Saturday Morning March 3

So, it’s Saturday morning here, and I apologize for not writing in a LONG time. But you know what that means, I’m about to write a lot.

Biggest news: My big sister Chris is coming to visit in 2 weeks. I’m so excited, and telling everyone, so now you all know too!

Onto a quick blurb of what I’ve been up to, which usually leads me into some story or pensive thought that I decide to share.

Two weekends ago: Got to mix concrete and move some cinderblocks with a mission group that came down for a visit to a town very close to Esperanza, where we have spent a lot of time with St. John’s. Very fun! And I even got to learn a little Creol (the language they speak in Haiti, our neighbor to the west) because the church service was in English to Creol, so you learn a lot that way.

Last Weekend: Went to visit Yasmín and family. Wonderful! Learned how to drive a moped, road in the back of a pickup truck with 30 other people (pretending we were Haitian immigrants with sheets over our head (which were really just to protect us from the sun)), got to visit a potential site for medical clinic this summer, and just enjoyed myself. It’s so nice to get out of the city; they live in a very rural town compared to the Capital. It actually gets cold a night. And you can breathe.

Internship this Week (every week is different, I go to the same place, same kids, but I swear there is no rhythm nor order to that place): No one helped me, the kids went psycho. They all run into the room where I teach and go to the only closet that doesn’t have a lock on it and start raiding it. It has children’s books in it. But the sad thing is, they can’t read them!!! So, I made my best effort to gain control and keep calm. But as I said to my friend Arianna, who I have to check in with weekly to tell her how it’s going, there’s a difference between having patience and letting little psychos rule your classroom.
So, I have a plan now, that she helped me with. As it stands, I spend about 1.5 hours trying to teach them, or less. I only go once a week because it’s an hour away. And I’ve got about 10? weeks left with them. New plan of action: Bring newspapers and start with “letter A.” Get them to cut out words that begin with A, practice writing simple A words, draw pictures of A animals….you get the picture. Exercises that trick them into learning!!! WOOHOO! So, I’ll see how many letters I can do a day. Probably 2 at most, I don’t want to expect too much. I feel better now that I’ve got a plan. But, look at how long I’ve been here. TWO MONTHS. That’s how slowly the DR moves. It took 2 months for it to become obvious that no one was going to help me teach, nor give me teaching materials, nor tell me what I should be doing!
Then, after my try at teaching a few letters, I run away from the crazies to some other crazies who live nextdoor. But, there the only thing I have to do is play soccer for a few hours in the blaring sun. I love it. Great break from banging my head against the wall!!

Stories for the week:
-At my internship where I play soccer, they are always very interested in my skin. Because as most of you know, and it’s second nature and nothing special, when you push on your skin or palm, it goes from pinkish to white, and then returns to normal. (It’s fun to imagine many of you pushing on your palms right now to check it out.) So, just about every kid here is amazed at that and grabs my hand when I arrive to start the amazing, “push on her palm, watch the blood disappear and rush back, tap your neighbor to get his attention, he does it too, and so does his neighbor, and his…” activity.
-Other internship story: They were talking about scars on day, and as boys are, knew exactly who had the worst one and I HAD to see it. They dragged me over to this boy, made him put on shorts so I could see it, and then showed me. Let me just say, I see a lot living in this country, but this was bad. He pretty much had a hole in his thigh about 3-4 inches long and at least ¾ inch wide with the evidence that the Dominican version of stitches was in it at one time to try and close it up. This thing was ugly. I finally worked it out of him what happened: Some guy escaped from jail (I think) and stabbed him with a red-hot knife. No reason, didn’t know the guy. This happened when he was 10. Can you believe it? This little guy is lucky to be alive with the first aid he received.
Public Car Story (as it’s my daily life, you’ll have to indulge me with the opportunity to tell another one): In a public mini van, as we will call them here, you get shoved in, and I mean shoved. The cobrador (guy who takes the money and hangs out the side door) yells at you as you try to sit down comfortably in the second to last row, “Fits 5, Fits 5!!” about the back row, meaning you better get back there. Side note, the back of this type of bus is referred to as the “kitchen,” it’s really hot. Ok, so in this particular instance I got to the back, and only half of the banked seat had a back. Let me digress right here to say that none of the furniture, and yes I consider it furniture because it did NOT come with the car and is some piece of junk from who knows where, is really from a car. It could be a kind of plastic bench, bolted to the floor in the back of the mini bus that I sit on. So, yes, in this case it was. But one part of it had no back. And I was lucky to get the part with a back. But as I looked around, I could see the street moving below me, and I could have sworn that when I pushed on the side of the car, the metal separating me from my comfy plastic bench and sudden doom moved. So did the metal covering the wheel wells, it had kind of rusted off from the floor and the curved part was just kind of flopping around with very pot hole we hit. Oh, and ps: the back door didn’t shut so good luck to the person who sat on the bench with no back; they really could have flown out the back.

My history class: I was researching in English websites because I can’t seem to find many in Spanish, and found one that you guys might find interesting if you’d like to know a little about this country.

http://www.everyculture.com/Cr-Ga/Dominican-Republic.html

Here’s some stuff I copied:

Symbols of Social Stratification. The symbols of social stratification are similar to those in Western cultures. Many of the growing middle-class population own homes and cars, and enjoy updating them with the latest electronic appliances. Their children graduate from high school, and may go on to college. (this is where I live with my host family). People take pride in their personal appearance and prefer New York fashions and jewelry. However, there is still a large segment of the population which lives in urban slums and poor rural areas without electricity or running water. (this is where we work in the summer)

A voluntary national contributory scheme exists to provide insurance coverage for sickness, unemployment, dental injury, maternity, old age, and death. Only about 42 percent of the population benefits from it.

Personal space is limited, touching is normal, and crowding, particularly on public transportation, is common. (my life!)

Dominicans point with puckered lips instead of a finger. Men shake hands firmly when they greet and close friends embrace. Most women kiss each other on both cheeks, and a man who trusts a woman will also kiss her. (we kiss cheeks all the time when I meet up with a friend, meet someone new, or get to class and sit near people I know)

There are about one thousand people to each doctor, with over eight hundred people per each hospital bed. Many people still consult native healers, including witch doctors, voodoo practitioners, and herbalists. Parasites and infectious diseases are common. Contaminated water must be boiled in rural areas. Malaria and rabies are still a problem. In spite of this, the life expectancy is sixty-eight for men and seventy-two for women.

Pretty shocking facts huh? But, there’s other interesting stuff to read, that’s not as bad. I was just interested in that, so I decided to copy it.

Well, I’ve written a lot for today. Just quickly I’ll say that yesterday, with my program, we drove about 4 hours to the Haitian border, looked at it (you can’t cross, you might never get back) and came back! It wasn’t really guarded or anything. It was just a place where Dominicans and Haitians crossed back and forth freely with market goods in jacked up pickup trucks that crossed a river. Neat to see.