In my nearly 9 months in this country, I cannot recall a single time that I've heard a Dominican voice contentment regarding the weather. And we talk a lot about the weather. Usually it's unbearably hot, but as we're entering "winter", and it's been a rainy week, it's been atypically chilly, if there is such a thing in the tropics. It's been nice to actually need the beautiful afghan my cousin made me at night, but as for the rest of my community…I'm not sure they'll make it out alive. Everyone has donned their beanies and jean jackets, looking like something straight out of Grease, and the first thing mentioned in any conversation I've had over the past few days is how cold it is. Yesterday, as I sat in outdoor conversation with a t-shirted young man, he was visibly shivering!
We're talking, bottoms, 55 degrees here, at 4 AM when it's at its coldest. Maybe it's ME that won't make it out alive, as I'll be in TN for Christmas where I'm sure 55 is the high… Guess I'll just have to stay indoors and eat a lot and take a lot of hot showers. Darn.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Growth and Progress (written 11.19.08)
With the slow pace of my life here in the campo, I've been able to pay more attention to the way things grow. My cat changes from kitten to lioness more every day, the cucumber and tomato seeds I planted have sprouted up perkily, and even the hair in my armpits I document more closely. I've learned to sit and watch and be patient, although the progress part of it all is less forthcoming. I still hold out hope that my money will be here by January to start construction on fuel efficient cook stoves, but the Dominicans are much more patient that I, with their perpetual response of "si Dios quiere" - if God wills it. There's only so much creative work I can do in the community, with youth groups and the like, without a large chunk of change to back me up.
For all their talent at waiting and putting things off for another day (Scarlet O'Hara style, they'll "think about that tomorrow"), Dominicans are a very loud bunch. I wake several days every week to my neighbor screaming, about what I have still yet to determine. Children way beyond the age, in my opinion, where crying to get what you want is excusable, emit blood-curdling, through rattling screams with alarming regularity; students constantly try to outdo one another, as well as their teachers, in classroom volume; and teenagers who wish for a free ride from a passing truck don't merely sport a smile and an upturned thumb - they cry like banshees until the driver takes notice, at which point they scuttle around the vehicle, suddenly undecided of whether or not they wish to hop aboard.
It's amazing the amount of noise that can come out of such a seemingly calm location. If we could just get the motorcyclists to take advantage of modern day science - anyone heard of a muffler? - our lives would be completely different. Peace Corps project, anyone?
For all their talent at waiting and putting things off for another day (Scarlet O'Hara style, they'll "think about that tomorrow"), Dominicans are a very loud bunch. I wake several days every week to my neighbor screaming, about what I have still yet to determine. Children way beyond the age, in my opinion, where crying to get what you want is excusable, emit blood-curdling, through rattling screams with alarming regularity; students constantly try to outdo one another, as well as their teachers, in classroom volume; and teenagers who wish for a free ride from a passing truck don't merely sport a smile and an upturned thumb - they cry like banshees until the driver takes notice, at which point they scuttle around the vehicle, suddenly undecided of whether or not they wish to hop aboard.
It's amazing the amount of noise that can come out of such a seemingly calm location. If we could just get the motorcyclists to take advantage of modern day science - anyone heard of a muffler? - our lives would be completely different. Peace Corps project, anyone?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Guagua Diaries (written 11.11.08)
I never feel more like I live in developing Latin America than when I'm riding along in a guagua, headed to my site. I look out the window and see Haitian workers chopping weeds, Doñas carrying buckets of water, and trash fires at every glance, all to a background of merengue tipico. I feel as if I am simultaneously in a movie and observing one. I could be filming these scenes, or be the one on film from the outside of the bus, my head pressed against the smudgy glass. It is a serene and beautiful experience.
The Shampoo Thief (written 11.11.08)
I believe I mentioned in my last blog that I felt no bitterness toward my community due to my house situation (clearly I'm too lazy to check my last entry to verify this) and that although I felt taken advantage of, I didn't feel that way toward my neighbors. Last Thursday night changed that.
Michal and I arrived late at my site, took showers by candlelight (note: my bathroom is separate from my house, but only about 3 feet away, and the electricity was out) and cooked dinner at almost midnight. Before we were sitting down to eat, I went out to the bathroom to blow out the candle we had left while bathing; everything seemed normal. After dinner, I went out to the restroom again and what to my wondering eyes should appear? NOT my shampoo, conditioner, facewash, bodywash, and baby wipes! Someone had managed to get into the bathroom in the dark and take all of these things without making a noise. They left my towels and toothbrush, which led me to believe it was a kid or at least someone I know, but NO ONE I know walks around at midnight. It's just not done here. We went to bed a bit weirded out, and the next morning I noticed that my gate was still closed, in the exact position I had left it (it's kinda flimsy, so you can tell when it's been opened and closed).
Obviously, this is a mild offense and no real harm was done; the real issue is my comfort, because I am made very uneasy by the idea that someone is creeping around my house at night, arriving through the woods, most likely expecting that I am asleep. That is NOT ok.
Like a good PCV, I called our safety and security coordinator to tell her the news, being sure to mention that I will be moving soon to a house that includes an INDOOR bathroom. I'm less upset about this move every day, and I may even get money from Peace Corps to replace my bathroom potions!
Michal and I arrived late at my site, took showers by candlelight (note: my bathroom is separate from my house, but only about 3 feet away, and the electricity was out) and cooked dinner at almost midnight. Before we were sitting down to eat, I went out to the bathroom to blow out the candle we had left while bathing; everything seemed normal. After dinner, I went out to the restroom again and what to my wondering eyes should appear? NOT my shampoo, conditioner, facewash, bodywash, and baby wipes! Someone had managed to get into the bathroom in the dark and take all of these things without making a noise. They left my towels and toothbrush, which led me to believe it was a kid or at least someone I know, but NO ONE I know walks around at midnight. It's just not done here. We went to bed a bit weirded out, and the next morning I noticed that my gate was still closed, in the exact position I had left it (it's kinda flimsy, so you can tell when it's been opened and closed).
Obviously, this is a mild offense and no real harm was done; the real issue is my comfort, because I am made very uneasy by the idea that someone is creeping around my house at night, arriving through the woods, most likely expecting that I am asleep. That is NOT ok.
Like a good PCV, I called our safety and security coordinator to tell her the news, being sure to mention that I will be moving soon to a house that includes an INDOOR bathroom. I'm less upset about this move every day, and I may even get money from Peace Corps to replace my bathroom potions!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Addition to "You Know You're In the Peace Corps When..." list
- You wake in the night to find a 6 foot snake as thick as your arm dangling on the wall behind the head of your bed. Then, 2 days later, on the side of your fridge.
- You lunch on prime rib at a resort with the ambassador to the U.S., and then cook by lamplight over a gas stove, within a 6 hour period
- You see a skinny horse running down the street, it's neck attached by rope to the back of a motorcycle.
- You lunch on prime rib at a resort with the ambassador to the U.S., and then cook by lamplight over a gas stove, within a 6 hour period
- You see a skinny horse running down the street, it's neck attached by rope to the back of a motorcycle.
A Thicker Skin (written 11.1.08)
Growing up, I was always told it would come in handy, and it certainly would have yesterday. To add onto my last entry, another hard thing about being in the Peace Corps is that the effect of being away from your friends, family, and every other familiar thing you've ever known is compacted by the feeling that you are often times taken advantage of by the exact people you are here to teach and learn from. Although I've calmed my thoughts about the owners of my house by reminding myself that they are not actually part of my community, there's no denying that my Brigada Verde kids are, and that yesterday, a group of them lied to me.
It wasn't a big lie, but after all I've done for them, it shocked and appalled me that they could even think about being dishonest with me. Last week, I gave a young girl some candy for her birthday, so yesterday a group showed up, mid-birthday song, claiming that it was someone else's birthday. Although I was suspicious, they came singing his praise, and had given him the customary water bottle bath that seems to be a tradition among the 12 and unders. So I gave him sweets, and even some old Christmas decorations that had heretofore adorned my porch. (Truthfully, I was ready to part with the latter, but these same kids had been my decorators and I wasn't willing to simply trash their work.) They were on their way, singing and display their sweet and shiny winnings, and I didn't think twice about it, until I found out later that it wasn't actually said-boy's birthday…
Irrationally angry - how could my OWN kids, because that's how I think of them, take advantage of me, even in this silliest of ways! - I fumed for a while, and decided I would not let this go unaddressed. Several hours later, the oldest boy and ringleader of this deceitful plan passed by my house on the way to church (how could he even live with himself! Indignation!) so I called him in for a chat. I felt very motherly, giving him the I'm-hurt-and-disappointed,-how-could-you-lie-to-me-just-to-get-candy,-how-can-I-ever-trust-you-again-speech, but it seemed to get the point across. Don't worry, I wasn't too harsh. He and his sister left smiling, but I'm sure they'll think twice before lying to me again.
It wasn't a big lie, but after all I've done for them, it shocked and appalled me that they could even think about being dishonest with me. Last week, I gave a young girl some candy for her birthday, so yesterday a group showed up, mid-birthday song, claiming that it was someone else's birthday. Although I was suspicious, they came singing his praise, and had given him the customary water bottle bath that seems to be a tradition among the 12 and unders. So I gave him sweets, and even some old Christmas decorations that had heretofore adorned my porch. (Truthfully, I was ready to part with the latter, but these same kids had been my decorators and I wasn't willing to simply trash their work.) They were on their way, singing and display their sweet and shiny winnings, and I didn't think twice about it, until I found out later that it wasn't actually said-boy's birthday…
Irrationally angry - how could my OWN kids, because that's how I think of them, take advantage of me, even in this silliest of ways! - I fumed for a while, and decided I would not let this go unaddressed. Several hours later, the oldest boy and ringleader of this deceitful plan passed by my house on the way to church (how could he even live with himself! Indignation!) so I called him in for a chat. I felt very motherly, giving him the I'm-hurt-and-disappointed,-how-could-you-lie-to-me-just-to-get-candy,-how-can-I-ever-trust-you-again-speech, but it seemed to get the point across. Don't worry, I wasn't too harsh. He and his sister left smiling, but I'm sure they'll think twice before lying to me again.
Why Peace Corps is Hard (written 10.30.08)
I live in a lawless land. This was further proven to me by a recent situation regarding my house, about which I must laugh and blog to keep from crying and screaming.
I moved into my lucky find about 2 months ago before the owners had signed the promised contract, feeling a little nervous, but very Dominican about the whole thing. I constantly have to remind myself not to be so American about certain things, and I thought maybe this was one of them. Wrong. Now, the owners have decided they want the house back (although it's stood empty and abandoned for over two years) just when I've gotten it clean and nesty. Fishy, if you ask me. But after exercising all my options, including recruiting the help of my Dominican male Peace Corps boss, there's nothing left but to find another place to live. Easier said than done. My boss was at least able to extract from the rich, city dwelling owner (whom I've never met in person but who has been nasty, to say the least, to me on the phone) an agreement that I won't be made to leave until another house is available, and who knows how long that will be. Plus, this house was furnished, so I have to start saving my pesos for basic things: a small gas stove, a table, chairs.
All of this, plus the fact that the hardware store refused to lend me materials until my grant comes in, has basically made my decision for me: now is not the right time for my stove practice. I was relieved to find out that, so far, those I've told in my community do not hate me for this. In fact, they seem more at peace than I, making comments such as "God will send the money in time". If I breathe deeply, and once again try to leave out some of my American expectations, I'm sure I'll be fine. Plus, I have very supportive Peace Corps friends. News travels fast between 200 volunteers on an island the size of 2 New Hampshires, so I've already received several encouraging messages.
On the bright side, my next house cannot possibly have as many snakes. (Up to 3 now…)
I moved into my lucky find about 2 months ago before the owners had signed the promised contract, feeling a little nervous, but very Dominican about the whole thing. I constantly have to remind myself not to be so American about certain things, and I thought maybe this was one of them. Wrong. Now, the owners have decided they want the house back (although it's stood empty and abandoned for over two years) just when I've gotten it clean and nesty. Fishy, if you ask me. But after exercising all my options, including recruiting the help of my Dominican male Peace Corps boss, there's nothing left but to find another place to live. Easier said than done. My boss was at least able to extract from the rich, city dwelling owner (whom I've never met in person but who has been nasty, to say the least, to me on the phone) an agreement that I won't be made to leave until another house is available, and who knows how long that will be. Plus, this house was furnished, so I have to start saving my pesos for basic things: a small gas stove, a table, chairs.
All of this, plus the fact that the hardware store refused to lend me materials until my grant comes in, has basically made my decision for me: now is not the right time for my stove practice. I was relieved to find out that, so far, those I've told in my community do not hate me for this. In fact, they seem more at peace than I, making comments such as "God will send the money in time". If I breathe deeply, and once again try to leave out some of my American expectations, I'm sure I'll be fine. Plus, I have very supportive Peace Corps friends. News travels fast between 200 volunteers on an island the size of 2 New Hampshires, so I've already received several encouraging messages.
On the bright side, my next house cannot possibly have as many snakes. (Up to 3 now…)
Notes from a Tarantula Killer (written 10.30.08)
We're up to at least 6 now, since the passing of the serpent. I think I'll christen these my lucky red flip-flops.
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