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?
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