Friday, May 27, 2011

... and all that Jazz.




I am wearing a fleece coat and sequined flats. It’s time to end this blog. On May 13th, I arrived to the SEA/TAC airport excited and hungry. Ever since, I have been cautiously comfortable in my old life and so happy to be with my family. I am remembering things that I had completely forgotten like car seats, artichokes and heaters. I bop to music that brings me back and rave about whole grain cereal. Although my conversations are still a little tainted with my own self consciousness about proper English syntax and appropriate but not excessive mention of Peace Corps, I am gradually returning to a version my American self. It was inevitable that my time in the DR would change me. I have more judgment of petty complaints and impulse spending and less patience for reality TV. I also have what I hope is a temporary staring problem. Although Peace Corps is bound to fade from my life, I hope I will never completely take for granted the ease of life that I was so lucky to be born into.

I am spending the summer enjoying comfortable couches and food variety in Washington before moving to Connecticut in August for a graduate program at Yale's School of Public Health. I will embark on another two year stint at least partly enjoying the discomfort that comes with doing something I don't know how to do. Take care and thank you for reading!

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Adios?



I am currently staging for my departure back to the land of the big. Saying goodbye was emotionally draining and unlike anything that I have ever done. I had expected to be sad but I selfishly hadn’t really even thought about how people in my town would feel. Friends and kids crying to be left behind didn’t flatter me so much as make me evaluate my service and recognize a bond I was breaking. I left my town after a sleepless night on an early morning guagua with bachata blaring and tears dripping. Two university students were watching the inappropriately public display as blatant spectators repeating, “two years… and she was accustomed, for two years.”

I arrived to the Peace Corps office feeling and looking dumpster bound. I was tired to the point of delirium with so much vertigo, I was almost convinced I had vision issues. With a combination of adrenaline and regret, I continued to travel. I said goodbye to a training host family on the other side of the country, printed more pictures for my community and brought them to be sent back on my bus.

After a monumental purge, I have packed everything I am taking home into three bags. I have a thirty pound mountaineering pack, a smaller daypack and a messenger bag all filled with my little remaining unstained clothing and sentimental items I just can’t leave. I have even separated my travel clothes, the bulky warm stuff, ready to be worn on Friday the thirteenth.

Going back sounds delicious and daunting. I know I will have face time with my amazing family, the people who have paid an incredible sum to talk to me through a static connection. I know I will have electricity, running water and bomb food. I can’t decide what meals I am looking for most but the ability to make diverse salads and refrigerate leftovers have been frequented subjects of my group. I also cannot stop thinking about the breakfast food. I haven’t had French toast, bran muffins or cottage cheese this whole stint. Even a bowl of shredded wheat with blueberries and milk sounds incredible. I’m clearly secure in my taste buds.

My confidence in my state of mind, however, is another story. I don’t know if stores like Target will inspire episodes of panic and rage as I miss my life with my Dominican and Peace Corps friends. I question whether the brightly displayed excess of choices in malls and supermarkets will make me think about poverty and flip. New clothes, fancy phones and all of those movies and songs I have missed seem from here like a fun party. We shall see if my Spanish speaking, dirty feet, river-bathing self is going to like that crap. We will see!

Because I am checking out of the Cuerpo de Paz tomorrow with the seemingly simple cell phone turn in, I should end this blog. I am thinking, however, that a better fit for a last entry would be written in the states. Maybe I am just avoiding yet another goodbye… so be it!

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Soaking it up!



Two and a half years ago when I thought about doing Peace Corps, I equated it to a marathon. The twenty six miles correspond quaintly with the twenty six months. I knew I would surely have muscle-burning, torturing ups and the still uncomfortable yet breath regaining downhills. I would probably be hot and tired and have those moments when I would wonder why I was doing it. It was a little scary. Like a long distance race, I didn’t know if I’d make it but I knew I wanted to try. No matter what happened, I would probably be glad I did it, maybe a little sick and sore, and certainly ready for a big meal.

As it turns out, my experience has been almost nothing like running a marathon. It is not a competition, it’s way more messy and no clear lines are drawn between my life in the DR and in the states. Plus, the end is much more bitter sweet. I am six days from leaving town and have been relishing in my lasts. This is my last visit to the big town to use the bank and internet and buy tomatoes. I’m hoping Easter day marked my ultimate household drought when I couldn’t so much as wash dishes or flush my toilet. The other night may also be the last time a cockroach runs across my face when I am sleeping, a total violation of which I have become almost accepting. I probably already had my last trip to the river in my semi formal dress (which I also wore to Peace Corps prom) where I impressed my friends with my mediocre swimming skills and then cut the bottom of my foot on a piece of garbage.

My current business has been packing and giving my life away in neat little packages of hotel shampoo, glitter and ibuprofen. I have been passing out boxes of crayons and a few coloring sheets to kid-ridden households. I printed out pictures for some of my closest people. I also have a stack of photos of my big face with a touching message and my email address printed over it. These are so embarrassing, I plan to distribute them the moment before my departure. I am taking down phone numbers, finding internet savvy people and figuring out how I could send something physical with no postal service in my town. Finally, I am awaiting my child planned going away party. It will take place in the church but I was laughing yesterday when I overheard them practicing their dance to a Dominican rap song. I am in charge of providing brightly colored soda and, I presume, looking sparkly while giving a goodbye speech. I want to prepare this ahead of time to say what I want to say, avoid Spanish mistakes, and hopefully not get as red-faced and choked up.

If this was anything like a marathon, my face would be contorting pleading for the time to pass. I wouldn’t be hugging, tearing up, and realizing with sadness that things will never be like this again. I will never be so comfortable mopping in my skivvies or belting out songs in Spanish on the bus. I will probably never be so famous or special just for being me. It is the end of an era, not the completion of an excruciating undertaking.




Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Unsolicited Advice

I might not have authority to give advice. However, for the past two years, I have been in the Dominican Republic having countless conversations about struggles I can’t solve, found cockroaches in the worst of places, flushed my toilet a bucket of water, and read 120 books. I give myself permission. Plus, this blog is almost reaching its destiny.

1) Take off the blinders. While thinking of starving children in all those African countries every time you sit for a meal would be excessive (although perhaps slimming), it is important to stay grounded on the planet. Ambition can be admirable but the wanting-more tunnel vision isn’t usually as satisfying as it aims to be. Going about our daily business without acknowledging that we are world citizens is counter productive and irresponsible. We live in the tippy top percentages of wealth, resource consumption and environmental impact. If everyone lived like us, ...they couldn’t. We would need more planets for all the oil and water we use and space to grow the grain to feed all those cows. We should spend brain energy on these issues. The worst that can happen is a little well-deserved guilt, easy behavioral changes and maybe a more svelte figure.

2) Buy local. If closed-eyed dancing at your farmers’ market’s drum circle is not your thing, get your food and get out. Here, I am forced to buy my veggies at a street market. The vendors comment that I must have somewhere to be because I don’t like it and I don’t linger. Farmers’ markets (buying from the grower), independently owned shops and even local music venues are real solutions to economic crises. Decentralizing a very globalized monster is more secure and increases the quality of life of more people. Walmart’s Chef Boyardee boxes and packets of T-shirts are destroying communities, jobs, and the environment like the stone killing multiple birds. Products that are local, fair trade, and organic are more ethically sound than their alternatives. Shop responsibly. It’s not more expensive if you buy less!

3) Eat less ingredients and less meat. Dominicans are not perfect role models of a sound diet. However, the amount of preservatives, food coloring and trash produced from their grand midday meal of rice and beans is close to nothing. “Eight ounces of beef takes 25 thousand liters of water on average”(McKibben). Not everyone has the time to grind their own wheat to bake a loaf of bread. Most don’t want to completely cut out their sloppy Joes. Just make the changes that you can, instead of excuses. Eggs and toast trumps an Egg McMuffin from our favorite clown corporation in almost every way. It just doesn’t take that long. A breakfast of real oatmeal with fixings is considerably better than a strawberry and cream flavored instant oatmeal package with its novel of inputs, processing and packaging (check the ingredients). Feeding kids healthier meals can also be beneficial for behavioral issues. Word has it ADHD is linked to food coloring. If your grocery trip is mostly full of produce, bags from bulk bins (pasta, cereal, and nuts for good prices), dairy, bread, condiments and even meat from the deli, it will be cheaper and healthier than the box and baggy mountain of the person behind you. No one is perfect and vegans living on soy fake meats are a part of the problem. Frozen meals suck. Just be better.

4) Tune out. When we get electricity, I can hear Spanish soap operas in every TV owning house in my neighborhood. It is tempting, relaxing and easy to watch Mario and Claribel make eyes at each other rather than think about our own lives or worse yet, talk. In my time here, I can see American technology flourishing from the internet center in my very town. Media can be cool, useful for great change, and straight up fun. However, our favorite tech indulgences are also addictive, a huge waste of time and impacting children in very big ways. I think it is one of those less is better things like makeup or certain spices. Four media hours per day is better than the kids’ current eight. If 64% of Americans didn’t have the TV on when they had dinner (Reinberg), we might actually enjoy the meal more.

5) Be nice. We won’t ever regret restraining our road rage, bringing cookies to a picnic with a friend, or complimenting an author. The argument that altruism doesn’t exist because doing good things is too self-satisfying is exactly why we should do it. Showing kindness is rewarding for everyone involved. In my time here, I have been the recipient of tiny strong cups of coffee, home-made juice, large vegetables, and dishes often including special fish, chicken, or salami which I have to swallow with a fake smile (because I am normally a vegetarian). I have met astounding generosity and tenderness from people who have much less than me. While it may be humbling, it makes sense. They depend on each other more. Families are the units of support and individualism and privacy are prioritized less. Dominicans or any other group of people are not inherently nicer or better. Everyone is greedy, moody and selfish. Try to reign the beast and be open-hearted!

6) Volunteer. My Peace Corps friends and I complain when people in our communities want things but don’t show up for the meeting to work for it. One might ask when we have attended a town or neighborhood meeting in the U.S. The embarrassing answer is usually that most of us haven’t done much of that and may not even know what there is to do. How much more time do we spend talking about local problems than actually doing anything to change them? Community service falls into the category of things we don’t do even though studies show it makes us happier. Play cards with the elderly, plant trees, write poetry with a veteran, organize cans, read to ESL kids, find your thing. Do it because you can.

When lecturing runs its course, I have more to say. Thank you for donating to the filter project! We have enough for 35 families to drink pure water and there is still time to donate as more filters can be bought. We gave one class, we have seven filters delivered and the others ordered. As my service is coming to a close, I am giving away my ant-eaten clothing and pulling myself out of my projects. I am helping my faithful art students plan their own art camp for this summer. They are also planning my going away party complete with invitations, a choreographed dance and special meat pie. Leaving here will be wrenching and tearful but I am also so excited. After 2 years and 2 months, I get to fly to Seattle and spend the summer with my family. In doing the Peace Corps, I sacrificed things like being with my nieces for huge chunks of their lives. In the fall, I will move to Connecticut to study in a Master’s program at Yale’s School of Public Health to study Epidemiology of Microbial Disease... fancy.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Evironmental T-Shirt Designs


Some of these drawings have been used for T-shirts, certificates, and totes to substitute the copious use of plastic bags in this country. I have loved designing images for the Peace Corps DR environmental education program called Brigada Verde (Green Brigade). Volunteers work with youth in classes, community projects, ecological awareness and appreciation. I am sure the Dominican Republic is a far cleaner place due to the number of trash cans distributed and clean-ups implemented in the name of Brigada Verde! While we may have become numb to the site of hillsides and rivers caked in garbage, it is a problem with detrimental health and ecological externalities. One should never take for granted the impact of functional waste management. Ode to our solid waste infrastructure in the states!

Friday, March 25, 2011

The Simple Life



A life with less money is not better. It isn’t any more altruistic, noble or fun. Apparently wealth makes people happier only until a certain low standard of living. Once someone has food security and maybe a bed, more money does not significantly change life satisfaction. One undeniable quality of a lower income life, however, is simplicity.

Most people in my town are home owners but not vehicle owners. They don’t have bank accounts, debt or any kind of insurance. They have a TV with basic cable, favorite soap operas, and maybe a mini fridge. Their babies don´t always wear diapers and have never sat in a car seat or stroller. Their pets eat left overs and have probably never seen a leash. The under 18 crowd might have an email account that they rarely use and if they are really fly, Faceboo’! The one Internet center has an hour per day limit and often takes minutes to open each website. They eat rice and beans for every lunch, sometimes mixed, sometimes separate and reserve salads for special occasions. Breakfast and dinner are usually combinations of bread, salami, yucca, eggs and milk. They sweep their dirt patio every morning, wash clothes and mop when the water runs, and get really pretty every Sunday afternoon.

While it would be presumptuous to fully include myself in the simple life category, I have had one foot in it for the past two years. I boil eggs and carrots in the same pot and to minimize dishes, listen to the radio for a treat, and walk around town on the nights that we have electricity. Peace Corps pays us a stipend sufficient for this uncomplicated way. We travel on buses and view the good stuff like chocolate as special. Peace Corps gives us free medicine and sunscreen and takes care of our insurance and banking.

Looking forward to the states feels like looking forward to the circus: exciting but kind of scary. I know it will be great, with colorful, huge and incredible things. I also know sensory overload to be likely if not inevitable because elephant tricks are almost too surprising. Hot water is the bomb. But with glorious hot showers come dishwashers, washing machines, and other appliances that make white noise. I think longingly about singing along to David Gray in my mom’s comfortable Subaru with a hot drink in one hand and a luna bar in the other. With cars come taxes, warranties, maintenance checks, insurance, licence plate tabs, gas, and spare emergency equipment. Malls have whole areas donated to eyeshadow and grocery stores have fourteen kinds of milk and whole aisles of snacks. When I left the states, most people had cell phones that were actually for making calls. I am doing the best I can to enjoy my last minutes without the bleep of email in everyone’s hands. When I get there, I am sure I will watch shows that I have somehow scheduled and saved and look on wikipedia during a meal in a restaurant. But, as a circus spectator, I might need a second to look away, shut my eyes or plug my ears.

I want to go hiking with only a bag of trail mix and some water. I resolve to remember my Dominican friends, make cards on paper and prepare food from ingredients. Anybody could probably benefit from a break from the buzz. It might be nice to take a vacation from Glee and read an actual book (although I hear those are so out) or to talk face to face with people rather than posting on their pic. Money buys complexity, not necessarily happiness.

Friday, March 11, 2011

It’s Ticking Away

I have two months left. This might a lot of time to a baby who can double in size and gain some huge human ability. It could have also been a lot of time if I was going to volunteer abroad under different circumstances. Spring break mission trips are only a week or two and I would surely splurge at REI while packing and have some tearful goodbyes. After two years on this island, however, two months is piddly. It signifies a seriously short countdown of classes to be taught, bus trips to visit volunteers, and chances to sit in plastic chairs next to bachata blaring speakers waiting for a dance partner.

I am taking more pictures and initiating more hugs from my special ladies and kids. I get nostalgic taking bucket baths on my patio in my underwear and using the water I boiled eggs in to make hot powdered milk. Right now, we are on a favorable electricity schedule meaning our power is out during the heat of the day and turns on at dusk for lit loud nights. I keep on crazily hoping that it will reverse so that I get to make dinner, the classic eggs and milk, by candle light and walk around visiting by the light of my cell phone.

Another factor countering my end game success is the inevitable mental and physical vacationing. I came an hour and a half and three dollars to this big dusty town to sit in an internet center blasting Akon for no great reason. After using the ATM, the only actual business I have here, I am sitting in an internet center on a virtual American escape. I have four windows open to look at my nieces on facebook, my future university’s bookstore paraphernalia and recipes for quesadillas of which I don’t have any ingredients or intention of making. I will go climb in the cab of a truck and sit four across where the the driver usually shifts between my legs and read a good chunk of a novel. I could try to stay present but I choose to believe that would be silly and futile.

My plan for the end is a combo of savoring my sweet town and the much more fun rest of the country. 1) I will continue to ask you for money for water filters. Donate! 2) I will hold hodgepodge art events so my sacrificial magazines, animal cut-outs and package confetti will be used up and glued to something. 3) I will continue to fantasize about family, dessert and hot baths. I need to get ready! I wouldn’t want a delicious meal to surprise me. 4) I will talk on the phone with my Peace Corps buddies who, sadly, may be the only people to whom I can relate. 5) Even better, I will resist the urge of reading a 150th book and do more traveling and visiting to hang out with them. To the beach for my birthday!

Accompanying this perfect plan will be tears, random acts of kindness, boredom and complaining. Let’s do this!

I'm Going to Miss It!





Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Help a Family Get a Water Filter

If you would like to donate to the project described below, please follow these steps:

1) Send a check of any amount (every $20 helps one family obtain a filter) to:

Propagation of the Faith
905 Park Avenue
Falls Church, VA 22046

2) Include a note saying, "This donation is for the Water Filtration Project in Pedro Santana, Dominican Republic."

3) Email me at jasminewcarver@gmail.com letting me know how much you donated and if you feel comfortable, a mailing address where we can send a thank you card. Knowing the dollar amount will help us order the filters sooner.

Because I am not able to receive money directly as a Peace Corps volunteer, the donations will be handled by the Catholic Church in Virginia connected to my community. All contributions be used exclusively for this project. The community will provide transportation, labor, and any other costs to allow us to buy more filters. Thank you so much and please let me know if you have any questions!

Friday, February 25, 2011

Clean Water for Peace: A Busted Idea



Maybe the little white girl (my dignified town name) has the hook up! She clearly has connections with water filters and probably has a palace filled with water treatment equipment and jewels. Someone could be holding out on us!

I have done a very small water filter project which has both heightened town interest in treating water and made me the target for the question ‘When can you get me one?’. While pretty paper crowns are likely the closest I will ever come to royalty, they are kind of right. I do have the hook up! I am from America the great where $20 funds two trips to our favorite cafe. I have my valuable Peace Corps pile of contacts and information. I can afford to travel to the closest city to check out carbon household filters. I can probably sweet talk or rather, beg the church, for free transportation of filters.

The Diocese of San Juan is selling filters for $1,000 pesos ($28 US).
This was my plan:

1) Ask you all for money and even try to sell you art for donation.

2) Work with the Catholic church to buy as many filters as we can to lower the price to $300 pesos (a value that we have deemed reasonable but not cheap). The calculation would be $X US/ $20 US = Number of filters. I was hoping for $1,000 US providing for 50 filters.

3) Invite the families who we see as appropriate beneficiaries to a class on basic health and the method and care of carbon filters. They would be able to purchase their filters upon completion of this class.

Busted! The only way I can ask for contributions is through a slow and unpredictable grant process for which I no longer qualify. I am too late in service to write a proposal and there is no other Peace Corps approved way for asking for donations. However, I do not want to leave without finding funds to lower the price of these filters.

There are many families that do not have enough money to buy purified water. They receive the river water, contaminated with cholera among many other parasites, and use this to cook with and boil it for drinking water. Diarrhea is an accepted public conversation topic for a reason. I feel confident to say that household water filters improve the quality of life and health of families more than anything else for the small cost. There are many people who would rather have a filter than a cement floor. There may still be sources that I have not explored. I am going to see if there is a way to ask you for donations through the church which is adopted by one in Virginia. I think the only stipulation would be that I could not receive or touch the money. Asking for funds from friends and family is not my favorite but it is a small price to pay. Everyone hates to ask for money but everyone loves clean water!

A picture note: I drew this picture looking at a photo taken by a returned Peace Corps volunteer, Amy Martin.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A Morning to Remember



Almost two years ago, I was exploring my town on a morning run. As I rounded a corner, I saw two guard dogs looking scary. I froze, averted my eyes and started slowly backing up (because showing fear and moving just felt so right). Out of the corner of my, I could see the black mass running toward me. I had enough time to yelp and escalating "No No No!" and then a loud and memorable "Somebody help me!". I covered my face as the dog jumped up and bit me under the armpit. Rabies shots, holes in my tank top and sports bra and two measly little scars should be I have to remember the incident.

In reality, the morning made a big impression on many people and has stayed with me like a freckle. The skeezy, rich owner frequently asks me if I want to be his girlfriend. Yonny, a politician with guard dogs, tile floors and a fancy gold watch, is the depiction of the wealth discrepancy of town. The second reminder of the fateful morning comes when I am referred to as "That little American who screamed in English when Yonny's dog bit her"! It was quite surprising to everyone that if I were to ask for help in a shriek, I wouldn't have used the right language. And finally, I moved into a house that shares a back corner with Yonny and his dogs. This would not matter too much if the dog didn't stand at the corner barking and pawing at the zinc fence. One day, she was so persistent, it actually seemed possible that she was going to eat me, despite the obvious barrier. When I leave town, I plan to have some sort of ceremony saying bye to the dog. I will no longer have to run with a stick, tell the story or answer questions about what "Somebody help me!" means and why I wouldn't have just said it in Spanish. Maybe I'll even buy her a present, like a hunk of meat, a bedazzled collar, or a chain!

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Using Everything I Have



When I say that I want to use everything, I am not speaking metaphorically about contributing the remainder of my positive attributes or energy to my service. I am mostly talking about the crap that is sitting in my bedroom. I have a little over three months left here and I am not about to spend it mentally packing my bags or worse yet, thinking about eating my welcome home meal (lasagna and apple pie a la mode). A hundred days, a small portion of an over two year commitment, is still a good chunk of time. I received a package from my mom in September 2009, sixteen months ago, a baggy of twelve mechanical pencils, a little blank moleskin notebook, sassy hair ties and a floral printed nail file (among many other things and packages, thanks to the best mom in the world). The blank moleskin, eight remaining mechanical pencils and brand new hair ties sitting in the pristine Ziploc are evidence that I may be holding back a little too much. This marks the time to break out the mechanical pencils!

I also want to make sure to pour out all the glitter I have doing art with kids because I can. I have an American education that encouraged creativity. If there is one thing that I have learned here, it is that we are so lucky for whatever schooling we have gotten in the states. The time, quality, materials, and attention of our school system are astoundingly better than those of so many other countries. I will do my best to continue to share simple projects that teachers do not have the background or the initiative to employ. For my valentine making party, I cut 150 hearts from pink poster board, went through my craft box, where I keep the markers and glitter I am sent, the tempera paint I buy here, and anything shiny or reusable like snack packaging, wrapping paper and egg cartons. I gathered old magazines, broke out the brand new doilies and ribbon (also from my mom) that I have been saving, and spread the word. There was the inevitable paint eating, glue on the walls and confetti greed. Overall, however, there was a lot of pride and excitement. Really, what is more beautiful than a valentine? Nothing.

I will continue to throw art events. Masks, crowns, and Easter eggs are all on my list along with the constant push of the environmental coloring sheets I have been working on. I will also teach one more formal English class. Of all things, that is something that I have and they want. While I do like to hear “I lub you baby!” shouted at me in the street, I want to augment their repertoire with a few more vocab words.

Beyond education, I am aiming to make some final connections. With the Peace Corps program, I have a cache of resources and ideas. There are other types of water filter projects, recipes for making soap and menthol (a surprise favorite), and places that just give books away. I am under no illusion that I have the power or time to do everything that could be done but the least I can do is pass on some phone numbers. I am in conversations with a priest, a nun and a motivated twenty-two year old who has assisted my filter and latrine projects. The common phrase, Things will change if God wants, can be disempowering while instructions to make cleaning solvent might just counter that. It’s worth a try!

So this is it, one last semester to try! I will break out the sharp colored pencils, brush up on that good old community development manual and teach the verb “to be” for the eleventh time. That being said, I have three months left on a gorgeous Caribbean island and I have spent the better part of two years in the dirty desert border of Haiti where our only water source has Cholera! I think I can say I have done my time. Right now, I am headed to the lush cool north to translate for hernia surgeries while spending nights eating real food and taking hot showers. It is also whale season on the SamanĂ¡ peninsula, the region often given the title of most beautiful beaches. In these last days, I hope to break out my swimsuit, jog without a dog defending stick, and visit friends who have been blessed with snazzy sites. While my life is sounding a little like an action movie or at least one that someone might watch, the truth is that my real most exciting moments last week were cracking open Entertainment Weekly that I had been saving (entertaining indeed!) and the night the power went off at the usual time and then came back on. The whole town cheered.

Bash for San Valentino