A Little Illustration

Kids are so cute.

This is a view of Rio Altibonito that supplies the water for this region and separates Haiti and the DR.

It´s mango season.

A little campo view. I will be posting some pueblo pictures soon!

My Life These Days

I have been living in the town of Pedro Santana with an astonishingly nice woman who gives me air kisses and defends my Spanish to any communication critics. My days have been rather full although not at all productive in the classical sense. My average day begins at six when I drink a tiny cup of strong coffee and eat breakfast which is usually a piece of bread with a hardboiled egg. Four days a week, I set out for the rural campos. On these days, I pack a notebook, pencil, water and sunscreen along with the awkwardly large umbrella and motorcycle helmet and head for the very long dirt road. Although I should be embarrassed about carrying the helmet, I can often catch free rides with motorcycles and watch some of the five miles wiz in either direction. I get a quite a few laughs because almost no one wears helmets here and carrying one without a bike is quite the walking joke.

I arrive sweaty to the campo at eight thirty in the morning (it takes me about an hour and a half to walk the five miles meaning I walk pretty damn slow). I always first visit a handful of my regular houses where I am expected to frequent. I find a spot in the shade and utilize my usual conversation starters: “How are things?”, “How are your kids (most people have grown children in the capital)?”, one question about the weather, either a recent strong rain or “It was really hot yesterday, huh?”. If these don’t get the ball rolling, I move on to their crops and animals which always seems to work.

Our conversations usually veer toward problems with health, money and always water. Unfortunately, I lack the social graces to be able to respond to comments about hardship. I would blame this on my language barrier but I am just as challenged with this in English. I try to ask relevant questions and always throw in my “How difficult.” with a sigh. These reactions become even more necessary when I do my interviews. I try to do four or five each day I do the walk and because I added to my interview questions, I interviewed fourteen houses twice, poor them! I introduce myself and explain that I am doing a diagnostic before asking a variety of mundane and invasive questions in imperfect Spanish. I thank them profusely and they tell me to come back and visit soon. I then head slowly back to town for lunch even more sweaty and disheveled after all the hot walking.

On days that I don’t go to the campos, I run to the next town over after breakfast, enjoy a cold bucket bath and use the fabulous generator in a communal office space where I type up my interview responses and, let’s face it, pretend like I am working. I am also always on the hunt for someone who is passionate about the inadequacy of the projects that come to this municipality. We talk about broken water filters and organizations that don’t implement their projects and I ask an excessive amount of questions.

Everyday, I eat a big lunch of rice and beans around noon and drink about two nalgenes of water. It is more difficult to fill the afternoon because everyone is sitting still inside or in the shade to avoid the raging heat. I have lucked into a few weekly meetings and was tricked into starting a small adult English class with people who work in the office. These have been good for filling my planner (feeling like I am doing something) and making friends, a work in progress. At six o’clock, I eat a small dinner before I go for a walk around town becuase it is cooler and there are always people in the streets. I am shouted at with “Americana!” or “Rubia!” usually accompanied by a laugh like it is just too hilarious that I live here. Although I appreciate the excitement to an extent, I prefer talking to yelling. I visit an old colmado (corner store) owner with nice eyes who has lived here his whole life. I sometimes go to the “park” where there is usually a little social crowd. The first time I went there, I was sitting on a bench trying to look busy and someone was repeatedly shouting something like “Virginia” but with Spanish pronunciation. I finally turned around to a group of people staring at me and I realized that I knew some of them from a youth club meeting. I joined them and asked them what they were saying. They answered, “Your name” and gave me my favorite “you stupid American” look. I have miscommunications like it’s my job and I am proud to say my embarrassment threshold has been drastically altered.

When I come home from my walk, I sit with my hostmom outside to watch passersbys before I set up my mosquito net and fall asleep to merengue. All day, everyday, I think (or rather, worry) about how I am going to be able to actually contribute to this community. I am daunted by the complexity of the needs here. The largest problems in the region seem to revolve around water. There are campos that don’t receive any from the aqueduct, don’t have functioning filters, and can’t save their crops or animals if it doesn’t rain. The communities could also benefit from more efficient cook stoves that use less wood and have chimneys to direct the smoke out of the kitchen huts. This list of potential projects could continue with cement floors, latrines, literacy, sex ed and nutrition classes. Right now, I am trying to take it one day at a time and prioritizing making friends and learning Spanish, two essentials to my two year stint here. I hope you are all doing well!

Swearing In: Who Says We Can´t Be Fancy?

The girls becoming real Peace Corps Volunteers. Take a good look, this may be the only time we have a chance to wear a dress in these two years.

The boys in ties.

Bekah, Jared, Malia and I, sweating.

Some Photos from the Campo

There are few stranger things than finding a crab in your bedroom when you don´t live close to a water source. It was larger than my hand and when I first saw it, it was pretty dark and I was sure it was another rat... but no.

The kitchen and dining area in my house in the campo. I spent more hours than I care to admit to cooking and washing dishes in that kitchen.

A view from a hike I do in my campo.

This is the man of the house in the backyard. He is eighty years old and he works on his land everyday.

This was a tarantula in my bed the first day of my site visit. It lived in my wall and I would see it every once in a while.

Rats, Sickness and Starvation, Oh My!

I will avoid going into detail about the last three weeks at my site. Most of what I would have said would highly resemble complaints and would reflect badly on my host family. The truth is that my living situation has been difficult and the lack of cell phone signal and transportation has not allowed me to work as an effective volunteer. I am happy to report that I will be moving into the town of Pedro Santana into a house with a kind woman. I owe a huge thanks to my stepdad who told me, “If you don’t like your situation and people aren’t treating you well, change it.”

The next day, I packed for a long day and headed out on foot to town. I talked to a development worker who I just barely knew and by the end of the day, I had a new situation where I will be healthier, happier, and more able to work productively. Although I am fighting off waves of guilt and insecurity about my toughness, I can live with being a pansy! I will be visiting the campo frequently to carry out a community diagnostic and keep the connections and friendships I have made.

Today, I am sitting in the air conditioned Peace Corps office in the capital, loving every minute of it. I will be off to a small Haitian community for a weeklong basic Creole training. When I go back, I will make the move. New house, new friends and nutrition here I come! Woohoo!