Snapshot

I spent a lovely lazy Saturday, reading the bible with my dona over bread dipped in sweet coffee(my new favorite brunch), sauntering through The Museum of Modern Art examining Picasso sketches and discussing the merits of Stephen King with Paul, a youth volunteer, swimming at the embassy pool with Becca and her friend Estalin from Bohechio until we were so scared of getting electrocuted by the storm that we jumped out, then we chowed pizza and frozen yogurt, and eating with Becca is my favorite, she being my food soulmate. We ended the night with bachata and meringue on Avenida Venezuela and one of many encounters with nerve-wracking transportation in this country where common sense seems to not always be common place.

The rains came to the DR and the streets are swept away. I travel home from the office with my sister Joanna. Plodding through the puddles, dress shoes heavy with water we make our way through the prematurely dark night bordered by fluorescent-lit department stores with Dominicans huddled under awnings on our way to the corner where we catch a carro to our barrio. My eyes are busy trying to keep track of Joanna’s tiny frame, while gingerly picking my way amongst the largest bodies of water until the drops begin falling in gushes so that she turns, laughing, silhouetted by her enormous black umbrella against the bruised sky. Like so many women, her coveted salon fresh hair is wrapped around her head and tucked into a black net— she yells, “Natasha, corre!” I was aware that the rainstorm, and that the two years away from where I called home could have dampened my spirit, but sprinting through the night, seeing her smiling face in that moment I was positive that I was loved.

The volunteers get the fourth of July off and we took advantage of the opportunity to visit one of the little island’s many gorgeous beaches. We camped in cabanas at Clayton's ecotourism site. We also hitchhiked to the nearby “Los Patos” where we ate delicious grilled fish with the heads still on and limes squeezed on them and people tubed to the ocean down a clear, frigid creek, reminding me of hot summer days in Red Lake Falls. At the campsite they made a bonfire and I selected sticks from the forest floor to whittle for hot dogs and marshmallows. In the nights the ocean crashed and shushed, rolling the rock beaches over on themselves and the volunteers danced and danced and talked charged with energy of youth.

The days leading up to my presentation gallop past. I’m quite nervous to be ready by August 9th, when all the Peace Corps volunteers in my training class will get up with their project partners and give a brief history of their communities, the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats and the recommendations for the projects that will be worked on for the two years to come of the volunteers’ service. I hope that by then, all of the documents about adult education on a world, regional and national level, the interviews with authorities on adult literacy and the information collected from the field by my partners Chloe and Becca will all fall into place and that we’ll be able to, in some way, help the program grow for the better.

It's a Beautiful Day in the Barrio

I forgot to tell you about my last night in El Seibo. It seemed as though the entire neighborhood came to see me off. I almost teared up when I found that Elida, the pretty young housekeeper had laid a shirt that I had once complimented on my mosquitero as a gift and when we hugged goodbye, she told me in slow, careful English that it was “nice to meet you.” As I walked through the streets to say goodbye to my beloved neighbors, kids shouted my name. I hugged my neighbor Rosa who told me that my time in El Seibo had gone too fast, exchanged kisses and high fives with her kids Jaime and Victor and their sister Rosie handed me a green plastic bracelet and added the achingly sincere parting words that I’ve found to be common with my Dominican friends: “don’t forget me”. As I played cards with my mom, more children congregated at the door, more than I can ever remember being introduced to and they called for me and asked me when I was leaving. I bring it up now because I am reminded of it as I settle into my new barrio in Santo Domingo, where, unlike Cheers, everybody does not know your name and I have three months to find my place again.

I’ve become a transplanted, additional aunt, sister, daughter, sharing meals and taking part in activities like visiting the national aquarium and celebrating mother’s day which is a big deal here, perhaps because motherhood is more revered, perhaps because it’s more ubiquitous. Before leaving the office on Friday the mothers in the office were given felicidades=congratulations, gifts of roses and snacks of cookies, cheesecake, bizcoho, soda, and were brought together to be photographed while the Dominican mother’s day song was sung by all, that’s right--they even have a song. I visited the house of my sister (and coworker) Joanna who has taken such good care of me since my arrival. She looked lovely in a sun dress for mother’s day and while my doña was out having her hair done at the salon, an extremely frequent ritual for any Dominican woman, Joanna, her son Brailyn, and I watched The Guardian, ate mangoes and ice cream cones and played card games—I taught War and Kings in a Corner. I was happy to meet Joanna’s husband Bisman who works with street kids near Boca Chica, and who looks like some bearded folkloric god. My doña pointed out, laughing, the discrepancy of his huge bulk next to Joanna’s slight frame. He brought sangria while I chatted with his brother Giovanny, a jovially father of three who had moved back to the D.R. after ten years in what the Dominicans call Nueva Yol. He had a mean Brooklyn accent to show for it which he told me resulted from hanging out with ‘’all those blacks.” We had the usual banter about how he would like to have someone to practice his English with and I reply that I dislike speaking in English as it stunts my growth. I have also come to detest when anyone analyzes my Spanish skills as lacking as came up here “Ella no habla mucho”: she doesn’t speak a lot or “Ella no entiende todo”: she doesn’t understand everything—these frequent comments, though surely innocuous in the blatant Dominican culture get under my skin, especially as they are always expressed in the third person when I am standing directly in front of them. If I know enough to understand that you’re saying I don’t know much---I think I know enough! ANYWAY. The conversation continued as such (in Spanish mind you as I persisted to respond in Spanish)

G: Well, you’ll enjoy your vacation for two years here (this was after having explained my volunteer situation and him having told me that I needed to find a Dominican boyfriend to pay for everything for me since I wasn’t paid much.)

Me: I’m not on vacation, I’m working.

G: Yeah, but work here, it’s not like “alla” or “over there in the States” where it’s just, go to work, get in the car, come home. You can enjoy yourself, travel, go to the carwash (danceclub)… Here, I don’t have to pay the water bill, I don’t have to pay the light bill, I don’t have to pay for the house…”

(I thought I’d forgo the politically correct model that was suggested in training) “Yeah, but here, sometimes we don’t have water, and sometimes we don’t have lights.

“Yes but, that’s good too, when we don’t have water the family steps up and comes to help us, when there’s no lights, there’s no radio, and no television and you go and sit on the patio and talk, you just have each other.”

I couldn’t decide if the guy was trying to comfort himself after having to return from the states or if he truly felt that way, or both. Peace Corps volunteers (myself included) can have a real cynicism for this island. Why are the people irresponsible? Why doesn’t anything function the way it’s supposed to? I often find myself caught in the middle, sometimes basking in the beauty of the vibrant mess of the D.R.—it’s incredible generosity and tenacity, in some ways, its innocence, sometimes feeling guilty that these ideas may cause me to overlook the problems that make development workers cringe. This country where I have three mothers who have taken me as their daughters in a matter of weeks, where upon asking for directions, a doña will stop what she’s doing and take me by the hand and lead me to where I need to go, where young carro publico drivers tell me “cuidate mi corazon”:take care of yourself, my heart, when they let me out onto the corner at night. The same country where I want to yell while trudging through garbage laden streets when I can’t breathe another lung full of exhaust and someone calls me "China" ...

Back in the capitol!

...For two years. I had an crazy week getting to know the ins and outs of the NGO headquartered in Santo Domingo that works in the southern regions of the Dominican Republic—some of the poorest regions. The organization already works with environmental projects like reforestation, education projects like remodeling rural schools and supporting homework clubs and microcredit. My project is their newest, an adult literacy program and I'm extremely proud to be working with a team of two other of my fellow volunteers and friends, Chloe and Becca. Because I work at the headquarters I will have the opportunity to coordinate with their projects in the South.

I spent time with my new host family in an extremely urban barrio about an hour commute from my office. A secretary in my office, Joanna, who has been taking care of me (even though she has her own house and family in the same neighborhood) suggested hosting a Peace Corps volunteer to mother, now my sweet Do~na named Bienvenida (her name means welcome :) . We live in a tidy third story apartment that, thank goodness, has windows allowing lots of sunlight and breeze on three sides. Also making guest appearances: my kind Don, who I don't know very well as he leaves for work before I wake up and comes home after I go to sleep, their daughter Jeisy, her boyfriend and their 5 year old son, and a cast of uncles, cousins, and neighbors who in true Dominican fashion, come in and out of the apartment as if there were a revolving door, having coffee, visiting and using the kitchen to make spaghetti hahaha.

I also became acquainted with the executive office in which I will be spending much time during the next two years. It's not what I pictured when I received my invitation to the Peace Corps, but, everything in my service has thus far defied expectation. My boss is an incredibly driven, progressive Dominican woman who heads up all of our organization's education programs and she introduced me to a barrage of coworkers and Ministry of Education employees. The second part of the visit was allocated for a sweet roadtrip to the south to visit Chloe and Becca's sites. I set out at 6am in a cab (with the help of an uncle who happened to be drinking coffee in my apartment at that time while my Don~a was out exercising) to the office where I was picked up by an amiable driver named Pablo who also happens to own a bizcocho shop--one of my favorite Dominican confections, like a birthday cake, that I hope to visit soon after befriending him. We visited the two offices where the girls were based in varying states of desert pueblos (small towns). They all have hilarious, though not necessarily intentionally hilarious, project partners and coworkers that have become part of our family including Jorchi, Vlad (pronounced Blah) and Dimbo. The most interesting activities included 1. Our visit to a batey: a community consisting of a mix of poor Haitian and Dominican families that developed around sugar cane fields and 2. Our visit to a literacy meeting where a group of women in Becca's village were sitting under a tree outside of the facilitator's home in plastic lawn furniture learning how to read and write. Both of these were rich experiences that will surely guide my work for the next two years. All of us were hosted for dinner at Becca’s quaint little house where we were entertained by a pig, a goat , several dogs and chickens, some very amorous cats and some impromptu english/spanish lessons. The bonding was rounded out as Chloe and I were driven to a hydroelectric dam where our boss explained quite matter-of-factly that we would be sleeping in the employees' dormitories they had rented for us.

Wrapping up Community based training: It was sad leaving my family from CBT in El Seibo just because I hate goodbyes but I was very glad to move on to my project. I ended up teaching part of two computer classes with my group of fellow volunteers--one on an Encarta program for kids and one on how to insert headers and footers in a word document woo hoo. Though that training is now rendered sort of null and void with my current literacy project it was an awesome experience for us to bond with other Peace Corps volunteers and the local youth, with whom we produced a newspaper, documentary film and graphic designs.

Okay. I had my volunteer visit and for the first time got to get a look at real life service, the good the bad and the ugly. Let´s talk about the good: I found the place! My volunteer had given me awesome directions with which to travel across the country and I had a lot of help along the way, some from trainees and existing volunteers peppered about the country, some from a mystery man who, when I got off the bus somehow knew who I was and put me in the right public car and told them to take care of me (I still to this day don´t know who he was!) and some from the friendly motorcycle taxi drivers, or motoconchos who saw me wandering and asked me if I was looking for my volunteer.
My volunteer was incredibly sweet and encouraging. By candlelight we ate our dinners which consisted of her specialty, deliciously sautéed vegetables, to my stomach´s content as it was a nice break from the Dominican standard of rice, beans, platanos, meat. In fact, by candlelight I did almost everything including bucket baths. Though she had her own apartment she had a lot of interaction with her host family as she lived in the same building as some relatives. And, best of all, she was surviving—although she had many hardships she had made it though her first year of service and this was something I needed to see. I got to visit the North coast of the country which was a great blessing as I got to visit my first Dominican beach. A couple of the volunteers in the area met up so I got to hang out with other trainees as well—it was like a dream come true, white sand, palm trees, crystal blue water, man, there is a reason that tourism is the country´s largest source of income.
Our volunteer visits concluded the first portion of our training which was a true crash course in all things Dominican and things we needed to know to learn more in the future. The results of this training were for me: a complete and utter love of my family in Santo Domingo (though I only got to live there briefly), more confidence in Spanish, (basic) knowledge of Dominican history, environment, educational system, cultural nuances and most importantly, how to dance bachata haha.
We then left the other half of our training group, the environment kids who were on their way to learn how to build efficient cook stoves and go snorkelling and got on the bus to El Seibo to begin our community based training. Here I met my mom Francisca, my dad Billo, the young lady who cooks and cleans Elida, my sister Yaira and my brother Franklin who bears a striking resemblance to my brothers in the States. I lucked out yet again with house placement. Although I´m far away from the other volunteers, I like my neighborhood and our house is super nice, (running water again!) I met a youth volunteer who had actually just moved out before I moved in and he explained that our family setup is non traditional as both parents work all day--my mom is the principal of a school in el campo (which can be translated as boonies) and my dad transports and sells water and fruit from his truck, at least as far as I can tell, his accent is quite strong so I try to get information from my mom with the copious amounts of questions I ask each day to try and understand what the heck is going on with my still limited Spanish. Elida is really nice and a good cook, I thought I didn´t like weird Dominican spaghetti which is cooked twice with corn and onions and cheesy tomato sauce but she makes it really well, I am also developing a taste for tostones, doubly friend and squashed plantains that taste kinda like thick potato chips. As I type there is a massive construction project going on outside our house, my family is building a second story to serve as apartments for a source of income, but, Domincan construction can last a long time as they don´t always have all the money required to finish a project before beginning it.
Community based training so far has focused on computer hardware and software, their Spanish translations and how the heck we´re supposed to work when there´s erratic power in this country, teaching methods, and how to do research in our community so that we can work efficiently. We have Spanish class at our teacher´s houses, who also live with host families and trainees, an interesting setup to say the least.
I experinced holy week here which means I got a little much needed time off, spent a lot of time talking with my mom as no one works or goes to school and I ate the holy week special--habichuelas con dulce, which taste like liquid pumpkin pie with soggy cookies and pieces of potato floating in it.
Soon to come...teaching my first computer class in Spanish

Dominican In-Training

Before we can become real life volunteers we have to learn how to have real lives, so, I´m spending the bulk of my time in training. We train from 8am to approximately 4:30pm 6 days a week. During this time I´m in Spanish class learning about topics like public transportation aka "crazy phrases that will be shouted at you by the cobrador in the guaga" (the cobrador is the guy who hangs out the door of the bus, trying like mad to convice people to get on his guagua even when they`re packed in there like sardines, then he collects the sardines` money once they`re on the guagua and watches for the stops that are yelled out) or I´m taking in lectures/workshops--yesterday we had an awesome impromtu lecture about the state of Haiti from a Creole/French teacher from there or I´m getting vaccinated and hearing about the dangers of Dengue fever and eating fish and cabbage.

Those are generals that everyone attends. In addition, we have assignment specific trainings which have been interesting (albeit slightly overwhelming) thusfar. Some things I´m excited about specifically: they´re developing up a new IT education sector that focuses on literacy in certain sites, we´ve been learning about Dominican school systems and everybody knows I get worked up about education, and soon we´ll be doing diagnostics ( interviews, observations and surveys in our communities to figure out what the challenges are, where the opportunities are etc) and I love figuring out why people do things, primary research was always my favorite part of my advertising degree...

Right now I´m visiting a current volunteer at their site...more on this to come.

First Post In Country!

I had a little trouble logging in because I couldn´t figure out how to make the @ symbol, but, get this! One of my peace corps buddies had taught me some computer vocab in spanish during training including that word "arrobo" AND I had the courage to ask the two young people running this internet cafe how to make the sign on the keyboard--JOY! In only a few days I have roughly 30 times the courage I ever had to try and get my point across in spanish, even if its incorrect. You know what´s awesome, I´m struggling right now to NOT type words in Spanish heheh

Let´s see, soooooooooo many things to say, so little time...my hands are shaking as I type this because I´m so excited to tell you all everything, but, it´s impossible to do so in one sitting and I only paid to use the computer for one hour.

First of all, I love all the 39 peace corps members in my training class, I feel like I can confidently talk to all of them about their home lives, their spanish struggles haha and anything else. I´m so lucky that some of them live in my barrio or, neighborhood, and we visit each other, talk with each others families, dance with each others families etc.


I´m in love with my host mother, whom I call mama. She reminds me so much of my grandma and aunts in Guatemala. And, though I feel a bit guilty because it´s soooo beautiful, I´m in love with her house! I´m pretty sure I have one of the best set ups of the volunteers. I´d say 70 percent of the volunteers have to take bucket baths because of the huge water shortage but my house has a working shower and the same amount don´t have electricity because of the bad infrastructure, but my house has a generator! Basically, it´s a palace, I think it´s because my mom owns a woman´s clothing store below the house that sells imported clothes that her daughter, who lives in Holland sends her. Also, it´s a great set up because there aren´t any little kids. Don´t get me wrong, for vounteers, little kids are excellent for language and cultural aquisition but, they also like to "share" everything, including your privacy (see discussion on "compartir" below) so I just like visiting with other volunteers´sisters. My mama´s name is Dona Asia, Dona is a term of respect kind of like Mrs. and I live with her, her husband, Don Rafael and their son Ramon, who´s called Tony and his wife Zoilia, pronounced like soy-la. They are all so sweet and patient with me, and I think they can tell how easily I get attatched to people because they are always smiling and at least trying to talk with me, although I can´t understand everyhting they´re saying hahaha. I think it really helps that I hug my mom all the time and say thanks a lot and when I got to the house I made sure to tell her " Quiero a compartir todo!" This means roughly, I want to share everything with you, but it means a lot more in the Dominican culture along with "confianza" or trust. These people are waaay into sharing and being generous. They always have their doors open, literally, and they always want me to eat more, and tell me so regularly. And our teachers told us that we can´t come home from class and just shut our doors right away because our famliy might think we don´t want to "compartir" or share in their life. Whenever I say thank you for food my mama tells me "a su orden," a Dominican phrase which I´ve come to understand to mean "I will do whatever will make you happy."I also love our little Chiuaua "Nina" which means girl, she is always around with me wagging her tail and shivering, as Chiuaua´s tend to do.

There´s so much more but my time is running short, other things to say: This is the loudest country in the world. Another volunteer told me that they heard that somewhere and I could EASILY believe it to be true. In addition to the usual noise of tons of cars without mufflers and the hustle and bustle of closely packed people that´s common in Latin American countries there´s also music on constantly. Blaring. On "maximo." And the people are not shy about singing in public. WHILE the music is blaring there is usually also a TV on full blast and people shouting. It´s weirdly comforting in that I feel like I´m never alone but I may come back slightly hearing impaired hahah. I´m trying to adjust to sleeping with this at night.

The people here are very clean. Even though there´s a water shortage they take multiple bucket baths a day and always smell and look good and we´re expected to conform.

I´m very happy here and I´m thinking of you all, there´s much more to come including pictures and hopefull video....

Old job, new job.

In order to accept my Peace Corps position, I had to leave my role as a tutor in Minneapolis. As my departure neared, I was incredibly overwhelmed by the kindness exhibited by my coworkers and students in the form of hugs and well wishes, cards, video greetings, clothing for my new way of life, even a cake that read "feliz viaje"--have a happy trip, in Spanish. The reason I loved my job was the fact that I was able to get to know a hundred young people in my community, experience their immense intelligence, respect, and their even greater potential. It is difficult to bear the idea that I won't be with them to support them in their challenges and to celebrate with them during their victories, or even to see their smiling faces and hear their laughter. It doesn't seem fair to leave these people, when the joy that they gave me was the reason I gave thanks each day of my own life. On my last day, as I was handing out chocolate kisses, one student sat next to me and asked me why I was leaving them, a question that I heard multiple times that day and one that tugged on my heartstrings each time. "I get that you're going to be helping people in the world, but, you're already helping people here." She presented it in such a calm, entreating way that I was very moved, to hear it from the mouth of a student with whom I have built a rapport, to whom I have already committed myself and I couldn't form an answer. My roommate and I have both been working with youth in the twin cities and have often struggled with and discussed this same question: how does one find their calling, or maybe more importantly, how does one know which calling is the right one?