On number crunching and election rigging

First things first...HAPPPPPPPPPY NEWWWWWWWWW YEAR!!!!!!!!

Hope you all spent it just like I did...on a crystal clear beach, soaking up luscious and much needed sun rays, unleashing your wavy beach locks just in time to dance by the sea at night, and eating American hamburgers. Oh, you didn’t? Hate to rub it in. It’s cool though, because since being back in site, my life consists of playing Candy Crush, preparing an English class, researching breast milk, drawing a map, snapchatting, and sticking my fungus infected toe in a bucket of boric acid.

Oddly, things have started to become normal here. My daily routine of waking up, drinking coffee on the porch, heading to my grandma’s house to inject her with insulin (well my mom does the needle part), interviewing my community members, planning English classes, applying for grant money, wandering around town, chatting...it’s all become so regular. And given that it’s January of 2014, I’ve been faced with the sobering reality, I have 22 months left. Wow. Time flies and then again it doesn’t. By the numbers in five months:

·      144 - Days in country
72 - Days in Manzanillo
5 - Host families
12 – Number of siblings I consider myself to have here
4 – Mothers I consider myself to have here 
1 – Haircut
1 – Fungus contracted by use of non-sterilized nail clippers
1 - Bout of not-so-horrible diarrhea
11 - Books read
58 – Community interviews conducted
Over 450 - Community members met
2 - English classes started
4 – Community groups joined
8 - Charlas (lectures) given on HIV/AIDS, breastfeeding, pregnancy, nutrition
3 - Jars of peanut butter devoured
7 - Cans of bugspray used
87 - Consecutive days eaten rice and beans for lunch
5 – Beaches visited 
$14,417 – My salary in pesos (equivalent to about $300)
6 – Care packages received (thank you!)
24 – Post cards received
8 – Average hours of electricity in Manzanillo
48 – Days until I move into my own house 

Last week, I wandered into the main office of the high school (like I do every morning) but this time with a purpose, to get a classroom and teach an English classes! In my opinion, teaching English isn’t the best approach to development and I’m not a huge fan, but when the mayor of the town asked me to start a course a month ago, I felt I couldn’t say no. Personally, I think these people need to learn their own language well before they learn English, but alas, I’m here to help in whatever ways are needed and if they perceive this to be a need, why wouldn’t the native English speaker do it?

Anyhow, as I entered the office, the high school director, one of my favorite doñas here (her grilled eggplant is to die for!) was having a chat with four young girls about a club they are trying to start. I sat in on the meeting not understanding what club they were trying to start and it wasn’t until the end when the director said, “Now make sure you invite them all to church this Saturday, you are now officially the youth pastors.” What? I literally couldn’t believe that they were having a meeting about how to garner more youth attendance at the Catholic church! I took a step back and reminded myself, separation of church and state doesn’t really exist here.

Then I started thinking about all the other things I've witnessed that seem extremely inappropriate from my cultural point of view. These other Bronwen-deemed inappropriate things include:

1) Parents allowing their children swear rampantly.

It is not uncommon to hear little children (2 years old) to be screaming coño (literally translates to cunt (eugh its awful)) at their fellow playmates, at their siblings, at me and even their parents. Another common thing to hear is “Mamá, él está jodiendo conmigo” or “Mom, he’s fucking around with me.” It’s painful to my ears!

2) Parents beating their children.

The most common tool for hitting a child is a flipflop simply slipped off and used to wack a child when she/he does something “bad.” “Bad” things include interrupting, taking too long to get ready, or other things kids are likely to do. “Really bad” things include hitting a fellow kid, spitting on an adult, swearing or just being a brat. And for those, they get a belt smack, stick pegged on the behind or slap across the face.

3) People thinking it’s okay to ask me for 200 pesos every time I see them.

No, it is not my job to give you 200 pesos. Just because I look white and appear to be foreign doesn’t mean I have money.

4) People throwing me endless piropos (catcalls).

Even after two months being here in my site, I am still the “gringa,” “rubia,” “Americana,” “preciosa,” “buenamosa” or “princessa.” I am never Bea. And the worst is the people who know me - know my name and know I will be here for two years living and working among them. If I could make just one wish from my fairy godmother, it would be to have then please stop calling me “blondie the beautiful princess.”

5) Showing up to a meeting an hour late.

Town meetings, high school classes, my English class, reunions, you name it – they’ll all start a minimum of thirty minutes late, maximum of an hour and a half. It’s the worst. I’m definitely going to come back to America and never be on time for anything!

6) Accepting bribery during elections.

This Sunday, we had a national election to form what is known as the “Comite Central” or a central committee of politicians who give advice to the president. The advisors come exclusively from the president’s own party (ironic). My host brother came home and I heard incessant arguing in the kitchen. I went to see what was up, and as it turns out, my brother (who supports this guy Tito) voted for a candidate (Anyelo) because a woman was standing outside of the voting location bribing people with 300 pesos (less than $8) to vote for Anyelo. Turns out the majority of people I talked to who are around my age took the bribe. Needless to say, our street corner was full of beer last night, what a great way to spend bribe money...not! As someone who believes strongly in democracy, it’s depressing to see how easily youth in this country can be manipulated and how easily the foundation of democracy can be rocked.  

I’ve been talking to many a Peace Corps Volunteer lately and they’ve all echoed the same sentiment - this is very tough and there are seriously aggravating parts of this culture that make us want to shove our faces into a pillow and scream (if the odds of finding a cockroach in said pillow weren’t about 70%). I knew that the Peace Corps was going to be difficult, but I was expecting it to be challenging in a different way. I worried about adjusting to the bugs, the heat and the lack of electricity. What I have found is that it is more of a challenge to get used to dealing with perplexing bureaucracy, the lack of motivation in host country counterparts, and managing cultural barriers.

And as I find myself here on the brink of starting the projects I’ve been training and preparing for the past five months, I remind myself that in this sort of self-imposed exile, attempting to “change the world,” it is not the culture, but rather the behaviors of individuals that frustrate me. It’s easy to use “Dominican culture” as a scapegoat, or a way to distance culture from the reality I live everyday. But many of the frustrations I have experienced are inherently human. In a poverty stricken town in the middle of the DR, it’s no wonder a young 20-year-old who never finished high school and has a four-year-old kid would take a bribe for 300 pesos. She doesn’t care much for politics anyway. My mistake has been in thinking of culture in the abstract – almost like an intellectual exercise, but culture is a day-to-day, moment-to-moment, psychological and emotional reality. I’m making it my goal this week to “accept” behaviors that I’ve deemed inappropriate in my old cultural context. Accepting, not in liking or approving, but in trusting (however irritating it is) that these behaviors are appropriate here. I will “accept” the behaviors because I understand that they make sense in the local culture, however strange and rude they would appear in ours.

This weeks agenda includes: giving a presentation to all the pregnant women in Manzanillo, heading to Montecristi to serve as a translator for a medical mission from the US, and perhaps running in 3k race in a town called Loma de Cabrera. And on Monday, I’m off to the capital to get my green card!

Until next time!

Bronwen