Quick Update: Francia just told me that Eddy, my resident "drug dealer," and her half-brother who is also running for mayor was investigated by the Federal Police to see if he really did have ties with drug dealers.
Apparently, two men from town (who happen to be the head guy of my center and the dad of the family who I eat lunch with) who are both coincidentally named Juan Ramon called the Feds to have Eddy investigated. I mean, I can understand their suspicion, but it also so happens that both Juan Ramon's support the opposite political party from Eddy.
Anyway, they called the police, the police showed up to Eddy's house- the "Mountaintop Mansion," as my Peace Corps friends have called it- and searched Eddy and all his workers high and low. They took a passport from someone (not sure who) and a few other cedulas (which is basically a Dominican ID card).
Francia spent most of the mid-morning and afternoon praying up in her room. I could hear her sort of chanting, but I had no idea what she was really doing. Turns out, she was praying everything went well during the investigation.
Well, God answered because the police did not find anything at Eddy's house. He was cleared and is now currently blasting his own personalized themed meringue campaign song, which translates into something like, "For your neighbors, for your friends, for your family- Eddy is the mayor for everyone."
I mean, I can't say I blame him. If the whole world thought I was a drug dealer and found out I really wasn't, I'd also blast a song telling them to vote for me for mayor.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Chores
Today I thought seriously about moving out on my own. To my own wooden house with cracks in between every plank, a zinc roof, cement floors and a latrine in the backyard. My own Dominican dream house...
I came home this afternoon, after spending the weekend in the capital (Santo Domingo) and Santiago to an empty house. Francia "salio," or left, as my neighbor told me. Who knows when... yesterday? Friday? This morning? 5 minutes before I arrived from my motorcycle taxi ride? Yet the house still seemed to have the air of abandonment.
I walked up the stairs to my room and noticed cat poop and throw-up on the floor, the floor-mat and the bed where the guard sleeps outside of my window. "Well I guess cleaning never hurt anyone," I thought to myself.
I walked back down the stairs, unlocked the downstairs part of the house to the kitchen and found moldy fruit being invaded by a nation of fruit flies in the sink. Dirt and leaves had blown in from the open windows to leave a general cover of grime on the counters and floor. "Well, I guess cleaning the whole house never hurt anyone," I thought to myself now.
I went to do laundry, since we had power and water at the same time, and found the semi-automatic washing machine to also have a nice layer of dirt in the bottom of the machine. I cleaned the washing machine in order to clean my clothes, and then the work began.
Washed a load of clothes, my sheets and a defected floor-mat. Swept and mopped the floors upstairs and downstairs. Disinfected my entire bathroom. Came downstairs and did the same to the kitchen counters and the stove. I was too lazy to clean the downstairs bathroom, but I did scrub the kitchen walls, because as the clouds parted and sun shone through the windows, there was a ridiculous amount of grease splotches on both walls by the stove.
Finished laundry and swept a part of the outside patio. Moved my air-drying clothes to follow the fleeting sun, when all of a sudden the water faucet (where the house is, what's that called?) exploded. It was like the Tivoli Fountain in my front-yard. I ran over and tried to put the PCP pipe back together, which had rocketed off from all the pressure.
I failed miserably. In attempts to put the already jerry-rigged pipe pieces back together, I basically took a shower instead. The entire front of my body got drenched in the downpour. It was hilarious. I tried again and drenched myself even more. I decided I was a fool for trying to do this alone and ran through the water and my yard to my neighbor's house, and with water dripping down my face asked her frantically to come help me.
After a little bit more of a struggle and some more direct facial water shots, together we eventually fixed the water geyser. By this time, the grass and the dirt had become flooded to become a swamp and a mud-pit.
I told my neighbor, Lidia, thank you very much and how sorry I was that she got her clothes wet. She just smiled and said she was going to change anyway so not to worry and she was always there for help. She patted her now wet jeans, laughed and walked away, and I knew that she really did mean that she would always be there to help me.
I decided after this moment, that a dirty house that would never truly by mine was worth a good neighbor who would always be there to help control the floods.
I came home this afternoon, after spending the weekend in the capital (Santo Domingo) and Santiago to an empty house. Francia "salio," or left, as my neighbor told me. Who knows when... yesterday? Friday? This morning? 5 minutes before I arrived from my motorcycle taxi ride? Yet the house still seemed to have the air of abandonment.
I walked up the stairs to my room and noticed cat poop and throw-up on the floor, the floor-mat and the bed where the guard sleeps outside of my window. "Well I guess cleaning never hurt anyone," I thought to myself.
I walked back down the stairs, unlocked the downstairs part of the house to the kitchen and found moldy fruit being invaded by a nation of fruit flies in the sink. Dirt and leaves had blown in from the open windows to leave a general cover of grime on the counters and floor. "Well, I guess cleaning the whole house never hurt anyone," I thought to myself now.
I went to do laundry, since we had power and water at the same time, and found the semi-automatic washing machine to also have a nice layer of dirt in the bottom of the machine. I cleaned the washing machine in order to clean my clothes, and then the work began.
Washed a load of clothes, my sheets and a defected floor-mat. Swept and mopped the floors upstairs and downstairs. Disinfected my entire bathroom. Came downstairs and did the same to the kitchen counters and the stove. I was too lazy to clean the downstairs bathroom, but I did scrub the kitchen walls, because as the clouds parted and sun shone through the windows, there was a ridiculous amount of grease splotches on both walls by the stove.
Finished laundry and swept a part of the outside patio. Moved my air-drying clothes to follow the fleeting sun, when all of a sudden the water faucet (where the house is, what's that called?) exploded. It was like the Tivoli Fountain in my front-yard. I ran over and tried to put the PCP pipe back together, which had rocketed off from all the pressure.
I failed miserably. In attempts to put the already jerry-rigged pipe pieces back together, I basically took a shower instead. The entire front of my body got drenched in the downpour. It was hilarious. I tried again and drenched myself even more. I decided I was a fool for trying to do this alone and ran through the water and my yard to my neighbor's house, and with water dripping down my face asked her frantically to come help me.
After a little bit more of a struggle and some more direct facial water shots, together we eventually fixed the water geyser. By this time, the grass and the dirt had become flooded to become a swamp and a mud-pit.
I told my neighbor, Lidia, thank you very much and how sorry I was that she got her clothes wet. She just smiled and said she was going to change anyway so not to worry and she was always there for help. She patted her now wet jeans, laughed and walked away, and I knew that she really did mean that she would always be there to help me.
I decided after this moment, that a dirty house that would never truly by mine was worth a good neighbor who would always be there to help control the floods.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Earthquake
As most of you probably already know there was a catastrophic earthquake in Haiti last night. With a 7.3 magnitude, I can only imagine the kind of real devastation it caused. The pictures in the papers and on the news will never truly show how much real damage these people are dealing with and will continue to deal with for countless years to come.
Here in the DR, I didn’t really feel anything when the quake happened. I was walking around the outside of my house and the tank that the rain water empties into, so we can drink it, started spilling out over the top. I thought it was nearly impossible how water could be spilling out over the top of this 10 foot-high tank, and as I walked over there to examine it, I wondered if an animal had somehow fallen in and was splashing around just to get out.
Moments later, my neighbor came running through the yard asking me if I felt the earth move. I sort of laughed, not knowing how grave the quake really had been and looked back up at the water tank that was now back to its original calm. Within seconds, a herd of people came flooding out of the Catholic Church that is my neighbor. An older woman had fainted when she felt the earthquake and at least 15 people were carrying her to the nearest car to race her up to the clinic in my town. No word today on her progress, but I’m assuming no news is good news right?
Francia and I watched the news repeat itself last night for over an hour. With no correspondents in Haiti, CNN Espanol just kept switching between a computer graphic image of the epicenter of the quake and a distant satellite photo of the area before the quake. Part of me was relieved to not see the real images. I couldn’t help but imagine if this earthquake would have happened in Santo Domingo or Santiago, what it would mean for all of us on the Eastern side of the island. What it means now for all those on the Western side.
Kathy, another Peace Corps Volunteer who is my sector’s leader if you will, called me a few hours later to make sure I was okay and nothing drastic happened. She didn’t feel anything in Santo Domingo. We talked casually about our recent trips back to the states over Christmas.
I hung up the phone feeling so lucky: I went to America for nearly three weeks to see family and friends over the holidays. I came back to a beautiful island where I have a monthly paycheck. No, it’s hardly any money when you convert it to US Dollars, but it’s a paycheck. I have a job, which is something many people my age can’t say right now. I felt an earthquake last night but wondered if it was some kind of animal enjoying a dip in the water tank. I am blessed and I am grateful. Please have your prayers and thoughts with all those in the world who are not nearly as lucky.
Here in the DR, I didn’t really feel anything when the quake happened. I was walking around the outside of my house and the tank that the rain water empties into, so we can drink it, started spilling out over the top. I thought it was nearly impossible how water could be spilling out over the top of this 10 foot-high tank, and as I walked over there to examine it, I wondered if an animal had somehow fallen in and was splashing around just to get out.
Moments later, my neighbor came running through the yard asking me if I felt the earth move. I sort of laughed, not knowing how grave the quake really had been and looked back up at the water tank that was now back to its original calm. Within seconds, a herd of people came flooding out of the Catholic Church that is my neighbor. An older woman had fainted when she felt the earthquake and at least 15 people were carrying her to the nearest car to race her up to the clinic in my town. No word today on her progress, but I’m assuming no news is good news right?
Francia and I watched the news repeat itself last night for over an hour. With no correspondents in Haiti, CNN Espanol just kept switching between a computer graphic image of the epicenter of the quake and a distant satellite photo of the area before the quake. Part of me was relieved to not see the real images. I couldn’t help but imagine if this earthquake would have happened in Santo Domingo or Santiago, what it would mean for all of us on the Eastern side of the island. What it means now for all those on the Western side.
Kathy, another Peace Corps Volunteer who is my sector’s leader if you will, called me a few hours later to make sure I was okay and nothing drastic happened. She didn’t feel anything in Santo Domingo. We talked casually about our recent trips back to the states over Christmas.
I hung up the phone feeling so lucky: I went to America for nearly three weeks to see family and friends over the holidays. I came back to a beautiful island where I have a monthly paycheck. No, it’s hardly any money when you convert it to US Dollars, but it’s a paycheck. I have a job, which is something many people my age can’t say right now. I felt an earthquake last night but wondered if it was some kind of animal enjoying a dip in the water tank. I am blessed and I am grateful. Please have your prayers and thoughts with all those in the world who are not nearly as lucky.
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