Day 16 – Como Un Dominicano – Santo Domingo, DR 3/12/08
Soit just keeps getting more and more interesting. In our never-ending quest to acculturate ourselves and trulybecome Dominican we have found hilarity and embarrassment. I’m sure that this is one entry thatmany will find to be humorous.
Itall started a few days ago, in a training facility not so far away. ENTRENA must find it hilarious to dowhat they did to us. Here we are36 people, new to a country, a culture, and completely out of our element, andthey decide to make us dance. Notonly dance, but to do the Barracha and Meringue. You have got to be kidding me. Out of the 36, there are probably about 16 or so white guyswith no rhythm. Here they want tostart off with some of the more difficult dances out there. I mean the way that you are supposed tomove your hips is simply unnatural. These motions that were being demonstrated to us were so foreign (gofigure) that it was without doubt that I had to get out my camera to film whatwas to happen next. In my head,despite the music coming from the speakers, all I could hear was “Play thatfunky music white boy”. I knowthat I am not the best dancer in the world, and had my awkward moments, butnext to some of these guys, I was a fricken genius. I have never seen so many robotic looking white boys movingto Latin music. What was supposedto be these graceful gyrations turned into chaotic hip thrusts that even Bevisand Butthead would be embarrassed by. I believe that the film I did take of this will be worth some moneysomeday. They do say that PeaceCorps volunteers go on to do great things. For example, over 75% of current ambassadors are RPCV(returned peace corps volunteers). That’s great. That way whenone of these guys wants a position of power I have quite the bargainingchip. Howard Dean’s“BBBYYYAAAHHHH” is a walk in the park next to these dances.
Myexperience with this dance wasn’t all that bad. I mean I am no ABBA dancing queen, but I don’t suck. That’s a good thing. However, of course, my teacher had tocome over and try to get me to dance with her. Well I guess I was going at a too slow “American” pace soshe wanted to teach me the Dominican way. It’s not human. It’s notpossible. I don’t care what peoplein front of me could or were doing. My body is simply not made to do such things. And knowing my limitation, I accept them and do things in myown way. And it just so happens tobe that my way is the “slow American way”. However, not to brag or anything (yeah right) but I wascalled “a natural”. Yes Haley,that is right… a natural. I can’twait until the next phone call so I can hear how much of a liar I must be. Then again, as I said, when you put meup against the others, I guess I could have been a little less than natural andthey just made me look good. Thiswas by far the funniest and most entertaining part of our training yet.
Movingon in our quest for Dominicanization (yes, it’s a new word) was Dominos. For those of you who don’t know, thereare only a few things that exist down here; Baseball, Dominos, Catholicism,Family, and Cock Fighting. Andyes, they do go in that order. Itis really intriguing to see Dominicans playing Dominos. I mean it looks like it is downrightthe most angry game in the world. They are yelling at each other, and slamming down the Dominos so hardthat the beers on the table jump up. However, that’s just how it’s done. If you don’t “slap the Domino” then you just aren’t playingright. Well luckily for me, I haveno problem slapping the Domino (insert sick joke here). Right when I started to get a hang ofthe game, beyond the slapping part, it was time to stop. I guess that even the teachers hadenough of the Dominicanization process for one day!
Movingon. Things here at my host familyare a bit odd. I mean I don’tthink that it’s in a bad way, but who knows. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t done anything to make anyoneupset, but sometimes I find that they talk in hushed voices around me likethere is a secret, not like I can understand them when they talk full speedanyways! Then, in the next moment,they are completely loving and fun. I don’t know. Maybe I’mjust paranoid. The two weeks ofsun and Spanish are perhaps taking a toll on my sanity. But I’ll just have to push on through.
Ona serious note, I am learning a lot. We have had classes in culture, history, politics, and geography of theDR. It has been really fun tolearn so much about a place that I have known so little about. For example, did you know that the DRwas the only country in the Western hemisphere not to gain its’ independencefrom a European colonizer but from a former colony itself, Haiti? Ever heard of Trujillo? Probably not, but he was one of theworst dictators in the history of the world, right here in the DR from1930-1961. There is such a richhistory here, and so much potential, that it makes me excited to be able to domy small part to better things. These people deserve better than they get. In the class on politics, we talked about how politics hereis quite different from the US. Itis a democracy here, but not like ours. Politics is viewed as a money making venture rather than the way to helpthe people. It is election seasonhere, with the actual elections being held on May 16. However, the top 3 candidates, Leonel Fernandez, Miguelsomething-or-other, and Amable Aristy haven’t had even one debate. In addition, they don’t even reallytalk about issues. For example,Amable Aristy quite literally just goes down the street in his pimped out cartossing dead pigs (for food obviously) and money to those who come up. He doesn’t have any real stances otherthan giving 500 pesos to those who ask for it (as long as he is trying to gettheir vote). It really puts thingsin perspective. While the politicsin the US aren’t completely clean and logical most the time (i.e. Mr. Bush),they are the best I have seen. Andthis next part is for John. Thereis a kid here with me that’s a volunteer that is so illogically left-wingradical that he makes even me look like Bush. Evidentially all of the world’s problems are because of theUS and the rich. But that’s all Ihave to say about that.
TomorrowI leave for Veron. My first tripacross the country on my own. Itis going to be an adventure for sure. I mean the Peace Corps has done a phenomenal job of training us thusfar, but in this instance it pretty much is “here is some money, here is whereyou are going, have fun!”. We’llsee how that one goes. Hopefully Iwill have some good stories about my trip for the next time that don’t includewondering the country for a good day or two. Since it is a bit late (9pm is now late for me) and tomorrowis surely to be a hell of a day I should get going. Wish me luck, God knows I’ll need it!
Day 19 – Volunteer Visit – Veron, DR 3/15/08
Finallywe are able to escape the veracity of Santo Domingo and explore a bit more ofthe country. I was so excited tosee more of the landscape of the DR, because for this entire time we had onlybeen in Santo Domingo, which as you can infer from the former posts iscompletely insane. So the 36 of usall got our own assignments and get to venture out all over the country to seewhat life as a volunteer is like. Lucky me, I got to go to Veron, a town about 20 minutes outside of PuntaCana. Punta Cana, for those of youwho do not know, is the number one tourist destination in the DR. For my Dad and Brandon, it is alsoright next to Cap Cana. Yes, Iknow, you guys can’t wait to get down here and play a round of golf. Well before I go into how the visit hasbeen going, let me tell a little story about getting here.
AsI explained in the last post, we didn’t really receive the most extensiveknowledge on how to get to our sites. For this, we received what is known as the ELF form, or the EmergencyLocator Form, that volunteers are required to complete within the first monthof their service. This way,intimate directions are given as well as contact info. So I received mine, but it had a noteon it, to call Colleen, the volunteer I am visiting. This was a week ago. So I called her up, and was told that the directions on the ELF formweren’t the best, so I got a bit more of the step-by-step. When the time came to go, I felt prettyconfident that I would get there without any problem. I even had a fellow trainee to come half the way with me,but I was the farthest out, as I am literally on the coast.
Wegot on the bus to come out to Higuey, and after I would have to transfer bussesto get to Veron. When I arrived atHiguey, I got off the bus at the last stop right in front of a gasstation. Now in the directions, itsaid that this was a big bus stop that many busses would be at taking peopleout to the coast. Riiiiggghhhtt. The bus pulledaway and here I was, the one white boy, in a town I have no idea about, and nobusses in sight. Being theresourceful and calm person I am (yeah right, I was thinking the worst), I wentinto a nearby furniture store, and in my broken Spanish, asked for thebusses. Luckily it was only acouple of blocks down the street. I found the bus and finally was on the way to Veron.
SinceI didn’t know anything about Veron, I asked the cobrador (the guy who collectsthe money and tells when to stop the bus) that I needed to go to $*%&#neighborhood (not allowed to tell specifics). After a 40-minute bus ride, which mind you was after the3-hour bus ride to Higuey, the cobrador stood up and said, “Americano! Estamos aqui.” (you guys look it up for once) I got off the bus, and was in themiddle of pretty much nowhere. There was a store off in the distance, so I walked over and asked wheremy neighborhood was. Either my Spanishis worse than I thought, or she had no idea what I was saying, because all Igot in return was a blank stare. So I went for my back up plan. There was a map on my ELF so I asked for the “Cruce de Veron”, which wasthe closet landmark to her house on the map. She pointed down the road, as there was only one road, inthe obvious direction that I had been driving. Real help. Soafter cursing the cobrador for screwing me and dropping me off in the wrongplace, I started to walk. The walkwasn’t all that bad, only a mile. The entire walk, all I could picture in my head was the cobrador laughingabout how he did the stupid American. I arrived at the Cruces de Veron, and began my search for the house.
Themap said to take the first entrance after the Cruces, which I did. I started to ask anyone I walked by ifthey knew where the American girl lived. Some were confused, some said they didn’t know, and some pointed me fromhouse to house. After about 40minutes of walking around aimlessly, I managed to find what I thought was herhouse. A number of people hadpointed me there, so I figured that everyone couldn’t be wrong. They can. When I got to the house no one was home, which wascompletely possible. There were afew construction guys there so I started talking to one of them, and heconfirmed that the American girl lived there, and that I should wait just a bitand she would be home. Afterwaiting about 30 minutes, the construction manager pulled up in a truck. I spoke with him, and he told me thatit was a German girl that lived there. Wrong house, of course. Somy odyssey continued. I had boughta cell phone earlier that morning, just for this case. What better time to use it thannow. I called Colleen’s number onthe ELF, and it kept going to voicemail. So I thought it prudent to just continue the search. I walked around the entire town ofVeron, asking in vain for the American girl for about two and a halfhours. After the first hour and ahalf, I decided to call the Peace Corps and ask what the deuce. I dialed, and after the first ring, myphone died. I began to think thatperhaps the power from above was simply against me. I only had an hour or so of light left, and if it got darkon me, I would be royally screwed.
Idecided to take one last stroll through the same area that I began mysearch. No luck, but on the wayback to the main road, a glimmer in the distance. A motoconcho approached and a white girl was on theback! Could it be!? They pulled up to me, and she took offher helmet and asked, “Are you Destin?” Salvation! She got off themotoconcho and after the introductions, we began our walk to her house, whichwas right where the bus dropped me off! Now I felt completely guilty for thinking that the cobrador was adouchebag.
Comingto Veron and meeting Colleen was fantastic. I now have such a better understanding on what it is to be aPeace Corps volunteer, and to sum it up, it rocks. She gets to do the coolest projects. She works with youth and Reef Check,which is non-profit that does what it can to educate people about the coastalecosystems as well as protect the reef here in Punta Cana. How sweet!
Aftergetting some much needed rest after my day of journey I was ready to go. Saturday was going to be a hell of aday, and it was. We got to take agroup of 14 8th graders on a field trip. First, we went to the Punta Cana airport, which for thosewho may visit me, is fantastic. Wedid all the behind the scenes stuff, which was nice. We got to eat of Wendy’s, paid for by the Punta Cana Group,who paid for the field trip. Nowthis was like the twilight zone for me. Here I join the Peace Corps and yet I find myself in the number onetourist destination in the DR eating Wendy’s. Something just wasn’t right about that. But I went with it. After our delicious American lunch, wegot to go to the Punta Cana Resort. One word, GORGEOUS. We tookthe kids down to the beach to do a little swimming and snorkeling. Now while these kids live no more thana few miles from the beach, they never really had the opportunity to dothis. The resorts take most of thecoastline, so the locals have a hard time finding access. It’s pretty sad, but a realityhere. So to see these kids havinga blast in the water was a real treat. And that wasn’t even the best part!
Oncethe kids were done splashing around for a while, we loaded them all up in aboat to take them out to the reef. Let me set the scene a bit. This was one of the most beautiful beaches I have seen, and the water iscompletely calm by the shore. Thewaves are all crashing a few hundred yards out to sea, on the reef. It is the coolest thing to see, eitherfrom the shore or out on the boat. The water is a color blue that you only have seen in movies, which istrue, since Jurassic Park was filmed here!
Backon track. Taking the kids out tothe reef was fantastic. The waterwas perfectly clear. Since thesewere kids that haven’t had much experience in the ocean, we had to be extracareful to make sure nothing bad happened. So I got in the water first to keep an eye on any of thekids that wanted to swim and snorkel on the reef. A few kids got in with their snorkeling gear on and we beganour exploration. The reef was soamazing, teeming with life. Therewere fish swimming all around me, and the reef itself was so colorful withevery type of coral that you can imagine. And the kids, wow, they were so great. It was a look of such pure joy and fun that isn’t commonlyfound anymore. It was a greatfeeling to be able to be a part of something special for these kids. A number of the kids were a bit scaredto venture far from the boat, but that was fine. It was just great for the kids to be on the water and doingsomething that many had never done before. I must say, for my first hands-on experience as a PeaceCorps worker, it couldn’t have been better.
Thenext day, Saturday, was just as insightful and interesting as yesterday. We slept in a bit, because those kidsdid take a hell of a lot out of us! After a morning of making banana pancakes, it was time to get towork. Another one of Colleen’sprojects is to take a census of the barrios in Veron in order to prove to thegovernment that it is more than necessary to make a school for these kids. To do this, we had to go through theseneighborhoods, counting how many habitaciones there were. You wouldn’t believe how many peoplecan live in such a small area. What to many of us is a normal size for a bedroom is the size of afamily’s house in some parts. Somehouses were made of tin, some of wood. There were gaps in the wood where they were constantly exposed to theelements. However, despite this,you would never see this from their general disposition. One thing that I have already learnedin the Peace Corps is that the term poverty is relative. I have begun to believe that povertyhas nothing to do with what kind of house you live in, or what kind ofpossessions you may have, but with what you have inside. These are some of the happiest peoplethat I have seen, and yet they are that way living in what we would considerthe harshest of conditions. Theydo not concern themselves with who has the newest play toy or coolest car, butwith the people in their community, and closeness with family. I envy these people. This society is so close, which makesthem richer than many people that have more.
Thecensus was a great experience. Itwas my first time being out in a totally foreign community and interacting withthe entire area. The people wereso nice and understanding. We hadto do an interview every 10 houses to see how many children lived there, theirages, and if they went to school. We did only part of one barrio and yet we found more than 250habitaciones and therefore did more than 25 interviews. They were completely understanding ofmy broken Spanish, and were so appreciative once we told them that we weredoing this to build a school. Itwas surprising to see the results that we compiled. Almost every house we interviewed had 3 or 4 children livingthere, ranging in age from newborns to 16. Even more astounding was the fact that about 90% of thechildren were not in any kind of school. They are immediately limited by their surroundings. So needless to say, they were more thanhappy to hear we were trying to get a school in their community. We even had one lady bring us somethingto drink as we were conducting the census to show her appreciation. I feel so lucky to be in an area wherethis is how the people view the Peace Corps. We are so welcomed here, and the people support and helpwhenever possible. I know bytalking to some other volunteers that this isn’t always the case. While a community has to apply to get aPeace Corps volunteer there, the end result is not always a red carpet and awelcome committee. In the DR, wedo get those things.
Thetrip ended with a 4 am wakeup call and another 4-hour trip back to the madnessof Santo Domingo. When I got home,I immediately crashed, as the entire trip caught up to me in one swoop. This was truly an experience thatsolidified what I hoped was true. I am now even more excited about spending the next two years of my lifehere, doing whatever I can to help. I am now a part of something bigger than myself, and couldn’t behappier. While there have been andwill be bumps along this road, it is a road that I will travel willingly andwith hope. While I may be just onedrop in a bucket to help make some positive changes, drops can turn to riversthat run into oceans. And hey,once I get my assignment you better believe that I am going to be solicitingyou guys to become drops with me. Maybe together we can all give some people the kind of experiences thatI was fortunate enough to help give those kids.
