Things have been relatively low key these past couple of weeks. The weather appears to be cooling down a bit (and by a bit I mean five degrees or so). The family I eat lunch with has been asking me if I have a jacket, because it will get cold in November and December. I can only smile to myself and say “bring the cold on please.” Other than that, just living the life in the Dominican countryside.
Speaking of Dominican countrysides... I guess it was almost two weeks ago, there was a serious and alarming incident with two Haitians in my community. Well, to be frank, one decapitated the other with a machete. No one knows why, just that the person who murdered the other person took the head and only the headless corps was found in the farms around La Caya.
Please don't be too alarmed. Yes, absolutely it is freaking scary, and yes I need to be careful all the time, especially when I'm running alone- but these kind of things also bring out the worst in the relations between Dominicans and Haitians. When the news broke, everyone in my town had this attitude of and I quote, "well that's what Haitians do, they are dirty people." I am in no way trying to justify the murder of another person, but it is frustrating because the fact that these two people were Haitian is used as an excuse. Nobody even went to investigate why this murder happened, why a person who was once alive is now dead... the clear answer was that "they are Haitian and Haitians do these things."
I have seen racism taken to a whole new level living in this country. In many ways I feel like I am apart of the racism in a reverse fashion- always being praised for my light skin and good hair. It's sad and makes me feel helpless, especially when someone dies and nobody does anything to try to justify their death. It's just the way it is, and everyone here seems to accept that without questions.
That's one thing I try to promote here, especially with all the young kids I talk to. I want them to start asking why. Why do people just automatically do things one way here? Why do people think only one way about Haitians, about a woman's role in society, about education? Why does everyone in this country eat the same ten freaking meals?! Why? Why? Why? Question why things are and if you think you can change things for the better- do it!
Okay, that's my idealistic rant for the day. And please don't be too worried about the murder. I am not trying to lighten the situation, only enforce that I am careful and am no way trying to put myself in a situation where I feel unsafe.
But on a much happier and totally different note, last weekend I went to Santiago for a meeting with my fellow IT Peace Corps Volunteers. We are planning a youth computer conference for the 10-12 of November. Each of us gets to bring two youth from our sites to this three-day conference. The conference is focused on teaching the youth different computer skills, such as workshops on Photoshop, MovieMaker, computer maintenance etc. There will also be different workshops on how to fundraise for your town’s lab, how to organize your lab’s finances and I am teaching a lesson on “What is a leader, and why are leaders important in computer labs?” I am also co-chairing the “Casino” night, which will be the second night of the conference. I suppose because I am from Nevada, I am the local expert on gambling. Not really, and it’s not so much of a casino night, but a social night where the kids can hang out and have a good time.
I am excited about the conference, because it’s something different for the kids. It is going to be held outside of Santiago and every day we will drive the kids to a large computer lab where they can work one-on-one with the computers. Hopefully it will inspire them to come back to their towns and get computer clubs going, or become more involved with their town’s labs or what have you. In my case, I just hope to show two kids from my town how many options are out there with computers, and the more they know, the more power they have. I sound like one of the NBC commercials: “Knowledge is Power,” but it’s true.
On another totally different note… the political race is heating up in La Caya. There are more than 10 political parties in the DR, and in my town three of those have the most support an influence: the Partido Revolucionario Dominicana (the White Party), the Partido Reformista Social Cristiano (the Red Party) and the Partido de la Liberación Dominicana (the Purple Party). On a grand scale, Leonel Fernandez, the President of the DR, is apart of the Purple Party.
However, in La Caya, the current Sindico (mayor) belongs to the Red Party and is running for reelection in 2010. He will be opposed by Eddie, who belongs to the White Party and by Dogaberto, who represents the Purple Party. Dogaberto is the current director of the school here in La Caya, and his assistant director of the school is the President of the White Party. Problem? Depends on how you look at it. Yes, there is conflict, because as the President of the White Party, the assistant director of the school will obviously vote for Eddie. However, if his boss (Dogaberto) wins and becomes mayor, then the assistant director will most likely be promoted to Director of the school. So I guess, either way he wins.
The competition is getting fierce, with more signs of each candidate popping up daily. The different colors of the parties are very important and instantly differentiate people’s support and voting intentions. Two days ago, I woke up to go on my daily run and someone from the Red Party (the current Mayor’s party) had painted all the lower half of the light poles in La Caya red in the middle of the night. They even went as far as to paint the light poles leading up to the town and to paint red around some of Eddie and Dogaberto’s signs as well.
It’s only October and elections aren’t until May 2010. Just like in the states, the competition starts early and only gets worse as time goes by.
And on another totally different note once again… tonight I am going over to one of the worker’s house from my center for a Dominican spaghetti party. I guess we are trying to get together every couple of weeks at different houses for spaghetti. I love the idea of hanging out with my co-workers outside of work. Build a little camaraderie. I just am not so crazy about having to eat Dominican spaghetti to make it happen. But that’s why I’m here right, to make sacrifices. Well, that’s what I’ll tell myself as a scarf down those overcooked noodles as quickly as possible.
All in all, things are good. A little political drama topped with a spaghetti dinner, and life is all that it should be.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tireo Medio
A few weekends ago I went to visit my good friend and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Malia. Malia lives in the mountains of the DR, in a place called Tireo Medio, which is about 20 minutes outside of a fairly large city deeper in the mountains called Constanza. It is absolutely beautiful there, and cold! I wore pants and a jacket the whole time, and at night slept with three blankets. It actually felt like Fall, something I thought I was going to miss out on for the next two years.
Malia and I initially met up in the capital to get our green cards. So if I wasn’t official before in this country, I am now and the Dominican government has the horrible driver’s license style photo to prove it. Trips to the capital are like taking mini-vacations. The Peace Corps office is in a part of town called Gazcue, which is fairly affluent, and because of this, there are great restaurants (including the amazing American Embassy café), coffee shops, supermarkets and bakeries (the infamous French bakery, which serves chocolate filled croissants) all within walking distance to the office.
After enjoying a day and a half in the capital, Malia and I set out for the 3 to 5 hour trip back to her site. First we took a bus, like a greyhound bus you would take to the states, got off of the side of the highway, crossed the busy highway and then took an over-sized van to her site. Malia said we were lucky, because usually it’s just pick-ups that take people over the mountain.
The journey over the mountain went fairly smooth with only a few stops now and then for about fifteen minutes each. A recent landslide did serious damage to the road earlier in the summer, and it is still being repaired as I write this. The trip over the mountain was incredible. You immediately start climbing, and within fifteen minutes, looking out the windows of the van, you can see the DR just stretch out in front of you. The beginning of the Cibao Valley and the rivers that cross the valley come into view and from that far up, it’s a very majestic reminder of how beautiful and serene this country really is.
The road led us up and down the mountain, swerving and swaying. It rained lightly off and on the whole trip, which also made me grateful we weren’t in the back of a pick-up. Coming down from the mountain and into Malia’s site, was the same feeling as landing in an airplane. The feeling when you start to lose elevation, and can begin to make out different figures in the land below: houses, buildings and cars in the far off distance. Even the land itself has that patch like quality, with perfect squares of different greens and browns for the different farms/crops that are being cultivated.
Malia’s site is a farming site. The farms encircle the entire town and they grow everything from strawberries to potatoes to garlic. The farms are actually one of the main environmental problems for Tireo, because the farmers are literally deforesting the mountains, tearing apart all the available land for the farms. They also put their farms too close to the river, which takes away water from the town and puts all the insecticides in the river (yes this is the same water the entire valley drinks, baths, uses for everything).
It’s that catch 22 that exists so frequently here in the DR. If you tell the farmers to change their techniques for the environment’s sake or if you force them to move their farms away from the river, than most likely you will cut their profits. If you cut their profits, you hurt the workers, and the workers are basically the town, and so, in turn, the people seem to suffer as the environment is improved.
We got there on a Thursday evening and immediately were bombarded by Malia’s neighbors (all under the age of 12). The entire weekend went something like that, us trying to keep up with the neighbor kids. It was a great time and her kids are smart and very much want to impress her, so they pick up trash while she’s looking and yell at each other for littering. It was inspiring for me and my own site, because I want to get my community motivated about picking up trash and actually throwing trash away in trash cans.
On Saturday, we caught a ride in the back of a pick-up and went to Constanza. You will never know freedom until you’re sitting on the edge of a pick-up, going downhill, the driver has officially cut the engine and shifted into neutral to save on gas, the wind is in your face and yes, it has started to rain- so the rain and the wind are now both in your face and the only thing to do is close your eyes and hang on for dear life until you hear that engine prowl back to life as your speed starts to dwindle on a straightaway.
We made it to Constanza and met up with another Peace Corps Volunteer, Chris, who lives there. We had lunch at a real restaurant and I accidently ordered a steak (I wanted the chicken, but asked about the steak out of curiosity and somehow didn’t clarify I really wanted the chicken). We talked, enjoyed the cool Mountain weather, Malia and I got ice cream (another amazing treat), and then were on our way back home.
I left the next morning, Sunday, and actually got a bola (a free ride) from Tireo all the way to La Vega. A man running for representative of the providence was having some sort of political something in La Vega and had filled up a van full of his supporters. They had room for one more, so I hopped in. I sat in the very back of the van with an older man who immediately told me, “Don’t worry honey, you are my daughter now, I will look out for you.”
This was a blessing in disguise because besides this man, all the other men kept asking me if I was married, and since I wasn’t, if I would marry one of them and take them to America. The usual. One of them went as far as to tell me he didn’t care that I was American and didn’t like me for my visa; he just liked me for me. This was great, because at this point I probably had said less than 100 words.
The best part of the trip however, was when we finally made it to the bottom of the mountain. The van pulls over and the guy in the front seat starts handing everyone 200 pesos to go buy some kind of snack from the roadside café place (which only proves once more that politicians win elections in this country by giving away things, and most often that thing is money). The men who were hitting on me insisted I get money too, because “the girl needs to eat,” and so slightly begrudgingly, the man handing out money gave me 200 pesos too. I tried to refuse saying the bola was enough, but they wouldn’t have it. So I bought myself an orange juice (for 25 pesos) and kept the rest for the rest of my journey home.
All in all, it was a great weekend. My friend Malia is very inspiring. She works at the high school in her town and gives talks about the environment to each class. It’s a great idea, and I went to my school director last week and asked if I can do the same thing (hopefully starting next week!). Her Spanish is awesome, and it made me ever more anxious to have mine flow as gracefully and easily as hers does.
However, one thing I am grateful for with my service so far is my space, my distance. Malia had no space away from neighbors, families, work, anything and everyone. I know this is our life, and we are, in a strange way, like celebrities of our towns (look, there goes the real life American! Wow, she really can walk all by herself!), but I am grateful that for the most part when I am home, that’s just it. I am home. I can feel comfortable there and, most likely, random strangers are not going to come over asking for things.
Of course this still happens, and in some ways I think I need to seek out more of my town. I need to be more outgoing and put myself out there more the way Malia does. That’s why I want to start talking to the school. But there is a balance in life. There is always a balance. And having a place where I can put my feet up, relax and not worry if my Spanish is horrible is truly an oasis.
Being here has definitely helped me appreciate the simple things in life. Like when the end of the day is done and you can just be. No need to say anything, talk to anyone, try to stir up conversation with the person passing in the street. It’s just you and no one else. Being happy with myself, being happy alone is something my Mom always taught me to value. At the end and the beginning of everyday, it’s just me.
I guess today, this week, having been under the weather, I’m appreciative for time to recuperate, time to recharge the engines and get ready to start the next day. Because you never know, you could catch a bola with a political party and they could give you money just because you look hungry. Life always has a random and mysterious way of taking care of you.
Malia and I initially met up in the capital to get our green cards. So if I wasn’t official before in this country, I am now and the Dominican government has the horrible driver’s license style photo to prove it. Trips to the capital are like taking mini-vacations. The Peace Corps office is in a part of town called Gazcue, which is fairly affluent, and because of this, there are great restaurants (including the amazing American Embassy café), coffee shops, supermarkets and bakeries (the infamous French bakery, which serves chocolate filled croissants) all within walking distance to the office.
After enjoying a day and a half in the capital, Malia and I set out for the 3 to 5 hour trip back to her site. First we took a bus, like a greyhound bus you would take to the states, got off of the side of the highway, crossed the busy highway and then took an over-sized van to her site. Malia said we were lucky, because usually it’s just pick-ups that take people over the mountain.
The journey over the mountain went fairly smooth with only a few stops now and then for about fifteen minutes each. A recent landslide did serious damage to the road earlier in the summer, and it is still being repaired as I write this. The trip over the mountain was incredible. You immediately start climbing, and within fifteen minutes, looking out the windows of the van, you can see the DR just stretch out in front of you. The beginning of the Cibao Valley and the rivers that cross the valley come into view and from that far up, it’s a very majestic reminder of how beautiful and serene this country really is.
The road led us up and down the mountain, swerving and swaying. It rained lightly off and on the whole trip, which also made me grateful we weren’t in the back of a pick-up. Coming down from the mountain and into Malia’s site, was the same feeling as landing in an airplane. The feeling when you start to lose elevation, and can begin to make out different figures in the land below: houses, buildings and cars in the far off distance. Even the land itself has that patch like quality, with perfect squares of different greens and browns for the different farms/crops that are being cultivated.
Malia’s site is a farming site. The farms encircle the entire town and they grow everything from strawberries to potatoes to garlic. The farms are actually one of the main environmental problems for Tireo, because the farmers are literally deforesting the mountains, tearing apart all the available land for the farms. They also put their farms too close to the river, which takes away water from the town and puts all the insecticides in the river (yes this is the same water the entire valley drinks, baths, uses for everything).
It’s that catch 22 that exists so frequently here in the DR. If you tell the farmers to change their techniques for the environment’s sake or if you force them to move their farms away from the river, than most likely you will cut their profits. If you cut their profits, you hurt the workers, and the workers are basically the town, and so, in turn, the people seem to suffer as the environment is improved.
We got there on a Thursday evening and immediately were bombarded by Malia’s neighbors (all under the age of 12). The entire weekend went something like that, us trying to keep up with the neighbor kids. It was a great time and her kids are smart and very much want to impress her, so they pick up trash while she’s looking and yell at each other for littering. It was inspiring for me and my own site, because I want to get my community motivated about picking up trash and actually throwing trash away in trash cans.
On Saturday, we caught a ride in the back of a pick-up and went to Constanza. You will never know freedom until you’re sitting on the edge of a pick-up, going downhill, the driver has officially cut the engine and shifted into neutral to save on gas, the wind is in your face and yes, it has started to rain- so the rain and the wind are now both in your face and the only thing to do is close your eyes and hang on for dear life until you hear that engine prowl back to life as your speed starts to dwindle on a straightaway.
We made it to Constanza and met up with another Peace Corps Volunteer, Chris, who lives there. We had lunch at a real restaurant and I accidently ordered a steak (I wanted the chicken, but asked about the steak out of curiosity and somehow didn’t clarify I really wanted the chicken). We talked, enjoyed the cool Mountain weather, Malia and I got ice cream (another amazing treat), and then were on our way back home.
I left the next morning, Sunday, and actually got a bola (a free ride) from Tireo all the way to La Vega. A man running for representative of the providence was having some sort of political something in La Vega and had filled up a van full of his supporters. They had room for one more, so I hopped in. I sat in the very back of the van with an older man who immediately told me, “Don’t worry honey, you are my daughter now, I will look out for you.”
This was a blessing in disguise because besides this man, all the other men kept asking me if I was married, and since I wasn’t, if I would marry one of them and take them to America. The usual. One of them went as far as to tell me he didn’t care that I was American and didn’t like me for my visa; he just liked me for me. This was great, because at this point I probably had said less than 100 words.
The best part of the trip however, was when we finally made it to the bottom of the mountain. The van pulls over and the guy in the front seat starts handing everyone 200 pesos to go buy some kind of snack from the roadside café place (which only proves once more that politicians win elections in this country by giving away things, and most often that thing is money). The men who were hitting on me insisted I get money too, because “the girl needs to eat,” and so slightly begrudgingly, the man handing out money gave me 200 pesos too. I tried to refuse saying the bola was enough, but they wouldn’t have it. So I bought myself an orange juice (for 25 pesos) and kept the rest for the rest of my journey home.
All in all, it was a great weekend. My friend Malia is very inspiring. She works at the high school in her town and gives talks about the environment to each class. It’s a great idea, and I went to my school director last week and asked if I can do the same thing (hopefully starting next week!). Her Spanish is awesome, and it made me ever more anxious to have mine flow as gracefully and easily as hers does.
However, one thing I am grateful for with my service so far is my space, my distance. Malia had no space away from neighbors, families, work, anything and everyone. I know this is our life, and we are, in a strange way, like celebrities of our towns (look, there goes the real life American! Wow, she really can walk all by herself!), but I am grateful that for the most part when I am home, that’s just it. I am home. I can feel comfortable there and, most likely, random strangers are not going to come over asking for things.
Of course this still happens, and in some ways I think I need to seek out more of my town. I need to be more outgoing and put myself out there more the way Malia does. That’s why I want to start talking to the school. But there is a balance in life. There is always a balance. And having a place where I can put my feet up, relax and not worry if my Spanish is horrible is truly an oasis.
Being here has definitely helped me appreciate the simple things in life. Like when the end of the day is done and you can just be. No need to say anything, talk to anyone, try to stir up conversation with the person passing in the street. It’s just you and no one else. Being happy with myself, being happy alone is something my Mom always taught me to value. At the end and the beginning of everyday, it’s just me.
I guess today, this week, having been under the weather, I’m appreciative for time to recuperate, time to recharge the engines and get ready to start the next day. Because you never know, you could catch a bola with a political party and they could give you money just because you look hungry. Life always has a random and mysterious way of taking care of you.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Healthy?
Health is a relative term as of late. Since about August, I have felt like I have a demon of sorts growing in my stomach. Acting out when I eat something it disapproves of, or when it's bored and wants to entertain itself by putting me through agony for a couple of hours. It's nothing personal, it just wants me to remember who's really in charge of our relationship.
This past weekend, I somehow also managed to get "la gripe," or as we would call it the flu, a cold, that thing that happens once or twice a year when you can't move, don't have any energy and just want to sleep and not wake up until you're magically healthy once more. Yeah, that. I've canceled my classes for the last two days, which makes me feel guilty, but at the same time- spreading what I have now would be worse.
It's nothing to worry too seriously about. It's what happens when you live in a developing nation and the food you eat, the things you drink, your daily interactions aren't exactly the most sanitary. For example, I watched my Dona kill a chicken today and then pluck all the feathers out over the sink, all the while having chicken blood drip everywhere. Don't worry, she's a fan of bleach, and thus I am fan of her.
But still it just makes for a long day, a long couple of days when I think about this possibly being my life for the next two years. I'm trying to be positive. Sickness is just as much mental as it is physical, and if I can just start thinking healthy, then I will be healthy. That's how I did it in the states, why should the DR be any different?
I mentioned something to those sorts to my Mom and she said that everything seems worse when you're sick. She's right. Right now, I feel like I'm not supposed to be 100 percent healthy here, like in some way, whether it's a stomach demon, la gripe or something else... there's always going to be some health issue to deal with. Oh dear God, please let that be the dramatics of being sick.
Being sick, however, has once more reminded me of how lucky I am. After Francia killed and skinned that chicken, she made chicken soup out of it for me. She's been giving me tea and juices none stop and making sure I drink "todos," or all of it so I have enough fluids in me.
My people at my center had no problem canceling my classes and said if I needed the whole week off to get better, to take it.
My Mom has already called me twice today and will call me again. I have received emails and calls from friends back home. Remi bought a two-hour phone card just so we could talk about nothing in hopes it would make me feel better.
Yes, health is a relative term as of late, but love isn't.
This past weekend, I somehow also managed to get "la gripe," or as we would call it the flu, a cold, that thing that happens once or twice a year when you can't move, don't have any energy and just want to sleep and not wake up until you're magically healthy once more. Yeah, that. I've canceled my classes for the last two days, which makes me feel guilty, but at the same time- spreading what I have now would be worse.
It's nothing to worry too seriously about. It's what happens when you live in a developing nation and the food you eat, the things you drink, your daily interactions aren't exactly the most sanitary. For example, I watched my Dona kill a chicken today and then pluck all the feathers out over the sink, all the while having chicken blood drip everywhere. Don't worry, she's a fan of bleach, and thus I am fan of her.
But still it just makes for a long day, a long couple of days when I think about this possibly being my life for the next two years. I'm trying to be positive. Sickness is just as much mental as it is physical, and if I can just start thinking healthy, then I will be healthy. That's how I did it in the states, why should the DR be any different?
I mentioned something to those sorts to my Mom and she said that everything seems worse when you're sick. She's right. Right now, I feel like I'm not supposed to be 100 percent healthy here, like in some way, whether it's a stomach demon, la gripe or something else... there's always going to be some health issue to deal with. Oh dear God, please let that be the dramatics of being sick.
Being sick, however, has once more reminded me of how lucky I am. After Francia killed and skinned that chicken, she made chicken soup out of it for me. She's been giving me tea and juices none stop and making sure I drink "todos," or all of it so I have enough fluids in me.
My people at my center had no problem canceling my classes and said if I needed the whole week off to get better, to take it.
My Mom has already called me twice today and will call me again. I have received emails and calls from friends back home. Remi bought a two-hour phone card just so we could talk about nothing in hopes it would make me feel better.
Yes, health is a relative term as of late, but love isn't.
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