What do you do when your dad says he has to get his heart beat checked out and then the next day you get three consecutive messages saying that he will be going in for surgery tomorrow morning? And it’s tomorrow afternoon. And you’re in another country. Well you think of all kinds of crazy scenarios all of which have you on the next Jet Blue flight up to Nueva Yol and straight out to Portland. All without that green card you’ve been putting off going in to get because you weren’t expecting to be leaving the country. And you thought green cards were only for Mexican immigrants in the US. You also call up half of your relatives that you haven’t talked to for over a year and put the phone on speaker, stand on your tip toes and hold it up really high so those few phone signal beams won’t have to work so hard and try to puzzle piece together the crackle you hear. But once you get some comforting answers from the medically knowledgeable part of the family you feel like a hundred bucks. And then you decide to write a blog, because really why not? You’re walking on air right now. Kind of like you felt in school when all those exams were over and you walked out of the last knowing you kicked its butt.
Now if only you can fix that back splash problem in the latrine. You know the dangers of getting off your morning poop schedule in this country. And those current splash ups have the psychological power to make every last little hair in your large intestine stand still. Forever.
But I did go see Shakira! And she really does dance just like they show on television. Her hips don’t lie. But get this…The DR’s electricity woes didn’t even let up for her! She had to sing in the dark for a song while I stood and imagined her visiting me in my community at my house during an apagon.
A flying cockroach, watch out!
Hey Dad, now that you have some baby clean and blood happy arteries, want to race up Mt. Tabor? This does put you in tip top shape right?
12.28.2006
12.18.2006
Lets Celebrate
It’s been two straight days of graduations here in Pedro Sánchez and my camera is spent. It told me so. And my arm is feeling a little pulled out of its socket from everyone grabbing it and dragging me to the nearest free section of wall to pose horribly (Dominican sexy) while I throw them a picture. Today I slipped out early of the graduation turned beauty pageant turned dance show. It was sponsored by the secretary of the woman to celebrate the 30 or so women who completed a beauty salon course. I wondered if the lady that came from the capital really wanted these 15 year olds taking it over with their Brittney Spears schoolgirl costumes and reggeaton dance moves. But I dipped before my 512 memory card was able to be filled with photos of both young and old women in graduation togas with one hand on their hip and their torso kind of twisted, like an S maybe. I sometimes laughed out loud on purpose while framing them up in the LCD. Just to get them to break that stare they had going on. Kind of like they wanted to make love to my camera. Maybe that’s why it’s spent.
I also came way too under dressed to this one today. Not much unlike many of the other functions I attend in this country though. I guess I still need someone to remind me to put on nicer clothes and shave. But at the same time the nicest clothes I have here can’t even compete on the Dominican level. Even in the campo. I signed up for the Peace Corps and thought it was all about hippy style right? Wrong. Peace Corps should put a disclaimer on the DR info page about this one for people like me. I really shy away from all kinds of fashion or formal wear, opting always for comfort and practicality. Pants or a suit in the Carribean isn´t comfortable or practical but this wont fly here. I still fight it. Detrimental as it may be to the whole work realm of my life here. It’s one reason I prefer hanging out with my muchachos all day. I can wear my play clothes around them and would be able to fit right in, if only I would roll around in the dirt for two seconds after I put them on. I always love the look I get when someone finds out I graduated from college. It’s not the “wow you must be intelligent” look but the “You? You don’t look like a professional” If they only saw a college campus. I take this as a great oppurunity to share cultures.
This is all just a reflection of what this culture values. It’s all about outward appearances here. And it doesn’t stop with personal appearances either. It extends from extravagant graduations to the importance placed upon an ID card. You may laugh but the first thing they want to do when some type of group is forming is make sure everyone is identified with a carnet. I had a group organized to help me organize a sports tournament and they all thought they should have identification for this. Even spending more effort on getting this organized then they did helping me organize the reason for their identifications.
I walked into a family’s newly built house the other day and was surprised. This house was way nice by American standards. But I knew this family was just sleeping two or three kids to a bed the other month in a wooden and tin shack and probably aren’t any richer now to feed themselves any better. Got some money from somewhere and put it into this mansion. Still dirt poor but living in a mansion. Something is wrong with this thinking. And I don’t think it can be justified by cultural differences.
But anyway, things are rolling well. Had our one year IST the other week which was a great time to reflect and regenerate and motivate with the rest of the YDC (youth development crew). I’d love to give a little summery of my little first year PowerPoint I shared with the gang and my bosses. Maybe next time. Or maybe I’ll see if I can put it on here. It was great to see what everyone else had going on this first year in their communities also. We threw around some great ideas to bring back to our communities.
I’m looking forward to another Dominican Christmas here. I’ll be spending the 24th, their main celebration day here, filling myself with all kinds of good stuff at two different family’s homes. Then on the 25th I’ll get together with some other volunteers nearby to have a Mexican Christmas. I guess if you can get snow you might as well make guacamole and salsa and drink margaritas or coronas (if we can find them). So Merry Christmas and until the next time, when I will hopefully give you a recap of the Shakira concert I will be so unashamedly attending this Tuesday. I’m so pumped!
Cheers y Feliz Navidad!
I also came way too under dressed to this one today. Not much unlike many of the other functions I attend in this country though. I guess I still need someone to remind me to put on nicer clothes and shave. But at the same time the nicest clothes I have here can’t even compete on the Dominican level. Even in the campo. I signed up for the Peace Corps and thought it was all about hippy style right? Wrong. Peace Corps should put a disclaimer on the DR info page about this one for people like me. I really shy away from all kinds of fashion or formal wear, opting always for comfort and practicality. Pants or a suit in the Carribean isn´t comfortable or practical but this wont fly here. I still fight it. Detrimental as it may be to the whole work realm of my life here. It’s one reason I prefer hanging out with my muchachos all day. I can wear my play clothes around them and would be able to fit right in, if only I would roll around in the dirt for two seconds after I put them on. I always love the look I get when someone finds out I graduated from college. It’s not the “wow you must be intelligent” look but the “You? You don’t look like a professional” If they only saw a college campus. I take this as a great oppurunity to share cultures.
This is all just a reflection of what this culture values. It’s all about outward appearances here. And it doesn’t stop with personal appearances either. It extends from extravagant graduations to the importance placed upon an ID card. You may laugh but the first thing they want to do when some type of group is forming is make sure everyone is identified with a carnet. I had a group organized to help me organize a sports tournament and they all thought they should have identification for this. Even spending more effort on getting this organized then they did helping me organize the reason for their identifications.
I walked into a family’s newly built house the other day and was surprised. This house was way nice by American standards. But I knew this family was just sleeping two or three kids to a bed the other month in a wooden and tin shack and probably aren’t any richer now to feed themselves any better. Got some money from somewhere and put it into this mansion. Still dirt poor but living in a mansion. Something is wrong with this thinking. And I don’t think it can be justified by cultural differences.
But anyway, things are rolling well. Had our one year IST the other week which was a great time to reflect and regenerate and motivate with the rest of the YDC (youth development crew). I’d love to give a little summery of my little first year PowerPoint I shared with the gang and my bosses. Maybe next time. Or maybe I’ll see if I can put it on here. It was great to see what everyone else had going on this first year in their communities also. We threw around some great ideas to bring back to our communities.
I’m looking forward to another Dominican Christmas here. I’ll be spending the 24th, their main celebration day here, filling myself with all kinds of good stuff at two different family’s homes. Then on the 25th I’ll get together with some other volunteers nearby to have a Mexican Christmas. I guess if you can get snow you might as well make guacamole and salsa and drink margaritas or coronas (if we can find them). So Merry Christmas and until the next time, when I will hopefully give you a recap of the Shakira concert I will be so unashamedly attending this Tuesday. I’m so pumped!
Cheers y Feliz Navidad!
12.05.2006
Juan Primo
It has been a long day for my friend Victor. He just left my house now around 9:30pm after a short visit. He had asked to borrow my sleeping pad as there are many people staying over at his house tonight. That is because his dad died this morning. I knew his dad was sick and that they took him to the hospital about a week ago. But it was this morning, when I walked passed Victor’s house on my way to get something for breakfast, that I realized he had probably died last night. The abundant stacks of white plastic chairs in front of their house were the giveaway. They always show up in this country around funeral time. I also noticed some men trying to fix up the entrance to their house/colmado . I agree that it was kind of dangerous, at least for older people. I had even been close to twisting an ankle or falling into the open whole in the gutter a few times before.
After I had done a few things I needed to do this morning I figured it was time to head over there and show my support and pay my respects, all while not knowing exactly what to say. Words are hard at these types of things. They don’t really work for me, especially Spanish ones. I think we learn how to consol with the right words in one language but it’s not necessarily the same in another. But I went over there and participated in my first Dominican grieving process anyway. I didn’t see my friend then but gave his sister and mom a hug and sat down in one of those white plastic chairs and watched people come in and out to look at Juan Primo for the last time. I remember how my seat was right in front of the casket but I guess now everyone else was as well since Victor’s house is pretty small and we were all lined up around the wall. The casket was a simple grey wooden box, sort of triangle shaped with a little glass window to see the face. I noticed how the small engraved metal descanso en paz plaque directly in front of me was only hanging on by one nail. I wondered about that. Was this a money saving technique and could they really be this poor? There was not one thing extravagant about this casket.
I sat there in my chair along the wall with the others, family and friends of Juan Primo. My friend Victor is the 15th and his sister Jaque the 14th in Juan Primos’ seemingly never ending line of children. I’m not sure exactly how many mothers were involved in all of this but it’s more then a few. And at first this rubbed my American upbringing wrong, very wrong. But since, I have thought that this may not be completely unlike what is going on generally in this country. It’s that this guy maybe did not have had any condoms around to keep things under control. And I’ve tried hard to keep this from affecting my view of Victor or his sister. So to say the least, there were a large number of family there today.
At 4pm everyone gathered around the house and waited until they were ready to bring out Juan Primo and take him to the cemetery. I looked around and noticed pretty much the whole town there. For some reason I was surprised but at the same time not. I thought it was pretty cool how everyone was there to show their support. We all waited to follow Victor’s family on a windy and rainy walk behind an old Toyota Camry Station Wagon (or hearse) up to the community cemetery were Juan Primo was to be buried. I was struck by the kind of informality of the whole process. I don’t know if informality is the word but kids were running around on the different above ground graves and the guy who is the town drunk and also apparently the cemeteries mason was kind of rude and I felt he was being a little unprofessional as he was closing up the small tomb. He was very vocal about how he was just doing his job and not getting paid for crowd control when ladies would get a little too loud or close. Then everybody just kind of left. There wasn’t a long drawn out thing and no flowers. We don’t really have a florist here anyway.
Tonight when Victor came over I was glad to see him and he looked to me to be doing well for having lost his dad. We talked for a while and I tried to keep the conversation on other stuff like how we need to play more chess and guitar. But then he began to talk about his dad and the last week or so that he was in the hospital. And I began to understand a little better about what goes on in this country and in so many other poor places like it. Victor’s dad suffered from high blood pressure among other things and Victor had to go to the pharmacy himself while his dad was in the hospital to get the right meds, and described to me how he would give them to his dad himself. But it turned out that one day at the pharmacy they got mixed up a bit and gave Victor the wrong meds. That was really too bad. Sped up the whole thing. And when his dad needed to use the bathroom it was Victor’s responsibility to help him with that, as well as changing and cleaning his dipper when he didn’t make it out of the bed. I did wonder if there were nurses in this hospital but decided not to ask. I also remembered in times past when I would be buying something or another at the family’s colmado Victor would have to leave our conversation hanging and run to help his dad to the bathroom or go bath him. Always sounding excited like he was about to get a new guitar and just couldn’t wait to play it.
Then Victor told me how his dad died at 11:30pm last night and they shipped him home at about 12:30 and that he was up all last night helping to wash and clean his dad. And I thought how in the states we have all these types of dirty and hard things outsourced to licensed specialists who we pay lots of money to. But here there isn’t that privilege and so Victor had to handle his reciently dead dad himself. What a thing for a 14 year old to do. And I started to understand maybe why I was seeing Dominicans taking a not so serious or kind of been through it all before attitude to this whole process. They have been through it before and literally gotten their hands dirty when neighbors or family have died. They don’t have anyone to take care of it for them and are forced to deal with every aspect of it all.
Now the customary nine days of mourning start and people will sit under the tent provided by Roberto Rodriguez and embossed with his shinny and tacky political photo. They will sit in those white plastic chairs for what sometimes seems to me the whole day. Some people will be in charge of cooking a big caldero of food for everyone so no one will have to go home and make lunch. And another person will come around with saucers full of small plastic cups juice for whoever may be out there. And they will just sit and maybe talk about politics, weather, crops, or Juan Primo.
After I had done a few things I needed to do this morning I figured it was time to head over there and show my support and pay my respects, all while not knowing exactly what to say. Words are hard at these types of things. They don’t really work for me, especially Spanish ones. I think we learn how to consol with the right words in one language but it’s not necessarily the same in another. But I went over there and participated in my first Dominican grieving process anyway. I didn’t see my friend then but gave his sister and mom a hug and sat down in one of those white plastic chairs and watched people come in and out to look at Juan Primo for the last time. I remember how my seat was right in front of the casket but I guess now everyone else was as well since Victor’s house is pretty small and we were all lined up around the wall. The casket was a simple grey wooden box, sort of triangle shaped with a little glass window to see the face. I noticed how the small engraved metal descanso en paz plaque directly in front of me was only hanging on by one nail. I wondered about that. Was this a money saving technique and could they really be this poor? There was not one thing extravagant about this casket.
I sat there in my chair along the wall with the others, family and friends of Juan Primo. My friend Victor is the 15th and his sister Jaque the 14th in Juan Primos’ seemingly never ending line of children. I’m not sure exactly how many mothers were involved in all of this but it’s more then a few. And at first this rubbed my American upbringing wrong, very wrong. But since, I have thought that this may not be completely unlike what is going on generally in this country. It’s that this guy maybe did not have had any condoms around to keep things under control. And I’ve tried hard to keep this from affecting my view of Victor or his sister. So to say the least, there were a large number of family there today.
At 4pm everyone gathered around the house and waited until they were ready to bring out Juan Primo and take him to the cemetery. I looked around and noticed pretty much the whole town there. For some reason I was surprised but at the same time not. I thought it was pretty cool how everyone was there to show their support. We all waited to follow Victor’s family on a windy and rainy walk behind an old Toyota Camry Station Wagon (or hearse) up to the community cemetery were Juan Primo was to be buried. I was struck by the kind of informality of the whole process. I don’t know if informality is the word but kids were running around on the different above ground graves and the guy who is the town drunk and also apparently the cemeteries mason was kind of rude and I felt he was being a little unprofessional as he was closing up the small tomb. He was very vocal about how he was just doing his job and not getting paid for crowd control when ladies would get a little too loud or close. Then everybody just kind of left. There wasn’t a long drawn out thing and no flowers. We don’t really have a florist here anyway.
Tonight when Victor came over I was glad to see him and he looked to me to be doing well for having lost his dad. We talked for a while and I tried to keep the conversation on other stuff like how we need to play more chess and guitar. But then he began to talk about his dad and the last week or so that he was in the hospital. And I began to understand a little better about what goes on in this country and in so many other poor places like it. Victor’s dad suffered from high blood pressure among other things and Victor had to go to the pharmacy himself while his dad was in the hospital to get the right meds, and described to me how he would give them to his dad himself. But it turned out that one day at the pharmacy they got mixed up a bit and gave Victor the wrong meds. That was really too bad. Sped up the whole thing. And when his dad needed to use the bathroom it was Victor’s responsibility to help him with that, as well as changing and cleaning his dipper when he didn’t make it out of the bed. I did wonder if there were nurses in this hospital but decided not to ask. I also remembered in times past when I would be buying something or another at the family’s colmado Victor would have to leave our conversation hanging and run to help his dad to the bathroom or go bath him. Always sounding excited like he was about to get a new guitar and just couldn’t wait to play it.
Then Victor told me how his dad died at 11:30pm last night and they shipped him home at about 12:30 and that he was up all last night helping to wash and clean his dad. And I thought how in the states we have all these types of dirty and hard things outsourced to licensed specialists who we pay lots of money to. But here there isn’t that privilege and so Victor had to handle his reciently dead dad himself. What a thing for a 14 year old to do. And I started to understand maybe why I was seeing Dominicans taking a not so serious or kind of been through it all before attitude to this whole process. They have been through it before and literally gotten their hands dirty when neighbors or family have died. They don’t have anyone to take care of it for them and are forced to deal with every aspect of it all.
Now the customary nine days of mourning start and people will sit under the tent provided by Roberto Rodriguez and embossed with his shinny and tacky political photo. They will sit in those white plastic chairs for what sometimes seems to me the whole day. Some people will be in charge of cooking a big caldero of food for everyone so no one will have to go home and make lunch. And another person will come around with saucers full of small plastic cups juice for whoever may be out there. And they will just sit and maybe talk about politics, weather, crops, or Juan Primo.
11.13.2006
Just Sitting Back Thinking
It´s amazing how much new chairs will change your frame of mind. I never really would have thought it but I´m totally sold on it now as I just looked at that profile picture I have on here of me sitting in that black and white checkered rocking chair back in GR. I remember how I felt almost more intelligent. My mind was more receptive and understanding of the black on white words of those thick psyc textbooks. And then I would sit there, one leg crossed over the other, and contemplate. Well at least I thought I was doing all this and even if not I fooled myself into feeling it was really happening.
Anyway, it´s kind of like that again here but not with those thick academic textbooks or that black and white checkered rocking chair. Rather the amazing new chairs I speak of are simply plastic. But they are sloped back and really one of a kind. They were given to me by a PCV friend who moved to the capital. My muchachos even comment on their mind frame changing and relaxingness saying something like, ay Mateo estas sillas si son comodas! I´m suprised that they are not more common around these parts as I don´t think they would cost much more and in my opionion are worth the extra pesos. It´s like sitting in a lazy-boy now.
I really am convinced it´s changed my mood and cooled me down after sometime of frusteration and being a somewhat different person. I was really not enjoying Dominicans and they were more bothersome then I had the patience for. I would sit home at night and close my front door and have the urge to pick up my phone (which doesn´t get service in my town) and call another volunteer. But I´m more relaxed now, not forcing things, and able to hacer chercha with my friends again. Finding Dominicans funny rather then horribly irritating. And I´m even excited about being here and my upcomming year. And another thing I realized I was neglecting over this past month or so was my walking around visiting time. Not really much of a social butterfly to begin with, I developed the habit here of just walking around making a point of sitting and talking with people even if they were really old and boring at first. And I realized now it made me feel more connected and happy and without it I was alone, thinking and worring about what I was doing and if it was enough. Now I´m kind of rejuvenated, especially when I sit in my new sloped back plastic chairs.
I´m really enjoying the soccer that is going here. I get that warm happy feeling seeing our field filled with kids kicking and enjoying soccer. It´s really so great to see! I think it has stuck and have high hopes that it will continue and just get bigger over this next year and after I go. The only thing needed is balls as soccer is that simple and so I´m looking into expanding the number of balls we have to play with. I´m also exciting about this reading group we have going in the new library here at our tech center. They are currently learning about Dominican authors and reading some short stories and then we talk about it a bit. A great thing for these kids, improving their reading skills and opening up a whole new world to them at the same time. And I´m looking forward to using some of these older kids to take some kids books we have here into the school and read to the pre schoolers. I´m sure they have never heard the kids stories we get read by our parents growing up in the states. Then I have more hopes for strengthing this youth group that we have going and getting them to do more presentations throughout the community. Our next little project is for WORLD AIDS DAY Dec 1 if we can get the monetary support from our mayor to do it.
So that´s a little bit of news here. Wish all the best there. And Happy Thanksgiving if I don´t get on here before!
Mateo
Anyway, it´s kind of like that again here but not with those thick academic textbooks or that black and white checkered rocking chair. Rather the amazing new chairs I speak of are simply plastic. But they are sloped back and really one of a kind. They were given to me by a PCV friend who moved to the capital. My muchachos even comment on their mind frame changing and relaxingness saying something like, ay Mateo estas sillas si son comodas! I´m suprised that they are not more common around these parts as I don´t think they would cost much more and in my opionion are worth the extra pesos. It´s like sitting in a lazy-boy now.
I really am convinced it´s changed my mood and cooled me down after sometime of frusteration and being a somewhat different person. I was really not enjoying Dominicans and they were more bothersome then I had the patience for. I would sit home at night and close my front door and have the urge to pick up my phone (which doesn´t get service in my town) and call another volunteer. But I´m more relaxed now, not forcing things, and able to hacer chercha with my friends again. Finding Dominicans funny rather then horribly irritating. And I´m even excited about being here and my upcomming year. And another thing I realized I was neglecting over this past month or so was my walking around visiting time. Not really much of a social butterfly to begin with, I developed the habit here of just walking around making a point of sitting and talking with people even if they were really old and boring at first. And I realized now it made me feel more connected and happy and without it I was alone, thinking and worring about what I was doing and if it was enough. Now I´m kind of rejuvenated, especially when I sit in my new sloped back plastic chairs.
I´m really enjoying the soccer that is going here. I get that warm happy feeling seeing our field filled with kids kicking and enjoying soccer. It´s really so great to see! I think it has stuck and have high hopes that it will continue and just get bigger over this next year and after I go. The only thing needed is balls as soccer is that simple and so I´m looking into expanding the number of balls we have to play with. I´m also exciting about this reading group we have going in the new library here at our tech center. They are currently learning about Dominican authors and reading some short stories and then we talk about it a bit. A great thing for these kids, improving their reading skills and opening up a whole new world to them at the same time. And I´m looking forward to using some of these older kids to take some kids books we have here into the school and read to the pre schoolers. I´m sure they have never heard the kids stories we get read by our parents growing up in the states. Then I have more hopes for strengthing this youth group that we have going and getting them to do more presentations throughout the community. Our next little project is for WORLD AIDS DAY Dec 1 if we can get the monetary support from our mayor to do it.
So that´s a little bit of news here. Wish all the best there. And Happy Thanksgiving if I don´t get on here before!
Mateo
10.19.2006
The Morning News
I’ve been drinking my water out of my popcorn bowl today. I guess it’s not necessarily a popcorn bowl it’s really a multi-purpose thing. I just call it a popcorn bowl because my dad always made huge amounts of popcorn in a similar sized bowl when I was little. But now to me any big bowl is a popcorn bowl, be it my dads’ metal ones or my current rippled white plastic one. When I went to grad it I thought, for a second, myself kind of intuitive and creative and became a little too pleased with myself. I was thirsty and had been looking over my kitchen table/stove/counter area for a clean glass and was not finding anything. I did find stuff but everything was dirty and although it was a perfectly good time to do my dishes, all of a sudden I felt my creative self come bubbling up and didn’t want to do such a mundane thing like washing my dishes. I mean I’ve had the circular cup wash technique down now for a while and it’s been brain numbing ever since. So after not finding any clean glasses my eyes stuck onto my wooden mortar and pedestal, really only the pedestal part. It’s my garlic press and my friends always make fun of its size and then make fun of me for having it. I began to hear them laughing in the background of my mind and realized that it was kind of small. I mean for my huge thirst going on. I’d been in El Seibo all morning without my Nalgene. And I’ve been using my big white popcorn bowl as a glass ever since I’ve gotten home.
In all this the last question you may be asking is why I was in El Seibo. Being in El Seibo is the most unassuming and normal part of everything I just said. I go to El Seibo frequently and if I’ve ever talked to you on the phone it’s been from El Seibo. It’s the closest town to me that has all kinds of good stuff and necessities. Anyway, I was there today for a really simple errand (diligencia in Spanish which sounds way too important for such a task). I had to talk with the store owner who sells the newspapers in the town. But I was dreading it so much! It was that big black cloud hanging over my day. It’s all part of this small idea I had about two months ago, and is a pretty fitting example of how so many things go here, not all, but very many.
So we have this new tech center with some computers and a small library in Pedro Sanchez. And what do libraries include but books, magazines, and newspapers right? Well I decided that it should receive a daily newspaper as the newspaper doesn’t even come to Pedro Sanchez and one has to pay to travel to El Seibo if they want to read it. Being a once and a while reader of newspapers myself this had been an inconvenience to me on a few occasions. So I told my idea to a friend who is in charge of the tech center and she agreed with me and thought we should do it. It was going to be a whole community thing where we asked the colmados for monetary support and get the guagua drivers organization to provide the transportation for our lone ranger newspaper. Well two months later, three different copies of two different letters, talking to everyone and their brother with both saying no in a very indirect way, and many miles on the run around track for me I laid my eyes on a copy of HOY in the tech center today. And people were just throwing her around like she didn’t matter. I was slightly taken aback. I guess I will be the only one in town throwing a party tonight for her arrival. That’s cool though. Whatever.
The whole thing has really surprised me even when I know it shouldn’t have. After a year I still think want to believe things can happen as they do in the states. I mean I even got the mayor involved in this one until he lead me on for a week and I smartened up. It wasn’t just the time it took but it was frustrating and even a slick an emotional punch to the face. Having people tell you no, they don’t want to help out is bad, but to have people look you in the eyes and say yes, then do nothing, is worse. Who do I look to if I can’t look in someone’s eyes for an honest answer and a small commitment? Many times with this and with other projects I have going on I have been feeling my sphere of influence coming up short. But how can I move anything when I am pushing up against history, culture, and peoples own personal feelings as a result of their poverty. And the effort I expend can be tolling in more ways then one on my mind and spirit. This is why all the stuff about community participation and empowerment is so true because without these and their recognizing a need and a better possible outcome I am really fighting a uphill battle that I will inevitably loose or wear myself out at way beforehand. I’ve been reading this development book that my friend Heidi sent me and it’s been perfect for me in timing and its relevant ideas (thanks Heidi!) It’s called Walking with the Poor. I’m not sure if its punch can be felt outside this environment but go ahead and give it a try if you’d like.
Well I’m getting thirsty, understandably so, after eating one of the cardboard tasting nutrition bars mom brought down. Maybe I´ll use a straw to drink out of that big popcorn bowl this time. Less spillage action.
In all this the last question you may be asking is why I was in El Seibo. Being in El Seibo is the most unassuming and normal part of everything I just said. I go to El Seibo frequently and if I’ve ever talked to you on the phone it’s been from El Seibo. It’s the closest town to me that has all kinds of good stuff and necessities. Anyway, I was there today for a really simple errand (diligencia in Spanish which sounds way too important for such a task). I had to talk with the store owner who sells the newspapers in the town. But I was dreading it so much! It was that big black cloud hanging over my day. It’s all part of this small idea I had about two months ago, and is a pretty fitting example of how so many things go here, not all, but very many.
So we have this new tech center with some computers and a small library in Pedro Sanchez. And what do libraries include but books, magazines, and newspapers right? Well I decided that it should receive a daily newspaper as the newspaper doesn’t even come to Pedro Sanchez and one has to pay to travel to El Seibo if they want to read it. Being a once and a while reader of newspapers myself this had been an inconvenience to me on a few occasions. So I told my idea to a friend who is in charge of the tech center and she agreed with me and thought we should do it. It was going to be a whole community thing where we asked the colmados for monetary support and get the guagua drivers organization to provide the transportation for our lone ranger newspaper. Well two months later, three different copies of two different letters, talking to everyone and their brother with both saying no in a very indirect way, and many miles on the run around track for me I laid my eyes on a copy of HOY in the tech center today. And people were just throwing her around like she didn’t matter. I was slightly taken aback. I guess I will be the only one in town throwing a party tonight for her arrival. That’s cool though. Whatever.
The whole thing has really surprised me even when I know it shouldn’t have. After a year I still think want to believe things can happen as they do in the states. I mean I even got the mayor involved in this one until he lead me on for a week and I smartened up. It wasn’t just the time it took but it was frustrating and even a slick an emotional punch to the face. Having people tell you no, they don’t want to help out is bad, but to have people look you in the eyes and say yes, then do nothing, is worse. Who do I look to if I can’t look in someone’s eyes for an honest answer and a small commitment? Many times with this and with other projects I have going on I have been feeling my sphere of influence coming up short. But how can I move anything when I am pushing up against history, culture, and peoples own personal feelings as a result of their poverty. And the effort I expend can be tolling in more ways then one on my mind and spirit. This is why all the stuff about community participation and empowerment is so true because without these and their recognizing a need and a better possible outcome I am really fighting a uphill battle that I will inevitably loose or wear myself out at way beforehand. I’ve been reading this development book that my friend Heidi sent me and it’s been perfect for me in timing and its relevant ideas (thanks Heidi!) It’s called Walking with the Poor. I’m not sure if its punch can be felt outside this environment but go ahead and give it a try if you’d like.
Well I’m getting thirsty, understandably so, after eating one of the cardboard tasting nutrition bars mom brought down. Maybe I´ll use a straw to drink out of that big popcorn bowl this time. Less spillage action.
9.19.2006
Judí
I´m beat. And Judí is sleeping over. Or rather he is sleeping over inside my house.
As I go to unlock my door I look and see Judí lying there. I´m kind of glad he was there and it happened like this. He forced me to do something and I really only had one choice. Maybe he knew that. And maybe I don´t blame him. My front poarch is hard and cold. Although he did fit himself in there just perfectly. Good thing he´s small for a 14 year old. If he really is 14.
I remember saying to myself when I saw the dirty canvas and sack lying there empty and indented the other morning that it had to be a muchacho. Great I thought. So much easier for my conscious huh? I was half way hoping it would be a drunk old man. Then I could shoo him off... at least I think I could.
So I went to investigating, which consisted of sneaking a peak through the downward folded shutters to the opposite end of the poarch. It was 5:30 am and I was hiding. Hiding him from myself. Right? He knew I lived here. He obviously didn´t have any shame in sleeping on someone elses poarch, right? He wasn´t hiding from me.
He finally turned. And I see who it is. It´s Judí. Covered in that dirty canvas I´ve never moved from my poarch since I got there. His face sticking out just enough to tell me it´s him. His face and frame sleeping just like it should. He was dreaming. And I could hear him snoring. Like a kid should. A muchacho. A niño. But then it was so horribly twisted. And feo. And I wanted to cry. And hug him. But I was still hiding.
Now Judí sleeps. On the air matress next to my bed. And he snores litghtly.
As I go to unlock my door I look and see Judí lying there. I´m kind of glad he was there and it happened like this. He forced me to do something and I really only had one choice. Maybe he knew that. And maybe I don´t blame him. My front poarch is hard and cold. Although he did fit himself in there just perfectly. Good thing he´s small for a 14 year old. If he really is 14.
I remember saying to myself when I saw the dirty canvas and sack lying there empty and indented the other morning that it had to be a muchacho. Great I thought. So much easier for my conscious huh? I was half way hoping it would be a drunk old man. Then I could shoo him off... at least I think I could.
So I went to investigating, which consisted of sneaking a peak through the downward folded shutters to the opposite end of the poarch. It was 5:30 am and I was hiding. Hiding him from myself. Right? He knew I lived here. He obviously didn´t have any shame in sleeping on someone elses poarch, right? He wasn´t hiding from me.
He finally turned. And I see who it is. It´s Judí. Covered in that dirty canvas I´ve never moved from my poarch since I got there. His face sticking out just enough to tell me it´s him. His face and frame sleeping just like it should. He was dreaming. And I could hear him snoring. Like a kid should. A muchacho. A niño. But then it was so horribly twisted. And feo. And I wanted to cry. And hug him. But I was still hiding.
Now Judí sleeps. On the air matress next to my bed. And he snores litghtly.
9.10.2006
More from Mom
My mom felt that that letter wasn't truely representative of her whole experience here especially since she is removed from it now and can look at it as a whole. So she wrote a little something else to include here and instead of removing the letter I've let it stay and just added this on top. While sometimes similar I think they are different enough to include them both.
Well, Matt has asked me to write something about my recent ten-day visit to the DR. I don't know where to begin, but as I think about it what comes to mind are the people- individuals I got to know by name. There are the Dominicans like Daybi, Benendicto, Andres, Cherri, Lilly, Carmelita, Joncito (who I helped swim), and Amarillo (yellow). I have pictures in my mind's eye of many other people whose names I have forgotten (or could not pronounce very well from the beginning). Then, I see the faces of the Peace Corps volunteers I met at one of two conferences I went to with Matt. The young men and women of America who have left their comfort zone to nurture youth in community programs, or teach kids with special needs in their schools, or build acquaducts, or help coffee farmers be more productive, or bring technology to businesses and communities. So, mostly what comes to mind when I think about my visit are the people. But there is more. The sounds.
For two days after my return to the states, I still heard the music in my head -merengue, or bachata, or reggeton complete with Spanish lyrics I can't understand. The music that blasted from every single bus or car we rode in and that reverberated in our neighborhood daily (and nightly). The roosters and chickens nextdoor were a torment at five in the morning- now they are, happily, a fading cacophony.
Besides the people and the music I often have random mind-pictures of the lush green not-to-big mountains around Pedro Sanchez, the cattle grazing (and random pigs, chickens and turkeys in the yard). There are flashing images of clear blue skies and white sandy beaches abutting emerald green water and palm trees bending just so.
Then the people appear again, this time, nameless smiling faces stopping in greeting- one after another after another on the streets of Pedro Sanchez. "Hola," "Adios," "Buenas," or "Mateo,"- always something said. Happy images all.
But I have to admit that there other jarring slideshow glimpses that are discordent and screechy, like a fingernail on a chalkboard. They slip into and amongst the happy images and cause me to catch my breath. Rough wooden shacks with tin roofs and lots of holes, empty concret block buildings, paper/plastic/glass/concrete in piles or floating in water on the side of the street, broken things. Children scantily clad running barefoot or digging in the dirt, men and boys just sitting and staring, women just sitting and staring, and broken up heaving land.
At first when I got there, I wanted to change things. They need this and this and this and this. Then I began to meet the people, and I still wanted to change things. Then, I decided to just do what I could. So, I brought out the bottle of bubbles and wand that mercifully had not spilled in my checked baggage. I sat in one of Matt's plastic chairs in the front yard under his cherry tree and started blowing bubbles. I waited for the little neighbor kids to come over, and I showed them how and watched them do it. Later, when a few older ones were over, I brought out the puzzles- one on colors and the other on opposites. We put them together and I passed out Tootsie-Pops and Laffy Taffy. It was better than trying to change things. It was better than thinking of my sweaty self or watching the trail of ants on Matt's windowsill or doorway. When the older ones came over, I brought out Go Fish and Uno and War- one at a time. Always the Tootsie-Pops or Laffy Taffy. Somehow we managed to play- play around the language barrier. Even Benedicto who cannot hear or speak learned how to play. What expressive, funny faces he would make to tease the littler kids! It was better than trying to change things. And so I watched a soccer practice and a soccer game; I went to an English class; I sat in while Matt led a meeting of youth leaders; and I got my nails polished by someone who just wanted to do it.
I was amazed by many things...Matt's mastery of the language, the way the kids hung around him and listened, the way the adults in the community cared for him and told me so. It took away my mother worries. And the images and sounds linger.
Well, Matt has asked me to write something about my recent ten-day visit to the DR. I don't know where to begin, but as I think about it what comes to mind are the people- individuals I got to know by name. There are the Dominicans like Daybi, Benendicto, Andres, Cherri, Lilly, Carmelita, Joncito (who I helped swim), and Amarillo (yellow). I have pictures in my mind's eye of many other people whose names I have forgotten (or could not pronounce very well from the beginning). Then, I see the faces of the Peace Corps volunteers I met at one of two conferences I went to with Matt. The young men and women of America who have left their comfort zone to nurture youth in community programs, or teach kids with special needs in their schools, or build acquaducts, or help coffee farmers be more productive, or bring technology to businesses and communities. So, mostly what comes to mind when I think about my visit are the people. But there is more. The sounds.
For two days after my return to the states, I still heard the music in my head -merengue, or bachata, or reggeton complete with Spanish lyrics I can't understand. The music that blasted from every single bus or car we rode in and that reverberated in our neighborhood daily (and nightly). The roosters and chickens nextdoor were a torment at five in the morning- now they are, happily, a fading cacophony.
Besides the people and the music I often have random mind-pictures of the lush green not-to-big mountains around Pedro Sanchez, the cattle grazing (and random pigs, chickens and turkeys in the yard). There are flashing images of clear blue skies and white sandy beaches abutting emerald green water and palm trees bending just so.
Then the people appear again, this time, nameless smiling faces stopping in greeting- one after another after another on the streets of Pedro Sanchez. "Hola," "Adios," "Buenas," or "Mateo,"- always something said. Happy images all.
But I have to admit that there other jarring slideshow glimpses that are discordent and screechy, like a fingernail on a chalkboard. They slip into and amongst the happy images and cause me to catch my breath. Rough wooden shacks with tin roofs and lots of holes, empty concret block buildings, paper/plastic/glass/concrete in piles or floating in water on the side of the street, broken things. Children scantily clad running barefoot or digging in the dirt, men and boys just sitting and staring, women just sitting and staring, and broken up heaving land.
At first when I got there, I wanted to change things. They need this and this and this and this. Then I began to meet the people, and I still wanted to change things. Then, I decided to just do what I could. So, I brought out the bottle of bubbles and wand that mercifully had not spilled in my checked baggage. I sat in one of Matt's plastic chairs in the front yard under his cherry tree and started blowing bubbles. I waited for the little neighbor kids to come over, and I showed them how and watched them do it. Later, when a few older ones were over, I brought out the puzzles- one on colors and the other on opposites. We put them together and I passed out Tootsie-Pops and Laffy Taffy. It was better than trying to change things. It was better than thinking of my sweaty self or watching the trail of ants on Matt's windowsill or doorway. When the older ones came over, I brought out Go Fish and Uno and War- one at a time. Always the Tootsie-Pops or Laffy Taffy. Somehow we managed to play- play around the language barrier. Even Benedicto who cannot hear or speak learned how to play. What expressive, funny faces he would make to tease the littler kids! It was better than trying to change things. And so I watched a soccer practice and a soccer game; I went to an English class; I sat in while Matt led a meeting of youth leaders; and I got my nails polished by someone who just wanted to do it.
I was amazed by many things...Matt's mastery of the language, the way the kids hung around him and listened, the way the adults in the community cared for him and told me so. It took away my mother worries. And the images and sounds linger.
9.09.2006
A Letter from Mom
My mom just got back to the states after about a 10 day visit. I asked her if she would want to write something for the masses because I thought her view may be a little different then mine at this point in my service and partly because I'm lazy right now. She said she didn't know what to write about, I never do, but she forwarded me a letter she wrote to friends while she was here. So I'm including it. Welcome to online blogging mom!
Hi Sid and Lois. I am in the DR with Matt. Today we are near the capital at an all-inclusive resort (room and board) with other Peace Corps volunteers who started with Matt. They are coming together this holiday to celebrate their one year anniversary of PC service. We are here till tomorrow. There is an Internet cafe here. It is a good break for me b/c his work site is hard for this gringo mother- regarding lifestyle. I have spent three nights there so far and will stay two more. It is a simple wooden structure with a tin roof, concrete floor, a latrine out back and a hose for showering. Matt made a table and bench and he has three plastic chairs and a double bed (covered with mosquito netting). Electricity for part of each day. But everywhere is great poverty. There is dirt and garbage all over his community- broken up streets and the smell of burning garbage.
But the people are nice- they love Matt and several women have told me that they look on him as a son. Everywhere we go young and old call out to him. That encourages me- that he is well cared for. I can see that the kids especially look up to him and he has done a lot to help them.
I watched (and helped) in an English class that he and a Dominican are teaching and I saw a soccer game between two groups of kids.
Another thing...There is always music blaring all day long here -everywhere. Streets, public buses, early in the morning and late at night. Also the chickens and roosters make a huge noise. Matt has a next door neighbor with a backyard full of these and they make a racket every morning at about 5 or 6 and periodically during the day. I am using my earplugs at night. Sometimes a truck with loudspeakers on back will go by blasting advertisements. The houses are crammed together and some are even smaller and less hospitable than Matt's. I have also seen some that are better- usually with family or connections in the states.
Oh, my it has been quite a trip! Yesterday we crammed eighteen people plus picnic food and water into a regular sized van. We went to a lovely beach and had a lovely day, but the trip there and back was unlike anything that I have ever experienced! The hour and a half van ride was incredibly crowded, the road in long spots like a washboard interspersed with crater- like holes. No one follows standard driving rules and they honk their horns constantly. Saw lovely views through the mountains though. That was nice. But dirt poor all over.
Matt says that nothing gets done here partly b/c of corrupt officials. I can see that. Also he suggests that the weather has made development extremely difficult. It is sooo hot here that people have no energy to do anything except sit. And basically that is what many do all day. Others live by subsistence farming.
Well, I don't mean to be totally negative. I admire all the young people (150) who are here in the PC with Matt. They are working with youth like Matt does, or working to build aqueducts, or to bring technology to the island, or to help farmers make more crops. or work with kids in the schools, or with communities in public health. I have met a lot of his PC friends b/c of two meetings I have been to with him. I am thankful for the friends he has made- good kids who support each other and really connect. I guess that is how they survive. Lots of PC support also.
Even without the amenities, i prefer the countryside to the cities. The cities are way too crowded, noisy, and polluted for me.
A picture of our one year in country aniversery. A little "who done it?" game on crazy things that we have done or have been done to us up till now.
I should say I kind of take offense to my mom calling my house a structure. It's not a structure any more then your house is a structure, Mom! It's my house and even though I may not cut the grass like I should or mop every day like Dominicans do I take great pride in having my own pink and blue palace. You could have called my latrine a structure and I would have been fine with that.
My mom talks about the poverty she saw. And for me at this point, being here a year now, I don't see it so much unless I try to. And that's good for me because when you think of people as poor you treat them differently. It's also bad because sometimes I think and feel that these people are doing fine and are living happy lives (which they are) and whats the use in going about trying to change that. But at another thought I am here to work with the offshoots of poverty like lack of opportunities, education, knowledge and am not susposed to be erasing poverty. At least directly I guess. And when I get bogged down with the immensity of the whole picture I think of some good advice my uncle sent me in an email a little while back. Having been in similar situations in this same country he said I am only responsible for living in honest solidarity with my community. And saying that to myself has helped me a lot. I don't even think I could have defined the term solidarity before I came here, although that was a main personal reason for me to come, but after being here for a year I not only understand it but feel it day to day. And it's one of the easiest things to do here for me.
eso es todo. voy a descansar.
nos vemos
Hi Sid and Lois. I am in the DR with Matt. Today we are near the capital at an all-inclusive resort (room and board) with other Peace Corps volunteers who started with Matt. They are coming together this holiday to celebrate their one year anniversary of PC service. We are here till tomorrow. There is an Internet cafe here. It is a good break for me b/c his work site is hard for this gringo mother- regarding lifestyle. I have spent three nights there so far and will stay two more. It is a simple wooden structure with a tin roof, concrete floor, a latrine out back and a hose for showering. Matt made a table and bench and he has three plastic chairs and a double bed (covered with mosquito netting). Electricity for part of each day. But everywhere is great poverty. There is dirt and garbage all over his community- broken up streets and the smell of burning garbage.
But the people are nice- they love Matt and several women have told me that they look on him as a son. Everywhere we go young and old call out to him. That encourages me- that he is well cared for. I can see that the kids especially look up to him and he has done a lot to help them.
I watched (and helped) in an English class that he and a Dominican are teaching and I saw a soccer game between two groups of kids.
Another thing...There is always music blaring all day long here -everywhere. Streets, public buses, early in the morning and late at night. Also the chickens and roosters make a huge noise. Matt has a next door neighbor with a backyard full of these and they make a racket every morning at about 5 or 6 and periodically during the day. I am using my earplugs at night. Sometimes a truck with loudspeakers on back will go by blasting advertisements. The houses are crammed together and some are even smaller and less hospitable than Matt's. I have also seen some that are better- usually with family or connections in the states.
Oh, my it has been quite a trip! Yesterday we crammed eighteen people plus picnic food and water into a regular sized van. We went to a lovely beach and had a lovely day, but the trip there and back was unlike anything that I have ever experienced! The hour and a half van ride was incredibly crowded, the road in long spots like a washboard interspersed with crater- like holes. No one follows standard driving rules and they honk their horns constantly. Saw lovely views through the mountains though. That was nice. But dirt poor all over.
Matt says that nothing gets done here partly b/c of corrupt officials. I can see that. Also he suggests that the weather has made development extremely difficult. It is sooo hot here that people have no energy to do anything except sit. And basically that is what many do all day. Others live by subsistence farming.
Well, I don't mean to be totally negative. I admire all the young people (150) who are here in the PC with Matt. They are working with youth like Matt does, or working to build aqueducts, or to bring technology to the island, or to help farmers make more crops. or work with kids in the schools, or with communities in public health. I have met a lot of his PC friends b/c of two meetings I have been to with him. I am thankful for the friends he has made- good kids who support each other and really connect. I guess that is how they survive. Lots of PC support also.
Even without the amenities, i prefer the countryside to the cities. The cities are way too crowded, noisy, and polluted for me.
A picture of our one year in country aniversery. A little "who done it?" game on crazy things that we have done or have been done to us up till now.
I should say I kind of take offense to my mom calling my house a structure. It's not a structure any more then your house is a structure, Mom! It's my house and even though I may not cut the grass like I should or mop every day like Dominicans do I take great pride in having my own pink and blue palace. You could have called my latrine a structure and I would have been fine with that.
My mom talks about the poverty she saw. And for me at this point, being here a year now, I don't see it so much unless I try to. And that's good for me because when you think of people as poor you treat them differently. It's also bad because sometimes I think and feel that these people are doing fine and are living happy lives (which they are) and whats the use in going about trying to change that. But at another thought I am here to work with the offshoots of poverty like lack of opportunities, education, knowledge and am not susposed to be erasing poverty. At least directly I guess. And when I get bogged down with the immensity of the whole picture I think of some good advice my uncle sent me in an email a little while back. Having been in similar situations in this same country he said I am only responsible for living in honest solidarity with my community. And saying that to myself has helped me a lot. I don't even think I could have defined the term solidarity before I came here, although that was a main personal reason for me to come, but after being here for a year I not only understand it but feel it day to day. And it's one of the easiest things to do here for me.
eso es todo. voy a descansar.
nos vemos
8.13.2006
A bit of this and that
There have been some up and downs lately on this roller coster. The summer flew by so fast I kinda got lost and some things haven´t got done like I planed and so that got me down a little bit. And I started looking at what is going on and I was feeling I had a few toes in a lot of things, and more things actually still in my head and that was frusterating. And I started to think about this whole development thing, well I probably think about it more then I notice but other day it felt like a big grey tropical storm cloud and I couldn´t find the sunny spots around it. It´s really hard sometimes with this D word. Real results seem so far out of reach. Although they assure us they come. And it´s hard to work without seeing a finished product. Motivation lacks and I feel lost in this huge maze sometimes. I also thought how much easier it would be, maybe, to do D stuff with infastructure or other tangible finished products and throw this human development, striving for sustanibility stuff out the window because it really seems theoretical in a way, comming, maybe, slowly just over the horizon. And that´s how I feel on a good day.
I never really got to any resolution but the other day I was teaching an english class, one of my little puddles I step into every now and then, and I felt good about it. Really the first time that has happened. There were 15 people in a room a little bigger then a small hallway and they were interacting with the course and I was supervising, a kid I have been working with for so long is doing the teaching for the most part. But I don´t think that is why I felt good about it. It was hot and I was sweating profusly and it felt great. Not uncomfortable and inconvenient. I welcomed it and was kinda challenging it because I can talk and sit and be comfortable and maybe be actually making progress with something but it´s not till my chest and back are wet with sweat that I feel I´m working. I´m sure I had this proud or boastful look on my face saying to that big grey hard to see through development cloud something like "Yeah look at me now! I´m sweating in your face! What!? Bia!"
On the sweating topic, it just reminds me of an experience I had the other day cutting my grass. Why the DR doesn´t use gas powered mowers or Uncle Tom´s supped up trimmers can understand. But I haven´t seen one push mover with those blades that spin around as you push or as Brain brought up the other day one of those grim reaper things that you can swing back and forth standing in an upright position. Instead they use the machette, in a very awkward and uncomfortable hunched over position with a huge swinging arm motion. But utilizing the wrist to achieve maxium cutting potential. It works but leaves a lot of room for improvment.
So anyway with a shortage of yard cutting tools at my disposial, and a lot of second thoughts about the pain this is going to cause to my arm and hand, I head out with a borrowed machette. Of course my grass is about a foot high and a lot thicker then I first realized which really slows down my super strong flying machette stroke. And I didn´t last more then 20 mintues at the max. Even after about 2 breaks to tape and retape awkward parts of my hand and fingures the blisters were just too much to handle. But I got through about half of the front grass. I waited about 4 days for my hand to heal a bit and then knocked out the other half, almost. One thing I that amazed me during the whole 2 sessions was how much water my eyebrows could hold. I´d never had that feeling before. It´s hard to explain but they felt really heavy. Kinda cool. Try it. Just get a machette and go at it.
Ohh and I should mention the presidents´ visit the other day. He came on about a two days notice to inagurate our new tech center/library and it´s amazing how quickly things got finished up around here. Literally overnight. But now it´s pretty sweet. There´s a library with tons of books (in a relative sense). At least more books then these kids have every seen before in one place. Which has gotten my head going once again with ideas to do here. Maybe I´ll finally hit that one puddle that´s suprisingly deep and fall in, into that one project that can give me a sense of forward progress. Right now I don´t want another thing to just dip my toes into.
That´s all. Things are well even if it may sound otherwise. I finally got luz after about a month and a half. Well it´s still not an all day thing by any means. I just ment I got my counter and wires connected. I forgot how powerful electricity and light can be. My one lightbulb felt like the whole sun had found it´s way into my house and it was uncomfortably bright. But it´s been great to listin to my own music again and seeing complete pages as I read isn´t bad either.
Ok. Adios.
Cuidense mucho.
I never really got to any resolution but the other day I was teaching an english class, one of my little puddles I step into every now and then, and I felt good about it. Really the first time that has happened. There were 15 people in a room a little bigger then a small hallway and they were interacting with the course and I was supervising, a kid I have been working with for so long is doing the teaching for the most part. But I don´t think that is why I felt good about it. It was hot and I was sweating profusly and it felt great. Not uncomfortable and inconvenient. I welcomed it and was kinda challenging it because I can talk and sit and be comfortable and maybe be actually making progress with something but it´s not till my chest and back are wet with sweat that I feel I´m working. I´m sure I had this proud or boastful look on my face saying to that big grey hard to see through development cloud something like "Yeah look at me now! I´m sweating in your face! What!? Bia!"
On the sweating topic, it just reminds me of an experience I had the other day cutting my grass. Why the DR doesn´t use gas powered mowers or Uncle Tom´s supped up trimmers can understand. But I haven´t seen one push mover with those blades that spin around as you push or as Brain brought up the other day one of those grim reaper things that you can swing back and forth standing in an upright position. Instead they use the machette, in a very awkward and uncomfortable hunched over position with a huge swinging arm motion. But utilizing the wrist to achieve maxium cutting potential. It works but leaves a lot of room for improvment.
So anyway with a shortage of yard cutting tools at my disposial, and a lot of second thoughts about the pain this is going to cause to my arm and hand, I head out with a borrowed machette. Of course my grass is about a foot high and a lot thicker then I first realized which really slows down my super strong flying machette stroke. And I didn´t last more then 20 mintues at the max. Even after about 2 breaks to tape and retape awkward parts of my hand and fingures the blisters were just too much to handle. But I got through about half of the front grass. I waited about 4 days for my hand to heal a bit and then knocked out the other half, almost. One thing I that amazed me during the whole 2 sessions was how much water my eyebrows could hold. I´d never had that feeling before. It´s hard to explain but they felt really heavy. Kinda cool. Try it. Just get a machette and go at it.
Ohh and I should mention the presidents´ visit the other day. He came on about a two days notice to inagurate our new tech center/library and it´s amazing how quickly things got finished up around here. Literally overnight. But now it´s pretty sweet. There´s a library with tons of books (in a relative sense). At least more books then these kids have every seen before in one place. Which has gotten my head going once again with ideas to do here. Maybe I´ll finally hit that one puddle that´s suprisingly deep and fall in, into that one project that can give me a sense of forward progress. Right now I don´t want another thing to just dip my toes into.
That´s all. Things are well even if it may sound otherwise. I finally got luz after about a month and a half. Well it´s still not an all day thing by any means. I just ment I got my counter and wires connected. I forgot how powerful electricity and light can be. My one lightbulb felt like the whole sun had found it´s way into my house and it was uncomfortably bright. But it´s been great to listin to my own music again and seeing complete pages as I read isn´t bad either.
Ok. Adios.
Cuidense mucho.
7.29.2006
I haven't been home for about two weeks now and I was just thinking how I dread the Dominican welcome I will inevitably get when I head back later on today. They really have a way of making you feel guilty. Me botaste or ya no nos quieres or estabas perdido are just a few of the lines I am prepared to hear. The botar one especially hurts because they use the same word for throwing out trash or spitting a bad tasting food from your mouth. Not exactly what I was thinking of them these past two weeks. And the estabas perdido one still stumps me every time they throw it out there. I just end up mumbling some lame excuse of why I really wasn´t lost just far away. And the far away part usually just leaves them confused and with the same lack of words I had at their intial question. I think maybe because far away isn´t a concept they think about every day. I should try to figure out some whitty reply but my sarcastic humor doesn´t seem to transfer very well here.
So anyway, the first week I was at a youth conference with three of my youth learning all about HIV/AIDS and other sexual health topics. And when I get back we are going to try to replicate all this good info for other kids; the idea being trying to start a big snowball that hopefully wont melt here in the Caribbean sun. Just one note on the conference which I was a little embarrassed/disappointed by. It´s right at the end of the whole thing when we are about to present certificates to all the youth who participated and one of my friends and fellow PCVs calls me over to check out some pics on his camera. Turns out some kids got a hold of his camera the night before and did what Dominicans do with a camera. Pose and growl like a tigers. As if they were shooting for some magazine cover. This may sound like a generalization, and I admit I do generalize a lot, but this is not one of those times. Dominicans are very difficult to photograph because they want to strike some pose like a really bad high school senior photo. But these photos were nothing for a year book. And the star was one of my girls and she was posing in horribly dirty positions that made me want to cringe. After 3 whole days of learning about self esteem, how to combat machismo in their culture, safe sex and some ways to say no to sex one of my girls was objectifying herself and throwing out everything we were trying to teach. Although a bad note it was a snap back to reality for me. It´s easy to think these kids had learned all this good stuff and as a result changed their way of thinking and behaving but really behavior change is not so quick and easy. A youth conference won´t do it. And these were just pictures. Not the most detrimental behavior out there.
That was the first part of my ¨vacation.¨ The second part I was translating for a group of doctors who came down to do clinics in the most isloated and far out campos I have seen yet in this country. This was a great time but I will have to write about it later as I am quickly loosing attention.
Nos vemos.
So anyway, the first week I was at a youth conference with three of my youth learning all about HIV/AIDS and other sexual health topics. And when I get back we are going to try to replicate all this good info for other kids; the idea being trying to start a big snowball that hopefully wont melt here in the Caribbean sun. Just one note on the conference which I was a little embarrassed/disappointed by. It´s right at the end of the whole thing when we are about to present certificates to all the youth who participated and one of my friends and fellow PCVs calls me over to check out some pics on his camera. Turns out some kids got a hold of his camera the night before and did what Dominicans do with a camera. Pose and growl like a tigers. As if they were shooting for some magazine cover. This may sound like a generalization, and I admit I do generalize a lot, but this is not one of those times. Dominicans are very difficult to photograph because they want to strike some pose like a really bad high school senior photo. But these photos were nothing for a year book. And the star was one of my girls and she was posing in horribly dirty positions that made me want to cringe. After 3 whole days of learning about self esteem, how to combat machismo in their culture, safe sex and some ways to say no to sex one of my girls was objectifying herself and throwing out everything we were trying to teach. Although a bad note it was a snap back to reality for me. It´s easy to think these kids had learned all this good stuff and as a result changed their way of thinking and behaving but really behavior change is not so quick and easy. A youth conference won´t do it. And these were just pictures. Not the most detrimental behavior out there.
That was the first part of my ¨vacation.¨ The second part I was translating for a group of doctors who came down to do clinics in the most isloated and far out campos I have seen yet in this country. This was a great time but I will have to write about it later as I am quickly loosing attention.
Nos vemos.
7.07.2006
Peace Corps Electrics
I've been without electricity for the past week. Not even the on again - off again stuff that goes on here in the DR. It's been straight off. With no again. But I'm not really complaining as my only electric needs were my radio and my cell phone, and since I lost my phone about the same time I lost power that worked out just about perfectly.
The reason for the week long apagon is that the electric company has finally gotten serious and is cracking down on dead beat electric ladrons. For example, my house has a 16,000 peso debt hanging over its roof. And my landlord is well aware of it. She bought the house when it was at 14,000. And honestly it was kind of stimulating stealing power. I would drag two long electric wires from my house across the street and curl the tips just right so they wouldn't fall off and lift them up with this huge wooden pole to the main electrical wires that were pealed in certian spots. And right in those spots I would hang my wires. Then I would run into the house and tighten my light bulb to see if I matched up the wires correctly. Then the best part is when the electrical company would be in town. A caring and compasionate little Paul Revere would run down the street telling everyone to take down their wires. And I would go out with my pole, and my heart fluttering and hands shaking a little, take down my wires and run them into the house and close the door. Never sure if the electric truck was right around the corner and what exactly they would do if they caught me with my pole in the air.
But now that's over. The electric company has installed a steal proof wire and are even installing meters in every house. Part of the reason noone ever paid was because noone had any electric meters and the company was just charging people a flat rate across the board. Not even taking into consideration the daily power outages.
So I wait. Until my landlord settles the debt and signs a contract to get me legal electricity. Until then I'm going through the candles like no other.
The reason for the week long apagon is that the electric company has finally gotten serious and is cracking down on dead beat electric ladrons. For example, my house has a 16,000 peso debt hanging over its roof. And my landlord is well aware of it. She bought the house when it was at 14,000. And honestly it was kind of stimulating stealing power. I would drag two long electric wires from my house across the street and curl the tips just right so they wouldn't fall off and lift them up with this huge wooden pole to the main electrical wires that were pealed in certian spots. And right in those spots I would hang my wires. Then I would run into the house and tighten my light bulb to see if I matched up the wires correctly. Then the best part is when the electrical company would be in town. A caring and compasionate little Paul Revere would run down the street telling everyone to take down their wires. And I would go out with my pole, and my heart fluttering and hands shaking a little, take down my wires and run them into the house and close the door. Never sure if the electric truck was right around the corner and what exactly they would do if they caught me with my pole in the air.
But now that's over. The electric company has installed a steal proof wire and are even installing meters in every house. Part of the reason noone ever paid was because noone had any electric meters and the company was just charging people a flat rate across the board. Not even taking into consideration the daily power outages.
So I wait. Until my landlord settles the debt and signs a contract to get me legal electricity. Until then I'm going through the candles like no other.
7.03.2006
This is exciting. The internet has arrived to Pedro Sánchez. I can walk down the street and jump online. I never really thought that this would be an option in the Peace Corps. As I sit here using this slick new keyboard watching cows graze out the window I think about the old Gateway commericials with all the cows and computers. This new center has it all. computers, wireless internet, Pedro Sánchez´s own radio station, copy and fax machines, projectors, digital and video cameras, a special kids room with a library, an adult library, a virtual library connected to the University of Santo Domingo´s library, and ¡bathrooms! that flush. I´m so excited about this part and I think it will change my whole morning rutine around.
It´s really incredible that a little community like mine which is poor, rural, and doesn´t even have phone lines has this new center. But these are just the communities the First Ladies office is targeting for these centers. It´s been interesting so far seeing people who never thought of computers before learning to use them. And this center has kind of added a different twist to my roll here in the community. Although I am not a computer expert in the likes of Diogo (sorry man, Frace and Zidane got your guys´ number) or my old roommate Jon Lentz (¡Lentzy!) it´s safe to say I have the most experience in town. I won´t necessarily be teaching computer classes now, 3 people were hired and trained to do that, I will try to adapt my english class to the new technology and maybe throw in a computer class for a group of teachers at the school. Also this gives me more oppurtunites for activities. I´ve always thought a literacy group was a great idea and a huge need and now we have the resources to do it. Just reading to a group of kids will be great! I´m pretty certian most of them have never been read to before.
So that´s that for now. Otherwise things are going well for the most part. We´ll talk more.
Happy 4th
It´s really incredible that a little community like mine which is poor, rural, and doesn´t even have phone lines has this new center. But these are just the communities the First Ladies office is targeting for these centers. It´s been interesting so far seeing people who never thought of computers before learning to use them. And this center has kind of added a different twist to my roll here in the community. Although I am not a computer expert in the likes of Diogo (sorry man, Frace and Zidane got your guys´ number) or my old roommate Jon Lentz (¡Lentzy!) it´s safe to say I have the most experience in town. I won´t necessarily be teaching computer classes now, 3 people were hired and trained to do that, I will try to adapt my english class to the new technology and maybe throw in a computer class for a group of teachers at the school. Also this gives me more oppurtunites for activities. I´ve always thought a literacy group was a great idea and a huge need and now we have the resources to do it. Just reading to a group of kids will be great! I´m pretty certian most of them have never been read to before.
So that´s that for now. Otherwise things are going well for the most part. We´ll talk more.
Happy 4th
6.21.2006
The patron saint´s festival, or rather fiestas patronales, has just gotten underway. Well, technically it started yesterday, Monday, but I guess the festivals organizers thought it would be a little dumb of them to start a party on Monday when they might as well take advantage of the weekend before hand too. So this party has been going on since Saturday. And will continue for a week and a half until Thursday or rather be that Monday, once again to take adavantage of the party potential of the weekend.
What does this fiesta patronales involve anyway? Well, there´s the usual celebratory stuff like sack races, horse races, and pole climbing but mainly it´s about the party that goes down everynight in the parque and surronding street. The electricity has been out for most of today and still is as I write this at 9pm. This would usually mean a super tranquil night when I can see the bright glow of families sitting around a candle or gas lamp comming from an otherwise pitch black and silent house and street. And it´s always a great time to catch the super bright stars.
But on a festival night like this an apagon is no match for Brillo Lite and his soundsystem and the colmado´s and pool hall´s and any other system I´m hearing right now. All mixed together, depending on their relative distances to me, into a really confusing and continually thumping musical Sancocho. Reminding me of a radio stuck between two or three stations at once, but so much louder then any of those old turn dial radios could ever get. Actually, any one of the numerous speaker set ups is probably equal to the speakers on one half of the stage of the loudest Dave Matthews Band show I been to. And my town has less people then an average DMB show. That really means we got more speaker wattage going right now in Pedro Sánchez per capita then DMB does at their Charlotte, NC show tonight. Ha!
What does this fiesta patronales involve anyway? Well, there´s the usual celebratory stuff like sack races, horse races, and pole climbing but mainly it´s about the party that goes down everynight in the parque and surronding street. The electricity has been out for most of today and still is as I write this at 9pm. This would usually mean a super tranquil night when I can see the bright glow of families sitting around a candle or gas lamp comming from an otherwise pitch black and silent house and street. And it´s always a great time to catch the super bright stars.
But on a festival night like this an apagon is no match for Brillo Lite and his soundsystem and the colmado´s and pool hall´s and any other system I´m hearing right now. All mixed together, depending on their relative distances to me, into a really confusing and continually thumping musical Sancocho. Reminding me of a radio stuck between two or three stations at once, but so much louder then any of those old turn dial radios could ever get. Actually, any one of the numerous speaker set ups is probably equal to the speakers on one half of the stage of the loudest Dave Matthews Band show I been to. And my town has less people then an average DMB show. That really means we got more speaker wattage going right now in Pedro Sánchez per capita then DMB does at their Charlotte, NC show tonight. Ha!
6.06.2006
A little worldcup warmup for ya!
This will get you pumped!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-bWsOK-h98
I just hope he does this all worldcup long!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-bWsOK-h98
I just hope he does this all worldcup long!
5.30.2006
The Sports Equipment Deal
Update: I have since recieved more info about shipping. This is what it should look like:
You should send all packages to this address:
Peace Corps Director (Please do not put my name on the outside of the box)
Av Bolivar 451, Gazcue
Apartado 1412
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Please put my name on a sheet inside of the box in addition to the best address for me to send feedback such as pictures to.
And here is a standard letter asking for help...
Dear Family & Friends,
Greetings from the Dominican Republic! I would like to send this letter to inform everyone of a new youth initiative in which we could use your support.
What is it? Serve and Play (Servir Y Jugar) is a Peace Corps initiative serving the Dominican Republic. It's goal is to stimulate volunteering while simultaneously providing the children and young people of communities of limited resources the opportunities to learn leadership and to participate in healthy activities. Serve and Play aids to promote Sirve Quisqueya, a national initiative to promote volunteer service by all Dominican youth.
How It works: The Peace Corps Volunteers will work with young people in the communities, having taught them the importance and effective methods to plan and execute community development projects. They will also help young people and children to track the hours that they have done. For their community service, Peace Corps Volunteers reward the youth with Sports Equipment available through Serve and Play. We have had great success with the program and therefore our inventory is rapidly diminishing.
What we need: We could use sports equipment of any type, Dominican youth love baseball, softball, basketball, and volleyball. In particular I could use (all kinds of soccer stuff!!)
How to send it: You should send all packages to this address:
Peace Corps Director (Please do not put my name on the outside of the box)
Av Bolivar 451, Gazcue
Apartado 1412
Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
Please put my name on a sheet inside of the box in addition to the best address for me to send feedback such as pictures to.
Thank you so much for your continued support.
This was my origional post...
| So I have this idea. And I need some help with it. I’ve got this soccer team going here. There’s between 20 and 30 kids, sometimes up to 40, practicing 3 times a week. They are totally psyched about soccer and we played our first game last weekend. The day before they went out in the woods and found six poles, (I know poles sounds weird but I can’t think of the right word) and hammered together their goals. We cut the outfield grass with machetes the day before too, which resulted in a big blood blister on my index finger, and we lined the field with sand. The games the next day were a lot of fun. They played all morning and everyone from Pedro Sánchez took a kid from the opposite team home to eat lunch with their family. Then we all went to the local watering hole for a swim. Ok, this is where I need your help. Half of these kids play in bare feet. We have two balls to practice with, which significantly limits the things I can teach. That is saying nothing about shin-guards and goals. But there is an up side. Peace Corps DR has this program called servir y jugar (to serve and play) which gets kids involved in doing community service projects and as a reward they earn sporting equipment depending on the amount of hours they put in. The equipment comes from donations from the states; both new and used stuff. So my thought was to ask you guys for donations. Not so much individually but maybe you could take this idea to your soccer team or club. And maybe everyone could get together all their old gear, it doesn’t even have to be old if you don’t want, and send it down here to the DR. Once it gets here it goes into the pot, up for grabs to all the other volunteers and their kids, although I would get first pick for my kids. So what is needed? Cleats, shin guards, and balls are needed most. Jerseys, pennies, cones or disks, mini-goals, and goalie gloves would not be turned away either. And if you want to take this further, other sporting equipment especially baseball stuff would be put to good use by kids all over this country. And remember this is not just handouts. These kids may be learning about community service for the very first time and may even earn their very first pair of cleats in the deal too. To get it here just mail it in a big box to me at the address on the side of this page. It’s actually the address to the PC office in the capital but that’s where I pick up all my mail. And if you wanted t throw some religious signs and symbols on the package for surer and safer delivery that wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Or you could address it to Pastor or Padre or even Hermana Matthew Ferner. If you have any questions about this proposition just let me know. I am planning on sending Calvin a more formal letter and if you think any other schools athletic departments would be interested let me know too. That’s it. Much love. Matt |
5.25.2006
So speaking of that air conditioned, englished speaking, fluffy couch sitting, home away from home...I came into the capital today to turn some surveys into my boss at the office. I'll have you know that this is the first post I've written from the office. And the computers here are free! I can spend all day on the internet if I want and not have to pay a peso. Imaginate. I've tried to write something from here before and can't. I've started things and then said to myself, "this is dry, nobody wants to hear about that." I was thinking about it on my way in today, and I think the reason why I haven't been able to write anything from here is that it's too comfy and too easy. I think the message gets accross better when I'm dripping sweat on the keyboard and my shirt is soaked and I am packed into a 8x12 ft with about 15 computers. Anyway, here's comming straight from the PC office.
What's the first thing I do when I get into the office? Check my mail. And it's great! Imagine not being able to walk out to your mail box for a few weeks or months at a time and then that excited you would have when you open your mailbox. And what made it even better this time is that I got something. A letter from my Grandma. She's doing good too. One of the things she mentioned was about how she is fortunate to be able to read and write me letters. Not because she is old but because she is educated. And I don't know if she was touching at something I wrote her before or hinting at something she wants to hear about, but it made me think about education. And then I thought about the sign in sheet I passed around at soccer practice the other day. I remember watching the kids, over half of them, struggle to sign themselves in. And one or two of them practicaly couldn't do it. I just stopped and stared. Caughten off gaurd once again by what would be a trivial event in the states, but here has so much more meaning. How can they even get through a day at school? What do they even do at school? These kids were between 8 and 13 too. Then there was the other time when I visited a family and their kids where in the middle of doing math homework when I walked in. They were 12 or so and still counting on their fingers.
The thing is I know what they do at school. I know how many days school gets cancelled a week. I've seen the "library" and the bathrooms and the classrooms. I've talked with teachers and the director. I remember complaining to my parents and teachers during highschool about how I was going to have back problems when I got older because of the weight of all the school books I had to carry around. And it was legit, it was heavy. At least the kids here don't have that problem. They don't even have a single book. The teachers have the book. And class is composed of the teacher dictating and students copying. There are no art classes, or a work shop, or a gymnasium. There are two different daily sessions. One for the older kids in the morning from 8 to 12 and one in the afternoon for the younger ones 2 to 4.30. And those hours really are negotiable. I'll let you imagine the rest of the story. So my grandma is fortunate to be educated. As am I. And I think so many other Americans.
What's the first thing I do when I get into the office? Check my mail. And it's great! Imagine not being able to walk out to your mail box for a few weeks or months at a time and then that excited you would have when you open your mailbox. And what made it even better this time is that I got something. A letter from my Grandma. She's doing good too. One of the things she mentioned was about how she is fortunate to be able to read and write me letters. Not because she is old but because she is educated. And I don't know if she was touching at something I wrote her before or hinting at something she wants to hear about, but it made me think about education. And then I thought about the sign in sheet I passed around at soccer practice the other day. I remember watching the kids, over half of them, struggle to sign themselves in. And one or two of them practicaly couldn't do it. I just stopped and stared. Caughten off gaurd once again by what would be a trivial event in the states, but here has so much more meaning. How can they even get through a day at school? What do they even do at school? These kids were between 8 and 13 too. Then there was the other time when I visited a family and their kids where in the middle of doing math homework when I walked in. They were 12 or so and still counting on their fingers.
The thing is I know what they do at school. I know how many days school gets cancelled a week. I've seen the "library" and the bathrooms and the classrooms. I've talked with teachers and the director. I remember complaining to my parents and teachers during highschool about how I was going to have back problems when I got older because of the weight of all the school books I had to carry around. And it was legit, it was heavy. At least the kids here don't have that problem. They don't even have a single book. The teachers have the book. And class is composed of the teacher dictating and students copying. There are no art classes, or a work shop, or a gymnasium. There are two different daily sessions. One for the older kids in the morning from 8 to 12 and one in the afternoon for the younger ones 2 to 4.30. And those hours really are negotiable. I'll let you imagine the rest of the story. So my grandma is fortunate to be educated. As am I. And I think so many other Americans.
5.09.2006
I don´t think I´ve written much about poverty on this here blog yet. And that´s mainly for two reasons. One is that I just didn´t know what to say about it in the beginning because I was totally new to it. I could have described the houses or talked about the trash but that really wouldn´t have been good enough for me. The second is that about the time I began to understand it a little more and could maybe talk about a life lived in poverty, I became immune to it. Nothing was sticking far out of the norm for me and I kind of just began to get used to it all. It has been about 7 or 8 months now. But it´s been in the last few weeks that I´ve been noticing how poor things can be and really been thinking about it. So, I kind of touched on it in my journal the other day and I figured I´d share it.
May 7
...I´m getting addicted to sugar straight out of the bottle. It´s the darker big grained stuff. I really have to stop it. This morning I decided I take a bike ride. It was the fourth I´ve taken up the road towards Miches and each time I´m getting closer. Today I met the limit, at least until I am prepared to go all the way down into Miches. I began to realized I was doing a lot of breaking so I decided to turn around. That climb out of Miches is going to be tough, at least from what I saw today. I enjoy being up there on the top of all those hills and being able to look out over the Samana Bay and see the Samana pennnisula jutting out behind the bay. It seems mornings are more hazy then afternoons, at least from what I remember. I enjoyed the sound of the wind filling my head with a sort of empowering and freeing kind of noise. It added to the feeling of being on top of everything.
I was feeling so good I forgot the poverty and hardship I was riding through. Houses completly made of tin were lined up along the road and women were outside hand washing their clothes. There were no electric washing machines here to mask how poor these people are. I let slip a great big happy “Buenos Días” to a lady walking up as I was going down. She looked much more aged then she probably was. And when she gave me back a warn out sounding “buen día” for a moment I wondered why. Then I came back to my senses and saw the 5 gallon bucket of water on her head; she had one hand stabalizing the bucket and the other holding the hand of her completly naked little boy. Too poor to buy diapers and not wanting the extra work of washing soiled clothes each day, she just leaves her boy naked (this is very common here). I also realized there probably weren’t many trips to the well before this 5 gallon bucket or will there be many after and her family will be using this bucket of water for all of today’s watering needs. Most likely there isn’t 35 pesos to buy the giant blue bottle of drinking water either.
As I continue down the hill, lightly breaking so as not to fly by these people and at least giving them the curtosy of a slow acknowledging ride through I catch the eyes of some kids happily playing and waving to me. Then I notice Mom looking at me from the doorway of their one room shack. For the first few moments I am watching her as she is obviouly trying to figure out who I am. Not but an instant after she realizes I am a foreigner she puts her hand out and quickly, maybe despertly, before I am gone down the hill, rubs her thumb back and forth over her first two fingers. After 7 or 8 months here these situations still make me feel awkward and I still haven’t found the appropriate response to the request. When it’s face to face, which it is about one a week, I sort of awkwardly mumble something out about how I don’t do that. I can’t say I can’t or that I don’t have cinco pesos because I would be lying so instead I just leave them with an answer that almost always evidently puts the person off balance a bit. I see them sort of wondering, “what does he mean he doesn’t do that?” Anyway, I was on my bike and had the slope and distance between myself and this mother in my favor, if easily saying no to poverty is any type of favor, and so I just shifted my glance back to the road in front of me.
I decided to turn back for two reasons. One I didn’t feel like having to peddle the whole way back up out of Miches and two I didn’t know if I could handle entering Miches right then. I knew what was ahead as I have been to Miches in the comfort and seperate space of a private truck but this morning I was closer to it being on my bike. By it I mean that Miches is poor, and it shows. It’s also the number one take off spot for the old wooden boats known as yolas that cross the sea to Puerto Rico, with a price tag around 20,000 pesos for those desperate enough to risk their life for a chance at a different one.
As for me I peddled back a little ways until I reached the summit and let the downhill take me back to Pedro Sanchez. I’ve been realizing lately that El Cuerpo de Paz can let me see this life and even require me at times to live it, but I will never entirely know the feeling of it. And if I’m ever doubthing that, the comfy Peace Corps office and emaculte U.S. Embessy are just an easy 140 peso guagua trip away. Well at least for me, the holder of a blue passport.
May 7
...I´m getting addicted to sugar straight out of the bottle. It´s the darker big grained stuff. I really have to stop it. This morning I decided I take a bike ride. It was the fourth I´ve taken up the road towards Miches and each time I´m getting closer. Today I met the limit, at least until I am prepared to go all the way down into Miches. I began to realized I was doing a lot of breaking so I decided to turn around. That climb out of Miches is going to be tough, at least from what I saw today. I enjoy being up there on the top of all those hills and being able to look out over the Samana Bay and see the Samana pennnisula jutting out behind the bay. It seems mornings are more hazy then afternoons, at least from what I remember. I enjoyed the sound of the wind filling my head with a sort of empowering and freeing kind of noise. It added to the feeling of being on top of everything.
I was feeling so good I forgot the poverty and hardship I was riding through. Houses completly made of tin were lined up along the road and women were outside hand washing their clothes. There were no electric washing machines here to mask how poor these people are. I let slip a great big happy “Buenos Días” to a lady walking up as I was going down. She looked much more aged then she probably was. And when she gave me back a warn out sounding “buen día” for a moment I wondered why. Then I came back to my senses and saw the 5 gallon bucket of water on her head; she had one hand stabalizing the bucket and the other holding the hand of her completly naked little boy. Too poor to buy diapers and not wanting the extra work of washing soiled clothes each day, she just leaves her boy naked (this is very common here). I also realized there probably weren’t many trips to the well before this 5 gallon bucket or will there be many after and her family will be using this bucket of water for all of today’s watering needs. Most likely there isn’t 35 pesos to buy the giant blue bottle of drinking water either.
As I continue down the hill, lightly breaking so as not to fly by these people and at least giving them the curtosy of a slow acknowledging ride through I catch the eyes of some kids happily playing and waving to me. Then I notice Mom looking at me from the doorway of their one room shack. For the first few moments I am watching her as she is obviouly trying to figure out who I am. Not but an instant after she realizes I am a foreigner she puts her hand out and quickly, maybe despertly, before I am gone down the hill, rubs her thumb back and forth over her first two fingers. After 7 or 8 months here these situations still make me feel awkward and I still haven’t found the appropriate response to the request. When it’s face to face, which it is about one a week, I sort of awkwardly mumble something out about how I don’t do that. I can’t say I can’t or that I don’t have cinco pesos because I would be lying so instead I just leave them with an answer that almost always evidently puts the person off balance a bit. I see them sort of wondering, “what does he mean he doesn’t do that?” Anyway, I was on my bike and had the slope and distance between myself and this mother in my favor, if easily saying no to poverty is any type of favor, and so I just shifted my glance back to the road in front of me.
I decided to turn back for two reasons. One I didn’t feel like having to peddle the whole way back up out of Miches and two I didn’t know if I could handle entering Miches right then. I knew what was ahead as I have been to Miches in the comfort and seperate space of a private truck but this morning I was closer to it being on my bike. By it I mean that Miches is poor, and it shows. It’s also the number one take off spot for the old wooden boats known as yolas that cross the sea to Puerto Rico, with a price tag around 20,000 pesos for those desperate enough to risk their life for a chance at a different one.
As for me I peddled back a little ways until I reached the summit and let the downhill take me back to Pedro Sanchez. I’ve been realizing lately that El Cuerpo de Paz can let me see this life and even require me at times to live it, but I will never entirely know the feeling of it. And if I’m ever doubthing that, the comfy Peace Corps office and emaculte U.S. Embessy are just an easy 140 peso guagua trip away. Well at least for me, the holder of a blue passport.
4.30.2006
El Barrio de Mr. Rogers
I was laying in my hammock the other day and I had it swinging perfectly enough to knock a cherry from the tree above. And what do I know but it fell right into my lap. It was great! Now if I can only figure out how to get my cat to climb the coco tree and bring me a coco as I sit in the shade.
I don´t know why I said this. It made me really happy when it happened but I´m sure its just one of those things where you have to be there to enjoy. But it brings up another thought. I don´t know if I´ve shared this before (I try not to look back at earlier posts) so I´ll go ahead now. About 3 times a week I will not really feel like cooking. Cooking and preparing meat and cleaning up afterwords is quite an ordeal here and sometimes I just avoid the hassel. I don´t know why exactly but it´s just not as convienent as back home. So on these days usually at lunch I just find random stuff to eat that takes little preparation. Or the incredible thing is that food appears. It´s really amazing. You should try it sometime. Just come to the DR and live in a little community and watch it happen. Friends will bring you food or familes will invite you over for lunch without anything expected in return. It is a very humbling phenomon. Especially when I think that by giving me a thigh or half of breast of chicken or just anything in general, it means they are eating less that day.
I am still getting used to this. Not just with meals but giving in general. I am given huge clumps of bannanas or plantians or an arm full of grape fruit or oranges almost every other day. And I´m the American who comes from Nueva Yol where we buy things with dollars. This is all making me more aware of my own giving habits. And honestly I think I never exactly explored those habits. But now when I´m cooking or have any food lying around it´s been easier to feel comfortable saying "toma lo" and honestly not thinking twice about it. It´s a great little system they got going here. I´ll share with you because thats what we do. And when everyone´s sharing everyone´s recieving at the same time. Kind of a good kindergarden lesson too.
bueno, es todo. cuidense.
I don´t know why I said this. It made me really happy when it happened but I´m sure its just one of those things where you have to be there to enjoy. But it brings up another thought. I don´t know if I´ve shared this before (I try not to look back at earlier posts) so I´ll go ahead now. About 3 times a week I will not really feel like cooking. Cooking and preparing meat and cleaning up afterwords is quite an ordeal here and sometimes I just avoid the hassel. I don´t know why exactly but it´s just not as convienent as back home. So on these days usually at lunch I just find random stuff to eat that takes little preparation. Or the incredible thing is that food appears. It´s really amazing. You should try it sometime. Just come to the DR and live in a little community and watch it happen. Friends will bring you food or familes will invite you over for lunch without anything expected in return. It is a very humbling phenomon. Especially when I think that by giving me a thigh or half of breast of chicken or just anything in general, it means they are eating less that day.
I am still getting used to this. Not just with meals but giving in general. I am given huge clumps of bannanas or plantians or an arm full of grape fruit or oranges almost every other day. And I´m the American who comes from Nueva Yol where we buy things with dollars. This is all making me more aware of my own giving habits. And honestly I think I never exactly explored those habits. But now when I´m cooking or have any food lying around it´s been easier to feel comfortable saying "toma lo" and honestly not thinking twice about it. It´s a great little system they got going here. I´ll share with you because thats what we do. And when everyone´s sharing everyone´s recieving at the same time. Kind of a good kindergarden lesson too.
bueno, es todo. cuidense.
3.26.2006
A Rainy Springy Suñday
I love days like these. Especially here where cloud cover is few and far between. Dominicans love to say how !este sol pica! They also use the term pica for wasps and ant bites. And it´s not that their vocabulary is weak either. The three truely do feel the same.
Whats been going on? Well this morning my group of muchachos fund raised about 600 pesos for a mural they will be painting. I say fund raise but it was really not. They held a fire hose accross the road and didn´t lower it until people paid up. I guess we pretty much took over the entrance to our town and laid down a toll for a few hours. One passanger hit it right on the head when I overheard her say, bueno eso es como hacky mate (just like check mate). And I agree with her. I didn´t feel totally comfortable with this fundraiser but I brushed it off as a cultural thing. It was the first idea they had and these peajes are very common. We were advised, in not such a friendly manner, there were two happening further up the road from us. Kind of unlucky for both parties.
So about the new house, because I´m psyched about it. Right now it´s outfitted with a 4 burner table stove, a homemade table, 3 plastic chairs, and my bed (which I´m equally psyched about). I´ll explain.
It´s that I´ve finally got my mosquito net to look like they have it on the front of the package. Almost as soon as we got off the plane 6 months ago we were handed our mosquito nets and I instantly fell in love with the lady on the cardboard insert. Her mosquito net was hung high to make it seem like one of those old time beds that have the wooden rail around the top and you have to move the curtains to climb in. And she was wrapped in a light orange sheet, much like my quick dry orange REI towell, with whatever your favorite type of pillow is under one arm. And she was in what seem to be some kind of wooden cabaña, probably extended into the sea and only reachable by boat. And this is saying nothing about ella. She was equally beautiful to match. I still have the cardboard insert somewhere.
And my house doesn´t disscriminate in terms of gender. It is equally painted hot pink and sky blue inside and out, with gender neutral white trim and shutters. It´s a boy-girl house.
About two days into the new place I already had the visitors older PCV´s have warned about. Not the spiders or other critters I won´t bother to mention. But kids who walk in and just watch you. One kid watched me for over two hours while I cooked and ate. He didn´t say anything or respond to many questions either. I was racking my brain for ways to turn it into a great cross cultural learning experience for the both of us, but I as the time went by I was becoming more uncomfortable and just wanted to tell the kid to go to his own house. Living with a family you are protected from things like this but now in my own place I will have to figure out a strategy. I may be the only American these kids will ever know, and I don´t want to get them made at all my friends back home too.
Ok, well I was going to write about what has been going on "work" wise but I got off track somewhere. I think I know where.
That´s all for now
Whats been going on? Well this morning my group of muchachos fund raised about 600 pesos for a mural they will be painting. I say fund raise but it was really not. They held a fire hose accross the road and didn´t lower it until people paid up. I guess we pretty much took over the entrance to our town and laid down a toll for a few hours. One passanger hit it right on the head when I overheard her say, bueno eso es como hacky mate (just like check mate). And I agree with her. I didn´t feel totally comfortable with this fundraiser but I brushed it off as a cultural thing. It was the first idea they had and these peajes are very common. We were advised, in not such a friendly manner, there were two happening further up the road from us. Kind of unlucky for both parties.
So about the new house, because I´m psyched about it. Right now it´s outfitted with a 4 burner table stove, a homemade table, 3 plastic chairs, and my bed (which I´m equally psyched about). I´ll explain.
It´s that I´ve finally got my mosquito net to look like they have it on the front of the package. Almost as soon as we got off the plane 6 months ago we were handed our mosquito nets and I instantly fell in love with the lady on the cardboard insert. Her mosquito net was hung high to make it seem like one of those old time beds that have the wooden rail around the top and you have to move the curtains to climb in. And she was wrapped in a light orange sheet, much like my quick dry orange REI towell, with whatever your favorite type of pillow is under one arm. And she was in what seem to be some kind of wooden cabaña, probably extended into the sea and only reachable by boat. And this is saying nothing about ella. She was equally beautiful to match. I still have the cardboard insert somewhere.
And my house doesn´t disscriminate in terms of gender. It is equally painted hot pink and sky blue inside and out, with gender neutral white trim and shutters. It´s a boy-girl house.
About two days into the new place I already had the visitors older PCV´s have warned about. Not the spiders or other critters I won´t bother to mention. But kids who walk in and just watch you. One kid watched me for over two hours while I cooked and ate. He didn´t say anything or respond to many questions either. I was racking my brain for ways to turn it into a great cross cultural learning experience for the both of us, but I as the time went by I was becoming more uncomfortable and just wanted to tell the kid to go to his own house. Living with a family you are protected from things like this but now in my own place I will have to figure out a strategy. I may be the only American these kids will ever know, and I don´t want to get them made at all my friends back home too.
Ok, well I was going to write about what has been going on "work" wise but I got off track somewhere. I think I know where.
That´s all for now
3.13.2006
Things have been rolling very well lately. This past week I had a series of conferences back to back. One in the ever tiring and overstimuling capital of Santo Domingo and the other in Jarabacoa, my favorite place in the country as of now (well besides my little pueblo). In the capital I was able to reunite with the Youth crew at our 3 month IST where we all presented our community diagnostics. I was a little worried about the presentation for some reason leading up to it. I guess I was still in the school mentality where all I think about is getting graded. But the presentation went well and to my suprise the diagnostic really wasn´t about the presentation at all. More to help me understand my community a little better and plan for the first year of service. And I did come out of the conference with a plan and a focus, and I feel great about it right now. The second conference went well also and I think got my two muchachos pumped up about starting this Brigada Verde youth group in our town. I know a youth group may sound strange to people back in the states, but they are very common here in the DR. I think its from the fact that generally Dominican youth are cooler then American kids. Don´t take this the wrong way though. I would even group myself, growing up, in the lame American youth culture. To get some type of youth group going in the states, outside of the church, would most likely warren´t a "that sucks, why would I want to do that?" or something to the extent. Maybe becuase kids here really lack any oppurtunities for extra diversion or learning, they are more eager to form youth groups that usually take on a social/community service theme. And this is what I want to take advantage of. A group of organized kids is the perfect forum for some quality out of school and general life skills education.
On another note I´m hopefully going to be moving into my own house this week. It´s been a 6 months of living with host families and it´s time to move out. This will be my first house all to my own, ever, and without a doubt the cheapest rent I´ll ever have in my life. At 800 pesos a month (about $25 us dollars), with a outhouse and tin roof, and about 50 roosters as my neighboring alarm clocks I am all smiles and excitment. I cannot wait to have my own place! It´s basically one room divided into four small sections with the water outside for showers and washing dishes. I have a variety of fruit tress in the back yard: mango, cherries, coconut, and some other fruit that I forget the name of right now.
Thats all for now.
On another note I´m hopefully going to be moving into my own house this week. It´s been a 6 months of living with host families and it´s time to move out. This will be my first house all to my own, ever, and without a doubt the cheapest rent I´ll ever have in my life. At 800 pesos a month (about $25 us dollars), with a outhouse and tin roof, and about 50 roosters as my neighboring alarm clocks I am all smiles and excitment. I cannot wait to have my own place! It´s basically one room divided into four small sections with the water outside for showers and washing dishes. I have a variety of fruit tress in the back yard: mango, cherries, coconut, and some other fruit that I forget the name of right now.
Thats all for now.
2.26.2006
A Different Perspective
Because it´s so true that no two Peace Corps experiences are the same, I added a little link to a fellow PCV´s blog. I admit that I am far from giving you the comprehensive view of the Peace Corps becuase this is what I´m seeing with my eyes and my experiences here are only mine. This whole thing is influenced by so many different variables, some within the control of the volunteer and others not, that even Volunteers in the same country have totally different experiences. So I want to send a shot out to other peoples blogs (at least people I know) and as I become aware of them I will pass the link along.
Jessica has a cool blog going and she works with coffee growers in the mountians of Jarabacoa. Check it out.
nos vemos
Jessica has a cool blog going and she works with coffee growers in the mountians of Jarabacoa. Check it out.
nos vemos
2.20.2006
So what is up on this Monday afternoon? Now that I think about it, I have to say I haven´t felt the Monday slugishness since I´ve been here. Maybe it´s only a stateside thing.
The weekend went well. It was the second weekend of this great month-long sports tournment that is being put on by my organization Progressando. I think there´s a few pics from the inaguration that took place in my pueblo last weekend. It was my first experience organizing anything on a grand scale with Dominicans and what the cross-cultural experience it was. Maybe the first time I´ve acuatlly experience cultural crash and it happened mulitiple times in the two weeks leading up to inaguration day. They insisted on having a peraid (I know thats spelled horribly wrong, but there´s not english spell check on this thing), with a marching band, and a table of honor, and maids of honor for that matter, who presented flowers to guests of honor. I think all the honor in the world was shinning down on Pedro Sanchez this day.
Anyway, we pulled it off and the little bit I caught of the games gave me a great feeling. Growing up in the organized world of sports in the states, I never thought much about what it means to compete for a team or wear a jersery because it was such a common thing. I went from sport to sport, coach to coach, and had so many old jerseries left in my closet by the time I graduated high school I could have outfitted two full soccer teams. But this tournment was probably the first or second time these kids had suited up for their pueblos to play in an organized competition and it really showed on their faces and in their play. So last weekend the tourney moved to another PCV´s site and I was able to sit back, relax, and watch some great baseball on the most beautiful field I´ve ever seen. Ill try to get those pics up soon.
I´ve also been working with a young guy named David on his english. This kid is incredible with his english. He pretty much has learned on his own with books for the past two years and his prununciation is suprisingly good. I handed him one of my books and he was able to read it right away so 3 times a week he comes over and we go through Blue Like Jazz. My idea is to get him comfortable to the point where he can start giving english classes to the rest of the community, because I get asked about twice a day to give classes and this isn´t exactly what I want to focus my time on. Everyone wants to learn english but many of the kids can´t read in spanish yet. I think thats more important at this point.
In other news, I´m getting excited about a conference comming up in March. I will be taking two kids from my community to this youth conference where they will learn all about this national youth organiztion called Brigada Verde and hopefully come back all pumped up to start a local group. Brigada Verde started off as a Peace Corps iniative for spreading environmental awareness and in 3 years has turned into a great youth group oppurtunity for all types of environmental projects. Thinking a little selfishly I´m hopeing to sell the muchachos on the idea that we should take our machetes to the hills and chop ourselves a small path to the top. (just a little path Dad, I promise). Because as of right now there are all these great summits that are unreachable. We could even sell it as an eco-tourism thing and I could spread the word on my blog. I can see it now, people would come from all over to climb on our freshly macheted paths through the lush tropical jungles above Pedro Sanchez.
Anyway thats enough for now.
The weekend went well. It was the second weekend of this great month-long sports tournment that is being put on by my organization Progressando. I think there´s a few pics from the inaguration that took place in my pueblo last weekend. It was my first experience organizing anything on a grand scale with Dominicans and what the cross-cultural experience it was. Maybe the first time I´ve acuatlly experience cultural crash and it happened mulitiple times in the two weeks leading up to inaguration day. They insisted on having a peraid (I know thats spelled horribly wrong, but there´s not english spell check on this thing), with a marching band, and a table of honor, and maids of honor for that matter, who presented flowers to guests of honor. I think all the honor in the world was shinning down on Pedro Sanchez this day.
Anyway, we pulled it off and the little bit I caught of the games gave me a great feeling. Growing up in the organized world of sports in the states, I never thought much about what it means to compete for a team or wear a jersery because it was such a common thing. I went from sport to sport, coach to coach, and had so many old jerseries left in my closet by the time I graduated high school I could have outfitted two full soccer teams. But this tournment was probably the first or second time these kids had suited up for their pueblos to play in an organized competition and it really showed on their faces and in their play. So last weekend the tourney moved to another PCV´s site and I was able to sit back, relax, and watch some great baseball on the most beautiful field I´ve ever seen. Ill try to get those pics up soon.
I´ve also been working with a young guy named David on his english. This kid is incredible with his english. He pretty much has learned on his own with books for the past two years and his prununciation is suprisingly good. I handed him one of my books and he was able to read it right away so 3 times a week he comes over and we go through Blue Like Jazz. My idea is to get him comfortable to the point where he can start giving english classes to the rest of the community, because I get asked about twice a day to give classes and this isn´t exactly what I want to focus my time on. Everyone wants to learn english but many of the kids can´t read in spanish yet. I think thats more important at this point.
In other news, I´m getting excited about a conference comming up in March. I will be taking two kids from my community to this youth conference where they will learn all about this national youth organiztion called Brigada Verde and hopefully come back all pumped up to start a local group. Brigada Verde started off as a Peace Corps iniative for spreading environmental awareness and in 3 years has turned into a great youth group oppurtunity for all types of environmental projects. Thinking a little selfishly I´m hopeing to sell the muchachos on the idea that we should take our machetes to the hills and chop ourselves a small path to the top. (just a little path Dad, I promise). Because as of right now there are all these great summits that are unreachable. We could even sell it as an eco-tourism thing and I could spread the word on my blog. I can see it now, people would come from all over to climb on our freshly macheted paths through the lush tropical jungles above Pedro Sanchez.
Anyway thats enough for now.
2.09.2006
Buenos Dias
| About a week or so ago... It´s now about 7:30 am. I woke up at 6 with a stomach ache which turned into diahreea at about 6:30 and nearly vomiting soon there after. This was the second time I have woken up with an aching stomach in the past week. The first time I didn´t have diahreea and I was able to get back to sleep, but not this morning. I decided to look for relief outside. I pulled my favorite chair outside and inbetween doubled over cringes I watched the nights stars slowly fade away into the commuing blue morning sky. A steady tropical breeze was asserting its´ presence, chilling my skin from the nausish sweat that had made its way to the top. One star in particular stayed longer then the others, disappearing and reappearing from behind the light whispy clouds that were beginning to catch the morning color of the suns rays. they would rotate through all shades of yellow, orange, and red before returning to the standard clowd white and slowly pass over me, continuing to move with the breeze. Moving on for the next person to enjoy. Or maybe no one was woken up by an aching stomach. Or they were awake, only looking forward into their day rather then pondering up into it. But this morning was probably not that unlike the morning before or the morning before that, only noticed and appreciated. And without getting up so early I wouldn´t have recognized Don Gallo´s current attempt at Doña Gallina as the 100th or so in a very frusterating morning for the Don. I watch as Doña G, looking like the full brested Mona Lisa she is, teasingly does a quick side step, hop, and a twist to avoid Don G and all the maleness of this morning rooster. But instead of skirtting off and being done with Don G´s relentless pursuit, the Doña continues pecking ohh so flirtatiously at imaginary crumbs while juking her way out of every trap Don G manuvers her into. Getting bored with the endless pursuit I turn my eyes and thoughts to the sun which has continued to rise oblivious to the drama unfolding at my feet. |
1.18.2006
I bet you didn´t know that the past week was the telling week for this upcomming year of rain. And woulnd´t you know it but we didn´t get one drop; here comes the biggest drought the greater-metro area of Pedro Sanchez has ever seen! This is all according to my one hundred and five year old Dominican Grandma. Not only is she a Meteorologist (which I am highly jelous of) but she also doubles as a medicine woman and get this...she smokes a pipe. I'm not exaggerating when I say people come from all over the providence with their sick and lame. But to say the least, I am skeptical of her 105 years. This woman has way to much together; in 105 years she hasn't lost a single marble. She even has the libido to fight on a daily basis with my 4 yr. old brother. I mean fighting both physically and verbally. Obviously, in her susposidly 105 year lifetime, she is still learning how to deal with children. And on a very truthful and sad note, I would say the better majority of Dominican parents are clueless when it comes to raising children. I already know this will be one of my focuses here. Physical punishment is almost a daily occurance in my house and that says nothing abuot the psychological damage little Carlitos is subject to.
On another note, also from the homefront, I was caught off guard and shocked the other day. Not by the donkies again, but by my ohhh so old Grandma....wait I mean...she said something that caught me off guard and shocked me. One of the little girls who lives down the street was over once again for dinner. She coincidenitly (or not so coincidentily... which is another subject) will show up around meal time a few times a week. This day she was over for dinner and after downing her soup she went out to play with my little brother, another little boy, and Nereida (the 11yr old girl who does all the chores at our house). As they were playing in the front yard I hear my Grandma yell in the voice of a 105 yr old grandma who smokes a pipe "Naiomi! Go home! Little girls shouldn't be playing and jumping around like this, they should be cleaning in the house. Go home and clean something. Now I've told you!" She also added soemthing about brooms and mops which I wasn't able to catch. I was in my room doing something or another and just stopped in my tracks when I heard this. I would say it even stung! This is deffiently not the first time I've seen Machismo here but this for some reason this was the one that made me stop and think, for a long time. My pesos are running out so I can't get into my thoughts right now but I'll let you dwell on this one for a while yourself.
Before I go I would like to share a success I had last week. I gave a presentation on communication to a group of about 60-70 parents. It was only a small little diddy but it felt great. This group of parents meets every two weeks and I am looking forward to getting into some good stuff with them in the future. I got a lot on my mind I share with them.
Until next time we meet...
love from me
On another note, also from the homefront, I was caught off guard and shocked the other day. Not by the donkies again, but by my ohhh so old Grandma....wait I mean...she said something that caught me off guard and shocked me. One of the little girls who lives down the street was over once again for dinner. She coincidenitly (or not so coincidentily... which is another subject) will show up around meal time a few times a week. This day she was over for dinner and after downing her soup she went out to play with my little brother, another little boy, and Nereida (the 11yr old girl who does all the chores at our house). As they were playing in the front yard I hear my Grandma yell in the voice of a 105 yr old grandma who smokes a pipe "Naiomi! Go home! Little girls shouldn't be playing and jumping around like this, they should be cleaning in the house. Go home and clean something. Now I've told you!" She also added soemthing about brooms and mops which I wasn't able to catch. I was in my room doing something or another and just stopped in my tracks when I heard this. I would say it even stung! This is deffiently not the first time I've seen Machismo here but this for some reason this was the one that made me stop and think, for a long time. My pesos are running out so I can't get into my thoughts right now but I'll let you dwell on this one for a while yourself.
Before I go I would like to share a success I had last week. I gave a presentation on communication to a group of about 60-70 parents. It was only a small little diddy but it felt great. This group of parents meets every two weeks and I am looking forward to getting into some good stuff with them in the future. I got a lot on my mind I share with them.
Until next time we meet...
love from me
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