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
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Celebrating the Cibao
If you were looking for a way to donate in a PC sanctioned way to my efforts down here, here's a great opportunity. A group of volunteers are planning a youth conference in August called Celebrating the Cibao (the region we all live in) to celebrate the diversity of the area. It will be largely educational but also there will be a lot of fun, interactive activities and leadership activities as well. I will hopefully be able to bring 2 or 3 youth from my town to attend, but they have no money to pay for the expenses of the conference or the cost of trasportation to the site. So, feel free to contribute early and contribute often and in any amount! Let me know if you are able to contribute, and I'll be sure to keep you updated on where your money has gone. I guess I'll update you no matter what on this lovely blog. :)
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=517-253
More on this: if you donate, the money goes to our camp, in my region of the country. So the more we raise, the more kids we can bring to the conference I'll be attending. Any questions, please let me know!
https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=517-253
More on this: if you donate, the money goes to our camp, in my region of the country. So the more we raise, the more kids we can bring to the conference I'll be attending. Any questions, please let me know!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Oh Say Can You See…
I met the US ambassador to the DR and his wife and a friend of mine and used his bathroom in his ambassador’s house. Marble. Silk. Water pressure. Super nice. The new group (there are 2 groups of volunteers each year) swore in the other day and I went, dressed in an Old Navy blue tank top, stretched out and sweaty, and a skirt I found in what’s called the “free box” which is a box where volunteers can give stuff to their other volunteers. I found it 2 minutes before the ceremony and it had a rip in it and it was white, black and pink, so I matched perfectly. I was so glad to be meeting the ambassador and stepping into his home, with his wife right there to watch, in that outfit and some flip flops. Side note: He doesn’t speak much Spanish. Also, the swearing-in ceremony was lovely.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
At Any Given Moment
I’d be one of these few things, in order of most likely:
In my house having me time: reading/writing in my journal/playing with Lina/writing a blog/downloading photos on my computer/watching a DVD, or lately I’ve started doing some yoga as well. We’ll see how long that lasts.
In a meeting; Sundays: the women’s savings and loans group, Mondays: English class followed by my youth group, Tuesdays: the nutrition course, Wednesdays: children’s play group. Might be adding an addition youth group meeting on Wednesdays or Thursdays. Get this, THEY asked ME for more! Hah! Success? I think SO!
Sitting with Lina at a fried chicken stand (what are called here frituras) or across the street from the fritura at my project partner’s house/the house where Lina’s (once again pregnant) mama lives. They play every day.
At someone’s house drinking juice or eating cookies or something, talking about whatever is new, although I wouldn’t say I’m really in on any of the gossip of the town just yet. Major events pass all the time with me not hearing about them or hearing about them because I overhear someone else’s conversation. In the past week there’s been some drama here: a Haitian boy who drives his motorbike way too fast (but don’t they all) crashed with one of the deaf men in the town. No one was hurt, but the next day the same boy hit my neighbor’s puppy and she didn’t make it. She was about the same age as Lina, same size and same colors. They used to play a lot. That event made me so much more dedicated to keeping her on a leash although none of the dogs here are and I know Lina hates it. Then yesterday someone from the town over shot someone else. It was a love triangle apparently and the guy who died was the girl’s other boyfriend. To hear people talk about it was very interesting: a woman from my town said, ‘serves her right for having two boyfriends… who is she to have two boyfriends?’ Interesting no, in a country where just about every man has 2 women or has had at some point many infidelities including many children from many, or at least 2 different, women.
Cleaning the house or the yard: sweeping/mopping every day, wiping dust off of various items, doing dishes in my shower, cleaning puppy droppings, picking up after myself, burning trash, tending to my recently started compost pile, etc.
In Santiago or Santo Domingo for committee meetings, conferences, medical visits, internet usage, grocery shopping, refueling the ole batteries, and the like.
It’s a good life. I’m happy most of the time. Ironically, that first most likely place you’d find me is the one that brings me the least amount of satisfaction or joy. I do love writing, reading, or watching DVDs at nighttime, but when I get lazy and allow myself to do that stuff during the day, I often find that I’m grumpy or discouraged. So when I’m able to pull myself out of bed (that’s not as depressed as it sounds, it’s mostly because I figure if I’m just sitting around, I may as well do it under the bed net and avoid getting bitten,) I find that I’m a lot happier, using my Spanish, getting to know the community, slowly, but surely.
In my house having me time: reading/writing in my journal/playing with Lina/writing a blog/downloading photos on my computer/watching a DVD, or lately I’ve started doing some yoga as well. We’ll see how long that lasts.
In a meeting; Sundays: the women’s savings and loans group, Mondays: English class followed by my youth group, Tuesdays: the nutrition course, Wednesdays: children’s play group. Might be adding an addition youth group meeting on Wednesdays or Thursdays. Get this, THEY asked ME for more! Hah! Success? I think SO!
Sitting with Lina at a fried chicken stand (what are called here frituras) or across the street from the fritura at my project partner’s house/the house where Lina’s (once again pregnant) mama lives. They play every day.
At someone’s house drinking juice or eating cookies or something, talking about whatever is new, although I wouldn’t say I’m really in on any of the gossip of the town just yet. Major events pass all the time with me not hearing about them or hearing about them because I overhear someone else’s conversation. In the past week there’s been some drama here: a Haitian boy who drives his motorbike way too fast (but don’t they all) crashed with one of the deaf men in the town. No one was hurt, but the next day the same boy hit my neighbor’s puppy and she didn’t make it. She was about the same age as Lina, same size and same colors. They used to play a lot. That event made me so much more dedicated to keeping her on a leash although none of the dogs here are and I know Lina hates it. Then yesterday someone from the town over shot someone else. It was a love triangle apparently and the guy who died was the girl’s other boyfriend. To hear people talk about it was very interesting: a woman from my town said, ‘serves her right for having two boyfriends… who is she to have two boyfriends?’ Interesting no, in a country where just about every man has 2 women or has had at some point many infidelities including many children from many, or at least 2 different, women.
Cleaning the house or the yard: sweeping/mopping every day, wiping dust off of various items, doing dishes in my shower, cleaning puppy droppings, picking up after myself, burning trash, tending to my recently started compost pile, etc.
In Santiago or Santo Domingo for committee meetings, conferences, medical visits, internet usage, grocery shopping, refueling the ole batteries, and the like.
It’s a good life. I’m happy most of the time. Ironically, that first most likely place you’d find me is the one that brings me the least amount of satisfaction or joy. I do love writing, reading, or watching DVDs at nighttime, but when I get lazy and allow myself to do that stuff during the day, I often find that I’m grumpy or discouraged. So when I’m able to pull myself out of bed (that’s not as depressed as it sounds, it’s mostly because I figure if I’m just sitting around, I may as well do it under the bed net and avoid getting bitten,) I find that I’m a lot happier, using my Spanish, getting to know the community, slowly, but surely.
Thats Me in the Corner, Thats Me in the Spotlight
About a month ago one of the youth in my town came over and we had a late night (you know, like 8PM) talk. She’s really involved in her church youth group and I asked her if her religion was very important to her. She said it was and then explained a bit of why. Then she recited some prayers which I love to hear here because they are some of the easiest (and most interesting, linguistically, I think) things to translate. I told her so and she asked me to recite them in English. So, I said aloud for the first time in I don’t know how long, the Our Father and the Hail Mary.
A few weeks ago I went to visit the small community next to the one I live in. I passed by a few homes over there, trying to make the rounds and remind people I’m still here, even if I’m hardly ever here. At one visit, a woman who doesn’t live in the home stopped by. Let’s call her Betty. So Betty had a Bible and a hymnal. After a short conversation including asking me about my religiosity, she took my hand and the hand of the woman whose house we were at, to pray. I wasn’t surprised by any of this, although I haven’t been here too long to forget that such a thing would never happen in the US, or at least not in the crowds I roll with, but here it’s quite common. My host did not seem to be responding to any of it the way I was though, with nods, smiles, eye contact, and the like. When Betty left I asked, or maybe my host even volunteered the fact that Betty is a 7th Day Adventist and she tours the community, praying for everyone, daily. There aren’t a lot of 7th Day Adventists in the area. The 2 main religions here are Catholic and Evangelical.
A couple of days later I went to the south, to a volunteer friend’s house to celebrate with her, and 2 other Jewish volunteer friends, a seder dinner for Passover. It was lovely, and I found the matza. We read from the Torah in our native languages of Hebrew and Spanish… well, I guess no one in the group really speaks Spanish natively… but we did our best to understand, me probably more than the other 3 really needed to work at it.
A few weeks later an Evangelical neighbor of mine came over for the first time and took a look around the house. She was very inquisitive about the items in the house, picking up various things to look at them more closely. She spoke quickly about what she was up to and very soon asked, "Is there a Bible in this house?" I answered slowly, something that is not rare for me, and described that, ‘you know, as a matter of fact, there isn’t.’ My next thought could have been, ‘huh, I wonder how that happened.’ Without missing a beat she began a sermon (not that she was preachy in the secular use of that word, but she was very much so in the religious sense) on the importance of God in our lives and homes. I could tell that she’d given the sermon before. She told me she was then going to say a prayer, I asked if she wanted to sit down, and she said it’s best to pray standing, and so we stood and she gave the prayer. She blessed the house and then sang a song to God. A few days later she presented me with a pocket New Testament, Gideons, in English. I got to admit, it was the first time I’d looked at the Gideons version of the Bible, and I’m pretty sure the emotion I was feeling while reading the first few pages was offended. There was a lot of mention made to people who don’t follow the pages of the Bible and what’s going to happen to them. I think it’s fair to say that in general I frown on negativity, and the message in the introduction of the Bible was quite negative, among other things, in my opinion.
So obviously religion is something that’s really important to a lot of the people I see and work with on a daily basis, and although I consider it a fascinating topic of study, it’s not a major part of my daily life. There is a prayer in every one of the women’s group meetings I attend in the community, to open and close the meeting, and a lot of singing of religious songs there as well, and even the kids and teenagers sing religious songs or chants doing whatever: playing in the park, walking down the street, driving around. The fact that religion is not a large part of my life doesn’t create a problem, but definitely room for me to wonder and reflect. (I haven’t come to a single conclusion. As usual, It’s all just airy and distracted up there.)
As I climbed into bed the other night I was struck with the memory of how my older brother and I used to have to pray before getting into bed. "Our Father", "Hail Mary", and "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep", praying for all of our family at the end of that one, right Mike? When was the last time I knelt beside my bed to pray? When was the last time I went to church for something besides acclimating into my community, because my host mom made me, for a funeral, to sing in an a capella concert, or to take pictures of its lovely interior? I honestly think the last time I went was on September 11th, 2001 because it seemed like the right thing to do that day. I could write for days on this topic, but I think it’d be too self-indulgent and probably not make for the best reading. So instead I’ll just leave you with what I can now remember of something that used to be a part of everyday of my life. I’m sure some of you can relate? Care to share? Or, can any of you remember these better than me?
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. (Never really realized that one ends with the word ‘evil’.)
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee, blessed art Thou among woman, and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen. (Another not so pleasant way to end a prayer, although is that just my American fear of death coming into play and really it’s not so unpleasant?)
Now I lay me, down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and guide me through the starry night and wake me with the morning light. (And then I think I rattled off the names of people I was supposed to pray for…) and God Bless Mommy, Daddy, Michael, Timmy, and Baby Julie, Grandma and Crampa and Cramma, cousins, aunts, and uncles (I won’t make you read all their names. That one is a lot lighter but I know my Mom changed the words for us from "and if I die before I wake…" to "guide me through the starry night." Much more pleasant, kudos Mom.)
A few weeks ago I went to visit the small community next to the one I live in. I passed by a few homes over there, trying to make the rounds and remind people I’m still here, even if I’m hardly ever here. At one visit, a woman who doesn’t live in the home stopped by. Let’s call her Betty. So Betty had a Bible and a hymnal. After a short conversation including asking me about my religiosity, she took my hand and the hand of the woman whose house we were at, to pray. I wasn’t surprised by any of this, although I haven’t been here too long to forget that such a thing would never happen in the US, or at least not in the crowds I roll with, but here it’s quite common. My host did not seem to be responding to any of it the way I was though, with nods, smiles, eye contact, and the like. When Betty left I asked, or maybe my host even volunteered the fact that Betty is a 7th Day Adventist and she tours the community, praying for everyone, daily. There aren’t a lot of 7th Day Adventists in the area. The 2 main religions here are Catholic and Evangelical.
A couple of days later I went to the south, to a volunteer friend’s house to celebrate with her, and 2 other Jewish volunteer friends, a seder dinner for Passover. It was lovely, and I found the matza. We read from the Torah in our native languages of Hebrew and Spanish… well, I guess no one in the group really speaks Spanish natively… but we did our best to understand, me probably more than the other 3 really needed to work at it.
A few weeks later an Evangelical neighbor of mine came over for the first time and took a look around the house. She was very inquisitive about the items in the house, picking up various things to look at them more closely. She spoke quickly about what she was up to and very soon asked, "Is there a Bible in this house?" I answered slowly, something that is not rare for me, and described that, ‘you know, as a matter of fact, there isn’t.’ My next thought could have been, ‘huh, I wonder how that happened.’ Without missing a beat she began a sermon (not that she was preachy in the secular use of that word, but she was very much so in the religious sense) on the importance of God in our lives and homes. I could tell that she’d given the sermon before. She told me she was then going to say a prayer, I asked if she wanted to sit down, and she said it’s best to pray standing, and so we stood and she gave the prayer. She blessed the house and then sang a song to God. A few days later she presented me with a pocket New Testament, Gideons, in English. I got to admit, it was the first time I’d looked at the Gideons version of the Bible, and I’m pretty sure the emotion I was feeling while reading the first few pages was offended. There was a lot of mention made to people who don’t follow the pages of the Bible and what’s going to happen to them. I think it’s fair to say that in general I frown on negativity, and the message in the introduction of the Bible was quite negative, among other things, in my opinion.
So obviously religion is something that’s really important to a lot of the people I see and work with on a daily basis, and although I consider it a fascinating topic of study, it’s not a major part of my daily life. There is a prayer in every one of the women’s group meetings I attend in the community, to open and close the meeting, and a lot of singing of religious songs there as well, and even the kids and teenagers sing religious songs or chants doing whatever: playing in the park, walking down the street, driving around. The fact that religion is not a large part of my life doesn’t create a problem, but definitely room for me to wonder and reflect. (I haven’t come to a single conclusion. As usual, It’s all just airy and distracted up there.)
As I climbed into bed the other night I was struck with the memory of how my older brother and I used to have to pray before getting into bed. "Our Father", "Hail Mary", and "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep", praying for all of our family at the end of that one, right Mike? When was the last time I knelt beside my bed to pray? When was the last time I went to church for something besides acclimating into my community, because my host mom made me, for a funeral, to sing in an a capella concert, or to take pictures of its lovely interior? I honestly think the last time I went was on September 11th, 2001 because it seemed like the right thing to do that day. I could write for days on this topic, but I think it’d be too self-indulgent and probably not make for the best reading. So instead I’ll just leave you with what I can now remember of something that used to be a part of everyday of my life. I’m sure some of you can relate? Care to share? Or, can any of you remember these better than me?
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. (Never really realized that one ends with the word ‘evil’.)
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee, blessed art Thou among woman, and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen. (Another not so pleasant way to end a prayer, although is that just my American fear of death coming into play and really it’s not so unpleasant?)
Now I lay me, down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and guide me through the starry night and wake me with the morning light. (And then I think I rattled off the names of people I was supposed to pray for…) and God Bless Mommy, Daddy, Michael, Timmy, and Baby Julie, Grandma and Crampa and Cramma, cousins, aunts, and uncles (I won’t make you read all their names. That one is a lot lighter but I know my Mom changed the words for us from "and if I die before I wake…" to "guide me through the starry night." Much more pleasant, kudos Mom.)
All Those Little Annoyances
When I got back from the capital the other day, ie: the place with doctors and solutions to medical problems, I noticed that I had 2 new "growths" on my thigh. I would describe them as a super itchy series of bug bites that are inflamed. I’m pretty sure that’s what they are, but you can really never be sure. It doesn’t feel so great to have just seen your doctor and then realize something might actually be wrong with you. (4 of my friends here have recently had staff infections.)
The next day I went out to some gardening… in flip flops. They were the perfect shoes for the activity in some ways, I was digging in a trench sort of situation in really wet mud (makes it easier to dig). They were not the right shoe choice to fight against bug bites. I think I got one or a couple of bug bites from something that I’m allergic too, either that or this bug that got me is just really mean, or was really pissed off. Anyways, it’s made my big toe much larger and sore, super itchy in a painful way, puffy and red.
Then I went out gardening today and stumbled upon a huge nest, perhaps the size of 4 deflated basketballs, of those biting ants. You’ll remember them from my experiences in community based training back in October, the guys that liked to camp out in my bed. They’re merciless. I avoided them narrowly a few times today, and then didn’t, and instead dropped my hose on their nest without realizing it until they were all over my right leg, the same leg with the big-big toe. I looked a bit ridiculous whacking at them and had a bit of a crowd watching me because a woman doing manual labor here is unheard of, and therefore a spectacle. Of the 3 men who walked past me before, all 3 offered to do the job for me, and then they, and some women in the area, stopped to watch. I don’t know how it looked, me, the only white person for kilometers and kilometers, doing man’s work, with my foreign work gloves and my Cubs hat, sweat dripping, digging into a very rock-filled earth for God only knows why, in the sun. I must have looked nuts.
So when the ants took over my leg, I gave the Dominicans what I think they really wanted: validation that it was stupid of me to try anything manual on my own. And I was so tempted to get a guy to come do it. Instead I just decided to let the ants win this round, ran inside to rip off my shoes, socks and pants to try to kill any stragglers. As I went to slip on other shoes, however, I found something on the ground which was quite pokey and in the fact that you now know that I knew it was pokey, you might realize that I punctured a bit of my foot on said item. It bled a bit and so it was at this point that I was really starting to have fun. I hobbled to the shower, did my best to get my various weird skin situations clean and then applied the about 5 band aids necessary to try to heal these various gross things going on.
Later in the day I went looking for cell phone signal on my new phone. My legs found, instead, prickly bushes and my flip flops (wouldn’t you think I’d have learned not to wear them?) found thorns that pricked through my shoes and into my toes and the soles of my feet a few times. But, again, there was an audience, this time of people wondering what the strange, gringa is doing climbing into the cow pasture on the hill. So, reactions to the pain were held in (as always) and dealt with later in the form of a large amount of chips and chocolate.
The next day I went out to some gardening… in flip flops. They were the perfect shoes for the activity in some ways, I was digging in a trench sort of situation in really wet mud (makes it easier to dig). They were not the right shoe choice to fight against bug bites. I think I got one or a couple of bug bites from something that I’m allergic too, either that or this bug that got me is just really mean, or was really pissed off. Anyways, it’s made my big toe much larger and sore, super itchy in a painful way, puffy and red.
Then I went out gardening today and stumbled upon a huge nest, perhaps the size of 4 deflated basketballs, of those biting ants. You’ll remember them from my experiences in community based training back in October, the guys that liked to camp out in my bed. They’re merciless. I avoided them narrowly a few times today, and then didn’t, and instead dropped my hose on their nest without realizing it until they were all over my right leg, the same leg with the big-big toe. I looked a bit ridiculous whacking at them and had a bit of a crowd watching me because a woman doing manual labor here is unheard of, and therefore a spectacle. Of the 3 men who walked past me before, all 3 offered to do the job for me, and then they, and some women in the area, stopped to watch. I don’t know how it looked, me, the only white person for kilometers and kilometers, doing man’s work, with my foreign work gloves and my Cubs hat, sweat dripping, digging into a very rock-filled earth for God only knows why, in the sun. I must have looked nuts.
So when the ants took over my leg, I gave the Dominicans what I think they really wanted: validation that it was stupid of me to try anything manual on my own. And I was so tempted to get a guy to come do it. Instead I just decided to let the ants win this round, ran inside to rip off my shoes, socks and pants to try to kill any stragglers. As I went to slip on other shoes, however, I found something on the ground which was quite pokey and in the fact that you now know that I knew it was pokey, you might realize that I punctured a bit of my foot on said item. It bled a bit and so it was at this point that I was really starting to have fun. I hobbled to the shower, did my best to get my various weird skin situations clean and then applied the about 5 band aids necessary to try to heal these various gross things going on.
Later in the day I went looking for cell phone signal on my new phone. My legs found, instead, prickly bushes and my flip flops (wouldn’t you think I’d have learned not to wear them?) found thorns that pricked through my shoes and into my toes and the soles of my feet a few times. But, again, there was an audience, this time of people wondering what the strange, gringa is doing climbing into the cow pasture on the hill. So, reactions to the pain were held in (as always) and dealt with later in the form of a large amount of chips and chocolate.
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