I met a young twenty-something boy in my community the other day who is fresh from spending several months in Milwaukee. I think he plans to go back again after coffee harvest. I, of course, asked him what he thought of life in Neuba Yol (the Dominican version of the Spanish word Nueva York for New York). Dominicans commonly use the term New York instead of the US. Apparently over fifty percent of Dominicans who live abroad live in New York. This has made New York synonymous with the US which is an endless source of merriment and also frustration for those of us who really aren’t from New York and would like to represent our own state. Anyway, back to my story.
In response to my question the boy in the yellow t-shirt smiled kind of funny and said, “ It’s great and all over there, but you just don’t have La Gran Libertad, which roughly translates as The Great Liberty. I was puzzled. Aren’t we after all the country that tries to promote freedom above all else? We seem to give freedom precedence over reason, safety and health. And what could be more free than that? Consumerist America generally doesn’t like rules against consuming anything, even when it comes to environmentally-degrading plastic bags, killer fast-food, or lumbering one-passenger SUVs that consume about as much gas as a small Cessna. For better or for worse, we have a lot of freedom.
“What do you mean by La Gran Libertad? I asked, clearly puzzled. It was really hard for him to articulate exactly why it is that los Americanos are missing out on La Gran Libertad. He seemed to think it was a lot the atmosphere of the place, that it was lacking in the spirit of the people. I tried to get him to be more specific. It turns out this boy missed having neighbors who greeted him by name every morning as he went by their houses on the way to work. Lunch wasn’t a one or two hour affair with neighbors and friends stopping by. He worked at the Milwaukee airport so lunch was probably a 30 minute ham-and-cheese event in a small cafeteria smelling of old food. Where’s the freedom if the rice and beans are missing? Also his job was work work from morning to evening, not being able to take a long break to chat with whichever friend happened to be walking by. In the evening he went back to his house and no one asked him how his day was. As he came riding down the street revving his bike engine (obviously he didn’t even have a moto which is where the lack of freedom starts) he didn’t have friends yelling ¡Wepa! ¿Cómo tu tá? or ¿Cómo te fue? while they pumped their raised fist in salute. He couldn’t just walk a few minutes down the street to the nearest colmado to meet his friends for a super fria. According to him people work all the time. No one knows each other. When you walk down the street everyone is a stranger and it’s not obvious that any one you meet really cares about you. People always seem to be rushing somewhere, anywhere but where they are.
He said he’s planning to go back to work in the airport again, but he’s not very excited about leaving his small community where everyone knows him and shares in his day.
It was a thought-provoking conversation for me. Dominicans in general place a high value on friends and spending time with them even though the Dominican culture as a whole definitely values consumerism as much as mainstream American culture does. Dominicans (at least the ones in my community), like most Americans, love acquiring material goods. I think the problem arises when a culture tends to do nothing but scurry about working to acquire things. La Gran Libertad, if I understood my friend correctly, is (among other things) knowing when to slow down and enjoy what you’ve got with those around you. Americans might have a lot of freedom, but take it from a Dominicano who knows, it’s not near as much fun as La Gran Libertad.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
A Caribbean Winter
I uploaded a few more photos of our place and what we've been doing these days.
Winter has come to my part of the Caribbean. Peace Corps didn’t tell me (who knew then that I’d live in the mountains?) to bring a coat. I have a couple of sweaters that I put on all at one time, but it’s still kind of chilly. I don’t know what the temperature is, but my hands get numb when I’m sitting around reading or writing. The last two days it’s been raining so our only recourse has been to crawl under the covers. Earlier in the week, as you can see from the pictures, the weather was just gorgeous for hiking. The sun was slightly warm but the air stayed nippy. If I procrastinate bathing until after the sun goes down, as I usually do, it brings back memories of Pennsylvania winter-baths as a kid in our farmhouse’s unheated bathroom. Only there you had hot running water and you could run to the stove afterward.
Granted it’s not cold enough to see my breath, but I have one bucket of warm water to dump over myself while a breeze wafts through the latrine threatening to blow out the candle. It’s a chilly and uninviting bath. Sometimes I just skip the bath all together. It’s easier that way.
A week ago we took four kids from our communities to a national Brigada Verde conference. I think the conference was a big hit for all the jovenes (youth) that attended. Recall that Brigade Verde is a Dominican youth club focused on environmental issues. It felt strange towing four teenagers five hours across the country for a weekend conference. But I feel strange doing a lot of things here, meaning that if there’s one thing that Peace Corps (and living in a foreign culture does well, it’s stretching your comfort level. In college I was pretty uncomfortable just talking in front of a group, let alone talking in front of a group in a foreign language. Here that seems laughable. Last month when we participated in the tree planting project the local news station interviewed us about what we are doing in the area. I don’t have TV so I don’t know if it actually made the final cut for the air or not. But it was just another day in Peace Corps. Some days later Anna and I were laughing about the fact that if that had happened in the States we would probably have been like, “Woot, woot! We’re on TV!” But here so many new and strange (at least strange to us) things seem to happen almost every day that you just don’t really have time to process them all. Strange becomes normal. Which means that returning to life in the Stated in two years will seem rather mundane. Unless of course I’ll be used to this strangeness which will make American habits seem strange and so I’ll be in for another stimulating ride.
Some fun experiences:
Anna is sitting on a bus chatting with the cobrador (the fare-man) about where to get off and a man sitting directly behind her says to the cobrador, “Oh, so you speak English?” The cobrador says that no isn’t it obvious that they are speaking in Spanish and the passenger just looks confused, even though he could clearly overhear the entire conversation. Various volunteers have remarked on a tendency in some Dominicans to find it so incredulous that an Americano/a should be speaking Spanish that they literally don’t understand what you’re saying because they are so sure that what’s coming out of your mouth is English (or some other foreign language).
I know two Haitian Creole words. Bonswa is good afternoon and Bonjou is good morning. One day several weeks ago I am walking along the road and here comes a neighbor of mine on his motor bike with a Haitian worker on the back. He stops his bike and yells Leo! Leo! These guys speak the same language as you! I tried to explain that we actually don’t, but he was not to be discouraged and kept repeating, “Talk to him! Talk to him!” So I did. I said, “Bonswa," and shook the Haitian coffee picker’s hand. Of course the Haitian loved this because so few Dominicans (if any) bother to learn Creole. His face lit up in a big smile and he vigorously returned the handshake. My neighbor was ecstatic. He jumped up and down and shouted, “See, I told you!” Then he excitedly points to a group of Haitian workers coming down the road and tells me to talk to them as well. I shook hands all around with a hearty Bonswa for all as my Dominican neighbor cheered loudly. I never did correct him. Last week when I showed up at the school for an English class the professor said, “Ai Leo! I hear you’re speaking some Haitian Creole.” What could I do but shrug and smile?
Winter has come to my part of the Caribbean. Peace Corps didn’t tell me (who knew then that I’d live in the mountains?) to bring a coat. I have a couple of sweaters that I put on all at one time, but it’s still kind of chilly. I don’t know what the temperature is, but my hands get numb when I’m sitting around reading or writing. The last two days it’s been raining so our only recourse has been to crawl under the covers. Earlier in the week, as you can see from the pictures, the weather was just gorgeous for hiking. The sun was slightly warm but the air stayed nippy. If I procrastinate bathing until after the sun goes down, as I usually do, it brings back memories of Pennsylvania winter-baths as a kid in our farmhouse’s unheated bathroom. Only there you had hot running water and you could run to the stove afterward.
Granted it’s not cold enough to see my breath, but I have one bucket of warm water to dump over myself while a breeze wafts through the latrine threatening to blow out the candle. It’s a chilly and uninviting bath. Sometimes I just skip the bath all together. It’s easier that way.
A week ago we took four kids from our communities to a national Brigada Verde conference. I think the conference was a big hit for all the jovenes (youth) that attended. Recall that Brigade Verde is a Dominican youth club focused on environmental issues. It felt strange towing four teenagers five hours across the country for a weekend conference. But I feel strange doing a lot of things here, meaning that if there’s one thing that Peace Corps (and living in a foreign culture does well, it’s stretching your comfort level. In college I was pretty uncomfortable just talking in front of a group, let alone talking in front of a group in a foreign language. Here that seems laughable. Last month when we participated in the tree planting project the local news station interviewed us about what we are doing in the area. I don’t have TV so I don’t know if it actually made the final cut for the air or not. But it was just another day in Peace Corps. Some days later Anna and I were laughing about the fact that if that had happened in the States we would probably have been like, “Woot, woot! We’re on TV!” But here so many new and strange (at least strange to us) things seem to happen almost every day that you just don’t really have time to process them all. Strange becomes normal. Which means that returning to life in the Stated in two years will seem rather mundane. Unless of course I’ll be used to this strangeness which will make American habits seem strange and so I’ll be in for another stimulating ride.
Some fun experiences:
Anna is sitting on a bus chatting with the cobrador (the fare-man) about where to get off and a man sitting directly behind her says to the cobrador, “Oh, so you speak English?” The cobrador says that no isn’t it obvious that they are speaking in Spanish and the passenger just looks confused, even though he could clearly overhear the entire conversation. Various volunteers have remarked on a tendency in some Dominicans to find it so incredulous that an Americano/a should be speaking Spanish that they literally don’t understand what you’re saying because they are so sure that what’s coming out of your mouth is English (or some other foreign language).
I know two Haitian Creole words. Bonswa is good afternoon and Bonjou is good morning. One day several weeks ago I am walking along the road and here comes a neighbor of mine on his motor bike with a Haitian worker on the back. He stops his bike and yells Leo! Leo! These guys speak the same language as you! I tried to explain that we actually don’t, but he was not to be discouraged and kept repeating, “Talk to him! Talk to him!” So I did. I said, “Bonswa," and shook the Haitian coffee picker’s hand. Of course the Haitian loved this because so few Dominicans (if any) bother to learn Creole. His face lit up in a big smile and he vigorously returned the handshake. My neighbor was ecstatic. He jumped up and down and shouted, “See, I told you!” Then he excitedly points to a group of Haitian workers coming down the road and tells me to talk to them as well. I shook hands all around with a hearty Bonswa for all as my Dominican neighbor cheered loudly. I never did correct him. Last week when I showed up at the school for an English class the professor said, “Ai Leo! I hear you’re speaking some Haitian Creole.” What could I do but shrug and smile?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tropical DepressionTomas in the time of Cholera
First a few photos of what we've been doing. I promise more photos later.
I’m writing this from a hotel in Santo Domingo. Peace Corps, fearing the current swirling tropical depression in the Caribbean will open up a can of hurricane on the DR, has ordered all the volunteers in the south of the country to congregate in hotels in various big cities. Basically they want us all in a few key spots in case they decide to evacuate is. I’m closest to the capitol, so I’m here. The staff is painfully slow at handing out our room keys; I’ve been waiting almost two hours. It’s just another Peace Corps moment, sitting on the floor in the lobby of a hotel that charges $10 a day just for internet access (my house rent in comparison is $15 a month). We will be stuck in the hotel here until the storm goes away. At this point it looks like we will be here until the coming weekend. Although I miss my site, I’m not complaining. I’m only a 20 minute walk away from the Peace Corps office where I can find free internet. The hotel has a fabulous restaurant where we get all the food we can eat three times a day. And no, they don’t even serve boiled green bananas. They do have made-to-order omelets, lots of fresh fruit, yummy chocolate-brownie ice cream, and fresh bread with real butter (the kind that actually requires refrigeration). I’m now sitting outside under a warm hurricane-gray sky beside palm trees and a huge, blue pool. Yes, I’m in Peace Corps.
Last week we were also ordered to appear in the capitol for cholera training. Given the cholera epidemic in Haiti, it’s pretty much guaranteed that cholera will spread throughout the DR. The DR’s water supply system is almost identical to that of Haiti’s. The majority of rural people’s water supply comes from untreated (as in un-chlorinated) aqueducts or rivers. And all the country’s sewers (aside of properly built pit or composting latrines) run directly into the Atlantic, the Caribbean, or underground aquifers. We can only hope that it’s not a bad epidemic. Well hope, and then also train people how to minimize cholera transmission. It’s been decades since this country has seen cholera and the public doesn’t know what it is or how to deal with it. Many call it “the Haitian disease” and volunteers living near the border report seeing Dominicans refusing to get on buses with Haitians. So our current job is to teach our communities that it’s a bacteria that’s only spread when fecal-contaminated food, fingers, or water enter one’s mouth. Symptoms are explosive diarrhea and vomiting and can kill (from dehydration) a child in a few hours and an adult in a day. Treatment is as simple as taking lots of re-hydration solutions along with an antibiotic. With proper treatment less than one percent of infected people die, but if you don’t know what to do , you most likely die.
So we’ve been in our site over five months. I know I’ve posted about a lot of different things going on here but you may be wondering by now what it is that we actually work. For starters Peace Corps usually doesn’t expect that volunteers do that many projects in their first three months. This time is mostly devoted to getting to know the community, identifying their needs, and developing project plans. Our communities demonstrated a need for help with constructing latrines and improved cook stoves. The improved cook stoves use less wood than traditional stoves (which are essentially open fires) and just as importantly feature chimneys so that the women, who spend a big part of their day in the kitchen, are not constantly breathing in smoke. So we are currently waiting for grant money for both of those projects. I am also filling out another grant to help with the latrine project. This grant gets filled through private donors (like you) visiting the Peace Corps website and donating funds. Once Peace Corps gets the information online I’ll post the link here in case you are interested in monetarily supporting the project.
Between the two of us we also have three Brigade Verde (Green Brigade) youth groups. Basically we meet weekly with the groups and give environmentally themed presentations. The basic idea is to train these kids to be environmentally responsible. Two weeks ago a foundation Juventud Naturaleza (Nature Youth) brought a bunch of people out from Ocoa to participate in a tree-planting project in my community. They invited me and I invited my Brigada Verde group. My kids loved it. In the course of a Sunday morning everyone together planted about 3,000 pine trees. I hope to be able to use the foundation to organize similar projects that my Brigade Verde kids can participate in.
We have also had meetings about dealing with trash in our communities. There is no trash pickup so most people just throw their trash in the gutter or over a bank. Most of it soon winds up out of sight in the weeds giving the feeling it’s gone away. But when their great-grandchildren come along the trash will still be there. So working alongside a few more forward-thinking people in our communities we are trying to find a few strategic plots of land where we can dig a hole and place the trash. Basically it would be a micro-landfill. That’s the dream, but so far no one has been willing to put up the land. If we can find land, then we still have to convince the majority of the people that it’s worth their time putting their trash into sacks or cans and bringing it to the dump spot. It will be a patience-challenging project.
We are also currently trying to organize a reforestation project with the farmers. The DR government provides free hardwood and timber trees in various nurseries located around the country. Basically farmers request the amount of trees they want and we visit the nursery and make sure the trees are available and bug the mayor to provide the trucks to transport the trees. The last month the nurseries have been giving me the run-around. The local nursery told me that I have to go to Ocoa, the province capitol, where the director has her office. After a rather long and frustrating meeting with her she told me that I have to go back and talk to my local nursery. You would think that a government-funded nursery would be more than happy to find someone who wants to work in reforestation. While the nursery leaders say they want to work with me, it’s becoming increasingly clear that their lack of clarity and participation is going to make the project twice as hard as I had first imagined.
I also give English class once a week. It’s been progressing quite slowly because we really only have class half the time since it either rains a lot or I have to leave for the capitol to do things like attend cholera training or hole up in a posh hotel waiting out a hurricane. It doesn’t help that hardly any of the students actually study outside of class either. But it’s fun. It’s really mostly an excuse to have a good time.
So that’s a summary of our current projects. Well Peace Corps officials are here to give us hurricane updates. And then maybe I’ll spend the afternoon basking in the sun and swimming in the pool. Wish me luck.
I’m writing this from a hotel in Santo Domingo. Peace Corps, fearing the current swirling tropical depression in the Caribbean will open up a can of hurricane on the DR, has ordered all the volunteers in the south of the country to congregate in hotels in various big cities. Basically they want us all in a few key spots in case they decide to evacuate is. I’m closest to the capitol, so I’m here. The staff is painfully slow at handing out our room keys; I’ve been waiting almost two hours. It’s just another Peace Corps moment, sitting on the floor in the lobby of a hotel that charges $10 a day just for internet access (my house rent in comparison is $15 a month). We will be stuck in the hotel here until the storm goes away. At this point it looks like we will be here until the coming weekend. Although I miss my site, I’m not complaining. I’m only a 20 minute walk away from the Peace Corps office where I can find free internet. The hotel has a fabulous restaurant where we get all the food we can eat three times a day. And no, they don’t even serve boiled green bananas. They do have made-to-order omelets, lots of fresh fruit, yummy chocolate-brownie ice cream, and fresh bread with real butter (the kind that actually requires refrigeration). I’m now sitting outside under a warm hurricane-gray sky beside palm trees and a huge, blue pool. Yes, I’m in Peace Corps.
Last week we were also ordered to appear in the capitol for cholera training. Given the cholera epidemic in Haiti, it’s pretty much guaranteed that cholera will spread throughout the DR. The DR’s water supply system is almost identical to that of Haiti’s. The majority of rural people’s water supply comes from untreated (as in un-chlorinated) aqueducts or rivers. And all the country’s sewers (aside of properly built pit or composting latrines) run directly into the Atlantic, the Caribbean, or underground aquifers. We can only hope that it’s not a bad epidemic. Well hope, and then also train people how to minimize cholera transmission. It’s been decades since this country has seen cholera and the public doesn’t know what it is or how to deal with it. Many call it “the Haitian disease” and volunteers living near the border report seeing Dominicans refusing to get on buses with Haitians. So our current job is to teach our communities that it’s a bacteria that’s only spread when fecal-contaminated food, fingers, or water enter one’s mouth. Symptoms are explosive diarrhea and vomiting and can kill (from dehydration) a child in a few hours and an adult in a day. Treatment is as simple as taking lots of re-hydration solutions along with an antibiotic. With proper treatment less than one percent of infected people die, but if you don’t know what to do , you most likely die.
So we’ve been in our site over five months. I know I’ve posted about a lot of different things going on here but you may be wondering by now what it is that we actually work. For starters Peace Corps usually doesn’t expect that volunteers do that many projects in their first three months. This time is mostly devoted to getting to know the community, identifying their needs, and developing project plans. Our communities demonstrated a need for help with constructing latrines and improved cook stoves. The improved cook stoves use less wood than traditional stoves (which are essentially open fires) and just as importantly feature chimneys so that the women, who spend a big part of their day in the kitchen, are not constantly breathing in smoke. So we are currently waiting for grant money for both of those projects. I am also filling out another grant to help with the latrine project. This grant gets filled through private donors (like you) visiting the Peace Corps website and donating funds. Once Peace Corps gets the information online I’ll post the link here in case you are interested in monetarily supporting the project.
Between the two of us we also have three Brigade Verde (Green Brigade) youth groups. Basically we meet weekly with the groups and give environmentally themed presentations. The basic idea is to train these kids to be environmentally responsible. Two weeks ago a foundation Juventud Naturaleza (Nature Youth) brought a bunch of people out from Ocoa to participate in a tree-planting project in my community. They invited me and I invited my Brigada Verde group. My kids loved it. In the course of a Sunday morning everyone together planted about 3,000 pine trees. I hope to be able to use the foundation to organize similar projects that my Brigade Verde kids can participate in.
We have also had meetings about dealing with trash in our communities. There is no trash pickup so most people just throw their trash in the gutter or over a bank. Most of it soon winds up out of sight in the weeds giving the feeling it’s gone away. But when their great-grandchildren come along the trash will still be there. So working alongside a few more forward-thinking people in our communities we are trying to find a few strategic plots of land where we can dig a hole and place the trash. Basically it would be a micro-landfill. That’s the dream, but so far no one has been willing to put up the land. If we can find land, then we still have to convince the majority of the people that it’s worth their time putting their trash into sacks or cans and bringing it to the dump spot. It will be a patience-challenging project.
We are also currently trying to organize a reforestation project with the farmers. The DR government provides free hardwood and timber trees in various nurseries located around the country. Basically farmers request the amount of trees they want and we visit the nursery and make sure the trees are available and bug the mayor to provide the trucks to transport the trees. The last month the nurseries have been giving me the run-around. The local nursery told me that I have to go to Ocoa, the province capitol, where the director has her office. After a rather long and frustrating meeting with her she told me that I have to go back and talk to my local nursery. You would think that a government-funded nursery would be more than happy to find someone who wants to work in reforestation. While the nursery leaders say they want to work with me, it’s becoming increasingly clear that their lack of clarity and participation is going to make the project twice as hard as I had first imagined.
I also give English class once a week. It’s been progressing quite slowly because we really only have class half the time since it either rains a lot or I have to leave for the capitol to do things like attend cholera training or hole up in a posh hotel waiting out a hurricane. It doesn’t help that hardly any of the students actually study outside of class either. But it’s fun. It’s really mostly an excuse to have a good time.
So that’s a summary of our current projects. Well Peace Corps officials are here to give us hurricane updates. And then maybe I’ll spend the afternoon basking in the sun and swimming in the pool. Wish me luck.
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