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.”