A nephew, an island and cats with only seven lives

On January 27, 2011 my nephew, Dionisio Michael Eliopulos was born. As the first grandchild, nephew, cousin-to-be of my immediate family, we are all basically just gushing with happiness. A few days ago, I skyped with my brother and his lovely wife (the new padres) and I watched contently as baby Dion slept in his mom’s arms, stretching his own little arms and making facial expressions that presumably correlated with his dreams. 

I’m so proud of the little guy that I have been telling everyone I see in La Caya about my new nephew. It’s interesting, because although everyone is happy for me and my family, I think they are a little taken aback about how big of a deal I’m making Dion to be. I mean, after all, he is just a baby, and any woman can have one of those. Right?

Which brings me to a conversation I had with Silvia, the woman who I eat lunch with most days.  We were discussing how most Dominican women get c-sections (not because it’s necessary, but because the doctors can charge more for a c-section than a natural birth. It’s disgusting and degrading that they get away with it, in my opinion), and then Silvia began to explain how painful breast feeding is, with details I won’t go into, which led me to conclude that the best thing for all of us to do is to adopt 3-year-olds who are obviously already past the baby stage of life. 

Anyway, I digress. As I brought the conversation back to my brother and his new family and how happy they are, she looked me dead in the eyes and started to tell me how I was getting old and needed to start having children. This conversation is nothing out of the ordinary, and usually I can just laugh it off, but Silvia was so sincere and so worried for me this time, that I had to do my best to reassure her that one day muy lejo-very far from today- I would have kids. She kept reminding me of how she is taking care of her parents because they are old now, and when she gets old; her kids will take care of her in the same way. I agreed, and said that I would of course take care of my parents when it comes time for that, and hopefully Si Dios Quiere, - God willing- I’ll have some kids of my own who will return the favor. 

It wasn’t good enough. She continued to look at me with determined eyes and reiterated that I’m not getting any younger. She finished the conversation saying her second oldest daughter had a child when she was 15, and if she can do it then, than I surely can do it now.  No pase na’ – Nothing will happen, or it’s not a big deal- she kept saying. But my mind was already drifting back to the detailed description of pain that apparently comes with breast feeding, the c-section and my sister-in-law’s 20 hour labor. Yep, that 3-year-old adoption is still looking like the best option.

In other news, last weekend 13 of us went to an island off of the island we already live on. It’s called Isla Saona, and a Bekah, another volunteer working in the environment sector of the Peace Corps lives there. The Caribbean beauty of the island is unreal and unmatched (unless you’re comparing it to other equally amazing beaches in other parts of the DR). Bekah told us that Trujillo, the DR’s tyrant dictator put 12 families on the island in the 1950s to guard a prison that he also put there, and to protect the island itself from any invaders trying to take over (to say Trujillo was a paranoid man is an understatement). History says that eventually the original 12 families on the island killed all the prisoners (more likely killed some and let some go) and now, the 200 people that live on Isla Saona today are all related somehow to the original 12 families. That gives the phrase “todos son familia” – everyone is family- an entirely literal translation. 

It’s pretty incredible how different all our lives as Peace Corps Volunteers are here in the DR. For Bekah, the only way she can get on or off her island is by a prearranged boat. Basically everything she needs, she has to bring with her from the mainland. There are a few small stores on Isla Saona, with basic needs, but let’s say if you run out of toilet paper before the next boat is coming, you better have a backup plan. The only drinking, non-salt water is rain water that the people collect in trash cans and other larger storage containers called tinacos, so you can imagine how desperate this could be if it’s a dry season. There are no roads, only three hours of electricity a day, from 7 p.m. to 10 p.m., and no phone service of any kind. Bekah has a PC issued satellite phone that she can use to call in case of emergency. 

For a long weekend, it was an incredible vacation, and I can see how tourists would call it “paradise.” But to live, day in and day out? I will say I really admire Bekah, because I think I would get over the paradise of living on a beach after about day seven and want to be able to use my cell phone without having to climb a tree to find service. See how spoiled even I am living here?! I’ll post some pictures of our weekend at the end of this blog.

One last thing: the other day I was talking to one of my friends here in La Caya. We were sitting on the side of the road in plastic chairs, watching the cars and people go by, when somehow we started talking about how many lives cats have. She said cats only have seven lives, and I told her that I thought they had nine. She sort of made fun of me and said maybe in the states where we have so many things, a cat would want to have nine lives, but here in La República Dominicana a cat only gets seven. 

It makes me think about life here and how lucky I am to be going back to my other life in the states in just over three months. Is it that life is harder in the DR and people grow up faster? Maybe I should ask Silvia’s daughter, who had her first child at 15. But at the same time, I can spend an entire afternoon sitting in a plastic car, watching cars pass and feel productive. 

I guess cats are just indecisive creatures and whether it takes seven or nine lives, eventually they pay their dues and are granted peace with death. Can you imagine living seven, eight, nine lifetimes? Living in La República Dominica, I have learned that life is both very hard and sometimes very easy. And even though it’s nice to watch the cars go by for one afternoon, you can’t sit around waiting for your other six, seven, eight lives to present themselves. Yes, what I have learned from this country is that we as humans are blessed to just have one undetermined life. 

Isla Saona Beach

The "town." These are little business filled with stuff to sell to the tourists. But basically this is the town.

Bekah's view from her house.