I am woman. Hear me roar.
Never again in my life will I let someone tell me, or even imply, that I “don’t have the chops”; that I’m not “tough”. Why? Because I know that I am tough and I DO, in fact, have “the chops”. How can I be sure? Well, as I’ve mentioned, in my house there exists a rat situation. I bought some rat traps, deciding that of all my options, they were the best. (Option 1. Most likely for success and least disgusting. Buy a cat. Why it wasn’t plausible: already have my hands full with one animal; am not prepared to treat it the way Dominican cats are treated; can’t bring it the US; can’t imagine leaving any animal behind. Option 2. Second most likely for success and slightly more disgusting. Rat poison called “Three Steps” because after eating this, illegal poison, the rats are only able to take 3 steps before they die. Why it wasn’t plausible: didn’t like the idea of putting rat poison in the house with pigeons cohabitating the rats’ living quarters and my puppy here in the house as well; tough to find rats once they’ve been killed up over the ceiling. Option 3. Third most likely for success and very disgusting. Rat traps of super sticky paper. Why it wasn’t plausible: requires some way for the rats to die once they’ve been trapped: suffocation, starvation, being bashed with a bat, etc. and I didn’t think I could bring myself to do it. And then, there would be the whole removing the rats from the super sticky paper which I was told requires ripping off their feet. Sheesh.) So we went with rat traps, which while they’re gross, they don’t require me to do procure an animal, they don’t risk poisoning the innocent and then going to look for dead bodies, and they don’t require me to do any killing.
Instead, all I had/have to do is bring the trap with its prisoner outdoors and lift up the little bar to release the prisoner to a grassy graveyard.
So three times I have now done this, and I think it proves I’m pretty f***ing tough. I could have gotten a muchacho to do it for me, as they took care of my wasp situation the other night (procuring blow torches by lighting sheets of Newsweek magazine on fire while pressing the button on a can of bug stuff like Raid. It was a huge blow-torch of fun for the boys and scariness for me, as I’d realized that my house is made largely of wood.) But I did not call a muchacho. I did it myself. I know plenty of males, the toughest of all, who I know haven’t yet had the pleasure of disposing of dead rats and if they were provided the opportunity to try it out, would pass if given the option. If you’re such a male, feel free to comment and boost my ego even higher after my great accomplishment.
Despite the title of this blog entry in no way did I mean this to be an entry about gender. Good heavens no. I merely felt incredible about my feats of daring and wished to share. I encourage individuals, both men and women, to try disposing of dead rats. It’s a rush you won’t believe ‘til you’ve tried it!
Haha… that’s not true even a little bit.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I Choose My Life
Escojo mi vida. It’s the name of our youth initiative. There are youth groups all over the nation with current youth and health volunteers as well as groups that have continued to function after their volunteers have left; something like 60 in total.
My group is going really well. We have meetings every Monday night after an English class that I give (in English last week I brought in many different clothing items and proceeded to put them on while the kids told me what they were in English. Then we sang the song from “High School Musical” called “What Time is It?” to practice a recent lesson on time.) In Escojo I am about to begin the sexual education portion of the initiative after giving a few sessions on healthy decisions, values, etc.
I remember as late as sophomore year of high school in my health education class wondering how the woman in front of us, a sexual educator from a nearby NGO, could possibly allow herself to speak to a group of sarcastic, self-centered and arrogant teenagers about a topic as sensitive as sex. Despite my trepidation, she seemed comfortable and even confident in front of the classroom, even as she yanked a condom down over her arm to show us how large they can stretch.
A lot has changed since then because now I can see that for as embarrassing or nerve-wracking as it could have been for her, even if only when she first started, it comes down to the fact that it’s just necessary to talk openly with youth about sex. If she didn’t, and I don’t, who will? The public school system in both the US and the DR are supposed to give in depth sexual education to students but who’s to say that’s the best way- that those kids are comfortable asking their teachers sensitive questions? That the teachers, especially here, have been properly trained? Parents can’t be depended on, though some might argue they should be the ones doing this sort of education, because there’s no way to ensure that they are thorough and objective in what they present. Other community leaders are another potential, which I think can sometimes be a reliable option. And we know a lot they learn about comes from their friends and classmates.
But I can say with certainty that in my community, there are 18, 19, 24 year olds who still don’t know the basics about reproduction, who are dying to find out more, so much so that they have managed to overcome their Dominican verguenza (shame or embarrassment) to ask me questions.
The idea is that I teach the youth and then they teach their friends in both unstructured and structured settings. For example, if I give a course on sex ed and teach them how to replicate the information, then their friends at high school (or middle school) who might have heard what we’re up to can ask them questions. Later, we will, as a group, go to other communities spreading what they have learned in sessions, hopefully motivating those youth to start their own group.
Two weekends ago two highly intelligent and very motivated girls from my Escojo group and I went to a regional conference for Escojo in Santiago. The conference consisted of about 50 youth in total either there with the roughly 15 volunteers who also participated, or representing their communities, where volunteers used to work. We participated in sessions on various themes such as What is Escojo?, What are HIV and AIDS?, How to Give an Interesting Session, Gender Disparities, Discrimination and HIV, How to Plan a Project in Your Community, etc. In the evening they played education games and gave a talent show. They (and the volunteers) paid nothing to participate and transportation was reimbursed. That, as well as a grant that I am currently applying for, was paid for by a large grant that is a part of the President’s Initiative on AIDS. They girls received tee-shirts and really seemed to be having a good time, though by Sunday it seemed to me that they were both really anxious to get home. When one girl (a 12 year-old) got to her house, she almost fell into her mother’s arms. These kids are hardly ever away from home, though they both told me they weren’t homesick.
I’d say the conference was a success and was very interesting. There is also a national conference for the same amount of time and a day-long sub-regional conference that is a much smaller deal. We are also encouraged to meet regularly with other groups in our area, something I am hoping to do soon.
My group is mostly male, something pretty rare among Escojo, and seems to be forming a solid group of about 20 though attendance is usually around 25. The participants are interested in the topics, which makes me very happy because I was nervous they’d be too embarrassed to get into a lot of it. Two sessions ago we had a very open conversation about condoms with hardly any giggling. I’m pretty convinced people are starting to see the benefit for participating and aren’t just coming for the free treats I hand out at the end of every meeting. And that is what matters most.
My group is going really well. We have meetings every Monday night after an English class that I give (in English last week I brought in many different clothing items and proceeded to put them on while the kids told me what they were in English. Then we sang the song from “High School Musical” called “What Time is It?” to practice a recent lesson on time.) In Escojo I am about to begin the sexual education portion of the initiative after giving a few sessions on healthy decisions, values, etc.
I remember as late as sophomore year of high school in my health education class wondering how the woman in front of us, a sexual educator from a nearby NGO, could possibly allow herself to speak to a group of sarcastic, self-centered and arrogant teenagers about a topic as sensitive as sex. Despite my trepidation, she seemed comfortable and even confident in front of the classroom, even as she yanked a condom down over her arm to show us how large they can stretch.
A lot has changed since then because now I can see that for as embarrassing or nerve-wracking as it could have been for her, even if only when she first started, it comes down to the fact that it’s just necessary to talk openly with youth about sex. If she didn’t, and I don’t, who will? The public school system in both the US and the DR are supposed to give in depth sexual education to students but who’s to say that’s the best way- that those kids are comfortable asking their teachers sensitive questions? That the teachers, especially here, have been properly trained? Parents can’t be depended on, though some might argue they should be the ones doing this sort of education, because there’s no way to ensure that they are thorough and objective in what they present. Other community leaders are another potential, which I think can sometimes be a reliable option. And we know a lot they learn about comes from their friends and classmates.
But I can say with certainty that in my community, there are 18, 19, 24 year olds who still don’t know the basics about reproduction, who are dying to find out more, so much so that they have managed to overcome their Dominican verguenza (shame or embarrassment) to ask me questions.
The idea is that I teach the youth and then they teach their friends in both unstructured and structured settings. For example, if I give a course on sex ed and teach them how to replicate the information, then their friends at high school (or middle school) who might have heard what we’re up to can ask them questions. Later, we will, as a group, go to other communities spreading what they have learned in sessions, hopefully motivating those youth to start their own group.
Two weekends ago two highly intelligent and very motivated girls from my Escojo group and I went to a regional conference for Escojo in Santiago. The conference consisted of about 50 youth in total either there with the roughly 15 volunteers who also participated, or representing their communities, where volunteers used to work. We participated in sessions on various themes such as What is Escojo?, What are HIV and AIDS?, How to Give an Interesting Session, Gender Disparities, Discrimination and HIV, How to Plan a Project in Your Community, etc. In the evening they played education games and gave a talent show. They (and the volunteers) paid nothing to participate and transportation was reimbursed. That, as well as a grant that I am currently applying for, was paid for by a large grant that is a part of the President’s Initiative on AIDS. They girls received tee-shirts and really seemed to be having a good time, though by Sunday it seemed to me that they were both really anxious to get home. When one girl (a 12 year-old) got to her house, she almost fell into her mother’s arms. These kids are hardly ever away from home, though they both told me they weren’t homesick.
I’d say the conference was a success and was very interesting. There is also a national conference for the same amount of time and a day-long sub-regional conference that is a much smaller deal. We are also encouraged to meet regularly with other groups in our area, something I am hoping to do soon.
My group is mostly male, something pretty rare among Escojo, and seems to be forming a solid group of about 20 though attendance is usually around 25. The participants are interested in the topics, which makes me very happy because I was nervous they’d be too embarrassed to get into a lot of it. Two sessions ago we had a very open conversation about condoms with hardly any giggling. I’m pretty convinced people are starting to see the benefit for participating and aren’t just coming for the free treats I hand out at the end of every meeting. And that is what matters most.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
I AM ON THE INTERNETS!
Finally, my day has come...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iD0uKbbON5g
If you have already clicked the link, you can probably guess that I am the one donning the, always classy, green polo shirt.
That dance was a part of the talent show at a conference I recently attended with two girls from my youth group. Other volunteers, as you can see, also participated and it went really well.
I learned the dance in a period of about 30 seconds because I elected to be on the phone with some very important people while everyone else spent a good 30 minutes learning it. That is why, as you have seen, I spent the entire dance looking at other people to remember the steps. And the reason for the difference in costume, those other volunteers had not yet showered that day, but me and my partner had. So perhaps we were not the best looking partners, but we were definitely the cleanest.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iD0uKbbON5g
If you have already clicked the link, you can probably guess that I am the one donning the, always classy, green polo shirt.
That dance was a part of the talent show at a conference I recently attended with two girls from my youth group. Other volunteers, as you can see, also participated and it went really well.
I learned the dance in a period of about 30 seconds because I elected to be on the phone with some very important people while everyone else spent a good 30 minutes learning it. That is why, as you have seen, I spent the entire dance looking at other people to remember the steps. And the reason for the difference in costume, those other volunteers had not yet showered that day, but me and my partner had. So perhaps we were not the best looking partners, but we were definitely the cleanest.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
My Dog Eats Garbage
And other disgusting things. Her favorites are water bottles, water bags (very Dominican, you’ve got to see them), juice cartons, paper-especially very easy to shred like toilet paper, and since you can’t flush it here, she really likes to get her paws on used toilet paper, and of course there is bones and other animal products which abound at my house because the yard is where a lot of animals come to chew on grass and I live next to a fried chicken stand (so there are chicken bones everywhere) and across the street from the butcher (so there is every other kind of bone everywhere).
I recently related to a friend via email that owning a dog in this country is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was the kind of thing I didn’t realize I actually felt until I was writing it and I’m still not sure that level of drama is appropriate, but it sure is tough. Every day, or at least it feels like it, she has some new medical issue for me to try to deal with.
It started with the bones. As I mentioned, they’re everywhere, something one doesn’t need to worry about in the US. I’ve heard chicken bones are the worst but that all bones are bad for small puppies. Even if I watch her 24 hours a day to keep her from getting at bones, she’ll manage to find them. So I either become her enemy for pulling them away from them, or give up. Then it was fleas, all the time. Her mom has an infestation that I really hoped someone would take care of, but they haven’t, and I didn’t want to keep her from playing with her mom, especially during those first few, very important, weeks. The good news is I got some flea meds from the US and I think they might be working. Then it was that she hardly eats her dog food. Personally I think that has to do with the fact that she knows there are bones all over outside and the dog food couldn’t taste as good as the bones, so she waits. Then I was pretty sure it was parasites which are super common here. She’s had all the shots she can have to this age already and I gave her a de-parasitic medicine and still she doesn’t eat so much. Around the same time people started to tell me she looks pretty thin (which I think is more a result of how fast she’s growing and not that she’s not eating enough) she started to get brown dots in her coat that hadn’t been there before. People here are terrified of anything that makes skin darker, which I guess I’ve found out includes animals. They told me it’s because she’s sick but the change in color isn’t just on her skin, it’s on the fur as well so I really don’t know. Another hair-dermatological ailment is that she’s over 3 months old and still hasn’t needed a haircut. I saw her sister a few weeks ago and she had much longer hair which was in need of cutting. I was totally prepared to write that off as different genes (which I do think it is) but then I’ve noticed she’s been shedding a lot as well. That didn’t make me too worried though because I’ve heard with the changing seasons people’s hair will fall out and mine sure has too in the last few weeks. Perhaps comparing humans to dogs was where I made my first mistake. Finally, ticks. This is the problem that has given me the most to worry about. I first noticed them when I came back from a trip away and they were everywhere. She must have been so miserable scratching at them. They’re huge, difficult to grab (so I’ve been using tweezers which Lina now hates), disgusting, and borough into her skin so when I do finally get them, they make her bleed. The worst (this next part is not for the faint-hearted) was when I had to pull about 8 of them out of her ears. That didn’t just make her bleed but it also left the blood to mix with a large amount of crud which I hope was just dirt and not tick droppings. She now also doesn’t like q-tips.
So when I pet her these days I’m not just petting her, I’m searching for ticks almost constantly, and finding them much too often. Hopefully her next dosage of the flea meds (which are also for ticks) will kick in and get rid of them once and for all.
The logical answer is to go to the vet. Thing is I have a vet, the brother of my don and my project partner’s husband, who lives close by and offered to help. I am thinking of getting a new one in Santiago but getting in and out of there is going to prove to be very challenging and most likely every time I go I’ll need to spend the night in the city, if not two nights, which by myself isn’t so easy on our salaries, but with a dog as well will be even more difficult. More importantly than the money is the time away from my community that that will require. So perhaps you see why this is a bit more complicated than it would be in the US.
In other ways things are going well with her. She enjoys belly rubs and lying under, on top of, or near my feet. She’s got some good toys from the US that she loves, which makes her a bit more spoiled than her Dominican neighbors. I’m trying to start to train her, working on not barking, biting, chewing things or jumping on the furniture. When I get that sorted out, (if I get that sorted out soon, if not I’ll start anyways) I’m going to start training her to come, sit, heel, etc.
In other animal news: rats, all the time, everywhere. I’ve cut off the routes to their sources of joy in my house which are of course garbage, food, but also interestingly the crayons that my family brought me from home. But they still like to come visit. The only way to really get rid of rats here is to have a cat but I refuse to get another animal, for many reasons, so I’m going to have to buy traps. The pigeons are also up there between the ceiling and the roof and I’m pretty sure they are here to stay. One fell through the hole in the ceiling in the kitchen the other day. Getting it out was funny… I’d been sweeping with the door to the kitchen closed and when I got up to the door I flipped when I saw the huge, gray pigeon just sitting there on my floor. I backed away then went back for a photo. A few hours later I went in to finish sweeping and it didn’t care for that and finally made its way to the large hole in my window covers and flew out. I also have found a number of large spiders of late, but none are tarantulas. They are almost that big, but I’m pretty sure they don’t bite, so I haven’t disturbed them. I think of it as one more thing to eat mosquitoes, which have I mentioned are SO much less of a problem in my new house than they were with my host family? Perhaps it’s the spiders (although there were a good number of those in the other house too) or perhaps it’s that I’m very vigilant in covering my water.
Seriously, I used to get 4 or 5 bites a day minimum there with full sleeves and/or repellent, and here I get that many in a week, often without sleeves or repellent!
So we’re a big happy family here, and even with all of this, people ask me how I’m able to live alone.
I recently related to a friend via email that owning a dog in this country is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It was the kind of thing I didn’t realize I actually felt until I was writing it and I’m still not sure that level of drama is appropriate, but it sure is tough. Every day, or at least it feels like it, she has some new medical issue for me to try to deal with.
It started with the bones. As I mentioned, they’re everywhere, something one doesn’t need to worry about in the US. I’ve heard chicken bones are the worst but that all bones are bad for small puppies. Even if I watch her 24 hours a day to keep her from getting at bones, she’ll manage to find them. So I either become her enemy for pulling them away from them, or give up. Then it was fleas, all the time. Her mom has an infestation that I really hoped someone would take care of, but they haven’t, and I didn’t want to keep her from playing with her mom, especially during those first few, very important, weeks. The good news is I got some flea meds from the US and I think they might be working. Then it was that she hardly eats her dog food. Personally I think that has to do with the fact that she knows there are bones all over outside and the dog food couldn’t taste as good as the bones, so she waits. Then I was pretty sure it was parasites which are super common here. She’s had all the shots she can have to this age already and I gave her a de-parasitic medicine and still she doesn’t eat so much. Around the same time people started to tell me she looks pretty thin (which I think is more a result of how fast she’s growing and not that she’s not eating enough) she started to get brown dots in her coat that hadn’t been there before. People here are terrified of anything that makes skin darker, which I guess I’ve found out includes animals. They told me it’s because she’s sick but the change in color isn’t just on her skin, it’s on the fur as well so I really don’t know. Another hair-dermatological ailment is that she’s over 3 months old and still hasn’t needed a haircut. I saw her sister a few weeks ago and she had much longer hair which was in need of cutting. I was totally prepared to write that off as different genes (which I do think it is) but then I’ve noticed she’s been shedding a lot as well. That didn’t make me too worried though because I’ve heard with the changing seasons people’s hair will fall out and mine sure has too in the last few weeks. Perhaps comparing humans to dogs was where I made my first mistake. Finally, ticks. This is the problem that has given me the most to worry about. I first noticed them when I came back from a trip away and they were everywhere. She must have been so miserable scratching at them. They’re huge, difficult to grab (so I’ve been using tweezers which Lina now hates), disgusting, and borough into her skin so when I do finally get them, they make her bleed. The worst (this next part is not for the faint-hearted) was when I had to pull about 8 of them out of her ears. That didn’t just make her bleed but it also left the blood to mix with a large amount of crud which I hope was just dirt and not tick droppings. She now also doesn’t like q-tips.
So when I pet her these days I’m not just petting her, I’m searching for ticks almost constantly, and finding them much too often. Hopefully her next dosage of the flea meds (which are also for ticks) will kick in and get rid of them once and for all.
The logical answer is to go to the vet. Thing is I have a vet, the brother of my don and my project partner’s husband, who lives close by and offered to help. I am thinking of getting a new one in Santiago but getting in and out of there is going to prove to be very challenging and most likely every time I go I’ll need to spend the night in the city, if not two nights, which by myself isn’t so easy on our salaries, but with a dog as well will be even more difficult. More importantly than the money is the time away from my community that that will require. So perhaps you see why this is a bit more complicated than it would be in the US.
In other ways things are going well with her. She enjoys belly rubs and lying under, on top of, or near my feet. She’s got some good toys from the US that she loves, which makes her a bit more spoiled than her Dominican neighbors. I’m trying to start to train her, working on not barking, biting, chewing things or jumping on the furniture. When I get that sorted out, (if I get that sorted out soon, if not I’ll start anyways) I’m going to start training her to come, sit, heel, etc.
In other animal news: rats, all the time, everywhere. I’ve cut off the routes to their sources of joy in my house which are of course garbage, food, but also interestingly the crayons that my family brought me from home. But they still like to come visit. The only way to really get rid of rats here is to have a cat but I refuse to get another animal, for many reasons, so I’m going to have to buy traps. The pigeons are also up there between the ceiling and the roof and I’m pretty sure they are here to stay. One fell through the hole in the ceiling in the kitchen the other day. Getting it out was funny… I’d been sweeping with the door to the kitchen closed and when I got up to the door I flipped when I saw the huge, gray pigeon just sitting there on my floor. I backed away then went back for a photo. A few hours later I went in to finish sweeping and it didn’t care for that and finally made its way to the large hole in my window covers and flew out. I also have found a number of large spiders of late, but none are tarantulas. They are almost that big, but I’m pretty sure they don’t bite, so I haven’t disturbed them. I think of it as one more thing to eat mosquitoes, which have I mentioned are SO much less of a problem in my new house than they were with my host family? Perhaps it’s the spiders (although there were a good number of those in the other house too) or perhaps it’s that I’m very vigilant in covering my water.
Seriously, I used to get 4 or 5 bites a day minimum there with full sleeves and/or repellent, and here I get that many in a week, often without sleeves or repellent!
So we’re a big happy family here, and even with all of this, people ask me how I’m able to live alone.
I Came, I Saw, I Bolaed
Peace Corps tradition in the DR, as of 3 years ago, a bola race from point A (in this case Santiago) to point B (in this case Las Terranas, Samana Peninsula). That was the race this year. Now, what, you may wonder, is a bola? Well my friends, a bola is a free-ride. IE: we hitchhiked from Santiago to the beach. It was SO much easier, more fun and faster than I ever would have thought. (We made it there faster than we would have on public transportation by a matter of hours!) We, my team partner and I (a male, all teams are male-female groups of 2 for everyone’s protection,) took a public bus out of the city (it’s hard to get rich city-folk to take pity and offer a ride) with a large group of gringos. We parted ways with some and joined some others once out of the city and took something like 8 or 9 different bolas to get to the beach.
One of my favorite parts of the day was when my mom called me on my cell phone to talk and I was on the most dangerous ride I would catch that day. Half of the group was sitting in/on a pile of rubber tires towards the front of the bed of a pickup truck and the other half (including myself at the very back) were sitting on boxes that were stacked (as were the tires) incredibly high and not so securely. A friend of mine literally had my back though, so I wasn’t going anywhere. Still, I took the call and was very honest and up front about what it was I was up to. There was nothing to hide because bolas here are a part of life and are much safer than hitchhiking in the US. Everyone in my group of gringos with whom I was traveling agreed that we had no reservations about bolaing in the DR but would never hitchhike in the US.
My other favorite part of the day was when we got dropped off on a 2 lane highway (which does not indicate much about anything because almost all highways here are 2 lanes) with relatively little traffic. A friend of mine looked at the first vehicle to come our way and declared, “We’re getting on that.” I laughed hysterically because the vehicle to which she was referring was a Mack truck with no bed attached to the back. There was no way we were getting on the back and no way we’d all fit inside the cab. Well, with the exception of one person, we all got right into the cab when to my amazement the driver pulled over for our group of 6. The other member held on tight to the back and soon joined us up front on the bed in the cab when the ride got to be a bit bumpy. The driver was very quiet and very cool and took us pretty far in what was surely not only the best bola we caught that day, but that anyone racing caught that day.
There were 12 teams in total and my group of 3 teams tied for 3rd. We came in behind a team who got only 4 bolas (were very lucky to have had their first driver suggest they take them a much shorter route than the rest of us took and very lucky also to get so far with so few drivers) and another group who took our same route who passed us in a small town at one point as we were looking for our next ride. There was a bit of time between our group and the teams that came in after us and I was pretty proud considering it would be that much more difficult to get a ride for 6 than a ride for 2.
We played on the beach for the next day and a half and on the third day, I woke up at 5:45 to get back to my site 12 hours later. (Should have been 3 hours less, if my bus hadn’t gotten held up in Santiago.) But all in all it was a fantastic experience!
One of my favorite parts of the day was when my mom called me on my cell phone to talk and I was on the most dangerous ride I would catch that day. Half of the group was sitting in/on a pile of rubber tires towards the front of the bed of a pickup truck and the other half (including myself at the very back) were sitting on boxes that were stacked (as were the tires) incredibly high and not so securely. A friend of mine literally had my back though, so I wasn’t going anywhere. Still, I took the call and was very honest and up front about what it was I was up to. There was nothing to hide because bolas here are a part of life and are much safer than hitchhiking in the US. Everyone in my group of gringos with whom I was traveling agreed that we had no reservations about bolaing in the DR but would never hitchhike in the US.
My other favorite part of the day was when we got dropped off on a 2 lane highway (which does not indicate much about anything because almost all highways here are 2 lanes) with relatively little traffic. A friend of mine looked at the first vehicle to come our way and declared, “We’re getting on that.” I laughed hysterically because the vehicle to which she was referring was a Mack truck with no bed attached to the back. There was no way we were getting on the back and no way we’d all fit inside the cab. Well, with the exception of one person, we all got right into the cab when to my amazement the driver pulled over for our group of 6. The other member held on tight to the back and soon joined us up front on the bed in the cab when the ride got to be a bit bumpy. The driver was very quiet and very cool and took us pretty far in what was surely not only the best bola we caught that day, but that anyone racing caught that day.
There were 12 teams in total and my group of 3 teams tied for 3rd. We came in behind a team who got only 4 bolas (were very lucky to have had their first driver suggest they take them a much shorter route than the rest of us took and very lucky also to get so far with so few drivers) and another group who took our same route who passed us in a small town at one point as we were looking for our next ride. There was a bit of time between our group and the teams that came in after us and I was pretty proud considering it would be that much more difficult to get a ride for 6 than a ride for 2.
We played on the beach for the next day and a half and on the third day, I woke up at 5:45 to get back to my site 12 hours later. (Should have been 3 hours less, if my bus hadn’t gotten held up in Santiago.) But all in all it was a fantastic experience!
Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be
It’s been over 6 months in country and as I was looking back in my journal the other day, I came across some interesting or funny passages that I thought I’d share with you.
“Lunch was good-finally some beans and rice.” AH!
“After dinner he and I sat on the patio, which is gorgeous, in rocking chairs and talked.” Funny to look back on this now because I remember wondering if I’d be able to afford to buy a rocking chair for my house when I finally had one and even heard from a volunteer at some point that she purchased one and wouldn’t let anyone else sit in it because it was her spot. Some of you might know how incredibly comfortable they are and I was worried that my move-in allowance wouldn’t be enough to afford one. Turns out my house, which had some furniture in it already, had 10 rocking chairs! (4 are useless as they have no cushions, but still 6 working rocking chairs!)
“Finally it was time for a shower. The water is out so I got to experience a shower using a large container of water and a cup…the situation was fine but I couldn’t help but smile. Where else but the Peace Corps would a person like me get to experience something like that? Ultimately I fared pretty well, although I think getting the shampoo out will be the hardest part. Also, washing my feet will probably prove to be a challenge. I was smiling for the “shower,” myself, the Peace Corps and all of those who have come before me and are old pros at the skill, and my friends and family back home who wouldn’t believe it until they tried it, and would never try it twice.”
“As I was just showering I decided I was born for this job. I love it. The stuff that would phase other people, including some of the people in our 52, in no way get me down. I’m not even bothered by machismo here, which could e that there’s less, or it could be that I don’t mind it. I’ve got thick skin and I am convinced that I am not leaving early. Of course, never say never and if I get too sick I really won’t have much choice, but I am so confident that I won’t be the reason I go home I sort of throw myself a party every once in a while in my mind. I’m so content.”
“When the electricity comes back on, a cry is heard and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.” That has turned out to be true of Santo Domingo (in both barrios where I’ve now stayed), Santiago, San Juan, and my community.
“We got our PC badges and just as I thought, I don’t look so hot. My hair is stuck to my head from sweat. But I suppose these things happen and it would probably serve me well to get rid of my vanity.”
“One week in country! And it was an awesome day…We had some Presidente, were loud, and spoke English.”
“I just killed a HUGE FLYING COCKROACH. I did it all by myself and I am so proud.”
“2 songs play almost 24 hours a day here. It’s getting to where I don’t want to hear them again. Years from now they will bring back fond memories, but now they’re obnoxious. They both played repeatedly at the Car Wash last night. That would be so not allowed in the US. I really don’t get how it’s possible that everyone isn’t this sick of these songs-I’ve only been here 1 ½ weeks!” (Those songs were of course Vete and Es Tan Dificil which I came to love a few months later. Vete is the reason I like bachata now and perhaps it’s because I live in the campo, far away from colmados where they blast those 2 songs 24 hours a day, but I enjoy hearing them on occasion these days…so I guess years from now, when they would bring back fond memories turned into months from now, and yes, they do bring back fond memories.)
“Everyone left to get their new motoconcho (motor-taxi) helmets. I get the feeling I look goofy as it is so big and I am so small and I don’t even have any hair hanging out to let someone know there’s a head on top of that body…”
“Rash spread, is now on my legs, butt, lower and upper back. To combat it the nurse gave me an oral Benadryl. It knocked me out-made me quite dizzy and generally drunk feeling. I’ve definitely never reacted to a pill like that before. I was cracking everyone up.”
“We went to the beach and all was glorious. The water was perfect, bright blue, and the weather was awesome…A friend brought goggles and I’m so glad. The reefs were awesome. I saw fishies, tons of them. Swimming so much felt so good.”
“The ants took over my body last night. Every time I tried to fall asleep I had trouble because they were crawling all over me. I started to think I was imagining it too.”
“Then we loaded into the truck and headed into the mountains. The back isn’t comfortable with everyone in it, but it is good for conversation. The drive was interesting. There were moments when it looked like we might die. There were moments when the truck jolted backward down the mountain. But it was fun-real fun, like one of those Disney rides, except real.”
“ ‘Rancho Espanol.’ That is where I am most likely going to spend the next 2 years of my life. (Wrong! My town is not called that even though that’s what my boss told me!) What I know now: small, approx 1000 people J (actually more like 400 people), near the coast J, hilly, not mountains, accessible J (HAH! How untrue!), electricity and water J, near water group (somewhat true), near many other volunteers, Santiago, 1.5 hours away (more like 2.5 hours away and not so close to so many other volunteers), 1 hour away from the closest health volunteer from my group (not true), will be living with the head of the school, the teachers are the leaders of the community J, a health group has been created for me J (and were shortly dissolved afterwards), no clinic.”
Hope you enjoyed those flashbacks!
“Lunch was good-finally some beans and rice.” AH!
“After dinner he and I sat on the patio, which is gorgeous, in rocking chairs and talked.” Funny to look back on this now because I remember wondering if I’d be able to afford to buy a rocking chair for my house when I finally had one and even heard from a volunteer at some point that she purchased one and wouldn’t let anyone else sit in it because it was her spot. Some of you might know how incredibly comfortable they are and I was worried that my move-in allowance wouldn’t be enough to afford one. Turns out my house, which had some furniture in it already, had 10 rocking chairs! (4 are useless as they have no cushions, but still 6 working rocking chairs!)
“Finally it was time for a shower. The water is out so I got to experience a shower using a large container of water and a cup…the situation was fine but I couldn’t help but smile. Where else but the Peace Corps would a person like me get to experience something like that? Ultimately I fared pretty well, although I think getting the shampoo out will be the hardest part. Also, washing my feet will probably prove to be a challenge. I was smiling for the “shower,” myself, the Peace Corps and all of those who have come before me and are old pros at the skill, and my friends and family back home who wouldn’t believe it until they tried it, and would never try it twice.”
“As I was just showering I decided I was born for this job. I love it. The stuff that would phase other people, including some of the people in our 52, in no way get me down. I’m not even bothered by machismo here, which could e that there’s less, or it could be that I don’t mind it. I’ve got thick skin and I am convinced that I am not leaving early. Of course, never say never and if I get too sick I really won’t have much choice, but I am so confident that I won’t be the reason I go home I sort of throw myself a party every once in a while in my mind. I’m so content.”
“When the electricity comes back on, a cry is heard and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.” That has turned out to be true of Santo Domingo (in both barrios where I’ve now stayed), Santiago, San Juan, and my community.
“We got our PC badges and just as I thought, I don’t look so hot. My hair is stuck to my head from sweat. But I suppose these things happen and it would probably serve me well to get rid of my vanity.”
“One week in country! And it was an awesome day…We had some Presidente, were loud, and spoke English.”
“I just killed a HUGE FLYING COCKROACH. I did it all by myself and I am so proud.”
“2 songs play almost 24 hours a day here. It’s getting to where I don’t want to hear them again. Years from now they will bring back fond memories, but now they’re obnoxious. They both played repeatedly at the Car Wash last night. That would be so not allowed in the US. I really don’t get how it’s possible that everyone isn’t this sick of these songs-I’ve only been here 1 ½ weeks!” (Those songs were of course Vete and Es Tan Dificil which I came to love a few months later. Vete is the reason I like bachata now and perhaps it’s because I live in the campo, far away from colmados where they blast those 2 songs 24 hours a day, but I enjoy hearing them on occasion these days…so I guess years from now, when they would bring back fond memories turned into months from now, and yes, they do bring back fond memories.)
“Everyone left to get their new motoconcho (motor-taxi) helmets. I get the feeling I look goofy as it is so big and I am so small and I don’t even have any hair hanging out to let someone know there’s a head on top of that body…”
“Rash spread, is now on my legs, butt, lower and upper back. To combat it the nurse gave me an oral Benadryl. It knocked me out-made me quite dizzy and generally drunk feeling. I’ve definitely never reacted to a pill like that before. I was cracking everyone up.”
“We went to the beach and all was glorious. The water was perfect, bright blue, and the weather was awesome…A friend brought goggles and I’m so glad. The reefs were awesome. I saw fishies, tons of them. Swimming so much felt so good.”
“The ants took over my body last night. Every time I tried to fall asleep I had trouble because they were crawling all over me. I started to think I was imagining it too.”
“Then we loaded into the truck and headed into the mountains. The back isn’t comfortable with everyone in it, but it is good for conversation. The drive was interesting. There were moments when it looked like we might die. There were moments when the truck jolted backward down the mountain. But it was fun-real fun, like one of those Disney rides, except real.”
“ ‘Rancho Espanol.’ That is where I am most likely going to spend the next 2 years of my life. (Wrong! My town is not called that even though that’s what my boss told me!) What I know now: small, approx 1000 people J (actually more like 400 people), near the coast J, hilly, not mountains, accessible J (HAH! How untrue!), electricity and water J, near water group (somewhat true), near many other volunteers, Santiago, 1.5 hours away (more like 2.5 hours away and not so close to so many other volunteers), 1 hour away from the closest health volunteer from my group (not true), will be living with the head of the school, the teachers are the leaders of the community J, a health group has been created for me J (and were shortly dissolved afterwards), no clinic.”
Hope you enjoyed those flashbacks!
At Last!
The Creole classes wrapped up nicely, though our teacher wasn’t anything to write home about… and yet, here I am, writing to readers at home, about him. Still, my only real goal for the week was to learn some greetings so I could properly acknowledge Haitians on the street of my community. I’m pleased to say that I was able to achieve this goal. I spent a lot of the week looking forward to seeing the facial expressions of Haitians here when I shot them a “bonjou” instead of “hola.”
I got to do this today, my first day back from the course and one extra night in Santiago. I said “bonjou” or “bonswa” to every Haitian I passed today and got smiles from everyone, and one group called me over as I was passing to ask me where I’d picked up Creole. I was thrilled and had a huge smile from ear to ear. They laughed when I threw out the fun, slang expressions our teacher had taught us (as I’d hoped they would) and FINALLY were super eager to engage in conversation with me. SUCCESS! Even if that is as far as it goes (which I know it won’t be because I haven’t even greeted every Creole-speaking member of my community yet, and, I have plenty more to learn and impress them with…) I’ll be a very happy girl. Also, I had a guy offer to work with me on Creole if I’d teach him English. Funny how one greeting could have potentially landed me a language tutor. Interesting to note that that hasn’t happened with Spanish-speakers, even when I’ve asked for help.
After giving an English class to a group that went in 3 months from 20 participants to 4, I attended the women’s group meeting. I was excited for the meeting because I hadn’t been to one in over 3 weeks and we were finally going to celebrate March birthdays. It ended up being the most dramatic, tense-filled event I’ve attended here, if not everywhere I’ve ever been. My project partner, another woman and I were the March birthdays. The other woman suffers from epilepsy and I’ve seen her have convulsions once before and get the feeling they are pretty rare. Well, she got one at her own birthday party. I wish I could say that was where the drama ended. The woman who’d just watched my puppy for the week (in which time Lina got significantly bigger and I’m so sad I missed those few days) got very upset over the bank account my dona and the other leaders of the group opened to keep the groups money. No one here is particularly rich but the woman who watched Lina is a bit worse-off than most in my community. It’s hard not to be 100% sympathetic to a poor person’s concerns about their hard-earned money, even if that person is perhaps confused about the situation and is taking it out on your dona. But, my dona was respectful, mature and on the ball. After a few minutes of screaming, some crying, threats to quit the group by more than one member, and everyone telling everyone to calm down, my dona (who I should probably mention is the president of this group) was able to not only get past the tense moment, but also get the meeting back on track. We had some cake and red-soda and went on our ways after a bit.
On my way through Santiago on the trip home I got a call from a friend who wanted me to stay in Santiago and have lunch… as will often happen, lunch turned into spending the afternoon, calling the community to pass the word along to the woman watching my puppy that I’d be back a day later, and then spending the night. What wasn’t so inevitable was what we did for dinner. We went to a huge grocery store looking for steak, a type of food I haven’t had in well over 7 months. We ended up coming out of the store with steak, veggies, couscous, crackers, fresh spices, bread, fruit, salami and cheese. The meal cost $9 each (also known as 3% of our monthly allowance) and had already been heavily subsidized by the expense account of a businessman from the US who might start to work with a volunteer who was also there, so you can just imagine how much food, how expensive, and therefore how delicious, it was. We appreciated it anyway, and that is what truly matters.
Did I mention that I’ve found the way to bring the Dominican and Haitian cultures together? On Easter Sunday, the day I went down to the capital for Creole training, I rode in a rather full bus (it’s a very large travel day here.) The man who collects the money (known as a cobrador) addressed the group about collecting the money depending on where we were being let out. My ears perked up when he mentioned my stop and when he looked at me to verify my stop he said something quickly that was hard to hear over all the other noise in the bus. I did my noise to signify “what?” that a lot of Dominicans do and here’s where the fun started. He clarified, I nodded and then he launched into a tirade to the bus community, “say what you will about Haitians, at least they learn the language, but these Gringos, they don’t have no respect and don’t care to spend the time to learn the language.”
Wow, huh? I sat in disbelief as this guy went off like that and looked between him and the woman sitting next to me who seemed to be trying to tell if I really did understand the language and comprehended what he was saying. The other patrons on the bus either laughed or nodded along to what he was saying. When I related the story to some volunteers later that night, one who has a bit more experience in this country than me, they agreed it was terrible and that one with more experience said that’s when you’ve got to use the swear word that only Dominicans use (thus proving you not only speak the language but also have been here long enough to pick up Dominicanisms), shake your head disapprovingly and look away from everyone in a very dramatic way. Another option that I thought of was just to go ballistic on the guy-take out all my built up aggression against Dominicans on him. Say things like, “Do you even know who I am? I am a volunteer, working with the youth and the poor in this country-your country, and who are you? A cobrador? You collect money on a bus.” Boy to I wish I could relive that moment and do one of those two wonderful things.
I got to do this today, my first day back from the course and one extra night in Santiago. I said “bonjou” or “bonswa” to every Haitian I passed today and got smiles from everyone, and one group called me over as I was passing to ask me where I’d picked up Creole. I was thrilled and had a huge smile from ear to ear. They laughed when I threw out the fun, slang expressions our teacher had taught us (as I’d hoped they would) and FINALLY were super eager to engage in conversation with me. SUCCESS! Even if that is as far as it goes (which I know it won’t be because I haven’t even greeted every Creole-speaking member of my community yet, and, I have plenty more to learn and impress them with…) I’ll be a very happy girl. Also, I had a guy offer to work with me on Creole if I’d teach him English. Funny how one greeting could have potentially landed me a language tutor. Interesting to note that that hasn’t happened with Spanish-speakers, even when I’ve asked for help.
After giving an English class to a group that went in 3 months from 20 participants to 4, I attended the women’s group meeting. I was excited for the meeting because I hadn’t been to one in over 3 weeks and we were finally going to celebrate March birthdays. It ended up being the most dramatic, tense-filled event I’ve attended here, if not everywhere I’ve ever been. My project partner, another woman and I were the March birthdays. The other woman suffers from epilepsy and I’ve seen her have convulsions once before and get the feeling they are pretty rare. Well, she got one at her own birthday party. I wish I could say that was where the drama ended. The woman who’d just watched my puppy for the week (in which time Lina got significantly bigger and I’m so sad I missed those few days) got very upset over the bank account my dona and the other leaders of the group opened to keep the groups money. No one here is particularly rich but the woman who watched Lina is a bit worse-off than most in my community. It’s hard not to be 100% sympathetic to a poor person’s concerns about their hard-earned money, even if that person is perhaps confused about the situation and is taking it out on your dona. But, my dona was respectful, mature and on the ball. After a few minutes of screaming, some crying, threats to quit the group by more than one member, and everyone telling everyone to calm down, my dona (who I should probably mention is the president of this group) was able to not only get past the tense moment, but also get the meeting back on track. We had some cake and red-soda and went on our ways after a bit.
On my way through Santiago on the trip home I got a call from a friend who wanted me to stay in Santiago and have lunch… as will often happen, lunch turned into spending the afternoon, calling the community to pass the word along to the woman watching my puppy that I’d be back a day later, and then spending the night. What wasn’t so inevitable was what we did for dinner. We went to a huge grocery store looking for steak, a type of food I haven’t had in well over 7 months. We ended up coming out of the store with steak, veggies, couscous, crackers, fresh spices, bread, fruit, salami and cheese. The meal cost $9 each (also known as 3% of our monthly allowance) and had already been heavily subsidized by the expense account of a businessman from the US who might start to work with a volunteer who was also there, so you can just imagine how much food, how expensive, and therefore how delicious, it was. We appreciated it anyway, and that is what truly matters.
Did I mention that I’ve found the way to bring the Dominican and Haitian cultures together? On Easter Sunday, the day I went down to the capital for Creole training, I rode in a rather full bus (it’s a very large travel day here.) The man who collects the money (known as a cobrador) addressed the group about collecting the money depending on where we were being let out. My ears perked up when he mentioned my stop and when he looked at me to verify my stop he said something quickly that was hard to hear over all the other noise in the bus. I did my noise to signify “what?” that a lot of Dominicans do and here’s where the fun started. He clarified, I nodded and then he launched into a tirade to the bus community, “say what you will about Haitians, at least they learn the language, but these Gringos, they don’t have no respect and don’t care to spend the time to learn the language.”
Wow, huh? I sat in disbelief as this guy went off like that and looked between him and the woman sitting next to me who seemed to be trying to tell if I really did understand the language and comprehended what he was saying. The other patrons on the bus either laughed or nodded along to what he was saying. When I related the story to some volunteers later that night, one who has a bit more experience in this country than me, they agreed it was terrible and that one with more experience said that’s when you’ve got to use the swear word that only Dominicans use (thus proving you not only speak the language but also have been here long enough to pick up Dominicanisms), shake your head disapprovingly and look away from everyone in a very dramatic way. Another option that I thought of was just to go ballistic on the guy-take out all my built up aggression against Dominicans on him. Say things like, “Do you even know who I am? I am a volunteer, working with the youth and the poor in this country-your country, and who are you? A cobrador? You collect money on a bus.” Boy to I wish I could relive that moment and do one of those two wonderful things.
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