Ill

Sick. Again. For those of you keeping track at home, my ratio of healthy days to sick days in my site is about 1:1. ¡Que Vaina Mi Vida!

I am fortunate to have access to a television during this time I am living with a host family. Especially on sick days. As soon as I move out on my own, my TV in the DR days are numbered. For now I’m able to keep up with some sports (damn Vikings) and see the occasional movie in English. Also, there are 4 American TV dramas televised here that are not dubbed. Alas, only 2 of those 4 are not of the Law & Order franchise. But that does leave me with 2 or 3 hours a week of House. I had never seen the show back home but I am so hungry for English language programming that I would probably watch Fox News if we had it. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Dr. House is a sometimes psychotic, often grumpy, always brilliant diagnostician who, in true TV fashion, solves the strange medical mystery without fail while fighting his own demons. It’s actually a really good show.

Why am I talking about House?

As I lay in bed Tuesday night with a fever and what can only be described as pus balls growing in the back of my throat, I couldn’t help but try my hand at self-diagnosis, Dr. House-style. Is it just another Dominican mystery virus? Dengue Fever? My eyes do hurt. What about strep? I’ve had that before. Oh Shit!! It could be throat cancer! I don’t even smoke!

This went on for some time before a Peace Corps doctor was called to curb my self-diagnosed delusions (It was strep). Luckily, even while living in a developing country, I have some of the best medical care available. Thank You United States Government! If only every American could have health care provided by the government. A quick trip to the capital for some antibiotics and all was well. My Doña thought I might not need to make the trip to the capital. She was going to be more rational and pray the demons out of me. She prayed in her Dominican evangelical way, which is pretty much just yelling and gyrating while occasionally saying Jesus’ name. More praying at me than praying for me. I was a little put off by the whole episode but let her do her thing. While I appreciated her effort, I was pretty certain at that moment it was penicillin I needed, not Jesus.

I almost had a second bout of sickness en route to the capital when a child asleep in his mother’s lap across the aisle from me on the guagua threw up all over himself, his mother and everyone in his general vicinity. I was spared a vomit shower by the kind Dominican soldier sitting next to me. For all I know he was on his way to the border to help with the Haiti situation; and now he would smell like vomit for the 7 hour trip there. ¡Que Vaina Su Vida! As the sight or smell of vomit is almost guaranteed to make me vomit, I sat with my head craned out the window, like a canine with a gag reflex, until the woman and her child got off the bus.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the entire episode. A child projectile vomits on public transportation and passengers are neither alarmed nor upset about being vomited upon. It’s just a seemingly normal part of everyday life. Shit happens, right? In 5 months I am already almost completely desensitized to these crazy daily occurrences. That's acclimation, Homes!

Fish Out of Water

"There are no foreign lands. It is only the traveler that is foreign.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

After a slowdown during the holiday season, life is starting to return to its normal pace (which is still pretty damn slow). Diagnostic work is getting thrown together and prepped for our upcoming 3-month training. Hard to believe we’ve been in our sites for 3 months already. And now 5 months in country?! ¡Diablo!

Aside from the pace of daily life, the pace in which I am devouring books has returned to form. Books have been a constant in my early life in my site. They offer a source of entertainment to fill the void in life sans internet or television. They give me an opportunity to think in English for but a few hours a day and give my brain a break from the cerebral overexertion that comes with living life in a second language. They provide a source of further escapism from the already escapist lifestyle I live down here.

I recently read a wonderful book called Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri that consists of a number of short stories about Indian immigrants living and adjusting to life in America. I’ve found myself reading a lot about the immigrant experience lately. I suppose it’s because in some ways I am living a quasi-immigrant experience myself. I have multiple ‘fish out of water’ experiences in each passing day. I find myself for the first time in my life a member of the minority. In fact, aside from Haitians, I am the only minority and certainly the only gringo in my community. It is a novel and alien feeling to see things from this end of the spectrum.

My life is presently lived in somewhat of a fishbowl. Eventually the novelty of having a local gringo will surely wear off. In time the members of my community will learn how truly uninteresting I am. Sooner or later this world will feel natural while the States become foreign. For now I relish the feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar. Of having an experience comparable to that of Ms. Lahiri’s characters but rather than moving to America, I’ve moved from it. Of feeling and taking in newness everyday. Of learning a new language and way of life. Of being in the classroom of the world.

El Terremoto

So there was an earthquake this week. You might have heard about it. I think it was on TV. I actually did not even feel the quake out here in the east, which is the opposite side of the island, but it could be felt on most of Hispaniola and the destruction in Haiti is obviously catastrophic. As if the residents of the poorest country on this hemisphere didn’t suffer enough in their daily lives.

I would have gone the better part of a day without even knowing there was a natural disaster just hundreds of miles away were it not for my Doña calling everyone she knows to warn them about the impending tsunami. After quickly confirming I was in the DR and not Southeast Asia, I deduced something had occurred in Haiti. There was no tsunami and life here on 2/3 of Hispaniola goes on in relative normalcy while life on 1/3 of the island falls into complete and utter disarray.

Unfortunately while being so close to the damage there is little one can do from here. Volunteers are not allowed in Haiti and I’m not sure what could be accomplished in the wreckage even if we could go. There are potential opportunities in our communities to collect supplies and non-perishable food items to send across the border but asking the poor to donate to the poorer doesn’t seem to benefit anyone too greatly at the end of the day.

It is obviously a horrible situation. Most all situations in Haiti can be labeled as such. My only hope is that this disaster leads to sustained relief provided by the international community, especially the U.S. It would be very easy for us to drop a billion dollars and three tons of energy bars in Port-au-Prince, pat ourselves on the back and wash our hands clean of the situation. But the problems in Haiti stretch far beyond this natural disaster and we should offer sustained aid and support to a neighboring country. That a place like Haiti can even exist less the 800 miles from the richest, most powerful country on earth boggles the mind.

Whatever anyone back home can do for the Haitian people, do it. My experiences with Haitians since arriving to the island of Hispaniola 5 months ago have been overwhelmingly positive. They are a people that work very hard for very little. Send money; you don’t need your nails done this week. Send old clothes; you know you’ll never wear that ugly shirt again anyway. Educate yourself on Haiti and the difficulties these people face. Read Mountains Beyond Mountains and learn about the efforts of Dr. Paul Farmer. Do something besides gawking at the horrific images on the television only to change the channel. Act.