a peak at a ballot. I believe the way it was marked by the voter was with a marker and they simply made a mark on the box of the candidate (and which party, as a single candidate could be the chosen candidate for more than one party) they were voting for. So as I mentioned, my dona and project partner were there to hand out ballots, and they were assisted by 2 other women, there was another person at the door to keep order, and then a group of about 7 or so men with official election ID cards which also showed which party they were there representing. All the men were also leaders in the community. I asked them what exactly their role was and one explained that they are there to help someone with a ballot should someone need such assistance and want it from a member of their party, and to represent to the national party that the elections were done correctly. Something else I noticed was that as people showed their IDs to get their ballots, the woman checking off their name called it out so that these men could here. The men then checked off the person’s name from a list with photos of the community members they had in front of them. I think the idea is that they could later go find all of the members of their parties who had not yet voted later in the day and bring them to the polls. I’d seen these lists (which are quite extensive) being prepared ahead of time.

PM: The day progressed with a large group constantly gathered outside of the school to watch people come in and out. I saw a bit of nagging as some people went in, but pretty much everyone kept their cool. As the day went on people, the men particularly, got drunk. I think this is a pretty big event for the community, much like the Super bowl is for most of America, and like the presidential elections in ’04 were at AU.

The polls closed on schedule at 6 and then we waited for the counting. The poll workers had closed some of the windows but we could still see the results as they tallied them up on the chalk board. The armed guards noticed us crowding (at first it was just a small group of us, just me and a few kids from my youth group) and the one with a club drew it out to direct us back from the gate. I was the first to back away as this was my first time being approached by a guard with a club, though I wasn’t scared, as there was nothing to be scared of; everyone was smiling because they knew they probably shouldn’t be looking in but the guard didn’t mind too much, he too smiled as he moved us back. I got tired of waiting, went to sit, and almost as soon as I did I heard a ruckus. Miguel Vargas, of the PRD, had been declared the winner of the polling place. Obviously, as he’d carried the race here, there was a lot of celebrations for this news. This must have been around 7:45 or so.

I went off with a group of youth to play games, which I won because no one can break me; you know those games where you can’t smile? I’m awesome at them. Around 8:30 or so we heard that Leonel Fernandez, of the PLD, and the current president, had been declared the winner in a few towns near us. Immediately after, the woman who runs the place we were playing told us to go home. She said the street was no place for the kids, or me, as a foreigner/woman/younger person, I’m not sure, but I didn’t need to be told twice. It was a little odd, I felt, to go to bed quite so soon when a winner hadn’t been declared yet, but watching those kids not argue with her and listen to exactly what she’d told us, said a lot about the situation.

Saturday, May 17th
AM: Ruckus began early, from what I could hear, Leonel had won. A group of men was gathered across the street with their huge Leonel sign front and center and were drinking and making merry. I took my time getting ready to leave the house because I was pretty sure (and it turned out to be true) that talking politics, as a PCV who’s not allowed to talk politics and is uncomfortable doing it anyways, was going to be difficult. When I did finally leave, I learned Leonel won with 53% of the vote which means no second vote-that the campaigns are over! Woot! Miguel apparently got 41%. Of course there ended up being no problems after the election in my town, but I agreed that with the amount of alcohol consumed, the passions that rage inside these very politically active Dominicans, many of whom carry guns, that it was better to be safe than sorry and go home.