Christmas time in the DR

It’s the holiday season, especially in the DR. This year, my town has taken “Christmas spirit,” to a whole new level. Francia and Rosa (my Doña and neighbor, respectively) decided a few weeks ago to paint all the tree trunks in front of their houses (the houses are across from each other) white and wrap red ribbon around them. Francia and Rosa painted about 10 trees together, and even sprayed the leaves of one tree white to make it look like snow. Which cracks me up, considering the other day I explained all the different types of snow to my co-workers at my center as they honestly have no concept of what it is… “Well, there’s icy snow, fluffy snow, wet snow, dry snow, snow you can make a snowball with, snow that melts right away etc.” Rosa and Francia’s zest for decorating inspired many of our other neighbors, and now almost 1/3 of my walk up to town is entirely lined with white tree trunks wrapped in some kind of festive ribbon. 

We won’t even get into the environmental problems associated with painting all the trees white. Why, you ask? Because I only have 5.5 months left in this country, and I’m learning that some battles you are never, ever going to win. And also, because everyone is so happy! Everyone really does have the Christmas spirit, and every day I find another house that has hung up Christmas lights on their door or front porch. 

(An aside, cultural note: Many Dominicans actually do have Christmas trees. They are fake trees, but they are same as you would envision in the states. Dominicans, however, keep their trees outside on the front porch for all the world to see. I asked Francia why, and she said it’s so that everyone can enjoy it not just us. I mean, they’re not putting Johnny’s brand new train set under the tree outside or anything, but it actually is really nice to walk by houses and see their Christmas trees with lights and ornaments right there in the front for everyone to enjoy. Maybe when I’m home next Christmas, I’ll get two trees: one for inside and one for the porch.)

Last night, Eddy, our beloved mayor, hosted an evening in the park. The one park in town, just got a fresh paint job and is decorated to the max with ribbons, lights, garlands, all the Christmas specialties. The same as we drink eggnog during the holidays, Dominicans make a ginger tea. It’s kind of spicy and has entirely too much sugar, but it really is pretty delicious. Eddy made a huge vat of it, and gave out mini-bread pieces and had a guy BLASTING merengue. People danced, drank, laughed and enjoyed the official start of the holiday season.

I sat there, drinking my ginger tea, enjoying the simplicity of Christmas lights illuminating the park, feeling a bit nostalgic for home, but overall very grateful to be apart of this community called La Caya. It hasn’t always been easy, but with only 5.5 months of service left I can only soak it in. Soak it all in: the white tree trunks, the outdoor Christmas trees, the ear shattering merengue and the graciousness and kindness of all the friends and family I have made here. 

 Here are some pictures from the night:

The nativity scene Francia put in front of our house, complete with a manger and "biblical" looking pots.

The park with lights!

This is Dominican culture: people sitting in plastic chairs and motorcycles.

The blueish lights are the swings with lights.

Ginger Tea

Angel and his girlfriend dancing merengue. They stole the show for the night.

Escalator Friends

I had a moment yesterday that I will never forget. I was in a supermarket in Santiago buying things for my second annual “Pre-Thanksgiving Party.”  The supermarket, called La Sirena, is more or less America’s equivalent of Wal-Mart. It’s almost as big and unnecessary, and if you need to go to one store to buy a)food b)paint c)a new stereo system d)a wardrobe e)a bike- well then, La Sirena is the store for you.   

The second floor of the store is where all the clothes are located. A woman who works in my CTC is having a baby boy in February (PS- the father of the baby is refusing to claim his newfound parenthood, which is unfortunately a common story here, but for another day), and I bought a T-shirt for the upcoming baby shower. As I was riding the escalator down to the first level, I noticed a Haitian man standing nervously at the bottom of the stairs. At first I thought he was waiting for someone, but as I made my effortless exit off the escalator, it was obvious he was trying to figure out how exactly to ride an escalator and get up to the second level. 

He soon realized the stairs he stood in front of were for coming down, and he quickly moved over to the up-stairs. Then his wife/girlfriend/sister/friend, a female, came over and the two of them watched the black grated metal appear from seemingly nowhere, to suddenly make steps before them. I continued to watch, as they both hesitated. The woman especially, would cautiously put her right foot forward a little, but then hurriedly move it back when it came time to actually take the plunge. 

So, I did what anyone would do. I walked up on the other side of the woman, grabbed her hand and told her, “ven,” or come. She probably didn’t speak Spanish, but she also didn’t really have a chance to think about it, because I was holding onto her and we were already going up the stairs. She fumbled a little, but not much, and in less than two seconds she was standing next to me on the moving stair. The man jumped on right behind us, and they smiled and spoke in Creole to each other. When the stairs leveled out, she was a little nervous, but I kept hold of her hand and we both sort of jumped off the escalator together. The man got off and we shook hands and smiled at each other, and then I turned to my right and headed right back down the down side of the escalator. As they were walking away, the man turned around and saw me going down the stairs. We smiled at each other and waved, as if to say, “thanks, see you soon.”

I know it’s not much really, but I think it’s one of my proudest moments since I’ve been on this island.  

Girls' Weekend a Success!

After numerous cancellations for my girls' weekend, due to the cholera outbreak in Haiti and consolidation because of Hurricane Tomas, my girls' weekend FINALLY happened last weekend! Fifteen girls from my town participated, along with four from Las Plancetas (PCV Alexis), three from Janico (PCV Jean), four from Imbert (PCV Amanda) and one from Manzanillo (PCV Ayra). Our fair leader Alison also came to help everything run smoothly. The girls' gave charlas (presentations) about self-esteem, the environment and HIV/AIDS. We had a community trash clean-up followed by swimming and relaxing Eddy's beautiful house and pool. We all slept on the cement floors in the clubhouse of one of the mother's groups in my town. Amanda also gave an awesome charla about planning the future, and Alison talked to the girls about being on a national committee to help promote girls' groups throughout all of the DR. Francia, my doña, cooked all the meals for us, which was no simple task. Overall, it was a great, successful weekend and I can't say thank you enough to Francia, Alison, Arya, Amanda, Jean and Alexis for helping me out with everything.


Here are some pictures...

Ambar (from La Caya) talking about why it's important we were all together for the weekend... to be strong, awesome women of course. Arya, holding the poster.

The girls drawing different situations about what will happen if we don't take care of the environment.

A group presenting their environment posters.

The girls enjoying Eddy's pool.

Amanda's talk about 'planning your future.'

The girls listening, talking, participating.

All the girls with their certificates at the end of the weekend.

Me and my girls from La Caya

Dream Job

I’m working on “conversations” with my third level English class. Yesterday, admittedly I was not very prepared for our class, so instead of the usual powerpoint presentation I give about some random grammar lesson of the English language, I decided that my students and I were just going to sit and have one of those things: a “conversation,” if you will. 

What it turned into was me asking them questions and them one-by-one answering (only three of seven showed up for class… must be the never ending cloudy skies we’ve been having these days). I had no plan for these questions, just what I could think of off the top of my head. Topics and subjects I knew they could answer and feel confident about doing so in English. After a few questions, I asked my three pupils to tell me their ‘dream job.’  

After the initial few seconds when they put the word –dream- and then the word –job- together and realized what I was actually asking them, they still looked at me like I was crazy.

“You know, if you could do or be anything,” I tried to further explain. “What would you do?”

Pause. 

Finally, Yaclerly answered and said that she would (in more or less conversational English) be an accountant for a big company. 

I jumped at the chance to keep her talking about her dream job and asked her to tell me more about what kind of company she would want to work for. That part didn’t go over so well. It’s not that she didn’t understand my words, but that she didn’t understand why the company was so important. She kept looking at me like I was crazy, and I looked back at her like she was even more crazy. Finally I broke and started speaking Spanish again:

“What do you mean the company doesn’t matter?” I said, getting a little too heated. “What if you were an accountant for a big company that killed babies or something? Would you still want to work for that company?!”

She didn’t quite know how to respond, in any language. She just continued to say she would want to be an accountant for a big company, and it didn’t matter which company (preferably one with no dead babies on their record). My other two students agreed. Yocairy said her dream job was to be the CEO of a big, international company, no matter which one; and Alred’s dream job was to own his own business, and of course it didn’t matter what kind of business, just as long as it was his. 

As my service starts to wrap itself up (I’m officially a senior in the Peace Corps world. My swear-in group is the next group to complete our two-year service), my mind is constantly drifting to my future and what I need to be doing now to get a good job when I am home in May. And for me, the company I work for DOES matter, because that’s where I’ll spend most of my time. Eight to nine hours of each day, at least, to be exact.

How can it not matter?

But here, as I am constantly humbled and challenged by the Dominican culture- where you work doesn’t matter, because here, work is the last thing that defines you. Of course people respect others for their jobs, just the way we do in America. A doctor, a lawyer, an accountant, a CEO- all are professions that are admired, but people are not defined and limited by what they do. It’s just one aspect of their lives, and it’s certainly not the most important or time consuming. So really, if you are an accountant, which not every person in the countryside of the DR is, does it really matter what company you work for? 

It’s funny how things still surprise me. How being here and living as much as I can like a Dominican, I am sometimes so aware of my own American culture. And even though I secretly am a bit jealous of my English students for not letting their jobs create their identity (which I think happens too often in the states), I think I’ll go for the balance of both. Because from what I read in the papers, just having a job in America these days is a blessing, and no one, I mean no one wants to work where babies are killed.

Feeling Guilty

My girls' weekend has been canceled/postponed once again. This time for the hurricane that is coming. Oh wait, did I say hurricane? I mean tropical storm. Oh and the storm isn't really supposed to get here until Friday. But wait, what's today? Tuesday? And I'm in Santiago right now for consolidation? Yes, there is disdain and annoyance in my voice. Can you feel it? 

Peace Corps divides the country into six different regions, and each volunteer belongs to a region based on where they live. Four out of the six regions in the country are being consolidated (including my own) in different places so Peace Corps can keep us safe and protected in case the tropical storm gets crazy and major things happen like all the roads are lost to debris, cell phone towers are destroyed by wind and Noah and his Arc have to rescue us from all the water that will surely engulf the entire island.

My region consolidates in a hotel in Santiago. And although it is sort of like a, "hurrication," as PCV's like to call it, because the hotel has hot water and I'll be with all my American friends; I can't help but feel guilty.

Guilty for ONCE AGAIN bailing on my girls. I know it's not my fault, but how do you explain to 15-year-olds that even though they have to stay in their communities if a disastrous crises happens, like Cholera or a catastrophic tropical storm, I, the American, am whisked away to a nice hotel in the big city where help, if necessary, can be seconds away?

Last night I was complaining/whining to my Mom about everything happening here. About having to cancel my girls weekend again, about a woman who recently passed away in my site, leaving many community members struck with grieve and despair, and about not being able to do anything for community if there really is a bad storm here, because I'll be in a fancy hotel in Santiago. She listened to me like she always does (have I mentioned yet, how amazing my mom is?). And it made me realize, that no matter how hard I try- I will always be separate from my community.

Peace Corps preaches to us about "integrating" into our sites. About becoming "one with the community." But the truth is, we will never be able to fully accomplish this, based on privilege. If this storm is as bad as Peace Corps believes it will be, people in my community are literally going to lose the roofs off their houses. Walls will fall in and water will take out buildings, crops and possibly farm animals. And where will I be? Sitting in a hotel, taking a couple of hot showers a day, using wireless internet and putting on a sweater because the air- conditioning is on so high.


I don't want to seem ungrateful for being a part of an organization that does make my safety and security a priority. I am. I get it. I understand why they are doing this and why it's important for all of us to leave our communities and be in one place in case of a serious emergency.


I just can't help but feel too lucky. Why was I born where I was born to the family I was born to? I know you can't control these things and life is just the way it is- because well, that's the way it is. And this is why I joined the Peace Corps in the first place- to see how the other 2/3 of the world lives. To come back to my American life with appreciation and gratitude that I could never have known otherwise and to give myself to a community in any way I can, even if everything I plan gets canceled two or three times over. 

It's November now. The truth is, with the way my luck is rolling these days, this event might not take place until after the New Year. But when it does, and it will- this damn weekend is going to happen if it's the last thing I accomplish in my life - I'm going to tell every girl who is there that no matter where they come from or what their obstacles are, they can accomplish anything they set their hearts and minds to. Even if I'm lying through my teeth.