Me mordio un perro!

In the Peace Corps, strange things happen. Or well, it might be more accurate to say that nothing that happens here is considered strange.

Friday, some stupid yappy dog ran out of his front gate and bit me on the back of the leg. Totally unprovoked. I was so mad. Anyways, so in training they gave us the three-part rabies vaccine, and if you ever get bit you have to have two more doses. So Friday afternoon I had to trek down to the PC office to deal with the vaccine stuff. It should have been relatively simple, except for the fact that both our doctors were in Guatemala for the regional PC med conference.

So, go to office to pick up vaccine and a note. Medical Secretary is "pretty sure" it's just one shot. I'm pretty sure I remember it being more. So anyways, I pretty much have to force her to call the doctor in Guatemala and double check, because it was going to make a difference if I needed to stay in the capital an extra day. Turns out it is two shots and I did need to stay. Lame.

Go I to the emergency room to ask them to shoot it into me. Arrive in ER and explain. Am asked: name, age, phone number, province where I live. Am not asked for ID. Am not asked to sign anything. Am not asked to see the dog bite. Sent to sit on the exam table. Given injection. Nurse took the bloody gauze in her bare hands to throw it away, and then rinsed her hands (no soap) and went back to work. Was done with process. Did not need to see doctor or sign anything for leaving. Neither the nurse nor any other medical staff in the ER had ever heard of the vaccine they were shooting into me.

Can you imagine showing up in an ER in the US with a rabies vaccine and them just saying "oh sure, over here, STAB, ok you can leave now."?

Aye, aye, aye.

I've been out of my site for so long, I need to go back today but I'm just not feeling motivated to do it. Oh, and it appears that someone accidentally, or on purpose, took a big bag of new stuff for my house out of the PC office so now I'm $1300 pesos poorer and I don't have the pillow, towel, kitchen stuff, etc. to show for it. Grr.

Dandome cuenta

Being in the capital for language training this week has been really interesting. The language classes have been fine, although not revolutionary, and being at my original host family’s house has actually been pretty great. I’ve been realizing that I might not ever become accustomed to living in the fishbowl; I prefer the anonymity of city life. In the city, we have that. I remember thinking it strange when I arrived that the houses are actually walled in on three sides and gated facing the street, so they are actually more isolated here than most parts of Portland, anyways.

In some of the conversations we’ve had this week I realized I have had some things to get off my chest. For now, what it boils down to is that the opportunism here, which probably exists in all developing countries, has me feeling constantly guarded. I feel disinclined to share, of my self or of my things. It bothers me that my levels of generosity and openness are shockingly low here. The only explanation I can find is a fear (is it well-founded?) that if I give an inch, many here will expect a mile. I’m not proud that my fear of being taken advantage of is preventing me from forming close relationships and opening myself up to those in my community. The custom of demanding and taking instead of asking and thanking me prende mi sangre (makes my blood boil). Even when it’s not directed at me. Give me a candy. Bring me water. Buy my product. Get me tal cosa. Take my picture (this one is exclusively directed at me). This is tricky because lots of people share with me, and I am always gracious (even though I am teased for it). I want to reciprocate, but I hesitate. There are plenty of people who practice good manners, both in the cities and in my campo. They show me that it not culturally unreasonable to expect it. Living in another culture has and continues to illuminate my own in surprising clarity.

We watched a Dominican movie, Sanky Panky, yesterday afternoon. It’s a satire about Dominican and American stereotypes that glorifies and perpetuates, most egregiously, the practice of being a Sanky Panky: one whose activities and efforts are directed to finding an American who will llevar you to the US. I think of it as visa hunting. I don’t think it’s funny and I certainly don’t think it’s something to be proud of. I don’t have any statistics about what is talk and what portion is real desire (as wonderful as the US is, I can’t imagine that all those who talk about it would actually go, given the opportunity), but there is a lot of talk about it. As far as relationships go here, this idea of being pursued as a means of getting llevared totally and completely turns me off to the idea of getting involved in the first place.

Not all Dominicans expect to receive. Plenty of Dominicans are gracious. Not all Dominicans are looking for their ticket to the American Dream. But some do. Many aren’t. And some are. And so, I am finding that my walls have gone up. Now, how do I bring them down?

Capital, Day Eight

I have been out of my site for 12 of the last 18 days, pretty impressive, right? WHY, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. First, I went to Bahia de las Aguilas in Pedernales to camp on an uninhabited beach in a national turtle sanctuary on the south coast at the Hatian border. It was beautiful, wonderful, amazing. The mosquitoes were murderous, but the company made up for it. We ate lots of mangos, got TWO flat tires, swam in the most amazing turquoise water I've ever seen and, in total, spent about 24 hours in buses and guaguas to make the trip. It was worth the trouble.

Then, after a quick respite at my house (which I am still getting settled into) it was back to the capital for a back-breaking, eyeball busting week of producing the Gringo Grita--the official magazine of PCDR, an amusing mix between The Onion and The New Yorker (closer to The Onion, though, let's be real). After 7 straight 12-hour days, using day 8 to get caught up on the email I've been neglecting for weeks, I'm about to head back to my site. It was a great experience though, and fun to be back in the saddle of publication design (although working in PageMaker 7.0 felt like I might as well have been using a typewriter). It was hectic but it was really great to see my fellow Volunteers--who have little experience but lots of energy and enthusiasm to learn--taking on the challenges and having lots of success.

It's Wednesday right now, and Sunday afternoon I'm coming back again for another week, this time 5 days of language training. That will be out in the suburbs of Santo Domingo instead of in the area by the office. Yay, Pantoja. About as exciting as a dental appointment.

In the last couple of months, a ton has been going on, but I can't say I've felt especially productive work-wise. My niece, Dakoda, was born at the beginning of May and that had me all funny for a few days. Dan, the other volunteer here, wrapped up and left so there were lots of logistics and coordination so I can follow up on his many projects throughout my service. Then June has and will continue to be lots of time out of site.

Remember Camp GLOW, the girls' empowerment camp I've been talking about and for which we asked for donations? Well, thanks to the generosity of our family and friends, we have the funding we need to put on the camp, which will be for 5 days in mid-July. I'm really looking forward to this. I'll be giving a charla with another volunteer on income generation projects the girls can do in their communities to make money with high-demand products that are easy and inexpensive to produce. It will be great!

I want you guys to read my friend Claudette's blog, the link is over on the right. She does a wonderful job of taking on and really explaining some of the nuanced aspects of the experience and what we deal with here. I am so close to myself right now that I see a lot of details and experiences without having a sense of the big picture, the perspective on how seemingly disparate things are inextricably related. She does a great job of this. I'm not sure if it's because she's so zanily perceptive or articulate or what, but she posts the blog entries I attempt. Mine turn out to be an update of activities, events, the occasional observation, but generally not the thoughtful, intense interpretations I yearn for. That's ok. Documenting what I'm doing and how I'm feeling is important too.

In any case, things are going well for me. My project is going great (as long as you put on your PC context goggles before looking at it) and if I'm not feeling more sure about who I am, what I'm doing or what my role or potential impact in my community might eventually be, then at least I'm not feeling so overwhelmed by this lack of important information. It has been stressful being compared to Dan, especially up in the neighborhood where I live now, and I haven't had much time to andar in the community to visit neighbors, meet everyone. On the other hand, our communities take such pride in having a Volunteer that in some ways it seems like it almost doesn't matter whether you do a little or a lot, they adore you. I haven't actually felt this myself yet, because everyone still talks to me about all the great things Dan did, and I wonder how I will ever measure up. But then, what I need to do is get over it and do my thing, work on my project, and trust that my contribution, whatever it turns out to be, will be of meaningful value for the individuals and the community as a whole in the end.

Although, I am THRILLED to offer an update on the long, difficult struggle I had since the beginning with making friends, fitting in and feeling sure about myself with the other Volunteers, especially in large numbers. It occurred to me that it is probably never reasonable to expect oneself to make friends, all at once, with 50 (and really, 150+) new people. So I stopped trying, relaxed, allowed myself to find the ones with whom I feel comfortable, accepted, valued. I'm not even a person who prefers a huge circle of friends, and now I am really making progress and picking up steam in forming meaningful friendships with a couple of my fellow Volunteers. I'm newly unaffected by the peer pressures of going out, partying, drinking and so on. If picking up some food at the supermarket, going back to the Pen, grabbing a book and the iPod and chilling out is what floats my boat, guess what, I'm doing it. And being in the capital has become exponentially less (although still significantly) stressful. I feel really proud of myself for this. It was a struggle, but I found my way and I feel like the rest of my service can be a pleasant experience of getting to know the people I'm working with instead of worrying what they think of me. GO ME!

I hereby resolve to write more thoughtful blog entries, at least occasionally, henceforth.
Until next time!

Photos

Finally, I had a few minutes to organize and upload some photos of the past couple of months or so. Please feel free to check them out!

My New House

It occurred to me that the desensitizing process we go through as PCVs, although rather handy as a survival mechanism, really has its downside. Two specific instances come to mind.

Sometimes I get a glimpse and realize that whole days have gone by without me noticing what a beautiful country I’m in. What can I say—garbage in the road and river, sewage smells in my nose, horse and cow poop in my shoes, mosquitoes biting, days at a stretch without water… mud… oh the mud. I guess it’s easy to get caught up in the details.

You get, if not “used to,” jaded about how long it takes to get anything done here. One of the manifestations of this for me is that I feel like I’m not accomplishing much, even though I feel busy almost all the time. It must be said quite honestly that the definition of “getting things done” is quite different here than stateside. But I realized today when I bumped into a couple other volunteers in Santiago and told them what I’ve been up to that it really isn’t as if I’m sitting around “watching the mangoes ripen,” as they say. It felt good.

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In other news, I am happy to report that I have, after much anticipation, moved into my own house. There were a few stressful days to do with safety concerns my counterpart had and getting the electricity rigged up, but thankfully all have been worked out now. So, about the house (see more photos at the regular link).

The house is set on a high edge of the community and has excellent views from both front and back. There is a gate at the entrance, two mango trees (one of which has a hammock), several plantain trees, avocado, tamarind, mandarin and guava trees, and a garden than Dan started and I am going to try not to kill. The garden has cucumber, tomato, carrots, okra, spinach, lettuce, squash, melon, cilantro, dill, basil, beets, onions and more. Assuming I discover the green thumb in me, I should be able to eat a decent amount of vegetables, gracias a Dios.

The house is painted a cheery yellow and white. It is made of cement blocks and wood plans, with a zinc roof. The main house is divided into two rooms—a bedroom area and a living room/kitchen area. Attached to the back is a zinc-walled add-on with a jaguar (thatch) roof that I use for washing dishes and storage. Outside of the bedroom is a connected-but-outdoor shower, which, when there is water, provides a pretty decent experience. (I generally do have water, but this is the dry season and the aqueduct is low so they turn it off to ration consumption.) Out the other side of the house is the latrine. This isn’t so bad because it’s in pretty good shape, with a few caveats:

1: When you pee, some of it sneaks under the wall onto the floor. I’m looking into buying a can of caulk.

2: One of the floor boards is a little loose. I’m working on having it replaced so I don’t fall in the hole. That would be, well, unpleasant.

3: The bench is too high so I have to hop on and off to go. Aside from being annoying, this is worrisome because of #2 above. I am working on getting a step so I can reach more comfortably.

4: I pee in a bucket at night so I don’t have to go outside.

I cook on a tabletop gas stove, and keep all my food and dishes covered and sealed because of the ants, rats and cockroaches that are simply a fact of life here. (Remember earlier I mentioned becoming desensitized…) A neighbor brought me a mango the other day that I was really excited to eat for breakfast, but the rats beat me to it and I had to throw it out.

I did some grocery shopping yesterday in Puerto Plata, trying to get myself set up here. A few things I can’t do yet until I get the refrigerator purchased, but I’m making progress.

Anyhow, my new house is definitely a campo house in my campo community, but I’m certain we are going to get along just fine. I can’t wait for you to see it in real life! Did I mention how beautiful it is up here? Definitely worth the slightly hike-ish walk.