Thoughts 27/10/2011

Well, here it is. The long overdue blog post. So many things have happened since I wrote in SEPTEMBER (sorry), but at the same time, I feel like things have slowed down quite a bit. I guess what I am trying to say is that my everyday life seems less interesting and less worth a blog post to me. But this isn’t about wowing people and showing everyone how exciting and thrilling my life is; it is to share my experience, my feelings and perhaps a reflection or two. I suppose it is important to try to create some objectives so I don’t just ramble on aimlessly for 10 pages (though I make no promises that my writing will not end up doing so).

I am currently sitting at my green table in my cozy home. Its 9:43pm, and the rest of my host family has been asleep for a while. I am writing this by homemade candlelight (we made two today from my extra wax – turned out I know nothing about making candles and my host mom had to basically redo it for me after a failed attempt), since our battery completely sucks. I think I shouldn’t complain though, since it still does well enough to charge my laptop when it’s sunny, like today. We just got done watching Shrek in Spanish. Side-though: you know how there are those people who bring all their electronics with them when you go camping and everyone hates them because they are just like: “man, can’t you just leave that crap at home and not disrupt nature and enjoy silence for once”? I think I feel like that a lot here. I mean my everyday life is basically a glorified version of camping. Regardless, it’s nice to spoil the kids with a movie now and again.

I have passed the last few months in a new type of routine. Staying put in my village has changed into a balancing act for the sake of efficiency involving much more of my time being spent in the “city”. I have been fervently looking for money, getting material lists together and coordinating transportation – all things that are much more easily accomplished down the mountain – all while trying to organize people to start work, collect money and write statues for the water committee. Actually now that I list it all out, my life sounds pretty busy. But it’s not really, trust me. Most of my days are still a lot of sitting, reading, talking and waiting. Oh, and making amazing meals when I go down the mountain. We had Mexican food night at Sarah’s house a few weeks ago (I made homemade tortillas which were amazing) and it was just about the most incredible thing that has ever happened in my life. To emphasize the common lulls in my life, I recall telling someone that I would feel quite accomplished if I got one solid thing done in a day.
Ex) Person: “Josh, what have you been up to recently?” Me: “Well, I talked to Greg today about that question he had, and yesterday I measured where we might put the tank and the day before I called this guy about the pump for 5 minutes. I’ve been pretty busy.” Person: “Yeah, you should take a break and go to the beach for a few days.”
I did, don’t worry. All-inclusives are fun.

The further I get into this process and the closer we get to actually accomplishing something concrete (no pun intended) for our water system the messier I realize this whole process is. Community development is chaotic. You have money promised by local politicians that never arrives, materials that show up late, community members that can’t abide by the “strict” rules because they have no money (or just don’t want to), meetings where the only thing accomplished is a lot of arguing, and heaps of individual situations that I couldn’t begin to understand within 6 months. It’s just hard sometimes. A lot of the time. I want the community to be taking the lead more – to push and encourage me to work harder – but I think that takes more patience than I can usually put up with. Maybe that is my flaw.

I try not to let it all get to me. Sometimes the Peace Corps train blindsides me and I have to look my reality right in the face. Those moments are tough. And often lonely, as I put in perspective the distance from the people I love most, the remaining commitment, and the community I left behind to be here. I am lucky to have Jessica to remind me of the amazing opportunity it is to be here basically every time I speak with here – I believe I am learning to more fully appreciate her amazingness. Sarah, Masa and Rudie, among other volunteers, bless me with their conversation (sometimes I starve for it) and the terrific meals we throw together with limited resources (bacon!). And today, after being completely fed up with my community yesterday due to what I viewed as a completely failed town meeting (arguing, people walking out, etc.), I was reminded of how much I still do love the people I get to spend time with here. It’s hard to stay mad at them. The routine helps too. My daily devotionals have essentially left me with the knowledge that I must be made nothing and Christ must be made everything in me. I hope to actually believe and live this someday.

Love and hugs,
The Las Barreras “Giant”, Josh

P.S. Photos coming soon – the next time I have fast enough internet.

Santa Claus

It’s been altogether long. I’ve missed you, blog world.

This is what the Peace Corps has done to me.

The Peace Corps makes you homeless.

A lot of life has passed me by since I last wrote, but I’ll let you in on the little bit that I have slowed down enough to experience. I was “consolidated” during Hurricane Emily, follwed by a week-long training near Santiago in the mountains (far away), followed by an unexpected trip to the states. SO, I have spent a lot of time out and about this last month – much more than expected. When I returned to Las Barreras after all of this busyness, several of the families I am closest with joked with me about how I had “botar”ed them, though I’m not sure if it was completely a joke. In other words, I think they have missed me.

I’m coming to realize that the nature of my work makes it hard to live completely where I am. Let me clarify – my inverter for my solar panel has been on the fritz, leaving me utterly helpless as a computer/cell phone dependent white American. Utterly helpless is not completely true, but at a time where I feel pressed to finish my system design and budget – it is a problem. Therefore I have found myself in the lovely oasis of Los Rios, where I have two wonderful Peace Corps friends who let me stay here while I bask in the wonders of the technological world.

The transition from collecting data in my diagnostic stage to now “working on projects”, soliciting money, looking for materials, etc, etc has been a bit difficult. My job was to spend time with the community and get to know them, their needs, the way they function, their ins and outs. Now that I have crossed into a new official phase, and all the promises to start the project “soon” have become promises past… I guess what I am trying to say is that I really want to provide my community with a chance to do something concrete toward this water system. The enthusiasm will otherwise only last so long.

Being in my community recently though, aside from all the “yes we’re looking for money right now” and “we’re redesigning the system because for some reason it is just way more complicated than anyone could have ever thought” to explain to community members why everything just takes so long, has been terrific. I brought Jenga back from the states and its been amazing playing with 50 year old dudes to my 4 year old host brother. Who knew little wooden blocks could be such an inter-generation, inter-cultural experience? Also, Michlet and Wilson, two young Haitian men (18-ish), have been staying in our kitchen while they work seasonally for a few people in town. Its been really nice, especially for the new perspective they bring since they are not only from Haiti but from a larger town. Its amazing how two very well educated, smart Haitian men find themselves illegally crossing into the middle of nowhere in the DR to work so they can pay for their books for high school. It has been cool watching them interact with my host family and build a great relationship there, since Haitian/Dominican diplomacy has been essentially nonexistent up to this point in my mind. It’s also been fun hearing their opinions on Haitian politics, talking about Aristide and practicing a bit of Creole. Makes me miss Haiti and think about her a lot for sure.

Home was incredible. As I mentioned, the trip was unexpected. My grandmother, Nana, past away at 82 years of age after suffering lung and heart complications for the last several years. She passed on much quicker than we expected, but she did go peacefully. At first I was filled with regret as I had wanted to spend more time with her before this happened, but I felt a good amount of closure as I shared some words during the memorial. I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to have been able to share her love on  behalf of my sisters and I. Spending a solid chunk of time with the family having BBQ’s, croquet matches galore was also a blessing after being away already. The unexpected nature of it all made the whole trip quite surreal, and by the end of it I was very prepared and I think my heart was almost longing to be back with the community, getting on with the work at hand. I think maybe that was my need for a sense of fulfillment kicking in, but who knows.

I miss everyone more now, thanks to a wonderful reminder of the beauty of Washington, my family and my friends back home. It’s definitely difficult being surrounded by the people you love most one day and then sitting on a plane and realizing that your time in the middle of nowhere is far from over. But, as my wonderful girlfriend reminds me, I am where I am, and the place I am just so happens to be freaking amazing. I am incredibly blessed with the way God has melded my gifts together with my projects and my community.

Lastly, the beard. Everyone sees it, comments on it, gawks at it, laughs at it, things its hideous and and often confused by it. I personally am indifferent about it at best. Maybe leaning more toward the hating of it. But one thing, a few simple comments made by children in this very house a few weeks ago, keeps the dream alive. In fact, people often tell me to my face that I need to get rid of the thing – that is, before I mention the idea to them. Then their faces light up. I’ve even pulled out a few supporters. I’m gonna find a suit, fatten up, and grab some hair dye. Four months from now, I will be Santa Claus.

Love, hugs, and prayers to all.

Josue

Reality Once Again

Heading back to the real world today. In other words, I have to face the real Peace Corps reality again for the first time in a while. I feel sad having said goodbye to some visitors that I truly love and having to go it on my own again for a while, but at the same time I feel a bit excited to discover what my community has in store for me as I head back on my own. We had the chance to throw together some kids activities, go to the swimming hole nearly every day, play dominoes with friends in the community and just hang out and talk – it was a really cool way to not only allow Jess and Steph to get to know the community but to enhance my relationships with the community too. I was able to be more involved with the kids and some of the families because of their presence and I hope that precedent continues as I return to Las Barreras.

It was a definite blessing having people around, but in a way it was tough for me to give up my routines that I had formed over the past few months. Some people might see this as an “oh my how selfish” kind of thing to feel, but I think its a good sign; let me explain. In my life routines including reading daily (especially involving the Bible), praying, and taking time to myself have been anything but routine in my life. A struggle for sure, and something that I had to truly discipline and force myself to do. Now I have begun to feel more empty when I don’t have my hour to devote to the Psalms, the Bible and My Utmost for His Highest. So a combo of missing this routine and simply not being used to accommodating others in my life led me to these feelings of encroachment on my ways of doing things. Of course these thoughts are irrational since I love being with others, being hospitable and accommodating other’s needs, but its interesting how things can change when you get used to a certain way of things. Really shows how our circumstances can create very different personal behavior and change the balance of extroversion/introversion and other simple emotional responses. Anywho, moral of the story was that it was weird taking care of people (outside myself) for the first time in a while but it was amazing, and it reminded me how much I miss that kind of interaction. AKA it was lovely. Hopefully I will be able to supply some photos from the last few weeks soon.

So yeah, I have been taking a break from working on my primary water system project to hang out with the kids and community for the last few weeks, but things are still coming along. I have a presentation  in 10 days to discuss the data I have collected about the community and their health/water/sanitation needs. I also am working with the water committee, working on finishing the water system design and budget so I can start petitioning money from World Vision, the local city government and any other NGO that might be willing to contribute. AKA I am busy. Its kinda nice, but I know it won’t last because once I am finished with the design and budget it will be a lot of waiting for money to arrive. But there is always more work to do – that is the benefit I suppose of being in a place that needs just about every foundational piece of basic infrastructure.

In other news, we finished our latrine so I no longer have to poop in the woods! My family loves to take care of me, which is nice, but very different since I am used to taking care of myself. Takes a bit of patience and humility but I still jump in with a “I CAN do this” attitude every once and a while just so I don’t feel like a complete baby. But still a lot of the time I just go with the flow, because hey, its nice to be taken care of sometime.

No more reflections for now, I am just thinking of getting back. We’ll talk soon. Thanks for the thoughts and prayers.

Josh

Stories

I felt rushed during my last post, and therefore was not able to fulfill my every desire to convey a perfect image of my life in Las Barreras. I shall now try to bridge that gap with some story time.

Pasa, but not the raisin kind. So. My host dad and I walked to my friend Rudie’s site, which is located yonder from mine, and decided to stop at the “store” (colmado) on the way home, since having a store be on the way to anything in my village is a rarity. We buy the normal things to account for every healthy human being’s balanced diet – eggs, rice, tomato paste, sugar and “sazon” (bullion cubes of a sort). But, as you are now thinking, one thing is missing: pasta. My host dad doesn’t really think weed anything else, but I know better, so I ask the owner if he has any pasta, since I don’t see it behind the counter. (Keep in mind at colmados one has to ask for everything from behind a counter) The owner looks at me with his face kinda messed up and I know something is up. A great misunderstanding has come upon us, and so it begins… He says “eh?” I say “pasta”. He says “como que, de que tipo?” I say “para comer”. Now my host dad chimes in – it appears that with their teamwork I might finally accomplish my task. “Pasta de dientes!” he says. Toothpaste. Still a little ways to go, I tell myself. “No no, es duro y parece asi (I stick my finger in the shape of macaroni)”. This is clearly not working. “Ahh! Pasas?” Raisins. He grabs a few boxes. I am tempted to just take the boxes of raisins, but I decide to persist. “No no, se hierve y se come con aceite o salsa” – I am basically teaching the man to be a chef now. Finally, several minutes later, after dancing like a monkey and performing a few magic tricks I hear the magical words I have been waiting for: “Wait. You don’t mean ‘espaguetti’, do you?” ‘Espaguetti!’ Duh. Apparently the word pasta only means “paste” in this country. We celebrated, we laughed, we cried. It was as if we understood each other for the first time. I, being flabbergasted by the whole ordeal, proceeded to ask the store owner if spaghetti, macaroni and all other types of noodly goodness that exists in this country are really not called ‘pasta’. “No,” he said at first, but then he turned all pensive and suddenly changed his mind. “No, its not pasta, its ‘pasa'”. ‘Pasa.’ A poorly pronounced version of ‘pasta’, and one that literally means ‘raisin’ in Spanish. I think I’ll just stick to the name ‘espaguetti’.

Old man’s wiener. This is a story about how an old man nearly showed me his wiener. That’s right, he almost unzipped his pants, pulled down his underwear and revealed his glory to me. But do not fret, he did not. The old man is one of the older guys in town (duh) and definitely seemed a bit crazy to me at first. I headed to his house to interview him as he barked orders at the man who currently works his land. He was seriously frank with me and wasn’t shy to tell me exactly how things were going for him, which was great, except…. When we started talking about health, he took every opportunity to start talking about what I have now assumed to be a urinary infection of some sort. He told me about all the trips to different hospitals and doctors and how it is still not better. So, naturally, he eventually reached a point of having talked about the problem so much that he stood up and asked if I wanted to see ‘it’. I of course declined but he was already in the act. He was undoing his belt while saying “we’re all men here”. By the time he got to unbuttoning his pants I had to yell “I am not a medical professional I swear!” to stop him. It was a close call.

Fin. For now.

Mountain man, here I come.

Dearly beloved blog readers,

After climbing over a mountain on a horse and two bus rides later I now find myself at a community internet cafe of sorts. The internet is painfully slow and I am honestly a bit surprised that I still have such high standards considering I have essentially not had internet for the last month. I guess some things might take a while to change. Now that I am finally here and able to fill the world in on my current existence I am having some trouble writing down my experience in the last month. I´m trying to avoid allowing the conglomerate of thoughts, feelings and experiences meld into sweeping generalizations like “my community is really nice” and “It´s been challenging but really great”. Those things are true but I´d like to paint a better picture. Hopefully I can.

I´ve only been in my community for about a month and I think I am going to become a mountain man. And I´m going to get really good at Domino. I also think I am going to like it here. At least so far I think so…

I have only ridden a horse like 3 times but I hope that increases – I have talked about buying one but it doesn´t really seem necessary yet. The younger guys in my village seem to ride around on horses all the time, visit neighboring communities and whatnot, so maybe after I get to know them better I will find having a horse as a good way to pass the time and build relationships. I also haven´t shaved yet, and am not sure when I will. My community hates the beard but I´m a white american so it doesn´t really change the way they see me and I don´t have a mirror and therefore the fact that it exists is of little consequence. And it fits the scene much better than being clean shaven. I also have also been pooping in the woods, bathing in a giant mountain spring and living in a sweet wooden shack. Oh and I just built my own dresser. I really do enjoy it here – maybe except for the pooping in the woods, but that will soon be resolved.

By the way, when you make a pit latrine, don´t: (1) make it 2.5 meters wide and (2) build a 2000lb concrete slab next to it that is impossible to lift even with 20 people and (3) don´t use really crappy materials that make half the thing break. Finally moving the remaining half over the hole was entirely entertaining – the gringo (me) yelling “one two three lift” over and over as we moved the slab about a foot at a time. Lots of kids came to watch and laugh at us, especially when one of my fingers got stuck under the slab briefly. Don´t worry, the other 8 are fine.

Honestly though I have so far not had too hard of a time living in a place that is so completely void of everything I am used to. Routine has played a large role in that, along with attempts to forget selfish desires and most of all because of the community of people that I now live with. Whenever I need some people time, my host mom/dad (more host grandparents) are always willing to talk to me, since I´m pretty sure they are the most talkative people in town, or I can always walk up the hill to my neighbors and stand/sit around or play dominoes. Now that I think about it, I can basically walk anywhere and get invited to sit down, sometimes with coffee, sometimes with conversation, and sometimes with nothing but silent communal sitting. This phenomena (sp?) is actually quite beautiful sometimes, although for me it usually escalates to being uncomfortable fairly rapidly. Maybe it means that people would rather sit together and do nothing that sit alone and do nothing… but I do not claim to understand, at least not yet. My routine of waking up much later than everyone else (usually around 7:30am) and reading has been a wonderful treat. I´ve been able to read Irresistible Revolution, Once Minutos and the Language of God in the last month, along with some daily scripture – something in the past that I never sacrificed my precious time for.

My favorite things so far have been learning people´s names (and consequently seeing their faces light up when I say them), hanging out with the muchachos and jovenes (the kids these are usually the ones I play dominoes with or that come show me how to get to this or that place), seeing the excitement for water and the willingness to participate in the water system project and just being able to be more myself in general. My “saludos” (greetings) have become less reserved and more loud, my conversations have involved more joking around and I just feel a lot more joy and realness radiating from the people when I speak to them now. I feel like I have come a long way from the skepticism I first showed when I found out about this community, and am glad God has givin me a bit of patience to give things a chance.

Other cool stuff I have done is walking to 45+ houses and sitting down and doing a questionairre with the families, hiking up to the source of the local river with some of the jovenes, visiting my friend Rudie with my host dad and (just now) visiting my friends Jeremy, Pedro, Mike and Keeton.

I am praying that God continue to give me patience and the ability to become a part of this community – that they will soon see me as a part of their family. I also pray that the needs of the community can be met (I´ve been trying to get the people to dream big) and that the community can commit to working hard for its own development and put in their necessary part as well.

I miss you and love you all,

Josue

Off to the Loma

It’s been a little while, and a lot has happened. I head up to my “loma” – my mountaintop resort site – tomorrow for good. The idea of spending two years of my life in this place is daunting, but the challenge of it fuels me. I think it has been too long since I have faced a challenge like this; if I have ever faced a challenge like this that is. I will be isolated in a community of bean and banana farmers who have hardly if ever seen access to things as simple as electricity or plastic bottles. I imagine what I will do with my time on the loma and am filled with doubt as I ponder conversations about planting seeds, mules, cultivating beans and the weather. I thank God that I will be in a place where I am not going to be comfortable – at least not at first – and where I will likely have to learn to lean on Him for strength and purpose once again.

While my heart begins to sink at the thought of wrapping my mind around my next two years of service it is also filled with excitement at the endless possibilities. My fellow volunteer Sarah is the one who discovered the needs of this tiny 85 home village and told me that she cried the first time she got back from visiting. She was astonished at the needs of the people and their expressed passion for a better life. I hope to bring a few tools that can enable them on that path.

I also have hope and excitement in the people of the village. I have so far only been there for a two day preliminary visit, but the people seem incredibly nice and hospitable. They are extremely shy and my loud personality has definitely been hidden so far, but I see that changing as everyone gets to know me better. At least I hope so.

Its quite amazing the emotions and experiences I have already been through in the first two months. I have gotten to know so many amazing people – Dominicans, host families and volunteers alike – and have come to the point of saying goodbye to all but one: Rudie. I think this will add to the shock of going to my site, where I won’t be busy every evening playing Mafia, hearts or just talking with fellow volunteers whom I have become comfortable with. I’m starting at ground zero once again. I think this is good practice for my first-impression skills though… life is going to slow down, and that is OK. I think I will probably become a scholar during my service too… reading books is apparently a fairly popular time filler.

I hope I can get to know everyone well in my community and get them to really trust me. I also hope that I can build relationships with the kids and come up with some ideas to spend time with them or have some sort of youth groups. I also hope that I can stay sane and maintain a good relationship with God.

Last order of business is to fill you in on some important happenings in the last few weeks. I swore in, which means I am an official PC volunteer!! I went to Isla Saona, one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. I just finished a week of Haitian Creole training, since I have a fairly large number of Haitian families in my community. I am super excited to talk Creole with them, though I am fairly certain most of them also speak Spanish. Creole training was amazing though – we sang a ton of songs to help us learn and I got the chance to see what life is like in a Batey (a town built to house cane workers during the 80’s when Haitians were being sold to the DR for $1/head). It was incredible the contrast between this community and my own. 100% Haitian heritage, very active and used to foreign aid and NGO’s. It was a blast playing with kids and hanging out and playing Mafia at night. It felt like a church mission trip in a lot of ways. Minus the messages and worship. How I miss worship…

OK, I hope this gives you a decent enough picture of my life to last for a while… because it will be. I uploaded a ton of photos at the following site:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100404086634048.2816767.10716701&l=cff1fcae63

God bless and please be praying for my transition. I have you all in my prayers as well.

Josh

Hopes and Dreams

I’m thinking about getting a horse.

“Hasta el topete”

I’m full. But not just full, I’m STUFFED. I’m full of joy, dominicanisms, love and new knowledge on my way back from Manabao. I just got back on Saturday and have been reflecting on how it has been good to me over the last five and a half weeks. I was accepted as part of the Carmona family, treated as one of their own sons and was learned on some valuable phrases such as “canta culo porque ya no tiene luto” and “hasta el topete”. The latter means: “I’m really really stuffed.” The former, of course, means “let the butthole sing b/c it no longer is in grieving”. A very useful phrase for my host family, let me tell you.

Really though, training was incredible. It was a fine balance of time with my work, host family and other volunteers, but I thoroughly enjoyed the mixture. I spent many nights simply sitting on my front porch talking with my host mother, brother and cousin, which was surprisingly fulfilling in addition to being peaceful and relaxing. I also taught them some of my favorite pastimes from back home – aka, games. We taught my brother and cousin hearts, backgammon, cribbage and Settlers of Catan. Yeah, that’s right, we somehow got our hands on a Settlers board game. Another favorite of my cousin and I was Connect 4. Yeah. One night I showed up after work and he told me he had an awesome game which he sometimes plays at his house. I said “OK”. He pulled out Connect 4. Tougher than I remember, let’s just say that. It really was amazing how easy it was to become a part of the family and have conversation with my host family there. It broke down a lot of fears and doubts I had going into a host family and, by doing so, showed me what my fears really were: inability to relate, educational differences, poor communication, different social cues, etc. I hope this allows me to enter my final and longest host family experience with an open mind and more confidence in our abilities to integrate. I still feel pretty nervous though.

Being back in Santo Domingo reminds me what a paradise Manabao was. I already miss the rivers, the mountains and my host family. They invited me to come for Christmas. It made me really happy, because the entire family is amazing.

I think I’m going to start calling everyone “mi amor” also. This is a very common thing to hear in the campo (country). People in the capital all look angry. And don’t say hi to each other. And look at you weird when you do.

I find out where I will be going for the next two years this morning. Pretty weird, and a bit upsetting at first, thinking that this decision is in the hands of two men who don’t really know me that well. They probably know more about me from what is on paper than personal experience and conversation. But then again, it’s not about me, what I want or what placement would make me most comfortable and happy. A bit selfish. No matter where I end up there will be a community that is in need, which has real people with whom I can make real, lasting relationships. I pray God is in control, since I am not. And I pray that I don’t get caught up on myself, my needs and my comforts through my Peace Corps service. I’ve already caught myself doing this a lot, and I’d like that part to come to an end. These thoughts are being amplified through some books which I have been reading: “Utmost for His Highest” and “Crazy Love” by Francis Chan. God has helped put me in a challenging place where I have been and will be encountering people with new and difference social, financial, and religious perspectives… I think I just need to use the opportunity to learn and grow in the way I interact with Him and with the world. Please pray for me in this.

Change of subject. Grifo is a man who lives just outside of Manabao. He has helped to install 12 water systems and two hydroelectric power plants in the area over the last 15 years and essentially donates his time and experience to the Peace Corps whenever he can. During our training, he helped us organize materials, organize the community and construct a water tank, spring intake and pipe canyon crossing. All for free, for a community 30 minutes from his own. I thought he was just a pretty nice guy that liked to help out and share his extensive knowledge. Turns out he is a man who believes in the Peace Corps and what they do. He gave a few impromptu words at our Goodbye Celebration and almost had me in tears. He went as far as to say “I have been working on water systems for a long time, and the only organization that reaches out to the people that really are in need is the Peace Corps… I would swear my allegiance to the government of the United States of America if I could, because of the things that the Peace Corps has done for this country.” It was incredibly intense, and gave me a sudden respect and appreciation for the organization that I am a part of. It also became apparent to me what a man of God Grifo is, with his “Con Dios Adelante” attitude (with God ahead/first). Dios le bendiga.

The rest can only be explained with pictures. Or a lot more words which I don’t feel like writing. Love you all. I will let you know where I am heading soon (:

Dios les bendiga a todos ustedes,

Josue

*UPDATE* I know where I am going!! La Barrera. A few kilometers north of Los Rios, near Lago Enriquillo, at 1500 m altitude. No water, electricity or latrine. BUT its beautiful, lots of fruit and coffee and I might be able to get a horse. Real Peace Corps experience, here I come…

Life outside the crap-hole…

It has been a little while, but not without thinking of all of you. I am currently living in Manabao where our Peace Corps issued phones don’t get service and internet is an unknown commodity. Thus, I have stayed mostly out of contact with the exception of my wondrously slow Kindle internet…

If you do feel the desire to bless me with your voice, I got a new phone which works up here – my number is 849-852-3491 (the provider is Orange).

Recap:  Josh (currently known as Josue – new nickname ideas welcome) found himself in a beautiful new country amidst a people that spoke some strange form of Spanish with 51 other incredibly un-Dominican individuals. He survived the heat and ambiguity of core training by clinging to the hope of a better and brighter world during technical training. What happens when you throw a ton of American volunteers onto a Caribbean island with very little supervision and a ton of responsibility?? Find out next…

So I succeeded not getting shot so far. That was a big goal of mine coming here. Check. The next big event for me was the “volunteer visit”. Each Peace Corps trainee is basically set free to go find his/her current serving volunteer and spend 3 days with them. I had the pleasure of visiting Duncan. He lives in the Cordillera Septentrional (sp?) – the mountains in the north – in the middle of nowhere. Literally it’s a “town” with <100 people on top of a small mountain. No electricity and until recently, little water. From there you can see the ocean and several beautifully green valleys. It actually reminded me quite a bit of where I stayed in Haiti. Just a bit greener. Oh nostalgia. I spent the weekend figuring out what a “real Peace Corps experience” looks like. In his village we spent a lot of time sitting and talking and walking and reading. Yep. He said that was about all there was to do there. People become content with these simple things when there is nothing else to occupy time. It was amazing seeing the work he had done on the water system for the community and was quite inspiring. Got me pretty stoked to get my feet wet. Like, I’m actually going to bring people water to their back yards. It was also a bit difficult seeing the chasm that exists between volunteer and community. Due to the socioeconomic and educational differences between Americans and middle-of-nowhere-Dominicans, the idea of creating real peer relationships with people seemed like it would be a big challenge. This was a bit disconcerting, but then I ought not make any assumptions, especially not negative preconceptions, about my own experience-to-be. For as a wise poet and friend once said: “You neva know”. I am here to spend time with the people in my village and make available my skills, talents and time. I can only hope that this will foster something beautiful and amazing. Anyway, the visit was real neat-O. Duncan was legit and honest and shed a lot of light on real Peace Corps life. He also took me to the beach. Being on the beach reminded me that this might not be such a bad place to live for the next few years… it also reminded me that sleeping under a blue tarp on the beach without any other camping/sleeping supplies is not very comfortable.

Now, currently two weeks after the volunteer visit, I am in Manabao. Despite the slight inconvenience and lack of American connectivity I love the seclusion up here. I’m at 3500 feet in the central mountain range of the DR; only an hour from the base of Pico Duarte, the tallest peak in the Carribean at 10,000 feet. All this is to say that it is incredible how much more beautiful and comfortable this country is once you get out of Santo Domingo. The crap-hole of the Dominican Republic… at least according to its commonly-held nickname. That I just now decided to give it. It’s beautiful here. Mountains everywhere, rivers everywhere, 10 degrees (or more) cooler than the capital, and pure tranquility.  I live in an amazingly beautiful house which I would call more of a hacienda with its beautiful handmade wooden porch, rocking chairs, grass front yard and view of the mountains. This is the kind of place you would come to retire. And these guys get to live it their entire life. The people here have been noticeably more friendly and my host family has already accepted me as another son/brother/cousin/nephew/etc. They are truly amazing and I feel at home with them. We have already gone on several adventures into the mountains together and continuously talk about future escapades. I have also gotten the chance to play some Dominican card games and taught a few family members hearts and backgammon. My favorite evening was when my cousin came over with a very excited look on his face and asked me if I had ever heard of the game “Connect Four”. We played for two hours.

Coffee is a big part of life here in the DR, and this is no exception in Manabao. For the sake of the Peace Corps and in an attempt to avoid ruining an innumerable amount of Dominican relationships I have begun drinking coffee like once every other day. Despite my convictions. Got to get used to the awful taste somehow I guess. And I can’t tell if it’s the fact that my host mom picks the coffee beans from her backyard or the incredible amount of sugar added to my tiny cup… but it’s not the worst thing in the world.

I also trekked up into the mountains and walked for two hours up a creek bed last Saturday during the middle of the night. We were looking for fresh water crab; “Jaiba”. We caught about 15 lbs. They taste pretty good – basically like regular crab.

I just hope I am not let down once I am placed into my site, because I love living here. I have been teaching people how to play ultimate Frisbee, working out a bit (trying not to kill myself) and just spend a lot of time hanging out. We also got to go to a youth camp Saturday morning which got me excited to start youth clubs once I am placed in my site. This pumps me up too. Building a water system and playing with kids. I mean, c’mon.

Thanks for praying and thinking of me. I am doing the same for all of you – I miss you all dearly. Love and hugs!

Here are some pics from the beach and my home in Manabao. The bottom one is my dog Chiquito. Yay!

Everyday Transportation 101: Guaguas

Somehow this story slipped through my last blog post, so I get the pleasure of sharing it with you now. Enjoy.

Sunday, March 13, 10 am

Four of us were heading downtown to the “zona colonial” (colonial zone) to catch a historical tour starting at 2:30 am. We wanted to get there early to walk through town and enjoy some calm tourist activities before the tour began, so we left around 10 am for downtown via public transportation.

–As an aside, public transportation here in Santo Domingo is about what you would expect out of a developing nation, or possibly a little worse. Laws are only marginally obeyed for the sake of protecting your beautiful 1992 Honda Civic from crossing the precipice from ‘totaled but drivable’ to ‘totaled and in the junkyard’. You drive your car, motoconcho (motorcycle) or bus wherever there is space and walk in the same manner, regardless of the lights and pedestrian signals. Let’s just say crossing the street on foot is always an adventure, since the aforementioned rule applies and cars do not yield to people. The local busses around our neighborhoods and downtown are called Guaguas. They work on random time schedules but have set routes which are posted in the windows. Where these routes go exactly is discovered by experience or word of mouth. A guagua is just like any normal bus except that they fit two times more people than you would think possible if there are people who are willing to pay and come aboard. There is always a bus driver and another employee called the “cobrador”. I am fairly sure these fellows are chosen based on their voice endurance. And their ability to persuade/coax innocent bystanders onto their bus (we’ll get back to this point later).

So we boarded a guagua going downtown and all was well. Sit, wait for our stop, take two more forms of public transport, and BAM: downtown. Easy. If it were so easy though, this story would not be worth telling. About three corners from our stop the cobrador told us to get off the bus and onto another one. The bus had pretty much cleared out, so I guess this meant it was time to get off. We had no clue what was going on so we obliged. Once seated, someone got onto our new bus and started arguing with the driver demanding 100 pesos ($2.70). The driver was having none of it so the guy decided he could cut his losses by stealing the stereo speakers. After failing to do this the mystery man grabbed for the stereo and ripped it out of the dash, which for some reason made the driver and cobrador even angrier. They started punching and shoving the guy out of the bus, so he peaced out, but not before he made an amazing grasp for the stereo cover. The bus driver and cobrador responded by immediately abandoning our newly acquired guagua and chasing after the guy. Let me now note that this entire encounter has been happening in the middle of a three lane highway, with traffic horns blasting behind us. Back to the story… we didn’t see exactly what happened after our bus driver left to run after the stereo-cover thief, but they weren’t gone long. Both the driver and cobrador returned with the fear of God in their eyes, which upon examination was accredited to the stereo-thief standing in the middle of the road with a 4 foot hefty-looking metal pipe in his hand. He meant business. Apparently this meant we could no longer ride in this new guagua, so we got off and boarded our original guagua again. We sat down, relieved that we did not die in the midst of this confrontation, to find that our driver was none other than Mr. Stereo-cover-thief-scary-crazy-pipe-wielding-man himself. Perfect.

So we stuck it out and he let us off the bus 5 minutes down the road. We ate pizza and ice cream and walked down the boardwalk feeling quite like tourists, which was actually semi-refreshing. The tour was very interesting but not enough to describe any more than the following details: Christopher Columbus, slaves, Haitians, freedom, Spanish, USA, freedom again. Something like that… there you go.

Time to go home. And so continues our story… we thought there might be some way to get home from the zona colonial without taking three forms of transportation, so we went to the road and started asking guaguas if they went to our neighborhood. After asking a few we found one that said they could take us where we wanted. Perfect! 30 pesos all the way home (~ $1). Of course, about 15-20 blocks later, the cobrador ordered us off the bus. We obliged, again, and started heading for another guagua which he had pointed out to us. Of course, it was not this easy. We had to pay, he said. The writing was on the wall of course… cobrador tells dumb gringos that he can take them where they want to go, takes them as far as he can, then makes them pay for his service even though they are nowhere close to home. Classic. Probably has happened a million times… but not to THIS gringo, I was thinking. This gringo doesn’t take crap and this gringo fights the man. I was about to take a stand, not just for my $1 he was trying to cheat out of me, but for all of the gringos that have been taken advantage of because they don’t really know what is going on. Yeah. So that is what I did. I said I wasn’t going to pay and told him I would have paid if he hadn’t lied to me. Seemed fair to me. He was unrelenting, however, and would not give up so easy. After seeing the anger in his eyes, and realizing myself how little I wanted to get into a real fight, I made a compromise. We would pay a portion of what he wanted. Almost half, in fact. He took the money, counted it, and then put it back in my hand. “I want 150 pesos, I will accept nothing less.” So the argument ensued, with Rudie helping a bit. Apparently the yelling finally caught the attention of the local authorities who began walking over to us. I was relieved, since they had guns and generally tend to side with dumb tourists. Phew. After the cobrador explained his side of the story the police asked for ours, which we tried to give over the guffaws of the cobrador. He wouldn’t let us continue and kept interrupting, calling us liars. After the 4th interruption, the authorities decided that they had had enough of this guy and whipped out their guns, telling us to get on our new guagua without paying and telling him to leave. It was awesome.

Just another peaceful day on public transportation here in the Dominican Republic. Lesson learned: guns make for a good source of persuasion. And I am a bad “Peace” Corps Volunteer. Shhhh, don’t let them know…

*Oh and I promise I am not normally an angry person. He was just really getting on my nerves.

Love you all!! (:
Josh