Lavando la Ropa

In Baoba, I simply paid a doña, my neighbor, to wash my clothes weekly. Sure the clothes came back with bleach stains and barbwire holes, but I had no washing machine and this arrangement was easy. Plus now I simply fit it with all the rest of my campo friends with their bleach-stained clothes.

When I moved to Abreu, a fellow volunteer gave me her laundry machine since she was COS-ing and heading back to the United States (thanks Iris!). So now I do my own laundry, and I have learned that it is nothing at all like doing laundry in the states.

To wash clothes here, you need three things: electricity, water, and sun. It is difficult to find a day when all three off those necessities are available. When dirty laundry starts piling up, I start looking for the perfect day. I wake up at 7 when I hear the click of the refrigerator turning on – llegó la luz! I now have approximately 5 hours to finish before the electricity goes out again. Now you’re probably thinking, “oh 5 hours…that’s more than enough time to wash a week’s worth of clothes.” Ha, you’re so wrong.

Luckily, in Abreu there is always water. Unluckily, in Abreu, the water comes from the river. So if it has been raining a lot lately, the water is filthy. I recently had to call Dad and ask him if my clothes would get clean if I washed them in water as dirty as Lake Wiley. He said no, but I had no other option.

So I start filling up buckets: 2 buckets of water go into the laundry machine with detergent. Then I set out two poncheras (large, wide buckets) and fill those with water as well. The laundry machine does not have a rinse cycle, so one of those poncheras is used to hand-rinse the clothes. The other is used to soak the clothes in fabric softener.


Now there is a certain order to the clothes that need to be washed. Whites go first with a little bit of bleach, then sheets and towels because the water is clean. Then go the other clothes, according to their place on the dark color scale. After every second or third load, I have to change out all of the water to keep it clean.

After the clothes soak in a bit of suavetel, I run them through the dryer, which in fact does not dry the clothes. It is more like a wringer. It gets out all of the excess water, but does not actually dry the clothes. That’s when the sun comes in to play. The clothes then get hung out to line-dry. My clothesline is actually the electricity cable strung outside the house. Once all of the clothes are hung on the line, I still am not technically free from the chore. I have to stay in the house all day because if a storm sweeps in, as they often do on the north coast of this Caribbean island, I have to run out and collect all the clothes before the rain starts. Then I wait for the sun to appear again, and repeat the process until the day ends, night falls and I finally have clean (although a little dingy from the river water), dry clothes.

2...no wait...10 more months!

We just had our COS (close of service) conference. We came into this country as a group of 53, and we ended with 34. And our group has done amazing things: built aquaducts, taught HIV/AIDS and sexual education, registered Dominicans with birth certificates, taught children and adults how to read and write, built stoves and gardens and chicken coops.

At the conference, we learned how to readjust back to life in the US, where there is an overwhelming variety of things: foods in the supermarket, clothes in the department stores, and where kids need toys and aren’t happy just playing with a tire and a stick. But the best part of the conference was just to talk with the other volunteers. We told stories and we could all relate and understand each other’s experiences because no matter how many times we talk to people back in the US or how many times they read our blogs (no offense), people who have not done Peace Corps in the DR will not understand Peace Corps in the DR.

After three days of talking about resumes and filling out closing paperwork, we all went out to Bavaró to celebrate at an all-inclusive resort. The white sand, the endless buffets of hot dogs and hamburgers and pizza, and the air conditioning hotel rooms were a welcome change to the past two years.

After two years living in Baoba, I have developed such strong bonds with the community. It truly does feel like I belong here, like I have a home and a family here. I have decided to extend my service for an additional 8 months. In Abreu, a small town about 20 miles from Baoba, I will work to set up a children’s library in the local elementary school. I chose this extension project because of its closeness to Baoba. Hopefully I will be able to help my kids transition from me leading all of the youth meetings to them taking control and initiative. I will be far enough away where they will have to learn not to rely on me to make things happen, but I will still be close enough to visit frequently and to help out if any problems should arrive.

I’m really excited about the library project. After working in such an unstructured environment with the various youth groups, it will be nice to have a well-structured project and hopefully a visible outcome when the library is completed. I promise to come home in July, no more extensions! And just because I’m extending does not mean that I do not love you all and miss you (please pass that message along to Jordan). I’m extremely anxious to come home, but I feel that in order to really complete my service here in the Dominican Republic successfully I need to do this project.

Although I’ve made friends and developed strong relationships here in the DR, it’s still extremely hard to live so far away from you all. Please continue to send cards; they really mean a lot to me. And a big thanks to Gina for sending me the numerous children’s books- they have been such a huge hit!

Pico Duarte

I did it. Well, I guess I should say we did it because it was definitely a group effort. I, along with 7 other Peace Corps volunteers, hiked Pico Duarte. Standing at 3,087 meters, Pico Duarte is not only the tallest mountain in the Dominican Republic; it’s the tallest mountain in the Caribbean. How many of you can say that you have stood on top of a country?


In the five days it took to hike up and down the mountain, we walked in total 96 kilometers. At the end of the trip, I was exhausted, my body was sore, my knees ached…but I had conquered the mountain. Hiking in the Cordillera Central was a little bit of a surreal experience. It wasn’t the Dominican Republic that I was used to. There was no loud music blasting from the colmado, there were no chickens crowing or dogs barking, there were no motors revving their engines, and there was no Dominicans yelling at the top of their lungs. I could actually hear and appreciate nature. And (although at the end of the trip, I still hadn’t decided) it gave me plenty of time to think about what I’m planning to do after my Peace Corps adventure ends in October. And it was absolutely beautiful. There were pine trees (but no palm trees) and crystal clear rivers in which we both drank the water and then bathed in.

Of course it wasn’t all paradise. We slept on the floor of little cabins in our sleeping bags and tried to ignore the rats running around us. I had forgotten what it felt like to be truly cold until this trip because it was quite chilly high on that mountaintop. And there were a few injuries. One girl fell down and banged her knee pretty badly, and then a few hours later she got stung by a wasp. Another girl was bathing in the river and she stumped her big toe on a rock, which caused the entire nail to lift up, just barely staying connected. But we were all troopers. I’m glad I did the trip, that I conquered Señor Duarte’s little moñtana, but it’s not a hike I am likely to venture out on again.

A Norwegian Love Affair

My neighbor’s daughter married a Norwegian tourist who was visiting the Dominican Republic about 6 years. They moved to Norway, had two kids, and now come back to visit Baoba every summer. They spent the month of June here in Baoba, and I was so excited because they brought with them three Norwegians who speak English! Finally, I wasn’t so isolated in this Spanish-speaking country.

An interesting thing occurred within the three weeks they were here. Andrea (24-year-old Norwegian male) “fell in love” with Marlene (20-year-old Dominican girl who I absolutely adore). He does not speak any Spanish. She does not speak English or Norwegian. I found myself wondering, how could they fall in love if they can’t even communicate with each other?

The more time I spent with them, the more confused and disappointed I became in their relationship. He took her to various hotels, promised to buy her a computer, and then came the shocker. They are going to get married in October and she is going to move to Norway. I went with them to her house to act as translator when he wanted to talk to Marlene’s mom. He didn’t so much as ask permission to marry her daughter, but said “hey, in October I want Marlene to come live with me in Norway and then within three months we’ll get married.” And Marlene’s mom’s response: “Sure! If it’s ok with Marlene, it’s ok with me!”

They have known each other for 3 weeks (and how much getting to know each other did they do when they couldn’t even talk to each other??) and now they’re already making plans to get married?? Ay Dios Mio. I had a couple of talks with Marlene, how I wanted her to really think about this. “It’s a life-changing decision. Don’t get married just because he has money or because you want to travel.” And of course she got offended, saying “I would never do that!” But I know that almost all Dominicans want to leave this country, are constantly searching for a better, easier life, and this seems like a temptation that she just can’t pass up.

And what’s in it for Andrea? I’m not too sure. But I do know that Dominican women make great housewives. They cook, clean, mop…basically these doñas know how to run a house and play that typical “woman” role well. And Andrea, who has worked and lived by himself since he was 16, is possibly now ready to settle down and find someone to take care of him.

Andrea has left for Norway by now. He didn’t buy Marlene a computer, but he did leave her with a good amount of money for her to buy whatever she wants. They’ve applied for her passport and starting filling out visa paperwork, and he says he’ll come back at the end of September to travel with her. A lot could happen within these next three months, but I certainly hope Marlene makes the decision that is best for her.

Politics

Political season has arrived. For the past two months, every Sunday there has been a caravana in Baoba and the neighboring communities. A caravana occurs when all of the supporters for one political party ride on their motors or in their pick up trucks honking horns, yelling and waving flags. These caravanas last for a couple of hours, with the politicians providing free gas to anyone who participates and dresses in that party’s designated color (one party is purple; the other is white). Unfortunately, at least one person dies in almost every caravana due to too many drunken, excited people riding on motors and not paying attention to what’s going on around them.

Baoba is especially excited to get a new mayor because ours left to live in the US about two months ago. So everyone’s ready to elect a new one, one that hopefully will stay in town throughout his entire term. Houses have hosted rallies, and the two candidates have been busy giving out money, fixing motors, and doing whatever else they think is necessary to win votes (a.k.a. bribery). People can submit wish lists to their desired candidates, and the candidates will buy them pretty much whatever they want in order to win more votes.

This is an actual conversation that I overheard:
Person A: “My candidate hasn’t given me anything. I asked for him to help me build my house.”
Person B: “I’ll talk to the other candidate. He’ll buy you 15 bags of cement for your house if you promise to vote for him.”
Person A: “Deal. I’ll switch political parties. Bring me the cement within two days.”

And there is no secrecy to the voting process. Sure, it’s all supposed to be private. However everyone knows who belongs to which party, and therefore they are able to literally count the votes and project the results 100% correctly. On Election Day, the politicians even pay drivers to take citizens to the polls, but only if they belong to their particular party. And when the people leave the polls, they are asked who they voted for and then paid money accordingly.

May 16 is Election Day. Our Peace Corps Director has ordered everyone to stay in the sites until he gives the all clear because of expected riots and random acts of violence. And this is just for local elections. Imagine how the country will be in 2012 when it is time for the presidential election. For the last presidential election, one candidate dropped pounds of salami from a helicopter around various communities. The one good thing about Election Day is that it is one of three days (Election Day, Christmas Day and Easter) in the entire year when the entire country has electricity for twenty-four hours straight.

Escojo Este

What a difference a year makes. Last April, I took my first two jóvenes to the regional Escojo conference. And just this past weekend I took another two jóvenes to the 2010 Regional Escojo Conference. Instead of having an application process to choose who the lucky travelers would be, I picked the last two members of my youth group who have yet to travel with me. Now every single one of my twenty Escojo kids can say that I took them to a conference where they met new friends and got to see a part of their country that they might not ever have had the opportunity to see. Last year I had to beg and plead with the kids’ parents for them to grant permission for them to leave with me. This year the parents didn’t ask me a single question. They completely trusted me to travel with their children and to arrive back safely in Baoba.

This Escojo conference was amazing. And it was mainly due to the effort of the regional coordinators. Regional coordinators are Dominican youth who have already graduated from Escojo and now they take on the volunteers’ role as group leaders. This is a great example of a Peace Corps success story because the main goal of Peace Corps is sustainability. We want our projects to continue after the volunteers leave. We want Dominicans to take charge of their own future and lead their own.

In this conference there were about 75 people: 10 volunteers, 10 regional coordinators, and 50 teenagers. The regional coordinators were in charge of giving all of the charlas (the theme of the conference was how to prevent early pregnancy), of animating the kids so they wouldn’t get bored, of serving the food, and of keeping the kids well-behaved and they did a great job. We volunteers were able to just sit back and relax because everything ran so smoothly.

At the conference, there was barely any free time for the kids. They heard charlas on teenage pregnancy, condoms, protecting the environment, conflict resolution, creativity, and communication. The kids were also given an egg that they had to take care of during the weekend like it was their baby. They couldn’t leave the egg alone, and of course they couldn’t let the egg break. Out of 25 pairs, only 9 eggs died, which I thought was pretty impressive. We also had a talent show and a bonfire, complete with roasted marshmallows and s’mores.

El Limón

In November, I took 18 of my Escojo Mi Vida kids (along with Lily’s Escojo group in La Capilla) to a famous waterfall in the Samaná peninsula, called “el salto del Limón.” It was certainly an adventure, although it was more trouble planning the trip than actually hiking up to the waterfall.

With the peaje money that we raised in August, we wanted to take a trip somewhere. The kids wanted to go to Puerto Plata, Santo Domingo, or Constanza, but all of those trips were too expensive. We would use up all of our money on transport and not have any money for food or activities. So I talked with Lily, who wanted to take one last trip with her group before she left the country (she’s done with her 2 years already!), and we decided to pool our money and go to El Limón.


When I announced the trip, not one of the kids was excited. I knew it was a great opportunity or the kids, so I really pressured everyone to go. But as we got closer to the actual date, I just stopped caring. I would enjoy the trip with the few that actually wanted to go and stop worrying about the others. So I told everyone who wanted to go to show up at the bus stop early in the morning with their lunch packed…and 18 showed up! Basically just the few older (and more stubborn) group members decided against going on the trip.

The two-hour ride up to the El Limón was fairly uneventful. We stopped the bus a couple of times for bathroom breaks and when one of my girls got bus sick. But overall everyone was excited to travel to the Samaná Peninsula because they had never seen that part of the Dominican Republic before.

There are two ways to get to El Limón. The easier way is by horseback. The harder (and cheaper) way is by hiking. So we hiked. The day was a beautiful day to hike – no rain and the trail was shaded by trees, so it wasn’t too hot either. However the weeks leading up to our hiking date had been full of rain so the trail was incredibly muddy. At times I put my foot down and the mud reached up to my shin. I didn’t mind, but my Dominican teenagers who were dressed to impress were not happy.


Eventually we arrived, the kids swam in the freezing cold water, we ate our lunch (everyone had packed rice, salami and spaghetti), and then we hiked back. We stopped at a famous beach called Las Terrenas on the way back home, but the kids didn’t like it because the ocean water was “too salty.”

Dominicanisms

The people say that Dominican is a language all its own, that it’s so different from Spanish (for confirmation, ask Megan who came to visit me after living in Spain). So here are some special Dominican colloquialisms.

• “Yo vivo pa’lla.” – “I live over there.” This can mean anywhere between two houses down the street or in the neighboring community. Apparently there is no need to be specific in the Dominican Republic.
• “Estoy buscando una cosa.” – “I am looking for something.” Once again, specificity is not a valued conversation piece.
• “Mi amor, mi corazon, mi vida, mi reina, mi princesa.” – “My love, my heart, my life, my queen, my princess.” Used to refer to your significant other, your child, your friend, your neighbor, or just the random stranger walking down the street.
• Nonverbal forearm in a horizontal position and then a fist pump. – “I’m doing well, how are you?”
• Nonverbal arm stretched out, palm raised. – “What’s up?”
• “PSSSSSSSSSST” – “Hey, look over here!”
• “Nueva Yol” – Puerto Rico, the United States, New York, Boston or any other slightly related country/city.
• “Bañarse” – In normal Spanish, this means “to bathe.” In Dominican, this also means “to swim.” On trips to the beach and river, this can be extremely confusing.
• “Si Dios quiere.” Literally translates to “God willing,” but used in the context “I don’t want to go to that meeting, so I’ll go if it’s God’s will” (if someone says this, don’t expect them to show up).
• Nonverbal scrunching up the nose – “I didn’t hear you. Please repeat what you just said.”
• Nonverbal pursing your lips together in a specific direction, more commonly known as the lip point – Just as it sounds, pointing to a person or thing without using your finger.
• “Coño, Diablo” – cuss words. One of these is probably used in every single sentence spoken by every single person in the DR. There’s a two year boy in Baoba and these are the only two words that he knows how to say.
• “Dame” – “Give me.” There is no “Lauren, can I please borrow your straightening iron?” or “Lauren, I’m thirsty. Can I please have a glass of water.” It’s “Give me your hair dryer. Give me water. Give me $500 pesos.”
• “¿Qué me trajiste?” – “What did you bring me?” I get asked this anytime I leave and then return to Baoba. Everyone wants me to bring them back gifts. At first I felt guilty, like I should’ve brought back all 1,500 people a gift every time I left for a day trip to the neighboring town. But now I simply respond with “el mismo que tú me guardaste.” (the same thing you saved for me) aka nothing.


There are also random US brand names that have been adopted into the Dominican vocabulary:
• Pahmpeh: diapers/Pampers
• Pezi: Pepsi
• Cloro: bleach/Clorox
• Jogu: yogurt
• Tepi: masking tape
• Polo che: t-shirt (and confusingly enough, a “tee-che” means polo shirt with a collar)
• Steeekeh: sticker

Otra gringa experience

The Dominican Republic is a beautiful place. With Lauren as my superb Dominican guide, I experienced much more of the República Dominicana than the regular all-inclusive seeking tourist. It was surreal to stay in her town and meet her neighbors and friends after reading and hearing so much about them. Boaba was both bigger and smaller than I had imagined. It spans a sizable area bisected by one incredibly bumpy road but the "center" of town is marked only by the existence of a store, which when I called it a store Lauren laughed. More accurately I guess, it is a shopping stall -but it carries everything from graham crackers to toilet paper...so you tell me.

Lauren's house is very nice, with gleaming white floors and a lot of windows that let in both light and mosquitoes. At first I was worried about the lack of steady power and promise of bucket baths, but after a day or so it felt normal. Though I know the timing of my trip was probably inconvenient for Lauren because of her busy schedule, I really feel like I got to see Lauren in action in many parts of her DR life.

My first full day I experienced the many forms of public transportation in the DR- the daily 6:30 town pickup, a público-shared car, a gua-gua-local bus, and finally a motoconcho-motorcycle back to Boaba. All an adventure! I met two young girls in Lauren's girl scout-type group and several other Peace Corps Volunteers (PVCs) at the Women Empowerment/ Future planning conference held at the beautiful Matacitas beach. The conference turned out to be a hit with the young girls, they discussed their futures, danced, did crafts, played on the beach and had pizza and soda. After hearing that DR teen girls are often married and having kids, it was nice seeing the girls run around having carefree fun like all 13-15 year old girls love to do.

I also treated myself to one of the best pedicures of my life rendered by Lauren's neighbor for an astonishing $5. Upon encouragement from Lauren's boyfriend Javier, we took a scenic road trip around the Samaná peninsula to the Samaná and Las Terrenas beaches, both breathtaking. (see pictures) I will say though, the DR is a tough place to live if you get car sick easily- most roads, paved or unpaved, contain a plethora of pot holes, hills and curves! Unfortunately, I came with a bout of stomach sickness so I did not get to sample much of Lauren's rumored superb cooking or even much of the typical Dominican fare, but I did eat some rice and beans cooked by Javier's mom and they were delicioso! I might come back just so I can try some of her fried chicken.

A trip to Juan Dolio, a southern beach town provided us with a day at the beach, unlimited Internet (much to Lauren's delight) and some splotchy sunburn on my part. I then got to go with Lauren to La Capital, Santo Domingo, where a two-day Peace Corps conference was being held. I saw the Peace Corps office bustling with PCVs and was even able to stroll around the colonial zone for a few hours. It was great meeting so many of Lauren's PCV friends, they seem like a great bunch--all very fun, creative and supportive people. I was sad to leave before the anticipated Peace Corp Prom night, but happy to be on my way before the possible riots of the approaching election day.

Seeing Lauren in her element as led me to believe that she really is becoming more Dominican every day. Proof lies in a few of my observations below:

• She speaks Spanish like a true Dominican, I could hardly understand her sometimes!
• She refuses to leave her house if it is raining outside (even though she has an umbrella)
• no power? no problem. She just lights her oil lamp, goes out and sits on one of her plastic chairs
• She is rumored to be a master domino player
• She buys Halls cough drops as after dinner mints
• She would rather wear shorts and a tank top than her bathing suit on the beach
• She does not walk to the store, instead she yells up the street and one of her neighbor kids goes to the store for her...they also collect fresh mangos for her!
  
• Paying more than $15 for a hostel is expensive...she thinks in pesos.

All in all, my time with Lauren in the DR was awesome. Thanks for taking such great care of me Lauren! If you haven't already made plans to go visit, all I can say is what are you waiting for?!

** Written by the lovely red-headed Megan **

Semana Santa

Holy Week has begun. Last year, I believe I mentioned the various drunken beach parties that “holy week” is known for here in the Dominican Republic. However since the majority of the country is Catholic, there are of course various religious services during this week as well, so I’ll focus on those these year.

Last Sunday was Palm Sunday, or Dia de los Ramos. Everyone took some sort of tree branch (not necessarily a palm, although mine was) to the baseball field at 6:30 in the morning. We all crowded in a circle around the priest, holding our branches high in the air. The priest then came and sprayed (noticed the verb term is not sprinkled, but sprayed) holy water on us and the tree branches. Then we sang and walked to the church, and started the normal Sunday mass. We’re all supposed to save our branches since they are now holy, but I have no idea what I’m saving it for.

I was looking forward to the Maundy Thursday service because Concord Presbyterian back in Statesville usually does a drama of the last supper and since Dominicans LOVE acting in dramas, I assumed they would do the same thing. They didn’t. It was just a normal Catholic mass (scheduled to start at 8 p.m., but the priest arrived at 8:45), with one exception. The church reserved the first two pews for all the men in attendance, and then the priest washed their feet just as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. I thought it was just a little gender-inappropriate that only the men were allowed to participate in this part of the service when the majority of the people in attendance were women (I’d say the men-to-women ration was 1-to-5), but no one else seemed to notice.

Holy Friday was an interesting day. The national laws on this day are that: 1) people are not allowed to eat meat (but they can eat fish); the big food tradition is to make habichuelas con dulces (or sweetened red beans). In my refrigerator, there is about four pounds of sweet beans that all the various neighbors have given me. 2) No music is allowed to be played (the police can confiscate the radios if they hear it), and 3) there is not to be a Catholic mass. The congregation did meet at the church in the afternoon, where they had informal prayers and then walked around Baoba visiting the sick and elderly.

Apparently the Saturday before Resurrection Sunday is the big church service here in the Dominican Republic. There were probably 100 people (which is about double the normal attendance) who participated in the service. We all met in the basketball court and lit candles. Then walked to the church, blew out the candles and had a 2 hour Catholic mass. The service was pretty basic – the priest read the bible, we prayed, the choir sang, and communion was passed – except for one thing: the blessing of the water. Everyone had brought 2-liter plastic bottles filled with basic (amoebic) water and placed the bottles on the alter in the front of the sanctuary. The priest then blessed the water, converting it into holy water, and then he walked around and sprinkled the congregation with holy water as well. After the service, everyone rushed up to grab their bottle of water (and like with my blessed palm branch), I have no idea what people do with their own personal bottle of holy water.

The Easter Sunday service turnout was surprisingly pitiful. The mass was at the normal hour (7:15 a.m.), and I was about one of twenty people who went. I guess the congregation figured that if they went to church the night before, why go the following morning?

La Jefa

Yo soy la jefa.

I am the chief, the boss, the head honcho in my youth group of 30 preteens and teenagers. And unfortunately, that also makes me the disciplinarian when my orders and mandates go unheeded.

With my youth group, I have been lucky in that they know me and respect me, so I can get away with punishing them by simply telling them how disappointed I am in their behavior (the technique more commonly known as the guilt trip) or by making them write apology letters or defining respect and responsibility. I can glare at them and they know to stop whatever bad behavior in which they are currently involved.

But these “alternative” disciplinary methods don’t usually work in the Dominican Republic. This is a culture where the teachers are still allowed to take off their belt in the middle of class to hit a student who is “too stupid” to learn the material. This is a culture where the older siblings are sent to pluck a splintering branch from the closest tree to hit the toddler who is throwing a temper tantrum. Therefore my non-violent disciplinarian techniques often lack the necessary “uuumph” to get the job done.

I realized this today during the town’s celebration of International Youth Day. We loaded up the pickup truck (20 of us total) and headed to the church in the closest large pueblo, Payitas. They had invited youth groups from all over region, so there were about 200 kids total. And 4 adults. Including me. I have no idea how all of the other kids got to Payitas, but it seemed as if their parents threw them all in trucks and told the drivers just to let them off wherever.

The event, which lasted for 4 hours, started off well. We sang a few songs, I did a few silly games and Montreat-like energizers, and then each group gave a little presentation. Some of the kids from my group did a 1 minute drama on how we shouldn’t discriminate against senior citizens; other groups sang, read poetry, and told jokes.

After about 2 hours the kids started getting antsy. And they started leaving the church to play outside, so I had to stand guard. I spent the next two hours interrogating everyone who wanted to leave, then letting them leave one-by-one to go to the bathroom, and then chasing the ones who escaped, leaving through the other 6 doors in the sanctuary. It was a nightmare (and the most annoying part was when of the other adults came over to me after about an hour of me chasing around the little rugrats and said in a sickeningly sweet voice “it would really help us out if didn’t let the kids leave the church.” Um yeah, maybe if she would’ve helped me stand guard, instead of her staying seated, drinking her glass of orange soda, the kids would be under a little more control.) Luckily my group was well-behaved enough that I didn’t have to worry about them. I just had to worry about the other 180 rambunctious kids.

Parlez-Vous Francais?

I (along with seven other community members) was invited to the high school the other day as an honored guest and judge of Franco-Phonía, a festival where the kids celebrated “all” of the countries that speak French. Why does Baoba choose to celebrate France and its language?? I have absolutely no idea.

Various groups of students presented a country, telling about its culture and food, native dress, geography and politics. The countries represented were France, Luxembourg, Vietnam, Italy, Switzerland, Canada, and Africa (apparently I’m the only judge who seemed to notice that Africa is not a country). And surprisingly, the one country that I naturally assumed would be represented – Haiti – was not even mentioned.

As a judge, it was my job to choose the country that was best represented in the various presentations. It was hard to choose a winner – mainly because every presentation blurred together. I learned that in France, Africa, Luxembourg, Italy, and Canada, the national food dishes are white rice, fish, and spaghetti (I think because these foods were easy for the kids to bring to class). As a judge I was supposed to try the foods, but by the time I got to the table to get my taste, all of the kids had already eaten everything. Although I did get to drink some wine with the high school students, since every country’s national beverage is a cheap red wine called “La Fuerza,” meaning “the strength” and on the bottle is a picture of a muscle builder flexing his biceps…mmm classy.

The native dress in all of the countries was jeans and sunglasses. Although the group from Switzerland added a jacket because of the cold weather. Most of the countries just did a basic model runway walk to show the clothes, but the group from Vietnam added three reggaeton dances so that the models could show how well the clothes fit when they booty-danced.

And the winner??? France. I actually liked Africa’s presentation best, but I just couldn’t announce them the winner since Africa is in fact a continent full of various countries, each with their own unique culture and geography. Apparently the kids are going to do the same thing in about a month or so, but they’re going to celebrate the countries that speak English, and I’m very much looking forward to those presentations.

Las Mariposas

Regina and I just led a three day camp for young Dominican girls ages 12-17. The camp, called Campamento Mariposas, is the start of a year-long all girls Peace Corps initiative. I have participated in various camps before (including the weeklong Camp GLOW (girls leading our world) last July), but this was the first one that I was actually in charge of coordinating and organizing. And let me tell you, planning large scale events in a third-world country without internet access and with little cell phone service is difficult!

We picked a gorgeous venue for the camp, a retreat center called Blue Moon, located in Sabaneta de Yásica. Instead of the normal dormitory setup, the girls slept in small cabañas. The space was very intimate (with room for only 20 girls and 10 volunteers), but on a mountaintop surrounded by lush greenery. It was away from the noise of the highway, and we thought it would be a great place for reflection. The only difficulty with the small space was that our eating area was also the only area to give charlas and do activities. So before and after every meal, Regina and I were busy pushing together tables and setting up chairs.

I was a little nervous about our agenda because I had heard about the success of the previous regional conference in the south. All of the volunteers raved about the amazing camp they gave based on gender roles, and even my boss suggested we copy their whole agenda. Since her idea came approximately four days before our conference was scheduled to start, we already had our agenda, which was based on self-esteem and self-confidence, organized.

Regina and I set up the three-day agenda based on the volunteers’ strengths. Jenie (a tai-kwan-do competitor) gave a self-defense demonstration. Iris (a youth volunteer in Sanchez) has an HIV-support group in her site, so she and a member of the support group gave a charla on HIV/AIDS. This charla was a huge success because the girls could relate to this woman’s real life experience living with the illness. Eva (a youth volunteer in Rincon Hondo and an amazing artist) led the girls in making plaster-of-paris masks of their faces so the girls could talk about the uniqueness of everyone’s faces. Our two male volunteers Andrew and Jacob gave a charla on gender roles, and I think it was more effective for the girls to hear males say that its ok for men to work in the kitchen and do chores than if just us female volunteers gave the same charla. And Regina (the dancer of the group) gave a great charla on nutrition and then led the girls in yoga and dance-exercise.

And of the course the girls loved all of the extra activities. There was plenty of time for the girls to relax and enjoy being away from the stresses of doing household chores and studying for classes and plenty of time for the girls to get to know each other. They loved swimming in the pool, and the last night we had a dance party and a bonfire (complete with s’mores). On Sunday morning, none of the girls wanted to leave and everyone was exchanging phone numbers and making plans to keep in touch.

With the success of Campamento Mariposas, I have decided to help lead the weeklong Camp GLOW this July. Alison and Mariel (two youth volunteers from the south) and I are planning everything, so Ill be sure to let you all know how that goes. Hopefully it all runs smoothly and we don’t have any flashfloods like last year!

Darlene

A group of American doctors (the Geheraty Medical Mission) recently came to Santo Domingo to perform free plastic surgeries on both kids and adults. The patients had problems ranging from cleft lips to extra digits to burn scars. These amazing doctors come every year to the Dominican Republic to stay two weeks helping those who are less fortunate.

Darlene is a 7-year-old girl in my site who has an extra finger and a extra toe. The extra finger doesn’t bother her. But the extra toe makes it difficult and painful for her to wear tennis shoes (which are required as part of the school uniform). When I heard about the medical mission, I thought that she would be a perfect candidate.

I found out about the medical mission when I was in the capital on Friday. Patient registration was the following Sunday. So I rushed back to Baoba to talk to Darlene’s mom. Darlene’s mom is a single mother who has two jobs: cleaning and cooking for a private home and working in a nail salon. When she heard about the opportunity, she told me that she would love for Darlene to have the surgery but unfortunately with the short notice, she couldn’t afford the trip or get off work. So I volunteered to take Darlene by myself.

We had to be at the hospital at 7 am on Sunday, so Darlene and I left Baoba on Saturday night. There was no way we could arrive on time if we left Sunday morning. This was only Darlene’s second trip to the capital, and she clung to me every second of the way. I traveled prepared for anything. I brought Dramamine, band-aids, Tylenol, mosquito repellent and anything else I could think of that she might need. Luckily she needed none of that. What she did enjoy however were my various forms of entertainment. I brought with us a deck of playing cards, a coloring book and crayons, the story Curious George and my ipod full of Dominican music. We got to the capital around 6 pm and went straight to dinner. I took her out for pizza because she had never eaten it before and she loved it! Afterwards, we just went back to the hostel and went to bed.

We woke up early on Sunday. I brushed and braided her hair, and we headed to the hospital. We arrived at 6:30, were given a ticket (number 68) and sent to stand in a line outside. I found the doctors, told them I was a Peace Corps volunteer, and they quickly changed my ticket to number 1 and moved us to a more comfortable waiting room. The doctors confirmed that they could perform the surgery on Darlene and scheduled us to return on Thursday.

We left Baoba early on Thursday morning (6:30 am) and arrived at the hospital around 11. For this trip, Darlene’s mom, Alexandra, also came with us. Once they put Darlene in the hospital gown, she became to cry because she was so nervous. So I went and put on hospital scrubs and told Darlene that I would go with her in the operating room and not leave her side until it was over. This seemed to calm her down.

We walked into the operating room and everything was going well. About two minutes after she received the anesthesia and fell asleep, I started feeling woozy (did you all see this coming?) so I tried to leave the operating room. But on my way out a nurse stopped me and asked me to open up a packet of gauze for her. This seemed to push me over the edge. My vision narrowed, I started sweating…and BOOM! I passed out on the operating room floor. So instead of taking care of Darlene, the doctors now had to worry about me. I woke up about 15 seconds later, lying on a hospital bed with a doctor holding my legs up in the air. Once everyone saw that I was ok and that I didn’t hit my head during the fall, the surgeons went back to the operating room. The Dominican nurses however stayed around me, offering me candy and Gatorade, and telling me that I was dumb for skipping breakfast that morning.

I stayed on my own little hospital bed until Darlene’s surgery was done and she was coming out of the anesthesia. Because I was at her side when she fell asleep and when she woke up, she thinks I stayed right there the whole time. She stayed in the recovery room for about 30 minutes, played with all of her gifts that the doctors gave her (a Barbie doll, 2 stuffed animals, stickers, coloring book, ball, jewelry), and then we returned to Baoba. Everyone keeps asking me how Darlene did in the surgery, and I can only reply “she did better than I.”

Only in the DR, Round Dos

My doña refuses to give me a glass of water to drink whenever I’m eating food that is served hot, like soup or rice pudding. When I asked her about it, she said it was because she knew someone who had gotten cancer and died from drinking something cold after eating something hot. In the same token, whenever I come back from running to the beach or doing some type of exercise, I am not allowed to open the refrigerator myself to get a glass of water. Because my body temperature is so hot, if I stand in front of something cold, like the fridge, I will die.

All Dominicans love the lottery. Every host family I’ve been in stops what they are doing every night at 9 p.m. to watch the lottery on television. Yet not one of those times has anyone ever bought a lottery ticket. They also repeatedly yell out the numbers in case anyone who happened to turn away from the tv for half a second missed the revealing of the numbers. The next day, everyone talks about the numbers that were selected.

I brought two photo albums with me to the DR: one full of pictures of my friends and me, and one with pictures of Jordan and me. These two photo albums sit on my counter for everyone to look at and marvel at how beautiful Americans are. I was feeling homesick the other day, so I went to look at the pictures. As I flipped through the photos, hundreds of tiny termites came running out of the album. Apparently they had nested in the felt background of the photo albums. So I sprayed the photo album and all of its plastic coverings with RAID in the hopes to kill the bugs (and not ruin the pictures!)

As I mentioned before in my journal entry on Baoba’s Patronales, a few of my girls were asked to dance at the town’s celebration. In the original dance, there were 5 girls, but for Patronales, only four of them were able to dance. Leidi’s mom wouldn’t let her dance because the sponsors at our little town’s festival were not going to pay the girls. So Leidi had to sit out on the sidelines simply because her mom was greedy and wanted some sort of compensation for her daughter to do what she loves.

Alvino had been bothering me for 2 months to start another English course so he could enlist. After all of pleading, I finally consented and signed people up for the course. The course lasted 4 months, and he only went to two classes. This made me so mad. I hadn’t wanted to teach another English class, and then the one person who convinced me to do it didn’t even attend the class regularly. After the course ended, I asked him why he never attended. His response: he was in love with me and being so close to me during the class made him nervous and gave him an upset stomach.

"Busca el colin"

When John Carlos (my 17-year-old handyman) came over to take care of my house’s termite problem, I got a little more than I had bargained for. I had been hounding this kid for 4 months to come over and kill all of the termites. I had the poison and the spray bottle, and all I needed was a muchacho to do the dirty work for me.

So I finally convinced him to come over by baking a chocolate cake and promising him two pieces as payment. He showed up, climbed up into my “attic” (which is really just like an open crawl space above my living room) and started spraying the insecticide. Just as he was about to finish, I heard him say “Whoa!”

“What is it??” I asked.

“Lauren, it’s nothing,” he replied. “Pero busca un colin rápido.” (translation: run and get a machete!)

I was a little confused as why he told me there was nothing, yet sent me to find a machete. But I quickly complied without asking more questions. As Frank once taught me, if everyone behind you starts to run, don’t stop to ask them why they are running; just run with them.

I gave him the machete, and went outside. Whatever was going on up in that attic, I did not want to be near it. After about two solid minutes of hearing the metal repeatedly clink against the wooden beams, I heard a soft thud. In my living room floor was a 3 foot long black snake (now a beheaded and bloody mess).

John Carlos threw the snake outside in the community trash pile, threw some bleach on my bloodstained floor, washed his hands and asked for his cake, while I stood there in shock, creeped out by the fact that a snake had been living in my house for who-knows-how-long.

When I went to return the machete back to my neighbor, I explained about the snake and she asked me what we did with it. I told her that we had thrown it in the trash pile and she informed me that (the superstition is) we have to burn the snake as a warning to all other snakes in the area. Otherwise more will come. So then she and spent the next hour going through the trash to find and burn the snake. We never found it, so I’m just hoping that the other snakes will see their buddy beheaded and get the message even without setting it afire.

America is AMAZING!!

Tomorrow I head back to the beauty and warmth of the Dominican Republic. While I am definitely not ready to leave the luxuries of America quite yet, I am ready to leave this cold weather. Right now (at 9 p.m.) it is 73 degrees in Santo Domingo.

I just want to thank everyone who made the time to visit with me and hear about my travels; everyone who bought me a drink or dinner (or a bowl game ticket!); everyone who cooked and baked me delicious food; and everyone who gave me books or art supplies to take back to Baoba. I truly would not be able to do this job without the love and support of all of you.

I am blessed to have such amazing family and friends and to live in a country where running water, showers and electricity are the norm. Can't wait to see you all again in November 2010, and don't forget that I am always welcoming visitors.