On culture and granny panties

¡Hola! 

I’ve been here now for 85 days and counting. It’s almost the three month mark! I think it’s time for a bit of reflection on Dominican culture, and of course some story telling.

Last Friday, I was feeling awesome. I felt as if I finally had a grasp on the layout of this town, that I was meeting people left and right, that all was going well and I hadn’t had a mishap, communication error, or problem in almost a week. But like all things I think I know, I usually don’t. After a long day of power walking all around up and down town from meeting Guatemalan missionaries in the primary school, eating lobster salad with my host aunt, rice and beans with another doña and locrio de ayuama with my own doña, to visiting the primary school and playing with kids, attending a social security beneficiary meeting of townsfolk, sitting in a meeting of leaders from critical groups in Manzanillo, to running to the Evangelical church to watch my friend Elenne in a danza, I was so relieved when I plopped down at home at ten o’clock to eat my mashed plantains and fried salami. And remember that I was feeling great about myself and all the people I met and all the places I saw and the things I did to integrate. It was such a relieving feeling, knowing I can do this.

And then out of nowhere pops my host mom Chichi to ask me a “sensitive question.” She asked me why I left three pieces of meat on my plate Thursday night. Just when I was starting to feel comfortable at home, kicking it with my doña, and here she is thinking I am starving myself. But I can’t tell her, “Well doña Chichi, I just ate a bowl of rice and beans at doña Julia’s house then doña Alex invited me in for lobster salad, so I’m kinda full and as much as I love you, I don’t want your boiled pig intestines mixing with all that in my barriga.” Or maybe I just should have. But it got worse. She followed up with, “Do you like my cooking?” Now I can’t quite tell her that I don’t really eat mystery meat/chewy pig intestines because they really gross me out and that a salad every once in a while really won’t kill me, so I said, “Lo siento mucho, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave it, I promise I am enjoying eating your food. I love it!” But after that I felt guilty. It’s a cultural thing. And like all cultural things, I feel like I’ll never get them all right.

For instance, church. I have been going to the Evangelical one because my three precious host cousins (with basically the same name: Elenne, Iliany, Eliana) invited me and I’m on a mission never to say “no” to anything here, so I go. It’s pretty intense. There are people who speak with God and lift their hands up in and scream “Amen, Dios nos bendiga, God bless us, hallelujah.” I actually really love it. I don’t associate very strongly with the connection to God and rarely feel the Spirit in the room, but I appreciate their enthusiasm and willingness to show me what’s up and welcome me warmly into their congregation. Its fun in that there’s lots of applause, stomping feet, sitting down, standing up, singing, and watching people communicate their love for God in various other interesting ways, like crying, yelling, walking around in circles murmuring under their breath. Like this one time when four high school girls performed an emotional dance with their eyes closed the whole time. They finished and left out a side door and mere minutes later I hear the sounds of human sobbing outside. Someone opened the door and there the four of them are sitting in a circle on their knees rocking, crying, holding hands and looking more or less possessed. I was pretty curious though, because I simply didn’t understand what was going on and I didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask them what was up when they came back in – so being me, I did! Turns out they felt an overwhelming love for God and the only way to let out their sentiments was through tears and song. Power to ‘em.

Another example, schools. I don’t understand how schools get anything done during a school year. I went to visit the small elementary school and just wanted to present myself to the director and let her know I am in town for a while. Well, we got to chatting when the kids were in recess, and an hour later, they still had recess and the director and I were still talking. I thought I might have missed something, maybe they got a free day to play, maybe they had been dismissed already. Nope, the teacher just interrupted her class and let them play for an hour so she could talk to me about my role in the community. When I walked out of the room she said, take five more minutes and then we’ll learn about math for ten minutes before class is over. Much appreciated, Martina, but them poor kids got ripped off on their math time.

Other cultural differences that shock me:

1) White pants and neon colored granny panties.

I suspect the concept of thong underwear has yet to be introduced down here. That or women don’t like wearing underwear up their butts because we wash our undies in big buckets that are also used for mopping floors and cleaning toilets. Okay, to be fair, maybe it’s a hygiene thing. But it’s bad. You’ll see women in snakeskin/floral lycra wearing bunched-up-two-sizes-too-big-granny panties popping out of the top of their skintight lycra, often reading “PINK” or “SEXY” or “MARTES (TUESDAY).” You’ll also see women going out in tight white dresses looking hot as hell and then they turn around and boom!...red granny panties in your face showing through that sexy see-through slip that doubles as a party dress just like that. By no means am I a fashionista but even I know better than that.

2) Babies. Everywhere.

Grandparents are usually the ones taking care of babies. It’s like the raising of the kids skips a generation, because 16, 17, and 18 year olds are having kids and when you’re 18, it’s not cool to change diapers, it’s cool to drink shitty beer and flirt. Which is the lesser of the two evils in my opinion. They shouldn't be popping out babies and giving them to grandma (who is usually like 34 years old). While it kills me to see so many teenage mothers, and a lack of concern over the alarmingly high hates, I then have to remind myself, culture runs deep. Socialization can’t be undone and what’s normal where I come from can’t be normal everywhere. Most children are so loved, even if raised by grandparents, extended relatives, single parents. Most days it still shocks me, but it's a beautiful thing to watch the metaphorical village raise these children.

3) 23 year olds who don’t graduate from high school.

I would say (as my research findings have thus far adequately represented) that 50% of teenagers who start high school don’t finish. In first year, there are around 120 students who enter the local high school and this year, only 51 graduated. Some take more than four years to complete high school, but the majority either drop out to find work, have babies, or just chill. They call these people “vagas” which doesn’t really directly translate in English but is aptly described as a mix between “lazy and leeching off one’s parents.”  Some young mothers go back to school, but most don’t. Think about it, it’s embarrassing to go back to school if you’re 23, mingling with lame 15 year olds who take selfies in History class. So most just quit, and sit around on the porches of their parents. My host sisters and host brother never graduated from high school and when I ask them what they do all day they say, “Nothing, just trying to get rid of boredom.” I want to shake them and tell them to get their asses to high school, especially because it’s only from 8am-12pm everyday, but then again I have to realize that culturally, they aren’t raised with an expectation to go finish high school (much less to go to college), but rather the expectation to find someone they like alright and then pop out babies, help around the house, and maybe get a job. 

But while these things are hard to overcome, wrap my head around, and deal with, there are plenty of cultural aspects I am so happy to have found here.

1) The friendliness.

If I don’t stop by Tita, Alejandrina, Lourdes, Wendy, Billerca, Addis, and Chichi’s house everyday, I’m in big trouble. I’m always being offered juice, coffee, rice and beans, dulces, and soda. And even those these people are poor and live peso to peso, sharing with your neighbors is just what you do. A lot of this is based in their deeply rooted Christian beliefs in giving those less fortunate and a lot of it has to do with this culture of compartir (sharing). Even the poorest people have company to share, they say.

2) The yelling.

The most productive way to get ahold of someone is to just show up at their house. And if they’re not sitting on their porch out front in plastic chairs, odds are they’re cooking or cleaning. So you yell. “CHICHI! CHICHI! VEN ACA!” That usually does the trick. And if not, you walk right on in, maintaining a loud yelling voice the entire time. Then you’re greeted by kisses on the cheek, a plastic chair to sit in (no one likes to talk to someone standing up), and a nice cup of juice or coffee.

3) The pace of life.

I love my days here. If I feel rushed to get to a 4pm meeting, I just have to remind myself that the meeting isn’t actually going to start until 5pm, and I can get away with arriving even at 5:30pm if I want. Although it makes my life so much less productive because I am usually a pretty punctual person, I just have to let go of the stress and remind myself that here, people forgive you for being late, interrupting a meeting to say hello or buenos dias, answering your cell phone in the middle of a meeting, and leaving early. Everything is chill. Tranquillo, tranquillo.

And there you have it! As a student of Dominican culture, I keep reminding myself that culture is about perspective and attitude. Keeping perspective and realizing that this culture is not better, or worse than the one I come from, just different. And maintaining the right attitude in that I shouldn’t judge an entire country for the beliefs and values they’ve deemed important. It's permeated too deeply and who am I to judge? We do weird things in America, too!

Off to observe a sex ed class in the high school. Sending love, dulce de maní, and abrazos del pueblo.

Missing my family, a great IPA, and the third season of Scandal with Kerry Washington.

Xoxox,

Bea

On poetry by Nancy Álvarez

For those dear readers who speak Spanish, I am sure you will love this!

¿Por que nos sentimos siempre a menos con otros paises?

No somos un país desarrollando es cierto.

No tenemos grandes industrias y educación suficiente para solucionar nuestro caos vehicular.

No tenemos las langostas de Maine, pero tenemos los camarones de Sánchez, no tenemos el trigo de Kansas, pero tenemos los arrozales del San Francisco de Macorís.

No tenemos las papas de Idaho, pero tenemos la yuca de Moca y los plátanos de Barahona; no tenemos la cocina exótica europea, pero tenemos nuestra sazón criolla que tanto añoramos cuando estamos fuera de nuestra querida isla, no tenemos los kiwis de Nueva Zelanda, pero tenemos guayabas por todas partes.

Somos los de los mangos banilejos y del dulce de leche de Baní, las tortas de Pimentel, los chicharrones de Villa Mella, los pasteles en hoja de San Cristóbal, el mabí del Seibo, las hojaldres y rosquetas del San Cerro.

Dios nos ha bendecido con un sol precioso, un cielo como ningún otro y unos paisajes que no los apreciamos hasta que dejamos de verlos.

Tenemos ron. Todas quieren tomar cerveza Presidente. Cigarros dominicanos. Bailar merengue. Contratar peloteros dominicanos.

Hay quienes han dado más jonrones que Sammy Sosa, pero ninguna tiene el carisma de criollo.

Somos un pueblo alegre, de piropos, de bromas, de compartir en el colmado, de hacer sancocho cuando llueve, de jugar dominó, de jugar pelota en la calle, de salir a bañarse bajo la lluvia, de volar chichiguas en cuaresma, del café de la vecina, de serenatas, de “asaltos” de cumpleaños, de habichuelas con dulce, de discusiones por fritos verdes y concón, de cocinados y “serruchos,” de angelitos de navidad, de bailar, de bailar en la calle, de hablar alto y reír duro.

Somos dominicanos.

On swearing in

I became a real-live Peace Corps Volunteer this week!

Nom, cake!

Look, a real Volunteer!

My two compinches Chaz and Sofia!

Who are the ladies? We're the ladies!

And then I had to head back to my new site, Manzanillo! 

Me with Licelot, my project partner, and her son Robviel

In front of the border to Haiti in a town called Dajabon

Sunset from the top of Wendy's roof

Another beauty!

My beach with a boat bringing bananas to yall in America

On being una voluntaria

What a week! 

I arrived back to the capital last Sunday, the 26^th and low and behold it was my host mom’s birthday. So we sat in a colmado (corner store) and listened to really loud music and drank Presidente. I hadn’t realized it was her birthday, so in a hurry I rushed to the nearest store and bought her a nice bottle of wine (surprisingly expensive here!). She was very thankful and suggested we make tacos and drink wine the following day in celebration of my near completion of training. I was so excited. Well the next day came, and when I got home, my host sister was vomiting all over the floor and we were fairly convinced she had dengue (she doesn’t) so tacos were off. It happened to be my last day at my original host family’s house and the mood was like a horrible terror movie – it was raining, I was using candlelight to pack a suitcase, the sounds of vomiting were in the background, and I could hear cockroaches crawling up and down the walls. It was depressing way to leave my first family, but what can you do, ya know?

Meanwhile, back at work, I had to give a presentation called “Readiness to Serve” to my bosses. Turns out, I was ready to serve, so Wednesday, the second-in-command at the US Embassy swore in forty-four (we lost five people before swear-in) volunteers and we took the Peace Corps oath to serve in Spanish and English. I teared up because I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a pretty big deal to finally become a real live Peace Corps Volunteer! To celebrate, straight after the swearing in ceremony, my newly minted volunteer friends and I went to a professional baseball game - tickets were $1. And of course, no celebration here would be complete without topping the night off with a trip to a discoteca for some merengue and bachata dancing, so that's just what we did. 

I spent the next two days downtown in the capital running errands, swimming at the US embassy pool (not nearly as elegant as it sounds), eating American food (Pizza Hut), celebrating Halloween (I dressed up as Earth in a threesome costume of Earth, Wind and Fire), fixing my computer (!!!), chatting with my bosses to confirm how I would start the health projects at my site, and dancing!

Friday, I hopped on a bus up to the beach town of Monte Cristi, only about 30 minutes from my lesser known site in Manzanillo. There, I met two other Peace Corps volunteers who live there and they’ll be my crew from here on out, so it’s a good thing they rocked. Saturday, I ventured to yet another Peace Corps Volunteers’ site in a town called Palo Verde (Green Stick). We went to a Dominican wedding, in which the church service was dominated by little kids getting baptized. Finally, on Sunday I jetted back to Manzanillo where in a random twist of events, I changed host families and now live in the center of town (instead of up on a hill) in my own mini-apartment above the house of an awesome family (mom - Luisa, dad - Enriquito, brother - Dawen, aunt - Chichi, and five little nugget kids) who are super social, chevere, helpful, bacana and fantastic. 

Monday was a holiday in celebration of the Dominican constitution, and as such, was naturally full of music, coffee, and porch sitting. But I’ve got a job to do, so I went out and made the rounds of town meeting anyone and everyone I could. I also made myself a schedule, and have hit the ground running with full days of meeting school/hospital/government directors and administrators, finding myself a small group of youth to help me conduct interviews, creating interview questions, starting the first of eighty-five interviews/home visits, going to English School to help facilitate classes for kids, attending literacy for adult courses, introducing myself to every classroom in the two elementary schools and one high school, walking up to random groups of people porch sitting to introduce myself, singing at Evangelical church services, being attentive at Catholic mass, and eating my fair share of fried food.

But, enough of that! Let me to create yet another list of the interesting things I’ve noticed this week!

1) You can interrupt anyone or anything whenever you want.

When I went to visit the high school, my project partner and I just stepped right on into a classroom, interrupted the teacher to say, “Hi, we’re here.” The teacher would stop what s/he was doing, and say “Oh hey, Licelot, good to see you, why don’t you introduce yourself and your friend.” Then I would introduce myself, tell everyone that I am a volunteer with Cuerpo de Paz and I will be here for two years working on health things blah blah blah, ask them to be my friends, and repeat my name three times (I'm Bea here because lord knows how hard Bronwen is to pronounce even in English). Then there’d be a few awkward seconds of pause before the teacher would say “Cool, anyways back to geometry.” And you never need to make an appointment for anything. Saying, “around ten o'clock” or “later” or “when God wants” seems to as effective (if not more) than penciling someone in.

2) You can send muchachos (little kids) to do anything for you.

If you have a little kid, are tight with a little kid, or see a little kid, you can make her/him do any number of errands for you. For example, I can send a kid to get me five pesos worth of sugar, flour, or rice from the nearest colmado. I can send a kid to pay my electricity bill, relay a message to a friend down the road, paint my nails, bring back a beer (wow, right?), or recarga my cell phone. It’s nuts the utility little kids have here. And unlike my own little brother in America who almost always refuses to do my errands, these kids here always say yes. It’s awesome.

3) I am still not sick of rice and beans.

I love la bandera (rice, beans and meat) and I eat it every day, without fail. Even when I was in the capital and had the choice of any food my heart could desire, I chose la bandera. It’s just SO good! They call it doña food because it’s the only thing a doña will give you for lunch so she can ensure you’re well fed. Without rice and beans, no meal is complete, she’ll say.

4) Christmas is all around!

You wouldn’t believe the Christmas cheer that’s all around! Since they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here, the Christmas decorations are dusted off and set up at the end of October/early November. It’s weird (because it’s still 85 degrees everyday) and nice (because Christmas is my favorite holiday) to see all the trees, lights, wreaths, ornaments, sparkles, angels, and nativity scenes in the middle of the DR. Christmas truly is a beautiful thing, and it’s awesome to be able to feel the cheer for more than two months!

5) I’m going to start walking with doñas on the beach at 6am.

Hopefully I can work them up to jogging/running/lifting weights, but we’ll see. For now, I hope they’ll just become my good buddies and that I can develop confianza (trust) with. Maybe I’ll even get some good chisme (gossip) by walking early with them! And I don’t have pictures yet, but my morning jog/walk/run is absolutely gorgeous...I get to watch the sunrise on a beautiful beach.   

6) My job is so cool.

I am an anthropologist. I get to experience a completely different way of life, learn from friendly, warm and caring people, and go to weddings, drink coffee, and chat with people in order to understand their culture. My job rocks! I am so lucky. This is such a unique and vibrant experience to be having and even though it sounds like I’m just sitting on porches and eating (which I do my fair share of), I am learning so much from the stimuli around me. Even the most relaxing day on a porch teaches me something new. The busiest day running around from meeting to meeting allows me to grow in a different way. I talk to people, ask questions, listen, learn and think. I haven’t been bored for even five minutes in this country because there’s always something to be digesting, debriefing, and analyzing about my experience. It’s cliché, but everyone here has something to teach and show me. It’s my job to keep the right attitude about it, remembering to reflect at the end of every day, demonstrate compassion, and practice patience as true integration is neither immediate nor easy.

Sending you all love, fried plantains, and bachata rhythm!

Missing you all, the top music hits in America, NPR radio, white wine, and the streets of Boston after our sports teams win things!

Xoxo,

Bea (often mistaken for Vea (to see) or Bella (beautiful))

On Manzanillo: it's not an apple, it's my home!

Guess what?!?! I found out my site and home for the next two years! It's a small pueblo (town) in the province of Monte Cristi in the northwest corner of the Dominican Republic in a site called Manzanillo. It's situated on the edge of a quiet beach with an unbeatable view of Haiti and an abundance of seafood. It's a port town with huge shipping boats entering and leaving with bananas on the daily (The next time you bite into a banana, think of me down here in Manzanillo because odds are it came from here!). We have minimal electricity and unreliable running water - but it's home!!!!! 

Last week everything happened rey rapido. Monday we showed up to work in the capital and were given folders with information for our future homes/sites! That afternoon I packed up my life and on Tuesday morning I left Pantoja with my two enormous suitcases and met my project partners, two Dominicans who came down from Manzanillo to pick me up and whom I will be working closely with to start education groups, health initiatives, nutrition classes etc. My project partners whisked me away (I made us stop for fried chicken and pasta salad on the go) and we hopped on a bus to my site. Six hours and three bus changes later (nothing happens as planned in the DR), we arrived in Manzanillo and I met my newest host family! And on Wednesday the adventure officially began and I was touted around and introduced to anyone and everyone in my new site. I've been here since Wednesday but am currently writing this on the bus as I head back to the capital to wrap up training and turn into a real Volunteer in three days!

Back to Manzanillo - I can't believe that this beautiful town in the top corner of the DR is my home now. I love my new host mom, Wendy, who is around 40, a great cook, childless, hilarious, a manicurist, and easy to talk to. She's campo married (meaning she's lived with her "husband" for a bunch of years so by default they're considered married) to a guy named Moreno who is chubby and loves to dance. We live in a quiet part of town and we've got awesome digs. Wendy was married to this Danish guy who built them this kick ass modern house then cheated on her and left her with the house and dogs (shes also unbelievably open with this information and doesn't mind that I'm sharing with yall). I have mixed emotions about all this. On the one hand I am glad this woman has a home to herself an a beautiful location especially when the majority of her family lives in shacks in the poorer part of Manzanillo, but on the other hand, she doesn't even have enough money to pay the monthly electricity bill of less than $15/month. Her family members seem to take advantage of her because they have some idea that her wealth is connected to the fact she has nice house. So it's a tough situation for Momma Wendy. But she's a bad ass with a tough character and great energy. She's been introducing me as her to everyone as her daughter but since her ex-husband was white, people actually think I'm her long-lost daughter. Awk. 

Last week was awesome for a number of reasons. 

1- Everyone in Manzanillo is warm and welcoming. 

Like in the campo, I have an awesome host grandma who always gives me juice when I come over! Her family is massive and I've been introduced to most of them so I feel like a welcome part of their home, which gives me a warm tingly feeling and the sentiment that I'm going to enjoy getting used to this place. 

2- I live on the border of Haiti and it's fascinating anthropological stuff up here. 

The majority of Haitians here are people who still live in Haiti and cross the border daily to make a living by selling fruit, clothing, shoes, jewelry etc. They can also be attended to at the hospital and the United Nations gives the hospital $2 for every Haitian seen so there is an incentive for Dominican medics to provide care. I point out this all out because the Haitians I've met so far in the capital and farther inland from the border are actually Dominican Haitians (Haitians born and raised here and haven't been back or set foot ever on Haitian soil). I have found that Haitians who grew up in the DR more inland were almost desperate to associate with Dominicans and reject their Haitian roots (probably because the racism here in the capital is so overt). I haven't encountered nearly as much racism up here by the border but I have yet to figure out if that's because they really are less racist on the border or if its just a different type of relationship. I asked my host dad and he just replied, "Theres not bad relations between us, we are all just people." I hope I find this kind of attitude all over, but we will see though. Up here, it's normal for a conversation to end with, "Okay I'm heading back to Haiti now, see you tomorrow." Casual. 

3- I live on the beach! 

And it's a quiet and tranquil and not tourist beach and it's beautiful! 

4- I understand why I am here. 

This is definitely a town that needs a health volunteer. Many people are overweight, almost every teenage girl I met had a child, none of the mothers had or were breastfeeding their infants, sexual health doesn't seem to be very prevalently taught in the high school, vegetables are extremely difficult to locate, and doñas don't have a great sense of hygiene when cooking and cleaning. And those are just things I've noticed  over the past five days. I've got my work cut out for me!

5- I went to a weekly doñas meeting at the Centro de Madre and felt so welcome!

I asked around and found out that Manzanillo already has a weekly meeting for the women in town. So I went all by myself and was warmly welcomed by women of all ages. They already want me to start teaching then about nutrition, sexual health, breast feeding, HIV/AIDS, hygiene. I feel supported by them already!

While last week was awesome for a lot of reasons, it was also overwhelming for a number of reasons. 

1- I left my comfort zone. 

To date, training has been pretty fun and very rewarding as I've spent everyday with fellow Americans and on a strict schedule learning technical health skills I knew I would be applying someday soon in the vague future. Since arriving in Manzanillo, I've been the only American around which leaves me exhausted and brain dead from continuously sticking my hand out and introducing myself to crowds of strangers and thinking in another language. The lack of schedule has given me an abundance of free time with which I've gone on runs, done yoga, read two books, sat on doñas' porches and drank more coffee than any human should ever ingest (even more than during finals period in college). It's now up to me to make my own schedule but its proving difficult when being new in town doesn't exactly lend itself to knowing where to go and who to meet. I'm not worried about finding my groove here though, I'm cut out for awkward small talk!

2- I will spend three months exclusively getting to know this community before I start forming groups and teaching official Peace Corps material. 

My first three months at site is meant exclusively for me to assess the needs of my community and built confianza (trust) with the people here. This means for three months I will be going house to house drinking coffee (which is hard because I drink it black without sugar and here they'll serve it to you with loads of sugar and I usually forget to remind them so I might get diabetes after these three months from all the sugar I'm downing on these porches) and conducting informal interviews to question about family, religion, education, environment, health, politics, etc. In these three months, I will be attending as many groups, church ceremonies, weddings, funerals, parties, reunions, etc as I can to show the community that I'm here and really trying to become a Manzaniera. I can teach cooking classes (gulp!), hold English lessons, form an exercise group, or another informal activity to get to know my community but my official projects will begin in February. It's a great system the Peace Corps has- they push for us to achieve true cultural understanding and integration before we try to impart our western/American wisdom into a community. Conducting this interviews and meeting my community members is going to be awesome (and rich, rewarding, fulfilling, integral) but my town is kind of big (5,000 people) so I am having a hard time deciding where to begin. I guess there's a silver lining here in that I can literally chose one of 700 houses to start with! 

3- My project partners rock, but they're super busy. 

As the new kid in town, it's nice to have a helpful friend to show me around. On Day One and Two, Licelot, my 21-year old Dominican counterpart/friend/work partner showed me around town introducing me to the high school principal, town mayor, hospital director, my grandma, the supermarket owner, among other integral community members. Licelot, however, has a 2-year old kid and goes to university in Santiago from Thursday through Sunday, rendering our productivity slightly lower than I had expected. My other counterpart, Richard, is a 21-year old guy who's just about to graduate high school and leave town in a month to study film in the capital rendering his investment in my integration null. But it's cool, I'm just gonna start to channel my internal bad ass/extrovert and start walking up to houses, sticking out my hand, and asking them to let me in for coffee and an interview. 

So, even though I admit I am a bit overwhelmed by this extreme life change I've just gone through (I know that moving to the Dominican Republic which was a whole new country and culture over two months ago might seem like a bigger deal, but to me, moving up here to Manzanillo and finally finally arriving at my site for two years was in fact more shocking to me), I am ready to swear in as a Volunteer and start the work I came here to do! I now have the unique opportunity to put the goals and objectives of the Peace Corps into action and form my own health projects in a small town in the northern part of the DR. And my god did I get an awesome site!!!

Until next time!

On a top ten list from the campo

A new top ten list from the campo!

1- I am obsessed with soap operas.
My favorite, La Patrona, just ended last week and I am torn up about it. The acting is horrible and the drama is daft but I am addicted. Unlike US shows, soap operas here only have one season and the TV station has free control over how long they want that season to run and when they want to repeat a section. Makes no sense to me but its a fine example of how an elite few control this facet of Dominican life.

2- Getting sick here is a real bummer.
I knew it was too good to be true. I didn't get sick- no diarrhea, common cold, weird rash, etc for the first seven weeks in country. And then, probably because I jinxed it, I got sick in a matter of days. I got a weird mix of all sorts of internal stomach problems, horrible body aches, and nasty eye goop. My host family was convinced it was the yogurt I ate from the factory down the road, but I'm 95% sure it was some random vegetable that was still contaminated or non purified water I swallowed in the shower. The common household remedies here are interesting. For diarrhea, my mom gave me a cup of coffee with half a lemon and a tablespoon of salt (read: gave me a laxative with acid for an upset digestive tract). For the common cold Mamí gave me cilantro tea with sugar for its "healing properties." For bloating I got licorice tea, and for a headache I got vanilla tea with salt.  People here have little access to health resources when they are sick and have learned to live with natural remedies for illness. Whether or not they work was unconfirmed by my bouts of sickness but I'll alert you when I find one that actually works.

3- Part of our project framework as Peace Corps Volunteers is to work on combatting non communicable diseases like diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and chronic respiratory illnesses.
This rocks! For the most part, the way to cure these preventable diseases is through diet and exercise. Part of my job is to create an appropriate way of doing this bearing in mind cultural differences surrounding obesity and nutrition. Many Dominicans don't want to lose weight because being fat is a sign that you can afford to eat and some truly believe that if they get their heart rate up enough, it might explode. I will be debunking these myths over the next two years. I have a really great opportunity here to work with community members on weight loss challenges, fitness groups, goal planning, and obesity prevention which affects almost one in four Dominicans. If any of you have workout ideas, nutrition plans, or other useful information- send it my way!

4- The United States government shut down while I was here and it was embarrassing to have to explain.
When I mentioned to Dominicans that our government shut down (thanks to those who kept me in the loop whilst this was all happening) they looked at me perplexed. First, they hardly cared, but since I'm a loud mouth, I told anyone who would listen (in basic Spanish terms keep in mind so I hope I did the ACA justice). Secondly, none of them understood why our government would rather shut down than provide citizens with access to health insurance. It doesn't make sense to me either. But in all seriousness, the gravity of the shutdown in our country will have detrimental effects on this country and my work here. For instance, I will be starting a project to make improved cookstoves that use less combustible and are safer for women and children because they eliminate harmful fumes that cause pneumonia and respiratory infections abundant in the DR. These stoves need to be heavily subsidized with grants from the US but because of this shut down business, I won't be able to apply for them for another 6-8 months, rendering a huge part of my job impossible. So to any legislators out there reading my blog (here's lookin' at you Joe Kennedy, returned Peace Corps Volunteer Dominican Republic) get your vaina together and fix this lio.

5- I should be a professional cow milker.
In Spanish the verb for "to milk a cow" is ordenear, que chulo! And did I ordené or what! We live next to a farm and our vecino invited us to try it one morning. Most newbies don't echar any leche but I got the milk to come out first try. After joking with everyone that I milked three whole cows and got five gallons out of it (really I milked 1/2 a cow's udder and got barely an inch of the bucket full) I told the owner he should hire me. He said he'd send over my contract but I'm still waiting.

6- Dominicans are afraid of the water and the sun.
Whenever I go anywhere here, the first thing my family asks is "Dónde está la sombrilla?" To which I reply - "It's not going to rain why do I need an umbrella?" And then you hear a chorus of neighbors and family members yelling- "Because the sun stings mija!" In a country where being dark skinned is considered worse than being of a lighter shade (read: albino white people are the "best" people), its no wonder no one wants to head into the full sun in the middle of the day (more to come on race issues in a next blog edition) It's incredible the versatility my umbrella has here. Dominicans (especially women who only wash/do their hair once a week) hate the rain because they despise getting wet. Most Dominicans have no idea how to swim either, adding to the great fear that rain will wash them away. And when you schedule a meeting and there's rain or beaming hot sun- there's a 100% chance no one will show up.

7- Kids don't go to school on days when their parents (read: mothers) do the laundry.
This seems absolutely ludicrous to me, but when the uniforms of children are being washed, the kids will excuse themselves from a day of school. I asked my host cousin why she didn't just use another uniform (a simple blue collared shirt and khaki pants for every public school in the entire country) and she told me that her extra was ugly. What a shame that the educational productivity of this country's children is linked to the laundry their parents do.

8- I'm finally used to having ten mosquito bites at any given time, lines of ants crawling on me, cockroaches in my bed at night, lizards sliming up walls in my house, flying beetles, and scary wasps. 
Unfortunately I don't think I will ever get used to the tarantulas. Yuck!

9- I'm almost sick of avocados.
It's hard to believe, it really is, but I eat at least an avocado a day- sometimes more. Avocado season is almost over so the good news is that I just have to aprovechar the time I have left with these delicious being and soon they'll be no more.

10- I love to dance.
Not really surprising, but I'm obsessed with dancing to bachata, merengue, salsa, dembow and reggaetone. It was a regular affair for us to dance until 2 in the morning with my host cousins, friends, and harmless tigueres on Fridays and Saturdays in the campo. To check out some of my favorite canciones, google Propuesta Idecente by Romeo Santos and Ayyy by Amara la Negra.

11- Going to the salon is an absolute ordeal.
Lots of Dominican women head to the salon once a week to get a good wash and valuable gossip time. So on my last day in the campo, I went with my sister and cousin. They lather, rinse and repeat- three times. Then it's off the the rolos where one's head is covered with rolls and stuck under the dryer, giving me the impression I'm stuck in old school chick flick. It's 45 minutes under the wretchedly hot dryer which burns like hell so I threw a fit and made them turn it off after fifteen minutes. Finally hair gets straightened then wrapped up in what's known as a tubie and trapped under a hair net to protect it from sun/sweat/rain. Women only take their hair out of the caps I they're going out, dancing, or showing off. The whole process took 3 hours. Torturous I tell you!

12- I cannot wait use a machete.
Machetes are used for just about everything- cutting firewood, mowing the lawn, opening a coconut, killing rats, etc. As a final community project, Mamí suggested that we cut the weeds and clean up the street with machetes. I was all for it, but unfortunately my compañeros weren't so thrilled by my valiant offer to use machetes and cut weeds. Instead we held a community Zumba class which was probably safer anyhow. One day I will report back on my advancing machete handling skills.

13- Not having Internet for five weeks was liberating.
Apparently we are the most tech savvy and dialed-in group the Peace Corps staff here has ever seen. Everyone has an iPhone, a computer, gadgets, kindles, iPads etc. and we are on them all the time. Being thrown into a campo without access to Internet changed all that for me. My computer broke day two in the campo and it hasn't been fixed nor am I in a huge hurry/need to do so. Unfortunately that left me writing this blog post on my iPhone, but definitely an inconsequential problem in comparison to others in the world. The majority of you will never get the liberating chance to disconnect for five weeks because the realities of our lives in a capitalist society don't grant us that freedom, but if you do, embrace it. Embrace the hundreds of conversations you will have uninterrupted by unexciting text messages and spam email alerts. Embrace the moments in which you wont have google to figure out who sings that one song, what jello is really made of, where in the world you are on a map, which republican is trying to ruin the country today, or how you can make icing without powdered sugar. It's a life changer and the creativity that comes with having to invent your own entertainment and enjoy the company of others is extremely gratifying.

14- I love the Dominican Republic.
Being in the campo gave me the chance to experience how the majority of Dominicans live and to see what my service in a small town will be like. Campesinos are friendly, warm, welcoming, sincere and compassionate and although they don't have much money or physical resources, they are truly happy and content people. I really love the culture, people, scenery, way of life, food, music, and even the crazy fashion styles that make me feel like this country is permanently stuck in the 80s. I feel blessed (all this church-going has really gotten to me) to have been placed in this vibrant and dynamic country for my Peace Corps service and I am excited to see what I can do here in two years. The Dominican Republic is my home now, I feel comfortable, happy and content to be exactly where I am. And after six weeks in the campo- I really truly feel like I can call it mi hogar.
So there you have it! My campo experience and six weeks of Peace Corps training in one blog post. Phew! And on Monday I find out the details of my site placement and home for the next two years. Then finally on Halloween we graduate from lowly Trainees to real living breathing Volunteers!!!  More to come later this week when I find out and head to my new site/home!

A baby from the campo! My nephew, Adrian!

On eating and befriending grandmas

It's been a while!!! I'm still living in the campo but we took an excursion to the beach today (google Playa Juan Dolio to live vicariously through me) and we got a few minutes of Wifi. Here's a short(ish) compilation of my life as a campesina. 

Let me start by saying that I absolutely love the campo. Highlights of the campo life include wide open spaces straight out of a Dixie Chicks song, cows in the middle the road on my way to work (this is 100% like the sheep that stop traffic once or twice a year in my hometown in Idaho but substitute cows for sheep and it happens everyday), chickens, dogs, cats and goats in my backyard,  a patio full of fruit trees, the sounds of crickets instead of 24-hour merengue, the smell of burning trash (okay jk this ones gross!), the tranquility, the sense of community, the avocados continuously gifted to me by neighbors, the donas who send my host mom leftover food because they know I'm around, the first name basis I have with everyone here, the cows I can milk in the morning (see photo evidence), and what's best are the fifty houses that make up my small campo community! Ah, I love it all. 

My host family and host community is amazing- the world's best host family and host neighbors. My mom- warmly known to everyone as Mami, my dad Pedro (called Viji by anyone who has known him more than ten minutes) and my host sister- Ani (who's 25) are the sweetest, funniest, funnest, coolest people in the DR. From the second I set foot in my community of El Portón (don't think you can even google this place it's so small) they made me feel right at home. I stepped off the bus and was greeted by hugs, kisses, cake, coffee and running water! 

What's more is my host mom is trying to fatten me up to fit in with the Dominicans (her words not mine) so I get the best and richest cooking around. Highlights include bollos (cornflower and coconut milk tamales), la bandera (rice, beans, meat), beets (enough said), avocados on avocados on avocados, avena (oatmeal), natilla (chocolate pudding made with real cow's milk), arroz con leche (sweet rice and milk), ayuama con huevos sancochado (pumpkin and eggs), la berenjena frita (fried eggplant), lechosa (papaya), morir soñando (orange juice and milk), and jugos de guayaba, chinola, avena (guava, passion fruit and oatmeal juice). Ahh I could stay here forever (or at least until the heart attack kills me). 

Enough about the food- let's talk about my set up. Nestled in the middle of two small towns off a nice dirt road 45 minutes from Santo Domingo- El Portón consists if one road, two small corner stores, one house that sells hair ties and calling cards from the front porch, two churches (Catholic (90%) and Evangelical (10%)), one dance patio (known fondly by the people  as 4-P (cuatro peh)), one gambling center, and supposedly 58 houses according to an informal census but I have yet to count more than fifteen. We don't have a school or a pharmacy or a restaurant but we've got glits and glam! My backyard even comes equipped with a beautiful outdoor shower shared by six neighbors and characterized by a cement box with a piece of tin roofing that is lifted and placed in front of the opening to serve as the door. Not to mention the outdoor kitchen we've got outback. And the patio of chickens/cats/dogs/lizards we keep. And the house wouldn't be the same without the five fruit bearing trees we tend to and make juice with- coconut tree, orange tree, manzana de oro, naranja agria, and passion fruit! My digs come complete with unreliable "24 hour" electricity and "running" water. It's not actually reliable at all and we seem to have water and light as often as we don't have it but the grid was established by an international development organization which gifted a lifetime of free water and electricity to community members. It's a huge benefit for the community but the electricity often shuts off for hours at a time (in a place where people expect 24 hour electricity this becomes a problem because people aren't ready/prepared in case the lights go). Also the water comes minimally so most people collect, purify (sometimes), and drink rainwater.  

Because I have been gone a while and cant possibly write about it all- Here's a top ten list of musings so far. 

1- Patricia, my host cousin/best friend here gave birth to a baby boy named Adrian. 

I don't really like babies because they frighten me but I have to admit that being a part of Patricia's life during the last few weeks of her pregnancy and the first few weeks of motherhood was amazing! Patricia is only 18 and her mom is only 37 but the two are a dynamic duo. Patricia is the kindest and most mature 18-year old I've ever met and it was awesome to be able to give her nutrition lessons and maternal health information as part of my work here. She really was interested and dedicated to learning about infant health, pregnancy, family planning, and nutrition. 

2- Celebrating Ani's birthday. 

My host sister turned 25 while I was here and it was great to be part of the celebration. She told me in passing that we were going to kill a sheep and I thought she was serious so I went around inviting all our extended family members to her sheep roast. As it turns out there's no sheep roast and apparently not ever family member was invited to the shindig. My family made fun of me for a week asking me what I was going to cook for all the guests I invited. I let them know I'd cook up a pork roast and now they're under the impression I actually have cooking skills. They've been sorely disappointed thus far. 

3- Becoming BFFs with Noelma. 

Noelma is my grandma here. She rules. She is Mami's mom and lives 2k away in the town of La Reforma. We have our technical training sessions everyday at a school in La Reforma and whenever I have a break I make sure to head to her house for her big smiles and awesome cooking. Since she knows I love avocados, she usually has a ripe one waiting for me and if not will usually ask the neighbors to gift me one! I made a big effort to get to know Noelma and it paid off. She introduced me to lots of other community members and all the extended relatives in our family. She's also a firecracker ready with sassy comebacks, witty sayings, and all the love a freshly aplatanada Peace Corps Trainee could take! 

4- The three most important issues to work on here pertain to water, environment, and teenage pregnancy. 

We visited a local hospital in the nearest town of Guerra where we met with a bad ass doctora. She walked us through the halls opening every door to every room without shame- exposing us to a pregnancy woman about to give birth, a newborn breast feeding, a child with diarrhea, and a man screaming in the emergency room. After the visit she thanked us for the work we will be doing and emphasized the need in this country for education on how to collect and purify water given that 1/4 Dominicans have diarrhea at any given time. Another huge problem in this country is the fact that everyone burns their trash here leading to respiratory diseases that she sees all the time in her practice. Finally, she lamented the alarmingly high teenage pregnancy rate. 1 in 4 women in the DR have been pregnant before age 20. I though back to my high school days and I knew maybe one or two people who had been pregnant. Here, I already know more than ten. 

5- Women expect men to cheat on them. 

This is definitely one of the hardest things to wrap my head around here. Every woman I talk to - be it a high school student, a teenage mother, an older doña, or an abuela talks openly about the sex their significant other has had with other women. Many even have second families- or another wife and child that they support on the side. As awful as it sounds, I have yet to find one woman who has not been cheated on by her boyfriend or husband. In the less educated areas (aka the campo) the stereotype is that a man can do whatever he wants and the woman must be obedient, available, and faithful. 

6- Gun control doesn't exist here. 

Once when I was in a dance hall- I went to the bathroom only to find a pistol in the sink "in case of a fight breaking out" I later learned. Well good thing because only a few days later during a patron saint dancing festival, someone broke out a gun and opened fire on the dance floor. One police was shot in the leg but thankfully no one else was hurt. 

7- Si Dios quiere. 

This phrase literally means "If God wants it" and Dominicans use it for everything. The response to "See you tomorrow" is always "Si Dios quiere." If you invite someone to a party, instead if saying yes, no or maybe- it's always "Si Dios quiere." This has made it particularly frustrating to plan meetings and events because no one takes accountability and just leaves it up to God's will. I've started retorting some of these with "Oh, Dios quiere" (Trust me, God wants it). Seems to do the trick. 

8- My hair can be done in any number of awesome ways. 

First there was my trip to the salon which was a riot because seven women were all cramped into a 10x10 box waiting for a deep wash, hair rolls and blow dry under the massive salon machines looking like an artifact from the 60s, then a straighten, topped off with a hair wrap and cap. To wash and dry my hair took two hours- not the most efficient thing I did with a Saturday but it was an awesome experience hanging with Dominican ladies and my BFF Patricia (the pregnant one). 

Fast forward a week later and my hair is in corn rows. My neighborhood friend did it for me and took twenty minutes to braid the top. Impressive! 

9- I've been going to church. 

Mostly just to spend time with the neighborhood doñas, I head to church on Sundays. It's usually a nice message that I can learn a lesson from or take away new Spanish vocab and it's a nice way to share time with my host mom and sister. 

10- Everyone has an apodo (nickname). 

Dominicans are born with one name but use another. Most of the bames are completely nuts and without reason (like the guy named Tresnoventa which literally means 390) and others are adopted from a persons physical traits (like my friend people call Flaca or Skinny). Other notable nicknames include Miracielos (Heaven Watcher), Feo (Ugly), Mami (her real name is Juana but she's the oldest child of 12 and aptly named Mommy), Viji (real name = Pedro), Ani (real name = Carmelina), the grown man named Bebe (Baby) and the trio of sisters named Uva, Piña and China (Grape, Pineapple and Orange). Then you've got the names that don't mean anything special like Monchi, Conena, Cirilo, Tatika, Tinita, Wande, etc. I guess even I have an apodo since I go by Bea here. My favorite part of meeting people is figuring out they're nicknames versus given names. I kept telling y grandma about my host dad Pedro and she finally stopped me to ask, "who's Pedro?" I looked at her confused and said, "you're son in law" thinking I was going nuts. "Ohhhh she said, you mean Viji." Gotta be careful with those apodos!

Also, send any notes, updates and noteworthy news from the states- I've been disconnected for quite a bit!