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.