100 bananas later

I've been in the capital for the past 3 days running errands. I changed my phone to a company with better service. I went to china town to buy batteries and to print out some pics from a one-year old's birthday party. And I've been desperately trying to get my laptop fixed, but I think it may finally have died. The computer shop will let me know on Monday what is wrong. Oh the horrors.

I've also spent hours on the internet researching information for possible projects like latrines, efficient cooking stoves, improved coffee-farming practices, and solar electric systems. I've thoroughly enjoyed the noise and culture of the city. Coming back here for a few days has made me realize that I don't miss the blasting heat of the coast, but I do miss - at least a little bit - the cheap beer, colmados (very convenient convenience stores) on every corner, loud music, accessible electricity, and a big variety of fresh fruit.

We always get more bananas than we can eat, and when someone from our community visits Bani (several hours away) we occasionally get a mango or two. Eventually, when in season, we will have lots of passion fruit, oranges, and avacados. And when we cook for ourselves, we can buy more fruit in the nearest town. But for now we eat bananas, raw, boiled, or fried.

One of our first days in sight our host mom gave me a huge clump of bananas. She said, "Here, here, have some bananas." I said, "You know I really can't eat that many bananas." She smiled knowingly and said, "But these are for when you get hungry."

A few days later when I couldn't stand the rotting banana smell anymore I made sure no one was watching and then opened my window and hurled handfuls of black bananas to the eager chickens waiting in the coffee field.

The next day my host mom asked, "Are your bananas all yet?" Truthfully, reluctantly, I said, "Yes."

That night I had a new bunch of bananas, this time sealed in a 5 gallon bucket to ensure that I would be blissfully unaware of their slow, slimy decay. Since I'm offered plenty of bananas throughout the day, I pretty much forgot about my banana bucket for almost a week, but then one day I thought maybe I should try to eat at least some before they all rotted. I opened the bucket inside the room. That was my first mistake. The only yellow that still existed in the bucket was the supermarket bag that contained the bananas. It took several hours to properly air out the room. My second mistake was using my hand to empty the bag, one banana at a time. It was more like one handful of slimy organic compost at a time.

I no longer accept bananas in my room; I accept only what I can eat immediately. And I no longer look furtively about before throwing away a banana. I just cluck a little bit, and the happy chickens come running.


We live up in the mountains, along a winding dirt road. It's stunning. It's gorgeous. And its rural. It takes us about 4 hours (approx. 100 miles)on a good day to get there from Santo Domingo. It takes a good half hour to cover the last 8 miles of the winding, hilly, often muddy, and (in places) treacherous roadway. We will be working primarily with 2 communities, about 4 hilly miles apart. We live in Anna's community and I will walk or hitchhike to mine when I'm working there. For now we are just walking around visiting everyone, studying Spanish, gossiping with the locals, and trying to outline possible projects. I printed out some papers while I'm here in the capitol and I hope to start teaching English soon.

Tomorrow I catch an early bus. Despite the fabulous few days with flushing toilets and plenty of electricity, I'm glad to head back. I miss the crickets, the locusts (that frequently sing so loudy that your eardrims hurt from ringing), the kids that are always hanging around, the bulky cumulus clouds hugging the mountain tops, and the Milky Way's white swirl of light overhead when I walk to the bathroom at two in the morning.