On gastronomy and gal pals

¡Uepa!

Reflecting upon the last couple of weeks, I am pleased to say that I’ve been well fed. Maybe it’s the summer heat that makes doñas want to whip me up some fried plantains every time I pass by, or perhaps they believe my jean shorts that haven’t been washed in weeks make me look thin because they’re don’t stick to me like lycra anymore, because good golly, my community has been taking care of me. And because I’ve been sharing so many meals with doñas, I’ve been doing quite a bit of compartir, a Spanish verb that means “to share.” The concept of compartir certainly applies to sharing food, but more so, it means to share each other’s company. Compartir can mean anything from drinking coffee with a neighbor, sitting in plastic chairs on the street for hours and sending children to buy bread and mayonnaise at the closest colmado, or making a huge vat of espagettis with sweetened-condensed milk to bring to the beach with friends on a Sunday afternoon (and damn is that spaghetti good stuffed in the middle of a white bread sandwich).

Anyhow, with my two best friends Kris and Emily visiting from America, I was determined to show them the true spirit of compartir. In preparation, coveted items were requested weeks in advance so that they would fully experience the reciprocity of compartir. They filled suitcases with Ghirardelli brownie mix, bags of nail polish, coloring books and crayons, Crystal Light juice packets, Sour Patch Kids and every kind of nut Trader Joes carries. We were fully prepared for what I fondly refer to as “The Gastronomic Compartir Tour of Manzanillo.”

Doña food: crab, fried chicken, moro and tostones

Day 1: The adventures of Sambumba

I remember the first time I ever ate sambumba as clearly as I remember learning to read an analog clock. It was a moment of beautiful clarity in which I realized my life had changed for the better. My encounter with sambumba happened one scorching hot afternoon in April and my momma Luisa came into the house with a mischievous grin. “¿Qué fue? What happened?” I asked. “Alida just gave me two pounds of chuleta (lamb chop) and it’s worth $200 pesos so we’re making sambumba” I just stared and tried to repeat the word. Was it samboobies, sambooyah, kombucha, samwhaddya, samyaya? I had no idea but I went with it. “Okay,” I said, “Get at me, sambumba!” An hour later, we were eating a delicious bowl of bean stew with plantains,auyuama (pumpkin), salami, sausage and lamb chop over steaming white rice. Mmmmmm, que rico.

Now every day with sambumba is a day when I get to share a special moment with my momma Luisa. She always saves me the biggest bowl if I’m coming home late and we always eat together and catch up on the latest telenovela drama while enjoying my favorite Dominican meal. Because sambumba has many fond memories, I knew upon planning “The Gastronomic Compartir Tour of Manzanillo” for my best friends Emily and Kris, that sambumba would be the first on the menu.

Emily, Kris and I arrived to my humble abode after a long day of traveling and Luisa embraced my BFFs in her classic bear hug and said, “Are you ready for the sambumba?” The girls looked at me skeptical but sat down as they were commanded to and we served them up a piping hot cauldron of sambumba. We proceeded to enjoy our sambumba with frequent interruptions from Luisa asking “How is it? Do you like it? Do you love it? Do you want more? Eat eat!”

Success!

Day 2: Can’t stop, wont stop!

Day Two started with mashed up pumpkin with some scrambled eggs on top, generously prepared by my host brother Dawin. I’m pretty sure he had a crush on both Emily and Kris, and was more than willing to scramble up their eggs when I asked at an ungodly early hour (for him). We had a few grecas worth of coffee and set out on our way for the biggest and toughest day of the tour. First stop was guava juice and (an offer of potatoes, rice and beans that we politely declined) with Tita. We chatted about life in America and how thankful Tita was for the wrinkle cream Emily generously brought her from the Promised Land. We then headed to Mama Julia’s where the tour really ramped up.

I spend every Saturday afternoon with Mama Julia as she is the best story teller in town. She’s always got a mango, coconut or guava to share and is never without a story and a good laugh. Mama Julia remarks that I was sent to her at the perfect time, just when her daughter moved their whole family to New York and she was missing someone to love like her own. “God works in mysterious ways mi’ja,” She’ll tell me. “God knew that I needed a new daughter to love.”  If I had to quantify the amount of food that’s helped us reach this point of love and strong connection, it would be as follows.

- 52 mangos

- 6 coconuts

- 19 nuts that taste like pork

- 192 tostones (twice fried plantains)

- 8 bowls of moro (rice and beans)

- 2 bowls of extra-salt added ramen noodles

- 43 mints from the colmado

- 36 cups of sugar-ed up coffee

Me and my Mama Julia!

So of course Mama Julia’s house was on the list. We arrived and I told her son, Jose, that we would just be stopping in for some coffee. Well, a plate of tostones and fried salami, a bowl of moro, a platter of vegetables, three cups of coffee, one coconut and three mangoes later, we finally left her porch. We head back down the hill to my house where I informed the girls that they’d need to magically make space in their stomachs because it was time for la bandera, rice, beans and chicken at Chichi’s house. Stuffed, happy and two lunches later, we rolled out to my Escojo youth group graduation where cake was served with fried yucca balls, empanadas and quipes, small chicken-stuffed and fried grain balls. The graduation was beautiful and it was a great time to compartir with the jóvenes (youth) from my town. The girls handled it well when I set them to work blowing up balloons, setting up signs, serving the cake and pouring the soda. Their afternoon treat was much deserved.

A cake weighing in at 20 pounds!

And to top of Day Two of the tour, we went to my old host mom Wendy’s house for pastelón, another one of my favorite Dominican dishes. Pastelón is a dish with mashed plantains, meat and cheese very similar in to a shephard’s pie. The whole platter later, I informed the girls that they were officially done eating for the night, unless they wanted leftover cake. A shake of the head from both of them let me know that I’d done a fine job with the agenda on Day Two.

Day 3: Fry everything twice

Yesenia, my women’s leader from the neighboring town of Copey, has been my saving grace. She was the first person I met here that I trusted de una vez (right away). She quickly became my “mother” in Copey and she warmly welcomed me into the family. Now Margot, her mother, is my grandmother and brindars me juice within two minutes of my arrival in her home, every time. When I mentioned that my friends would be visiting, they immediately asked what they could make us for breakfast. Joking, I told them I was putting in a formal request for tostones, fried cheese, fried salami, juice and a platter of fruit. I laughed at the end to hint that I was kidding and we only wanted their company and perhaps a cup of coffee. “Mi’ja,” Yesenia exclaimed, “That sounds perfect! We’ll have the whole thing ready by 9 o’clock.”

Twice fried plantains, cheese and salami. Mmmmm.

Sunday morning rolled around soon enough and we were ushered to their table to enjoy all aforementioned fried goods along with mabi de palo, a delicious kombucha-like juice made from sticks and dried leaves. We gorged ourselves on one too many fried plantains and Yesenia mentioned, “As your student in our women’s Healthy Homes group, I only justify this once! Bea...you should know better.” The guilt set in, but as she said it, I realized just how much confianza (trust) we have with one another. Three months ago, I never would have felt comfortable dictating what she should make for breakfast, let alone invite a clan into her house to eat it all. Upon washing all the grease off our fingers and packing our bags to head out for the beach, I reflected upon how truly amazing my community is. They have adopted me whole-heartedly and I them. We have inside jokes, favorite meals, gossip time, so much more work to accomplish and so many more fried plantains and cups of coffee to compartir.  

Delicious breakfast thanks to Yesenia & Co.

Margot, Me, Emily, Kris and Yesenia!

And so concluded “The Gastronomic Compartir Tour of Manzanillo” and the hours of my friends, doñas and I spent laughing, eating and enjoying friendship cultures apart. 

¡Buen provecho!

Bea

This delicious dinner was a special treat because it included a salad! 

My kids graduated!!! Felicidades! Let them eat cake!

On the United States of America

Happy belated birthday, America!

Holidays have been one of the hardest parts of my Peace Corps service. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, birthdays, Mother’s Day and anniversaries are are times when I get homesick, reminisce, crave traditions, and just miss me some good ol' USA. 

I love the Fourth of July! This Fourth of July I was reminiscing on past celebrations in Idaho watching a town parade with horses, politicians, rodeo queens, etc. I thought about the times I went to the rodeo to watch baby calves get roped or attended a friend’s barbecue with ample beer and country music. Or I’d be antique show shopping with my mom and working at a pizza restaurant in my mom’s old cowboy boots in the evening. Or I’d be hiking a mountain with a friend and watching my little brother win a bike race. And as much as I was craving country music, hot dogs and cold beers, cold alpine lakes and lazy rivers, it was the one day here when I’ve felt most proud to be an American. 

Many volunteers remarked that they never knew how patriotic they were until we left America. It’s similar in a way to the saying “You never know what you have until it’s gone.” Now that we’ve been dropped into an environment so different from our own little piece of the American pie, we have had to learn to appreciate what comes from being a citizen of the US of A.

There’s the comfort things like internet and air conditioning, craft beers and customer service. But there’s also the deeper things like our education system, our diversity, our work ethic and our justice system. There are our job opportunities, our democracy, our efficiency, our accessibility, our history and our freedom – of religion, of speech, of expression. It’s not yet perfect and there are some Americans who have less access to these deeper freedoms than others, but there is progress. We have forward momentum to become a better people and a better nation. And there are so many people fighting and working hard everyday for just that. To allow those who cannot access the education, healthcare or justice systems to get there. That in and of itself makes me so proud.

It’s this and so much more that makes a person like me, on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean, jump up and sing “America the Beautiful” at a bar full of volunteers who have given 27 months of their lives to serve others. It is a pride that propels a group of 60 volunteers to sing “Party in the USA" on a catamaran sailing through crystal blue waters, wear American flags in our hair, pin a mint wrapper that says “Made in America” to our clothes, high five and scream “’Merica” and reminisce on the good ol’ USA.

Peace Corps has three simple goals. Goal #2 is “to help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.” This means I get to tell people that American is more than Nueva Yol, explain how to make a simple grilled cheese sandwich, emphasize I don’t personally know Miley Cyrus or Justin Beiber, describe what snow looks and feels like and teach my nail lady how to paint the American flag on my toes. But more importantly, I get the chance to talk about equality, women’s rights, political leaders who are not corrupt, democracy that works, scholarships for academic achievements. I get to talk about equal opportunity, work ethic, the Supreme Court, and a president who doesn’t give empty campaign promises. And most of the time, they don’t even care if I know Kanye’s newest baby’s name or what the bathroom looks like in Obama’s house.

So yes, on the Fourth of July I missed America more than usual. But I am proud that each and every day I get the chance to represent it. I am honored that I was given the opportunity to serve the country where I was lucky enough to have been born, in the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

Peace! 

Bronwen 

On being neither Dominican nor American

Hi!

Well, February 21^st marked my six-month anniversary in the DR!! It also happens to be Independence Month (they celebrate the whole month) with the final hurrahhhh being this Thursday the 27^th. The day will be full of parades, kids dressing up in costumes and running around like locos, people whipping each other with cow bladders in the middle of the road, and drinking (of course!). It's been a fun month here, with the flag raising ceremony in the high school every day at 8am and the lowering at 4pm. I'm also one stanza closer to memorizing the Dominican National Anthem!

Here’s a recap of my last few weeks!

After spending three months creating and conducting a community diagnostic with my Dominican project partner/sister, fast forward to IST! In-service-training. My whole health sector met up for four days in a weird, sterile Catholic convent in the middle of Santo Domingo off a random highway teasingly close to where we spent five weeks in the campo for pre-service training. For four days, the volunteers and project partners sat through informational lectures about how we should plan, develop, implement and succeed with our healthy communities projects. This training came at the perfect time in my service. It was nice to reflect on the work I have already done here and plan for the implementation of my next year and a half worth of projects. Also, I got to play some kick ass icebreakers and win a scavenger hunt (my project partner is just as/more competitive than I am, we’re a perfect match!).

Highlights from the week of training:

• Finally completing the diagnostic phase of my service and making a plan for how to continue.
• Getting the resources to start an environmentally focused youth group, constructing stoves, and starting a young girls group focused on empowerment, kachow, it’s right up my alley!
• My boss asked me to help a Dominican who lives close to me start a national NGO to promote sustainability of Peace Corps projects after we/I leave our communities (Ah! This is a big project!)
• Seeing my host family from the campo! It was so nice to be reunited with Mamí, Ani and Viji even if only for a few hours one afternoon during our training. When I arrived back to El Portón, I was greeted with all the love, hugs and cariño I’ve been desperate for these past three months.There’s no one like my campo family and I will always feel best when I am with them. Especially when they make the best espagettis and tostones and gave it to me in one huge delicious heap.
• Three early morning Insanity workouts with my man Shaun T. And after the 6am workouts, we’d run to be the first in line for breakfast and heaping platefuls of pineapple and papaya.
• Eating fruits and vegetables and only the occasional piece of fried cheese.
• Creating a vision with my community partner that I am very proud of. In Spanish: “Queremos un día en el cual nuestra juventud esté completamente capacitada en salud sexual, protección del medio ambiente y en como construir un hogar sano y armónico para tener una mejor sociedad y mundo compartido.” In English: “We wish for a day in which our youth are completely trained in sexual health, protection of our environment and in how to build a healthy and harmonious home in order to create a better society and shared world.”
• Feeling proud to be where I am in my work and knowing that I have a lot left to do, but I am on the right track and now with a schedule, monetary support, and ideas galore!

So I got back to Manzanillo on a Saturday and spent the week catching up with work, applying for a grant, teaching in the local schools, and visiting a really cool monument in a town called Capotillo with a group of 100 hormonal high schoolers (Yes, thanks for asking, I did survive!). This week, I’m continuing with my youth and women’s groups, English (and more English!) classes, going shopping at the Haitian market in Dajabon, and celebrating my big 23rd birthday! And next week, I will be helping with an Escojo Mi Vida (youth group) workshop in Montecristi then it’s off to Santiago to plan an environmental youth conference called Brigada Verde, or Green Brigade. 

But this blog wouldn't be complete without some fun commemoration of my six month anniversary, so here’s a fun list or DR/America cultural comparisons.

You know you’re Dominican when:

1. You find yourself wishing the cheese on top of your nightly dose of viveres (carbohydrate dense root vegetables) were fried.
2. You join the women’s softball team and two practices later they stop meeting.
3. The first song you put on when you get to the peace and quiet of your room is bachata or dembow.
4. You find yourself scrunching your nose and wrinkling your forehead to ask, “what?”
5. Fitting seven people in a car for five doesn’t faze you.
6. You blame Haitians for everything (eugh! comes down to a serious lack of education/compassion/understanding but that's a blog post of its own)
7. You say “saludos” or “greetings” whenever you enter a crowded building, public transportation, or arrive late to a class/meeting.
8. People tell you you’re “bien aplatanada” or “banana-ed” and mean to say that you’ve become a Dominican.
9. You’ve starting greeting people you haven’t seen in a while commenting that they are fat, skinny, pale, dark, tan, ugly, pretty or any other physical/irrelevant/offensive by American standards attribute.
10. You can have an entire conversation by using non-verbal communication with your face and hands.
11. You crave white bread.

You know you’re still American when:

1. You arrive 45 minutes late because you know the meeting will start on “Dominican time” but you’re still early.
2. You crave peanut butter, nutella, spicy food, and mustard on a daily basis.
3. You eat peanut butter and bananas while people stare and question your tastes.
4. You drink coffee black, no sugar.
5. You tell people they should probably not put a pound of sugar in their gallon of juice but getting a blank look in return.
6. You still get irrationally angry that your classes get interrupted by people being late and saying “saludos” when they enter.
7. You feel the need to plan a geography lesson whenever people ask you what country of New York you’re from (America does not equal New York and New York does not equal a country).
8. You’re still offended when people call you fat after they haven’t seen you in a while.
9. The lack of education and critical thinking leaves you craving a deep conversation about anything other than weather and gossip.
10. The more time you spend in the DR positively correlates to the amount of pride you feel to be an American. 
11. You crave spinach and kale.

You know you’re neither Dominican nor American when:

1. You’ve lost the ability to speak in full English sentences without throwing in a few words of Spanish.
2. You don’t really know what to do when faced with cultural problems such as men saying women “no sirve” or “can’t do anything” or when they say “those Haitians are all liars” and realizing it’s cultural but extremely uncomfortable for you to hear and do nothing about. (Suggestions?)
3. You don’t mind taking bucket baths and cold showers but you really wish the toilet would flush on it’s own.
4. You make $300/month but can still afford to do/buy more than the majority of Dominicans. 

Well, that's it for now! Until next time. 

Sending sugared-up coffee and juice, Independence Day thoughts, and cow bladders made for whipping. 

Wishing for granola, kale, dried mangoes, and quinoa. 

Love, 

Beya