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.