Occupy Minivan

December is a tricky time in the DR. The weather cools to more bearable temperatures, school finishes up and life in general winds down before the holiday season. There is often not much work to be done in December and many PCVs go home for the holidays. Just another perk of being a PCV in the DR – flights to the US couldn’t be much easier.

I would attempt to tell you about how I am spending my time in the USA, but my friend Duncan is a bit more eloquent and much more humorous in doing so. A group of us traveled cross-country while Occupying a Minivan. Read more here:

Duncan Peabloggy

Kite Season

Easily one of my favorite Dominican Spanish words is chichigua, or kite. Every year around this time the chichiguas come out in full force. In fact, most fads here seem to be seasonal. Through the holiday season kites will be the rage only for the winds to die down in January when the games of cricket will take over the streets, then marbles, hula hoops and whatever else the kids can get their hands on.

While some of these fads come and go, kites are one that seem to happen each and every year. Hula Hoops, for example, might be a passing fad brought on by a group of missionaries bringing dozens of toys to my community. Kites, on the other hand, are made and not received.

Along with the increasing winds that pass through this time of year, the sugar cane also begins to flower. Children go into the cane, cut down this flower and use its stalk to make the base of their kite. They then rummage through their homes or the local garbage heap for plastic bags and some string and voila, a kite is born.

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times that the ability of a Dominican child to create and invent with limited resources is truly remarkable. With the most basic of materials they are able to build complex vaina. Whether they are creating a kite from scratch or fixing a broken bicycle, they live the adage that says, “One man’s trash is another muchacho’s treasure”.

As a child, it would have never even occurred to me to make a kite. A kite is something you buy. But here even a 4 year old and scrounge up the necessary materials and creativity to make their very own chichigua. They might not have much but they have that, and that’s something.

Facts, Fun & Firsts

The Dominican Republic is a country well known for its beautiful white sand beaches. It is also a small country – ensuring that all Dominicans live within a relatively short distance from any number of the aforementioned beautiful white sand beaches. This would lead many to the assumption that all Dominicans have been to the beach. That assumption is, regrettably, incorrect.

Can you imagine living in Florida, Southern California or any of the Hawaiian Islands and having never been to the beach? I cannot. I can hardly imagine being from North Dakota and not having traveled to Florida, Southern California, Hawaii or elsewhere to visit a beach and catch a glimpse of an ocean. Lucky for some Dominicans who have been thus far in their lives deprived of swimming in the large bodies of water that surround their country, we Peace Corps Volunteers have Grant Money and we like the beach.

This past weekend myself and 5 other Youth Volunteers who live in bateys offered their girls volleyball teams a weekend of facts, fun and of firsts.

On Saturday, we 6 Volunteers and the 36 young voleibolistas met at a nearby retreat center for a day of learning. We Volunteers led charlas, games and activities dealing with Good Sportsmanship, HIV/AIDS, Teamwork and Dehydration. Lots of facts. At our last Volleyball tournament two girls fainted due to dehydration so we thought we’d drop some knowledge on the importance of pumping your body full of water.

On Sunday morning we all loaded onto buses and headed to nearby Guayacanes, located along the Eastern coast and home to a beautiful white sand beach. We strung up a net and played volleyball in the baking Caribbean sun all day long. Lots of fun.

For some of the girls, it was their first beach trip. That alone made the day worthwhile. I often feel as a Peace Corps Volunteer that what I really do here is offer opportunities. Opportunities for my community members to meet and know an American. Opportunities for my youth to learn about things they otherwise might never learn about. Or for them travel with me to Camps and Conferences in distant parts of their own country they otherwise would never go. Or to take someone to a beach they live less than 50 miles from but would never have seen had a strange white guy not been sent to live in their community for two years.

The day was nearly perfect. The girls thoroughly enjoyed the surf and the sand. The Volunteers thoroughly sun burned themselves. I say nearly perfect because our beach day was on a Sunday – and Sunday is the day people here tend get drunk – and drunk men on the beach are attracted to 36 volleyball playing teenage girls and their 6 white friends like moths to a flame. We spent large amounts of time chasing away persistent drunk men with a Herman Cain-like tendency to sexually harass any female in sight.

It is incredible to me how comfortable I have become in the past two years at scolding people. From children straight on up to adults. I have no reservations telling someone to get lost or stop being such an ass. Two years ago I didn’t even know how to say such things in Spanish. Now not a day goes by without it. Sadly, being blunt and/or short with people is effective here. If you simply ask the drunk assholes on the beach to “Please, go away. We’re trying to hold an activity. Thank you.” they’re simply going to persist. But if you are to say “Seriously dude, go away! How many times do we have to tell you no?” they might just get the picture and go harass someone else.

As a male Volunteer, my life here is exponentially easier than that of a female Volunteer. Female Volunteers here, and I imagine in many (most?)) other countries, have to deal with copious amounts of sexual harassment each and every day. It’s gotta get exhausting. Not to mention ugly and degrading and gross. I knew it was tough to be a female here but after more than two years in this country, it took me one day at the beach for it to really hit home. Dominican men can be gross. Men can be gross. People can be gross. Why do people insist on being gross?

But side rant on the occasional ways of Dominican men and hardship of female PCVs aside, the event was a major success. Our girls learned, they played, they enjoyed themselves and some of them had a major life experience of seeing/swimming in the ocean for the very first time. That’s big. And it’s all because we offered them a simple little opportunity.

Our Beautiful Court

Lunch Break

Bumping, Setting and Spiking for the Tiguere Spectators

Personal Development

October 28th marked the official end of my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Or it would have were I not extending my service and sticking around until June. While I and many others from my group have extended and, therefore, treated October 28th as any other day, a number of people did leave. Closing this chapter and moving on to a new, more American one.

I never expected that when November 2011 rolled around I would still find myself here in the DR. I didn’t expect to still be writing these blog posts by candlelight, awaiting the return of the electricity so I can type and upload it to the interwebs. For more than two years now the date, the numbers, 10/28/2011, have been so meaningful. They represented a goal. A milestone. And now it has come and gone with little fanfare.

This fall has been a strange one. September was undoubtedly my most busy and productive month as a PCV. It was followed by a major October slump. All peaks in Peace Corps seem to lead to an inevitable valley. And now November presents itself as another mountain to climb.

Aside from the return of numerous Peace Corps camps, conferences, trainings and more, I’m starting to finally start seriously looking towards my life post-Peace Corps. Attempting to do some personal development on top of the Grassroots development. This includes researching Grad School programs, filling out applications, writing personal statements and deciding where it is I want to live when my time in the Caribbean comes to a close.

America is big. It is home to many good schools. Lots of cool cities. How am I supposed to settle on just one place? Can’t people just commute from Denver to New York? Seattle and the Bay Area look close on a map. In the DR, mountains and cities and beaches and deserts are all just one uncomfortable bus ride away. I’m going from a country roughly the size of New Hampshire to a country in which New Hampshire is among the smallest of 50 fairly large states. America. It’s a daunting place.

An unfortunate accompaniment to applying to Graduate School is the GRE. Yet another godforsaken standardized test in the life of an American student which does nothing to reflect one’s true intelligence/abilities. It costs $200 and requires a fair amount of studying. Trying to study in what is easily one of the world’s loudest countries borders on tortuous. There is literally no where one can go to escape the noise.

I went to a large shopping center called Jumbo (think Latin American Target) last week to sit in the food court and take a GRE practice test. Jumbo is about 30 minutes away in the nearest city. It is glorious there. In the store I mean, not the city. The city, San Pedro de Macoris, is pretty awful. I sat amongst the bustle of people eating, shopping and getting wrapped up into the arms of commerce and even with all the noise and distraction, Jumbo provides a better learning environment than anywhere in my community. It's loud here. It's no wonder schoolchildren in the DR don't learn, they can't hear a god damn thing.

November 2011. Still here. Who woulda thunk it? This country certainly has a strange effect on people. They simply can't leave. And when the finally do, they suffer from chronic hearing loss. Seriously, it's really loud here.

The Homestretch

The end of September marked the end of my 26th month as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Peace Corps service is a 27-month commitment. You do the math.

The end is near. Or it would be anyway had I not made the decision to extend my service and stay on the island for another 7 or 8 months. I’ll be continuing work in my community while taking on leadership roles within Peace Corps DR with our Camp Superman and Deportes para la Vida initiatives.

Even as I’m sticking around for a while, the end of October marks a milestone. A number of Volunteers from my group, those who arrived together to the sweltering summer heat of the DR in August 2009, will be heading back to America to begin their lives as ‘Returned’ Peace Corps Volunteers.

The imminent finish line becomes more apparent and more realistic with every passing week. In early September, the 38 who remain from my group attended a 3-day Close of Service Conference intended to give us all the tools necessary to readjust back into American life.

Then a few weeks later the most recent edition of the PCDR Publication ‘Gringo Grita’ came out and featured surveys filled out by the 38 of us entering our final month of service. It is essentially a yearbook full of our funniest and most cherished experiences of the past two years.

Now we’re in October and people are starting to leave the island. Volunteers are hopping into taxis headed for the airport and simply disappearing off the island. The support system and family of Volunteers we have shared the past two years of our lives with are moving on to different and more American things. It is a strange and nostalgia-filled time of service.

How 27 months can pass by so damn fast I will never know. When someone first applies to the Peace Corps, they can’t help but think 27 months seems like a long time. A sizeable time commitment. It’s not. Well, it is, but it’s not.

It feels like just yesterday we stepped off a plane in Santo Domingo and were thrown headfirst into an endless cycle of cultural and linguistic misunderstanding. To sweat, mosquitoes & colmados. To rice, beans & viveres. To Dengue Fever, Intestinal Parasites & Scabies. To meeting Dominicans who treated you like family and to meeting 50 strange Americans who in two years you would recognize as family.

It’s almost impossible to believe that so many of us are now in our 27th and final month of service. It's strange. It's sad. It's exciting. It's unfathomable. It's here. It's now. It's happening.

Where does time go?

4%

It is September and in some northern parts of the world, summer is turning to fall. Children are back to school. Leafs will soon be changing their color. Weekends will soon be dominated by football.

Here in the DR, fall doesn’t exist. It’s as hot as ever and the Tropical Storms and Hurricanes that keep passing through have allowed mosquitoes to reproduce in alarming, Dengue Fever-inflicting numbers. There unfortunately is no football, though the Dominican Baseball League will start up again in October, which is better than nothing. And children will return to class whenever the hell they feel like it.

Classes were to officially begin nationwide on the 17th of August. That was three weeks ago. But neither the teachers nor the students had any interest in holding class so early in August. It’s hot after all.

The overwhelming majority of children in this country attend public school (if they attend school at all). Public school is held in sessions, or tandas, taking place in the morning from 8-12 or in the afternoon from 2-6. The tanda system lessens the inevitable issue of overcrowded classrooms and the limited number of trained teachers in the country. The tanda system also allows for just 4 hours of class time per day. Of those 4 hours, maybe 2 are actually devoted to education. The other two involve arriving late, leaving early, idly sitting and throwing rocks at one another.

The education system is a problem. A big one. For my money, it is the biggest issue this country faces.

There is a big push here to bump federal spending for K-12 Education up to 4%. Currently, the government devotes just 2.3% of the GDP to K-12 Ed. This is one of the lowest percentages in the Americas and in the world and goes a long way to explain how the school system here can be so abysmal.

For reference: the US gives 5.8%, placing us 37th internationally. Socialist Scandinavia gives the most of all developed countries (naturally) with Denmark giving the most at 8.5%, ranking 8th internationally. Fellow Caribbean nation Cuba gives the most at 18.7%.

With Presidential elections upcoming in 2012, this push for 4% has gained a lot of traction and presidential candidates are hopping on the 4% bandwagon. Meanwhile, the city of Santo Domingo is building a second line on their Subway system, the Metro. Yes, here in a country that suffers from daily power outages and where millions have no access to potable water, there exists a beautiful and well-functioning Subway system in the Capital city. The new line of the Metro is under construction and receiving a whopping 6% of the GDP this year.

6% for one stretch of subway tracks in one city. 2.3% for K-12 Education across the entire country.

I don’t mean to suggest for one second that money is the one single ingredient that makes for a functioning education system. It is one of many factors. But if a country places such little value and such little investment into education and its society’s future, it should expect little results.

I would also argue that the United States should offer a far higher percentage of its GDP to education. The richest, most powerful country on Earth shouldn’t be 37th at anything. Students in Denmark receive free, high level education through college. American students receive an education of varying quality depending on whether they live in a suburb, an inner city or somewhere in between before entering a university system that will leave them under a mountain of debt. The education system in the US has all kinds of problems but looks positively ideal next the DR’s system.

Kids in my community have finally decided it is time to go back to school this week. They have dusted off their uniforms, donned their new backpacks and braved the sun's rays to walk down the dirt road to their modest school. Maybe they'll keep going every day. Maybe they'll learn something. Maybe someday their government will invest as much in their future as it will for one Metro line stretching a few short miles. Maybe.

Off to school

Eliecel heads to his first day of Kindergarten

Melinda & Loren look to beat the heat under the shade of an umbrella

Celebrating Education

Dominicans generally have little knowledge of the world outside this small island. While I recognize this to be a generalization, after two years here I also recognize it to be accurate. This is especially true for Dominicans living in the more marginalized communities where Peace Corps Volunteers live and work. I obviously don’t expect people in developing countries to jet set across the globe, but I would expect the local education system to offer, well, some basic education. I’ve also been here long enough to know this is too much to ask.

In order to educate our Youth about the world outside the island, some volunteers teach world geography courses. Another way we teach our youth about the world is through annual regional diversity conferences. These conferences take place in the Northern part of the DR (Celebrando el Cibao), the Southern region (Celebrando el Sur), and here in the Eastern region (Celebrando el Este). These conferences bring youth from around the DR together to discuss their diversity, their communities, their country and to learn about important themes like discrimination, immigration, culture and religion in the world.

This year, along with another volunteer, I planned and organized the Celebrando el Este conference. In mid-August, 35 Dominican youth aged 12-20 got together to do a number of activities and learn about the region, the country and the planet they call home.

Like most human beings, Dominican youth learn best by doing. So instead of simply talking at the kids, we got interactive. The kids learned about DR culture and history by playing Jeopardy. They painted a giant map of the world and learned some facts about World Geography. They used that same map to discuss immigration patterns and treatment of immigrants in the world; a very pertinent topic with the DR’s own immigration issues with Haiti.

Learning an Irish Jig as we Dance Around the World

The kids exercised by doing Yoga, learned new dances by ‘Dancing Around the World’ and made Hummus, Pesto & Bruschetta in our ‘Dips Around the World’ activity. They traveled around the globe and ‘visited’ 9 countries, learning about each one and earning a stamp in their Passport. They saw discrimination firsthand in a powerful activity known in the Peace Corps DR World as ‘Archie Bunker’s Neighborhood’.

Enjoying freshly self-prepared Hummus, Pesto and Bruschetta

Celebrando el Este was the most educational Conference I have been part of in Peace Corps. Our kids not only learned a great deal in one weekend, but retained the information as well. The two girls I brought to the Conference couldn’t stop talking about how much they enjoyed themselves and are inspired to paint a World Map Mural in our community. The Conference has also inspired me to teach a Celebrando el Mundo course to my Boys Club.

My girls from Cachena receiving their certificates in front of our beautifully painted World Map

Just as a lack of access to books leads to lower literacy rates, a lack of maps and no knowledge of geography can lead to a lesser curiosity of the world. I hope a large map mural in the community and some educated youngsters will spark the interest of others to learn more about the DR and the world we live in.

Celebrando an Educational Weekend

Emily

The first Tropical Storm of the season has come and gone. Here in the Eastern region of the DR the storm, named Emily, brought some wind gusts and about 24 hours of rain but nothing too fuerte. My site resembled a lake through Thursday afternoon but now things are drying up and the mosquitoes (and probably the cholera too) are coming out in record numbers.

I’ve been very fortunate in my now two years here in the Caribbean to avoid any major Tropical Storms or Hurricanes. In 2009 there were no notable storms and in 2010 one hurricane passed through but did most of its damage in Haiti, naturally. I think we won’t be so fortunate in 2011. August begins the height of the storm season and already we’ve had a named storm and many more predicted.

I am generally one of those people who kind of enjoys storms. The claps of thunder. The smell of wet grass. And here in the DR, rainy days allow for socially acceptable laziness and exorbitant amounts of sleep and/or good reading. Win Win Win. On rainy days, meetings are cancelled, classes are unattended and humans are indoors. You see, the only things Dominicans like less than direct sunlight (see recent post) is rain and being wet. I am also generally one of those people who like to try everything or experience everything at least once. So part of me wants to be able to say I experienced a hurricane, earthquake or other natural disaster that occasionally wreaks havoc on this part of the planet.

That being said, I am also accustomed to experiencing storms from inside a structurally sound house or even a basement if the occasion calls for it. Here I have neither a structurally sound house nor a basement (nor anything resembling either, for that matter). Even Emily’s modest wind gusts had the zinc roof trembling and the rains leaked through it all day. A mild hurricane could lift my house a la The Wizard of Oz and carry it far from Kansas.

So while I would love to one day say I have lived through a hurricane, I would prefer it happened in a post-Peace Corps stage of my life. Maybe in my retirement years when I live in a beachfront, hurricane-proof fortress. Or when Richard Branson invites me to holiday on his private island; he surely has a storm shelter. Until either of those absurdly unrealistic dreams becomes a reality, I'd prefer the hurricanes keep a safe distance from this island.

The Dream Team

Barcelona, Spain. 1992. The best basketball team ever and one of the most illustrious collections of talent assembled in the history of international sport wins an Olympic Gold Medal and brings pride to a nation.

Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. 2011. An extremely mediocre group of PCVs competes against a city’s best ballers and brings pride to no one.

A Volunteer friend & fellow Iowan just put on a weeklong basketball tournament in his urban barrio in the city of Puerto Plata, on the DR’s north coast. This past Saturday, a compilation of the best local Dominican players in the tournament was invited to test their skills versus a team of Peace Corps Volunteers. The Peace Corps Dominican Republic Dream Team, if you will. A number of the best players among the Volunteers were unable to make the trip, but we liked our chances nonetheless.

Due to transport issues (read: Santo Domingo traffic), myself and two other Dream Team members arrived late and missed the entire 1st Quarter of the game. After emptying our bladders following the 5-hour car ride and quickly lacing up our sneakers, we erased a 6-20 deficit and took a halftime lead into the nonexistent locker-room. We had averted disaster and a win by the Americans looked inevitable. In the 4th Quarter, the younger Dominicans caught fire, regained the lead and defeated the mighty Americanos.

It was not the Dream Team’s best showing. We won no medals. There was no national anthem. Our pride took a hit. But after the game the Dominican players were taught a few things about HIV/AIDS and were filled with self-confidence and pride of their own after defeating an American Equipo de Sueños. I suppose that's an acceptable consolation prize. And the beer we bought afterwards, used to regenerate our deflated self-esteem, that was a good consolation too.

Hace Calor

It seems to be hot just about everywhere. A heat wave is devouring North America and pushing thermometers even in northern lands like Minnesota and Ontario well into the 100s. While it’s not that hot down here, each day brings a debilitating temperature consistently in the 90s. This would be easily tolerable if air conditioning was commonplace or even if the electricity was on during daylight hours to power fans. Alas, we sweat.

Dominicans, for being a Caribbean people, are not fond of the sun. They avoid sun as fervently as American children avoid broccoli. They are professionals at seeking out even the smallest slivers of shade. They do everything in their power to avoid making their skin color darker. If they get too dark, people might think they are Haitian and being a Haitian is not a popular thing here in the DR. Being racist against Haitians is a popular thing though.

Dominicans’ reasons for avoiding el sol are not simply racial but also very practical. Not surprisingly, it is quite a bit cooler in the shade. When it is too hot to be indoors and AC is decades (maybe longer) away from being a household staple, the shade is a good place to be. I suspect shade-sitting is a sort of national pastime in many developing nations.

Shade-sitting. A national pastime.

My daily uniform while here in my community usually consists of khaki shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops. Not exactly the business casual ensembles other Americans my age sport to their day jobs. But the current heat wave here has downgraded my uniform to basketball shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt and occasional barefootedness. Part of me thinks this is lazy. Another part of me thinks I am really beginning to dress like a local.

Sometimes it rains in the afternoon and the heat takes a break from its onslaught. Then the rain stops and the humidity sweeps in like a wet blanket, making people long for the unrelenting dry(er) heat of the mornings.

I suppose heat is preferable to the hurricanes predicted on the horizon. August and September mark the high point of hurricane season. People educated in the way weather works say this will be a highly active hurricane season. Hopefully the people who predict weather patterns are as incorrect about this as they are about most everything else.

Easily one of the things I dislike most about living in the DR is the lack of seasons. I want four distinct seasons in my life. I want to wake up, feel the early morning temperature and be able to judge, by that alone, what month it is. With the exception of the few months in late spring when the rainy season is upon us, it is always summer. An endless summer. Many Americans probably think that sounds great. But I want seasons. Four of them. Changing leaves, mounds of snow, rainy springs and hot summers is the climate for me.

Hang in there America. Soon enough it will be fall and you will be able to slip on a light jacket and watch the leaves change. Or spend a crisp Saturday afternoon tailgating at a football game, letting cold beer keep you body warm. Our summer never ends. The heat wave lasts 12 months, and then it starts all over again.

Camp Superman

The first week in July, PCVs in the DR attempted something previously undone in PCDR history. A 5-day Camp for Dominican muchachos aged 10-14. This marked the third summer in which Volunteers here in the DR have put on Camp Superman. The first camp in 2009 took place over three days, 2010’s camp stretched to four days and this year we upped the ante to five. More days, more activities, more fun and more knowledge dropped.

Along with two fellow volunteers, I helped plan, organize and coordinate the camp beginning back in February and saw it through its fifth and final day last week. It required much work but ended as an epic, muddy success.

On July 6^th, 16 Peace Corps Volunteers left their respective communities throughout the country and made for the idyllic mountain town of Los Bueyes for the 3^rd Annual Camp Superman. As in all Camp Supermans, the idea is to teach young boys how to become young men. To reach young boys in their more formative years before they reach the vulnerable ages in which far too many young Dominican males succumb to delinquency or premature fatherhood. The Camp offers the boys a chance to meet boys from other parts of the country and the unique opportunity to camp in tents, go on hikes, eat s’mores and simply enjoy the great outdoors.

Through various educational activities revolving around themes such as Gender, Nutrition, HIV/AIDS Prevention and more, the boys learned valuable information to take home with them to their respective communities. There is also much time allotted for sports, arts & crafts, science experiments, swimming in a beautiful river and doing other fun activities synonymous with Summer Camp.

On the Saturday of Camp, we had spent the morning hiking to a beautiful waterfall and were on the homestretch of five days when the skies opened up and the rains fell hard. Our initial reaction was to play. Some boys played dominoes and board games under cover from the rain. Others joined a large game of mud soccer and got dirty. Boys and Volunteers alike were covered head to toe in mud and loving every second of it. Then the flash flood warnings came, tents got flooded, clothes got wet and things almost hit the fan. Fortunately, Peace Corps Volunteers are a resourceful bunch. 16 people worked together to clean tents, hang dry clothes, build a super tent where all 42 boys had a slumber party and saved the day. There are few other people I would want on my side during a torrential Caribbean downpour while caring for 42 muchachos than PCVs.

Camp Superman 2011 was an enormous success for both Dominican boys and PCVs alike. The boys were able to enjoy a unique life experience and Volunteers were able to watch the young boys they work with day in and day out in their communities grow and mature before their eyes.

In just 5 days, an ordinary boy can learn to become Super.

*Pictures forthcoming. Si dios quiere.

Mira Mi Pinta

My Escojo Mi Vida youth group graduated from my Sex Ed / Life Skills course in late May. With the course finished and the summer months ahead, we arranged to do 3 community service projects. One in June, another in July and a third in August.

Project #1 – A Community Mural

Among the first sights one takes in upon entering Batey Cachena is a large wall on the side of a row house barrack that is peeling away multiple layers of decades old political campaign ads. The wall is ugly. So we painted it.

My youth came up with a design that offers a welcome to and description of the community. The wall includes baseball players, sugar cane cutters, a school and an open bible featuring a verse chosen by one of my Christian youth. Each of these are accompanied by the words: Land of Baseball Players, Land of Hard Workers, Land of Professionals and Holy Land (a bit much).

We are not nor do we pretend to be proper artists. For that reason the final product was a little lackluster and nothing resembling a work of artistic genius. But my kids did the work themselves and the townspeople seem to like it. Success.

Artists at work.

Welcome to Cachena. The finished product.

Oz

I'm back to the noise and unrelenting heat of the DR after 2 weeks Down Under. Australia was a great time but it was somewhat of a tease to be in such a large country for such a small period of time. Can't wait for a return trip to visit other great cities and the bush. That said, experiencing Sydney, diving in the Great Barrier Reef and cuddling koalas with the fam isn't a bad way to spend a vacation.

Sydney Opera House

Sydney Harbor Bridge. We climbed to the top!

Giraffes, Zebras and a skyline view at Sydney's Taronga Zoo

SCUBA Diving in the Great Barrier Reef

Hand Feeding Kangaroos

'Cuddling' Koalas

The Day that Wasn't

We left Los Angeles on June 2. We arrived in Sydney on June 4. And June 3? It would seem to have not existed for myself and the other 200+ people on our massive Airbus. For the first time in my life, an entire day has escaped me. Bill Bryson, Iowa’s greatest author, is able to put it more poignantly than I:

“Each time you fly from North America to Australia, and without anyone asking how you feel about it, a day is taken away from you when you cross the International Date Line. I left Los Angeles on January 3 and arrived in Sydney fourteen hours later on January 5. For me there was no January 4. None at all. Where it went exactly I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that for one twenty-four-hour period in the history of the earth, it appears I had no being.” – Bill Bryson, In a Sunburned Country

Off to See the Wizard

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

On Thursday June 2, I will board a plane in Santo Domingo and on Saturday June 4, I will land in Sydney, Australia.

My youngest sister has been studying abroad Down Under since February and the rest of the fam is going to join her for 2 weeks Aussie greatness. The journey to the world’s largest island, the only island that doubles as a continent and an overall desirable vacation destination will be a long one. But the ends will most surely justify the means.

Escojo Graduation

My Escojo Mi Vida group celebrated their graduation last night. Escojo is a Peace Corps initiative in which we volunteers teach Dominican youth about sexual health and life skills. Over the course of the past 3 months, I have met weekly with my Escojo group to discuss themes ranging from decision-making, HIV/AIDS, discrimination, STIs, the human reproductive system and more.

The HIV rate in the DR is (arguably) between 1-2% and higher still in batey communities like my own. The teenage pregnancy rate is also high and a large part of the problem is lack of education and lack of easy access to condoms and other birth control methods. The goal of Escojo is to educate youth in volunteer's communities to make good life decisions and to educate themselves about sex and HIV/AIDS.

Eleven youth aged 13-20 graduated on Monday. Looking ahead, we hope to do a number of community service projects over the summer. A strong youth group has been lacking here in Cachena for some time and we hope to change that with Escojo.

Sirve Con Fuerza

10 teams. 60 girls. 4 days. 1 camp/volleyball tournament. Sirve Con Fuerza.

Sirve Con Fuerza is Peace Corps’ national volleyball tournament. Teams from Volunteer’s sites all over the country come together to test their talents, practice, play, learn and meet new people.

I am far from a volleyball coach. I do live in a site where most everyone, male or female, enjoys playing sports. The boys are constantly playing baseball and hoping to be the next local phenomenon to get a Major League contract. The girls focus their attention not on the baseball diamond but the volleyball court. In November the women in my site erected two large poles into a patch of dirt, wrapped a snow fence across the poles and a volleyball court was born. Since then there has been scarcely a single day in which the girls and women of Cachena have not played volleyball.

While I’m not a coach and have been hesitant to take on a more formal role with the local players, I wanted to reward my girls for their hard work and persistent practice by bringing them to Sirve Con Fuerza. Since February I have been teaching a course for young girls called Chicas Brillantes. My Chicas group is made up of 16 girls ages 9-16. Each week we talk about a subject involving gender, gender empowerment and showing young girls what they can achieve in this machismo, male-dominated culture. A number of my older Chicas Brillantes are volleyball players and were invited to compete against young girls from all over the DR.

The tournament/camp was a great success. The teams were placed into two separate brackets based on talent levels and played lots of volleyball over the course of 4 days. My girls turned out to be one of the better teams and took home the award for Good Sportsmanship. While the girls obviously want to win, a volunteer is likely to be more pleased that their team won a Sportsmanship award than a Championship. The girls also learned about Gender, Nutrition, HIV/AIDS and more.

Since arriving back in Cachena after the camp, my girls have been playing lots of volleyball. The entire community was impressed with how much they improved in such a short time and many people made a point to come to my house and tell me how well the girls are playing now. All the boys are now begging for a Basketball Camp where they can improve their skills.

I recently received a grant to work on sports, and specifically girls volleyball, in my site and hope to keep working with these girls in the future. They will definitely be a favorite to win Sirve Con Fuerza in 2012.

The volleyball court in Batey Cachena.

Sirve Con Fuerza. Cachena were in the orange t-shirts on the far side of the court.

Ranidaphobia

The Dominicans in my site are incredibly resilient people. They unflinchingly face the hardships thrown at them by everyday life and have almost no fear. They regularly deal with fist-size cockroaches, rats the size of kittens and mangy street dogs. They don’t flinch at the sight of a tarantula or snake. They are unimpressed by the constant onslaught of bugs and creepy crawlers endlessly invading their lives. What does scare a Dominican you might ask? Frogs.

It is entirely inexplicable to me. Not the mice. Not the rats. Not the snakes. Frogs. A large, fat toad will give them a start, but a small frog that an American child might keep as a pet in a terrarium is enough to set off a small heart attack in my doña.

On Friday night I was laying in bed reading and waiting for the electricity to kick on when screams came emanating from the next room. My doña and two host nieces were beside themselves and asking my assistance to kill a frog that at this point had only been heard and not yet seen. We regularly sit and watch rats large enough to abduct small children run freely in the rafters without giving them a second thought. But the possibility of a frog in the house was enough to set everyone into hysterics. They say it is because frogs jump that they are scared. Well tarantulas jump. And bite. And kill. But no one seems to be afraid of that fuzzy ball of death. The ‘they jump’ argument doesn’t hold water for me.

Rats carry diseases. The most common rat-borne disease in the DR is leptospirosis. This can be spread through rat urine and result in liver and kidney damage. Rats are known to carry over 70 diseases ranging from typhus to Hantavirus to the bubonic plague. THE BUBONIC FUCKING PLAGUE! That doesn’t worry anyone here. Only Kermit must be killed.

So on Friday night as I come out of my room, using the light from my headlamp to guide myself, I see a 5 year-old, a 9 year-old and a 42 year-old standing on the couch (The couch where mice so often like to call home). They are begging me to exterminate a frog that may exist. Using said headlamp, I eventually make out the form a frog no larger than a golf ball sat idly under a table, undoubtedly wondering what the commotion is all about. They want me to kill it. I want to name it and give it a jar full of flies.

My hesitance leads to them calling for the nearest muchacho to come take my job as exterminator. Muchachos can do anything and do it for free. Want to buy something at the store? Send a muchacho. Need to send a message to the lady down the street? Send it with a muchacho. Need to kill a 1-inch tall tree frog? Call a muchacho. They do it all.

The muchacho who relieved me of my position missed with a couple whacks of a broomstick and the frog hopped away to temporary safety. My doña was disappointed and fears its imminent return. Meanwhile mice are pooping everywhere and eating my clothes and no one bats an eyelash.

This is just another example of how strange and oftentimes irrational phobias can be. We as humans are faced with myriad threats every day and it is clowns (coulrophobia), constipation (coprastasophobia), frogs (ranidaphobia) and other random things that make people’s blood run cold. Humans are weird.

The escapee frog’s name is Arbolito. A jar of flies awaits his return. Or swift death if a Dominican finds him first.

The hunt is on.

Muchacho with machete. Dangerously effective combination.

Supermuchachos

Throughout my Peace Corps experience and especially in the 2011 calendar year, I have become a semi-professional camp counselor. I’ve had the good fortune to take many young Dominicans from my communities to a number of fun and educational camps, conferences, trainings and more. These camps offer much to our youth including, but not limited to, seeing other parts of their own country, meeting youth from other communities and regions of the DR and learning valuable life skills.

In a volunteer’s first year, these camps are often something you simply attend and bring youth to. In a volunteer’s second year, these camps are planned, organized and facilitated by us veterans. In April, I co-coordinated my first camp.

For the past 2 summers, Peace Corps has offered Camp Superman, a camp for boys aged 11-13, in which boys camp outdoors, play and learn to be a man. Delinquency and tigueraje are all too common options for young men in the DR and through Camp Superman and boys clubs in our communities, we volunteers attempt to educate young boys about being respectful, educated, mannerly young men.

As more and more volunteers begin boys groups in their sites, the Camp Superman model is starting to take off and this year, for the first time, we held a Regional Camp Superman in my very own beloved eastern region of the DR. Two fellow youth volunteers and I did the coordinating and logistical work to make the camp happen.

Thirteen Peace Corps Volunteers and 32 Dominican muchachos went to a beautiful mountain pueblo of Pedro Sánchez to spend three fun and educational days in the wilderness. We played games. We slept in tents. We ate s’mores by a campfire. We hiked to a waterfall. We made superhero masks and capes. We discussed gender and what it means to be a man. We gazed at the stars. We swam in the river. We taught about HIV/AIDS and how it can be prevented. We had a great weekend in which everyone, volunteers and boys alike, thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

The Regional Camp was a success and did much to prepare us for the upcoming 5-day National Camp in July. My life as a semi-professional camp counselor continues into the summer and my life as a camp planner and coordinator is about to kick into high gear in the months ahead.

The muchachos of Cachena

Team Green

Camp Photo with T-Shirts, Capes & Masks

Zafra

It's harvest season. La zafra. Sugar cane fields throughout the eastern region of the DR are being set ablaze and backbreaking manual labor is all the rage.

For the past few months I’ve been able to look across the endless, llano plains covered in cane and see orange glows in the distance. Faraway cane fields being burned. The glow is actually quite breathtaking. The deeper into harvest season we get, the more glows that can be seen each night. I am staring at one right now that is at least one mile away but seems to be engulfing the entire batey. The ash falls like a light snow and leaves everything covered in a layer of cachispa that the children catch like snowflakes and shove into their mouth (claiming it tastes like boiled eggs).

The cane is lit on fire to burn away any dead or excess leaves and to scare away any critters, vermin or snakes calling the cane fields home. After being burned, the cane is manually cut by able-bodied men (primarily Haitian immigrants) wielding machetes, collected into large trucks and driven to the nearest processing plant.

In the past week I’ve gotten to see the cane cutting first hand. The sugar cane around Cachena was burned and the picadores got to work. The cutters often work shifts of 12+ hours (in the baking Caribbean sun) and are able to cut between 3-4 tons each day. At the moment, they are paid approximately 150 pesos ($3.80) per ton. Somewhere around 13 dollars a day for impossibly difficult physical labor. Meanwhile the sugar cane companies make bank by exploiting people living in abject poverty. A large number of bateyes are owned by the sugar cane companies themselves and only cane cutters and their families are allowed to live there. It is the closest example to indentured servitude I know of.

The landscape looks much different when not covered by seas of 10-foot tall sugar cane. Nearby communities are visible for the first time in a year and mountains can be seen in the distance. It’s an interesting time to be in the batey.

Already, new sugar cane is growing like a weed where it was harvested just weeks ago. The cycles begin again. One of the growing and harvesting of a crop. One of human rights violations. Both of which will continue long into the foreseeable future.

Flames rising over rooftops.

Taking in the show.

Graduation Day

Saturday was Graduation Day for my Engineers Club. We started meeting back in January, doing a different science activity/experiment each week and I told them way back when that we would graduate in 12 weeks. They didn't forget.

In Dominican culture it is very important to have these graduations, ceremonies, etc, to recognize the work one does. There must always be an end goal. Very little doing something for something's sake. So although we still have many experiments left to do and will continue meeting weekly, a graduation was to be had.

In was a simple ceremony in which we discussed the work we have done. My boys who went to Engineers Camp talked about their experience in the mountains of Jarabacoa. We did an example of an experiment (Lava Lamps) for the audience of invited parents, siblings and random community members. Certificates were given to the graduates and we had the obligatory brindis, which is a small snack (in this case soda and cookies) for all attendees.

It was a fun day and the boys enjoyed being recognized for their work (and the cookies).

The graduates and invited guests.

A select few showing off multi-colored 'Lava Lamps'

With their certificates.

International Women's Day

March 8^th marked the 100^th anniversary of International Women’s Day. In recognition of that milestone, volunteers around the DR put together numerous activities to celebrate the big day.

Here in the Eastern region of the DR, we waited until the 28^th of March to celebrate but better late than never. Two female volunteers organized an extremely interesting event in which girls from 7 different volunteer’s communities would take photos of women in their lives and put them on display.

Our youth rarely get the opportunity to express themselves in an artistic manner and have certainly never been to a museum, art gallery or art exhibit of any kind. The photos the girls took were hung on display in a community center, along with a caption explaining the photo, for all to see and enjoy.

Along with the photo exhibit, volunteers facilitated a writing workshop in which the girls learned about prose, poetry and letter writing. The girls wrote their own original pieces and shared their writing and/or their photos with the group.

This is not an easy country in which to be a woman. No country is I suppose. If it were easy we wouldn’t need days like International Women’s Day in order to recognize the achievements of women and examine the gender inequality that continues to exist in the world. That said, the DR is tough for females. It is always very encouraging and empowering to see young girls come together in this country and get the opportunity to have fun, be unique, learn new skills and do the things we so take for granted in the US of A.

This was one of the encouraging and empowering days.

The Cachena group doing the Aplauso del Pelotero

Prose Writing Activity

My Girls with their Photos

Soy Ingeniero

I just made it back from a 4-day camp with 3 muchachos from my Engineering Club. Twelve volunteers and 32 boys aged 11-14ish spent a Thursday to Sunday high up in the mountains teaching, learning, swimming, playing and feeling colder than any of these boys had in their entire life.

The Engineers Camp, Soy Ingeniero, was held in Armando Bermudez National Park in La Cienaga, Jarabacoa. La Cienaga is among the highest towns in the Dominincan Republic (and the Caribbean) and the primary set off point for hikers heading to Pico Duarte, the highest mountain in the Caribbean. It is an entirely different world than what most of our kids are used to with thick, green forests, ice cold rivers and very chilly nights.

We spent the week doing interesting science experiments like building mousetrap cars, building boats of recycled materials, doing density and chemistry experiments, learning about robotics and more. They also did numerous teambuilding activities including having to climb a 10-foot wall as a team and pass through a “spider web” that volunteers put together in trees. There were campfires with s’mores, dips in an ice-cold river, HIV/AIDS activities and intense competition amongst the 4 teams of boys.

I have now been to around 10 youth camps and conferences and Soy Ingeniero definitely stands out above the rest. The boys were able to experience a place they never have before and, for many of them, a place they’ll never experience again. The boys were well behaved and engaged in the activities before them. The volunteers facilitated fun and interesting activities and the kids ate up the material.

It was among the few camps in which at the end of the weekend, the boys are sad to be going home and the volunteers aren’t burnt out and ready leave. Everything went well and my 3 Engineers are eager to share the new experiments with the club.

*Pictures forthcoming

Congressional Delegation

A kind of big thing happened last week. A congressional delegation visited a neighboring batey and the community of a Super Volunteer friend of mine.

This year marks the 50^th anniversary of the Peace Corps. As part of the commemoration of that milestone, a congressional delegation, led by Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont, visited the DR to learn more about Peace Corps and the work we do here. Other members of the delegation included Senator Kent Conrad of North Dakota, Senator Kay Hagan of North Carolina, Representative Peter Welch of Vermont and Representative Xavier Becerra of California. The senators and congressmen were accompanied by their spouses, assistants, security teams and the entourage one would expect of such a visit. The delegation was also accompanied by Aaron Williams, the International Director of Peace Corps (and a former PCV in the DR) and the US Ambassador to the DR, Raúl Yzaguirre. A fairly distinguished group of people to say the least.

Immediately after their plane landed, the delegation was driven to Batey Experimental (10km down the road from me) in order to visit a Peace Corps community and learn about a volunteer project. Peace Corps Volunteers from each Senator or Congressman’s home state accompanied them on the bus ride to the batey and talked all things Peace Corps.

Upon arrival in Experimental, the delegation was met by members of the community and Peace Corps personnel, myself included, and sat for a short presentation led by the Volunteer who lives in the batey, Kerri. Kerri, her host mom/community leader Victoria and USAID reps spoke briefly about their work in the batey. Then a number of Kerri’s youth participated in a Deportes para la Vida activity against volunteers from the delegation. Senators Leahy, Conrad & Hagan, Director Williams and others joined the Dominican youth in playing a game called Encuentre la Pelota (Find the Ball), which teaches that you can’t tell simply by looking at someone if they have HIV/AIDS. The members of the delegation seemed to really enjoy the game and participating alongside young Dominicans.

After some gift giving to local youth and obligatory photo ops, the delegation went for a tour around the batey to see first-hand the living conditions of the local people and to also see the living conditions of the volunteer, who lives in her own house. We volunteers translated for the members of the delegation as they asked questions to the people of Experimental and answered questions about the daily life of a PCV. As the batey is quite small, population 350ish, the tour was short-lived and the delegation hopped on buses to Santo Domingo where they had an evening reception at the US Embassy with invited Peace Corps Volunteers and other Peace Corps personnel. The following day the delegation visited Haiti before returning to the US of A.

It was an extremely unique opportunity to see a congressional delegation visit a neighboring batey and to meet the Senators, Congressmen, Director, Ambassador, etc. A very small number of volunteers were able to participate in the day’s events, making it a cool honor to be able to participate. It was also very humbling to see such distinguished individuals sincerely interested in the work that we do here.

As some of you may know, national service organizations like Peace Corps and Americorps have taken a hit in their funding since the new congress took over. Americorps faces huge cuts and possible extinction. The Peace Corps, which received a large funding increase in 2009 following Obama’s election, has also had their funding cut. These visits by congressional delegations hopefully show to the powers that be how valuable these service organizations can be. If we can pay billions of dollars to bomb countries like Libya and trillions to fight wars in the Middle East, we can certainly afford to fund Peace Corps, Americorps, Teach for America and similar organizations and try to make America and the world a better place.

Official Peace Corps News Release of the Visit

Video of the Visit Produced by Senator Leahy's 'People'

Save Americorps

Medical Mission

From time to time teams of medical professionals come from the US to the DR to offer their services free of charge to Dominicans in need. From time to time these teams of medical professionals ask for Peace Corps Volunteers to assist them as translators. A few weeks back I was on of those volunteers.

A group of surgeons, nurses and OR technicians from Albany, New York, make the trip to the DR once each year and offer numerous types of plastic surgery. They aim to do work on children with cleft lips, cleft palates or other deformities. I, along with 3 other Peace Corps volunteers, assisted them with their mission in early March.

For the past few years (and this year too) the group has done their work at the Hospital Dr. Antonio Musa in San Pedro de Macoris. The Musa, as it is known, is located just 20km down the road from my site and is where people from my own site go when they are ill. The doctors arrived from snowy Albany on a Saturday and on Sunday we did intake for potential patients. Scores of people showed up with afflictions ranging from full body scars to small, almost unnoticeable scars and everything in between. There were fewer children and less cleft lips or palates than the doctors were accustomed to seeing, but a lot of people in need. Surgeries and operations were scheduled for the week and began on Monday.

From Monday to Thursday, more than 40 patients were worked on. Our primary role as volunteers was to translate for the doctors and to chat with patients and try to put them a bit more at ease before surgery. We got to meet a lot of interesting Dominicans and a number of patients were from communities near to my own. It was great to be able to make a personal connection, as small as it might have been, with someone living in a batey just up the road or in a nearby city. The small bits of familiarity went a long way to the Dominicans surrounded by strange white people.

Translating brought us into the OR itself as we talked patients through the anesthesia process. After they were asleep, we became spectators in the arena that is the OR. It was a mildly intimidating place at first. No one wanted to be the asshole American kid who passed out at the first sight of blood and then needed surgery himself. After seeing a thumb reconstruction on Monday morning, I had no fear and loved being in the OR and in the thick of it whenever possible.

The patients we saw came from all walks of life. There were children born wither proper fingers or toes. Adults who had scars from acid burns. An infant born without an opening to her vagina. Three different people who had had their ears bitten off (Tyson/Holyfield-style) in fights. People with scars from machete fights. And much, much more.

I had never realized before the medical mission that throwing battery acid on another human being is a common form of vengeance here in the DR. Machete fights yes, malicious acid attacks no. We saw multiple cases of people covered by large scars from acid thrown on them by angry friends of jealous lovers. We also saw a man whose wife, after learning of her husband’s infidelity, doused him in gasoline and threw a match. His entire upper body was covered in scars and the skin of his forearm and bicep had fused together. The doctors unattached it so that he had further arm motion.

The team from Albany Plasticare was great to work with. They did a lot of incredible work in a very short time period. When not at the hospital we got to know the doctors and nurses at the hotel we all shared. It was interesting and inspiring to see the work they did. As a PCV, so much of my work is educating youth and preparing them to make healthy decisions in the future. We very rarely see the immediate impact of our work and often struggle to quantify the work we do. The doctors on the other hand could change lives for the better in a matter of hours. They could see the benefits of their work in no time whatsoever.

Being part of a medical mission and spending time in an actual operating room was certainly a highlight of my Peace Corps service.

Best looking fake doctors in the DR

Voluntourism

My batey and others like it throughout the Dominican Republic are well accustomed to having groups of foreigners (almost exclusively Americans and Canadians) drop in for visits. It is almost always a Christian group on a service trip or from time to time a group taking a day trip from their all-inclusive Caribbean vacation to see how the other half lives. The visitors usually make a loop around the batey, snap a few pictures with children, hand out some new toys or used clothes and promptly return to their beachfront hotel feeling very good about themselves and the momentary impact they have made on people living in poverty.

I have very mixed feelings on these frequent visits. While these visits can potentially be positive cultural exchanges, there is rarely an actual exchange that takes place. The visitors rarely speak Spanish. They are only here for an hour or two, an insufficient amount of time to exchange names and phone numbers, let alone culture. The visits often amount to nothing more than a group of white people dumping off loads of used stuff and coming dangerously close to what I would define as exploitation.

A good (and admittedly cliché) way to look at Peace Corps service and an overused Chinese Proverb says:

“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day,

Teach a man to fish and you teach him for a lifetime.”

I have two years of Peace Corps service in which to share some culture, drop some knowledge and, with some luck, make an impact on a number or individuals or (with lots of luck) an entire community. Whether it is through basic literacy, sex education, gender empowerment, volleyball skills, proper marshmallow roasting or English language curse words, I’m trying to teach something and create sustainable projects and knowledge that will continue long after I’m gone.

Few things can be more undermining to that process than for a busload of Americans to pull into my site every two weeks and hand out free fish of all shapes, sizes and shiny colors. I can’t compete with that. I have no fish to give away. And I don’t blame the people here for preferring free fish to the hard earned kind. Life is already hard. Why complicate it by learning new skills when someone is going to give you what you need? After tourism, the second highest form of income in the Dominican Republic is receiving remittances from friends, family and myriad baseball players in the U.S. and other countries. This is a culture well accustomed to and very comfortable with waiting for help from outside and not always willing to fix problems from within.

This past Friday I had a chance to host and plan a productive visit in my community with a group of study abroad students from Virginia Tech. The students are spending the semester in the DR and, as part of a course on agriculture and economics, they wanted to visit a batey / small agricultural community and see and hear first hand how difficult the life of a cane cutter or of people living in bateyes can be.

Having an opportunity to actually plan the activities and arrange for community members with intimate knowledge of local agriculture and cane cutting to lead and participate in activities made for an excellent opportunity for experiential learning. My superstar youth and community leaders gave a tour of the batey while I translated. We visited a nearby parcel of land where the community members communally grow all different kinds of crops and food. We walked through sugar cane and later had a productive discussion about the life of a cane cutter, life in the batey and life in America. Later that afternoon the students visited the batey of a neighboring volunteer and learned even more.

It was an extremely positive experience and showed me how productive these visits by gringos can be under the right set of circumstances and with some guidance. It hurts to know that after this productive visit, it is just a matter of weeks before a new group of white people shows up and puts us a step back after a large step forward. So it goes.

Peace Corps as an organization has 3 simple goals:

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

The visit by the Virginia Tech students succeeded in fulfilling both Goals 2 & 3. All in all a successful day in the life of a Volunteer.

Tour of Batey Cachena

Community leader Wilfrido showing off guandules (pigeon peas) and discussing local agriculture.