A Great Week!

Things went very well this week! After suffering through several frustrating weeks and realizing my increasingly bitter attitude towards all things Dominican, I cannot stop smiling that things went great this week. I cannot tell if I am finally learning how to work with and motivate my fellow Dominican counterparts or if people have just decided to make my life easier all of a sudden. I certainly owe my successes this week to the help of my wonderful youth: Edward, Joanna, and Yenni, my superstars! I have finally stopped trying to do everything myself, which never works out anyway and just makes me look sweatier, and more sun burnt than I normally am, and have learned the beautiful art of delegating responsibility to others. I think allowing other people to contribute and take part in all stages of a project is an important part of being a good leader, something that for me has been hard to learn, and I still have a long ways to go. I normally find it easier to try and micromanage every detail, which may or may not work in the US but it certainly doesn’t work in the Dominican Republic because the locals always know what things will or will not work out and micromanaging youth groups is an exercise in futility and frustration. The infamous Bio-Sand water filters… I could not be more proud of my community with this project. I took the weekend off after turning in a grant in the capital in order to partake in some much-needed R and R in anticipation for the stormy weather ahead. After my first disastrous round of water filters (had women screaming, throwing money at me, stealing bags of sand, and claiming that they could out buy their neighbors even though the filters were not for sale) it is hard to believe that I decided to continue with another round of the project. As is typical in my experience on the island, I often see something as going horribly wrong, i.e. people screaming at me (normal tone of voice in the DR), people not saying thank you, grown women pushing children out of the way, people acting as if they did not receive one of these somethings they had just heard about a week before, they would not be able to go on living…and Dominicans see the project as being a wild success, smoothly run, and ask me when I will be doing the next round so their mother and their sister can take part. It seems I just do not understand their way of viewing the world, but then again, I have never been poor, and I try to understand what it must be like when you have the opportunity to make your life a little easier or more sanitary or more healthy for your children, and in doing so, perhaps you will leave your manners at the door; also, my version of manners and a Dominicans version are quite different, neither is lacking, we just choose to convey certain niceties at different times. For example, I am more than willing and happy to serve voluntarily helping my neighbors, but unlike my Dominican friends, people are not welcome in my house 24 hours a day. And there are certain times when I do not want to be bothered, ie I am sleeping and you sternly demand my presence to show me a picture of your granddaughter. Cultural differences. Ok, so back to the BIO-Sand water filters. Unlike the first round where we went to pick up 40 filters, this time, we would be attempting the successful pickup of 81 and I could see nothing but storm clouds, broken sand bags and strikes with burning tires in my future. I had agreed to expanding the project under the condition that I send four people from the community and the neighboring village to a three day training event to become certified and able to install the filters, i.e. making the project sustainable when these filters eventually deteriorate in the foreseeable future. I hand-picked four reliable community members, arranged their transport, confirmed they had money and directions and left town for a meeting in the capital. I called the next day and found out in less than 24 hours, they had decided to pull a fast one and send three different people and one original Claire-picked person. Edward, my pick, has been the only one to have helped me, two of the muchachos came back to town and informed me unless they were paid, they would not help with the project, I laughed at this request because I obviously do not have money to pay for their community work. The third adolescent moved to Santiago to attend University. My plan of having a project on auto-pilot was not really materializing. Despite the obstacles, we ended up expanding the project to two neighboring villages and I helped with, but did not do all of the preliminary work. After three months spent giving health talks and lectures, and collecting money for the filters, we were ready to go get the filters. I put Edward in charge of finding us two large Dihatsu trucks, two drivers, and about 8 people willing to help us lift heavy bags of sand and gravel and all the other clumsy components of the filters from a factory 2 and a half hours away. Edward miraculously arranged all of these things. I arrived back in town from the capital Monday afternoon and by Tuesday at 6 am our caravan was off. The best part was I was starting to think that I was completely extraneous to the smooth workings of the project. I felt a familiar twinge of déjà vu from our first trip when a strike filled with burning truck tires and teenagers throwing rocks had held up our progress home for 3 hours, as we road past an early morning flaming tire on the side of the road. Half an hour outside of the factory, we did hit a strike. Workers for the town government were protesting the fact that are owed thousands of dollars of back pay by the municipal government. They decided to clog the street with garbage trucks and dump trucks and all lean on their horns simultaneously. Somehow we meandered through this LOUD traffic jam and arrived at the factory. Although having told the owner we would be coming bright and early the day before, he had disappeared to attend to things in town. After waiting at his mother’s house for half an hour he showed up and we got down to the heavy-duty business of loading the trucks. Each water filter is composed of a plastic shell about 3 feet high, pvc pipe, and a lid. We also hauled bags of sand and gravel, 81 times, everything 81 times, for 81 filters, but luckily we had brought 9 strapping Dominican men. Everyone was very excited about roadside breakfast on the way home(it was 11 am, so not really breakfast in my book). Most Dominicans, and I’m told, most human beings, love chicharonnes, or fried pork skin. After partaking in this delicacy with fried sweet potato several months ago, I realized my stomach was not cut out to settle such fried foods. While the workers merrily ate piles of fried pork and yucca dripping in pork fat, I bought a fresh cherry juice and assured everyone I had eaten before leaving home. We arrived back in Judea and unloaded all the materials into the preschool/multipurpose room. At four o’clock we invited everyone in the community to come get their filters. I could not stop smiling in disbelief and joy as everyone lined up outside and waited for Digna to read their names off the list. It was orderly, civilized, and pleasant, nothing like last March when I was being strong armed and bullied by Donas yielding 100 peso banknotes and demanding a water filter. I could not be more proud of my project partners and community members who helped make this part of the project such a smooth success. National beach cleanup day Dominican Republic was Saturday, September 17th. I decided it would be really fun to take my two youth groups on an outing to pick up trash at the local beach. Because I have funding left over from a grant I wrote over a year ago to fund environmental youth group activities, I was able to pay for transport and snacks for 23 kids. I casually told my two friends Joanna y Yeni that they could help me plan the event on Monday. Word spread like wildfire and I had children showing up at my door who I had never seen before with carefully plotted stories of why they absolutely needed to be on this trip with me. One crazed 12 year old who I had specifically told could not come because she had refused to participate in educational events with the group, wrote me letters and bought me chocolate bars and pestered me throughout the evening. No one likes to be the mean person denying children a fun day at the beach, but the fact is, there are hundreds of children in my town, and I had space for about 20 and would only be rewarding the kids who have chosen to be in my youth groups. The kids planned everything with dangerous levels of excitement and decided that everyone needed to dress in uniform, white tshirts, jeans, and hats. I really enjoy the Dominican love of formal dress when going on outings to show they are a team. Everyone scoffed at my ignorance about the necessity to dress as a unit. One of the girls has an older brother who owns and drives a guagua (small bus or van) and so he would be our chofer for the day. I decided we would go to a beach a little further away because the beach in Montecristi I normally go to has its own paid maintenance team and is usually devoid of refuse. We set off, many kids sitting on laps and our guaugua at maximum carrying capacity. 23 children and teenagers, and one mother and her 6 year old who I was grateful wanted to come. I was a little apprehensive about bringing a load of kids to the beach where despite their ability to swim, most would want to get in the water. I felt unprepared for the day ahead, none of the kids brought water, sun protection, or a towel, but we had lots of soda and their favorite snacks: cheese, crackers, and processed salami. I am also quite used to parents trusting their children’s lives with me, no permission slips and no worries. Off we went. We arrived, bumping down an unpaved road for 45 minutes, to a rather depressing site. There was a crew of about 20 adults with rakes, camera crew, trash bags and military uniforms already picking up trash! They had brought out the defensa civil, and coast guard to take part and publicize their green activities. The local mayor and government environmental minister were also present. The kids and I were asked to take part in a small ceremony of talking about the significance and importance of keeping the coast clean. I was videotaped and asked to speak about my work as a volunteer. Because of Dominicans penchant for making formal little speeches, I have learned the art of speaking formally, as well as bullshitting, in Spanish, something that would have been much more difficult for me in English. We split into groups and set off to pick up trash. After about an hour, the other cleanup crew decided to relocate to a nearby beach and invited my group. When I informed them we would be staying behind so we could do some educational activities I had planned the local governor made it clear I needed to come with him because the news would be there and it would look great to have all my kids get on tape. After a back and forth where I kept insisting that our group was not political and we would be staying behind, he left in a huff, a missed opportunity to have his beach cleanup look like a family affair. We ended up playing in the surf (luckily super calm shallow waters so no kids would be drowned) for several hours and drinking lots of soda that I had purchased to keep the children happy for the morning and afternoon. On our way home I asked a little girl if she had had fun and she replied, “It was the best! The only thing I didn’t like was when I stepped on a sea urchin…” Some of the kids, threw their candy wrappers out of the window as we left the newly cleaned-up beach and I couldn’t help but feel all my efforts had been for naught. I guess change comes slow. So yes, I had an excellent week in Judea Nueva, the more I lean on my neighbors and find friends willing to help me plan and organize events, the easier my life becomes. Perhaps I am learning to cojalo mas suave (take it easy), or maybe it is so hot I have stopped trying so hard to plan every detail myself, but whatever it is, I hope I can keep this momentum as I enter into my Ecological Bathroom project.

waiting for filters is hardwork...

kids take early morning pic of me in my house pre beach trip

everyone in the guagua!

the lovely playa of Manzanillo, the town was built up by Americans as a port for the export of organic bananas, the Americans have left and now it feels like a sleepy abandoned town out of Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude

My girls group: Chicas Brillantes, striking a pose post trash pick-up

Most of the crew

Migualina and I

The Muchachos and I

Snack Time!

some pics from the med mission

I wish I could take credit for these great photos but they were taken by photographer and renowned male nurse, John Jacobs.
They are all from the med mission I participated in back in late July in the mountains around Santiago. Most are of patients waiting to be seen or of people in the surrounding communities. Enjoy!

Summer's End

The crew with the base of our Eco-Bano

What a week!

Last Sunday was full of laughs as I went to spend Sunday at the beach in Montecristi: about 20 minutes by bus from my house. Normally fairly deserted, Sunday afternoon makes El Morro beach feel super crowded as close to 30 Dominicans descend on the playa to bathe at the beautiful beach. The women, normally minimally dressed en la calle, don full outfits to swim in the ocean. It could have something to do with the fear of the sun and becoming any darker than God intended. The funniest/most disturbing thing happened when an elderly gentlemen went behind a scraggly bush to change into swimming trunks. Unfortunately I think he thought he was hiding, even though he was standing next to a some scrub bush as his cover. We never could figure out if the man was severely intoxicated (likely), mentally disabled or both. He struggled for (I kid you not) close to three minutes with the trunks halfway up his butt, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get them up the last, very important, foot, perhaps he was borrowing from a friend or perhaps he had gained some weight. Therefore, he logically proceeded to put on an extra large pair of men’s briefs on over top. This long endeavor was accompanied by an audience of very amused hooting and hollering Dominicans in the ocean. He then, sin verguenza, turned around and got in the ocean, underwear over the top of his half on swim shorts…that definitely made my Sunday.

About two months ago, I had written a card to the governor of Montecristi asking for 20 trash cans (aka old metal barrels that used to hold pesticide) to be donated to our community as there are no trash receptacles in the community. Everyone throws their trash on the ground and then the donas sweep every morning and burn little piles of trash all up and down the street. This is something I will not miss waking up to, the smell of smoldering plastic at 6 am. That being said, the governor was able to gift me 12 of said receptacles. This of course has the added cost of finding someone in my community to come with a large truck and get the trash cans and pay him for his diesel fuel. Luckily, I have some leftover Kids to Kids grant money for just such an endeavor. Upon arriving back in the community people started yelling at me from the street they would pay me $100 pesos each for the trash cans. I said that they aren’t for sale, I will be painting them with the muchachos and they will be put in public places. This elicited a lot of disappointment. People really like to acquire as many barrels at their house as possible to store water when the aqueduct gets turned on a few times a week. So now my backyard is filled with said barrels awaiting paint and a fun art project. The only thing missing is the commitment and cooperation of the local ayuntamiento to come and collect trash from our community, something that has never been done even though it is part of the provincial budget. However, unless the truck gets sent with regularity, my soon to be painted trash cans will be black with smoke from burnt trash…Let’s hope for the best.

I have been aware of my rodent problem for quite some time now. Little things have popped up with holes in them, I noticed lots of turds on my kitchen counter every morning, and about a month ago, there was an actual spotting!! Being a bit of a procrastinator, I did not do anything to confront my rent-free roommate, that is, until I read up on the dangers of lectospirosis. I went to the vet in order to see my options for mouse traps. What I ended up getting was the safest thing that Blue would not eat and poison himself. It is a sticky pad about half the size of piece of paper that the mouse or rat gets stuck to, you then kill the mouse and reuse the sticky pad for up to two more times! I had heard some pretty funny horror stories of other volunteers using this contraption. One being that only the foot of the mouse got caught so the mouse was running all around the house dragging the cardboard behind him. I was terrified of hearing the whimpering cries for help in the night when I captured my furry friend so I decided to lay the trap the night I would be spending in the pueblo. When I got home, the plan was to send in a neighbor to finish the deed. The culprit ended up being a baby, squealing away when I got home the next afternoon. My neighbor, instead of immediately dealing with the task, contemplated the trap and asked me if he could keep the pad to use at his mother’s house. I said fine, but first could he please kill the mouse and get it out of my house. He dragged the trap about five feet from my house and stepped on it, and left it in the middle of the path out to my latrine. He looked at me and said, “Eso me da asco!” That grosses me out! Then he picked up the sticky pad and happily went home to give his mother the trap.

It is so nice having lovely neighbors always willing to help. I could not have been happier, I was finally free of my pest. I sat down at the table to read a book and if a little mouse didn’t scurry right by! I had already given the trap away so I figured I will have to try the natural remedy I have heard also works. You grate the seed of an avocado which contains cyanide and mix it with some peanut butter or cheese. My only worry is the mouse will eat this and then climb under my roof and die thereby smelling up my house. I will keep you all posted on this. My unhealthy and irrational fear of furry rodents (not irrational I suppose because they are dangerous and can pass on lectospirosis) is extremely strong but I am glad this fear does not apply to tarantulas and large spiders which appear all over my house at all times. But don’t worry Brooke, I will kill them all before you come to visit! I really wish Blue got along with cats because having a kitty would be the solution to all my problems. At least Blue will eat the cockroaches sometimes. Good girl!

On Wednesday I went to Santiago with a mason from my community. My mason was going with me to attend a 4 day eco-bano latrine training: he along with five other masons was going to learn how to build the Peace Corps model latrine with ferro-cement technology. I was a little apprehensive because my mason, Rafael, who I have very little previous experience with other than he fixed up my house and put in electricity for me, rarely leaves the community. I would be paying his transport on the bus and covering all expenses until we got to the training center. Rafael participated in a pilot project with World Vision a few years back where he helped build a composting latrine in my community out of cement bloc. Their model of latrine is very expensive, is much larger, and is impressive compared to the size I will be building. The training was being led by my friend Andrea who has had the first large-scale success building this model of latrine. Her mason has built 52 of these latrines and was going to be teaching the masons in attendance all about the measurements and tactics of building this awesome bathroom.
The training was very successful. We built the latrine at a public swimming hole where many Dominicans go to jump off a waterfall. The need for the bathroom was obvious as when we were collecting sand by the river we ran into a few piles of human feces. The training was very successful and very amusing to me as the masons all struggled to work together. Much like any craft, they all seemed to be critiquing each other and holding nothing back about their preferred styles or so and so’s lack of skill at mixing cement or cutting rebar, etc. The most difficult thing for me will be ensuring that Rafael uses the dry cement mixture instead of the more common wet mixture he is used to working with.

The volunteers and I kept lamenting that we should do a fun activity at night because we were staying at a dorm-style retreat house and other than watch tv at night, there was nothing to do. Dancing and drinking were out of the question as my mason is Evangelico and therefore does not partake in either vicio (vice). We decided that going to see a movie at the mall would be perfect, as long as the volunteers paid for the taxi and the movie tickets. Even though the movies only cost about 3 dollars, that is still more than they would be able to spend most likely. Because of Rafael’s’ opposition to anything violent, sexual, etc, we picked the Smurfs in 3D. It was so fun! Rafael watched the whole movie without his glasses because he thought the glasses made him dizzy. A few of the masons in attendance were from very rural areas and because the only movie theaters in the country are in the big cities I bet a lot of the masons had never been to see a movie. Watching Colleen’s mason who lives on a small island with no electricity and only 200 people, confront the escalator was certainly amusing. All in all, it was a priceless experience and Rafael definitely loved the Smurfs as much as I did, although his experience was not as animated as my own without the glasses.

I returned back to my site Saturday night. Today I received some sad news. My project partner Digna, in charge of helping me collect the quota for my second round of filters, had all of the money stolen from her house. We were planning on collecting the filters on Tuesday so almost all 60 recipients had paid their 9 dollars. A man from the capital had been staying at her house while he recovered from an operation. Digna, one of my project partners, is the evangelical pastora and everyone assured me that no one would mess with her because the community has great respect and reverence for her. However, the man absconded with a little over 400 dollars. That money was meant for future community projects as well as is necessary to pay for the gas to go get the filters which are several hours away in a factory. I was really impressed when she told me that she would be selling a cow tomorrow in order to make up for the stolen money. We will not be able to recover all of the money, but it will be enough to at least go get the filters. I feel so blessed that she is taking responsibility for this unfortunate incident and all will not be for naught.

In other news, our electricity has been all over the map recently. The electric company decided to cut all power last week (when they cut power here they literally cut the power lines and take them away).

Within two days my neighbors had rigged the electricity back up. Why would we pay they ask me, we never have electricity for more than half the day, that’s not worth paying for. Definitely a cyclical problem as people will never pay for something that doesn’t work and until people pay it will not improve. However, the voltage was extremely strong and my fan blew up as well as all the light bulbs in the house. Luckily I have my mini fridge plugged into a power strip so that is still chugging away.

Thanks so much again to all the friends and family who have donated to my latrine project. Within the week I will have an additional grant online in hopes of raising money to build another 15 latrines. If anyone still wants to donate, that would be great! I wish I could thank everyone personally but I am unaware, unless you tell me, who has donated to my project. Stay tuned as I will need to raise an additional 2500 US dollars. I am so excited to start this project because the latrines are super cool!
There’s never a dull moment here in Judea: el Silvestre Oeste! *the wild west










My Club de Madres at sewing class,
learning to make pants!


At latrine training, coloring to teach illiterate families the different modes of contamination. This educational component will be 90% of my latrine project


Even he was having a great time!


building the compost latrine



Putting in the poop door: where you can take out the compost in a year

What I've been up to...

I have been thinking a lot of late about my life after Peace Corps, aka, transitioning back to America. This makes me compare how life is here vs. life in the states. When I tell my neighbors I want to go to med school when I go back to the states they all respond that I should go to med school in the DR...hrm...the DR is not really known for its high caliber medical programs.

My interactions with professionals has always left me feeling that being a professional in the DR might just be more fun than in the US. For instance, doctors seem to operate on a code of naps, teachers do not protest the shortened school day and increasing recess hours, and government officials are harder to track down than a misplaced pair of keys. My host mother, the assistant director at the Ministry of Education (a seemingly high-end position), did not go to work this past week because she wanted to go shopping for a small fan at the Haitian Market in Dajabon. Shes says it is a legit excuse because her room is not air conditioned. She has also cited getting her hair done as another legitimate excuse for skipping work. This past week a community meeting was held with members from the Public Health Department. I was unable to attend their last meeting but according to community members it was a great success because refreshments were handed out. The doctors spoke about the dangers of cholera (now that there are eleven new confirmed cases in our neighboring community that we share our water with) and how to prevent it.
Although I had given the exact same talk the week before, I think because I overlooked the all important task of bringing “brindis” or soda and snacks, my lecture was deemed inaccurate hooha by the gringa. However, the one time I made banana bread for my women’s group meeting I did not hear one thank you, only violent shoving and name-calling as women clamored for a hunk of something most thought tasted too healthy and “rara” or strange after all their struggling. After that unpleasant incident I vowed I would not use treats to lure grown people to come to my meetings, they should come of their own accord.

However, after a scintillating talk about the dangers of dengue fever and lectospirosis, the doctors and public health officials handed out birthday cake and soda. As aforementioned, this second health charla was deemed a huge success. Perhaps I should change my self-imposed rules and lure people in with brownies and juice.

Because I have not written in quite some time let me try and touch on the most interesting things I have been up to of late:

The half marathon! Although I was not looking to break any speed records, I would be lying if I said I was not worried about the prospect of running 13.1 miles at 5 in the afternoon in the middle of June in the Caribbean heat and not being in shape to boot. However, it ended up being a really great time and probably one of my fondest memories in Peace Corps this year. About 18 Peace Corps volunteers ran the race and one volunteer even raised money to have 15 kids from her campo come to the capital and participate. We definitely have some athletes in the group: a male and female volunteer who both ran Division 1 long-distance…I decided I would not be attempting to keep up with their blazing pace. It was also quite a treat to see so many fit Dominicans (most upper class capital dwellers) because exercise and working out are not the norm where I live. The funniest part about the race was that every 2 kilometers there were water stations; however, Dominicans are very fond of the plastic bag with water inside, but try running while tearing open a plastic water balloon and drinking. I definitely got more on my body and my fellow runners than in my mouth but it was necessary to keep my face from overheating. I ended up running the first 11 miles with a former Peace Corps volunteer who served in the South Pacific that was down visiting. We quickly realized we were the same pace and chatted most of the run (I guess I wasn’t pushing it that hard if I was able to keep up a conversation, but it certainly made the time pass nicely). The last two miles I put on some bachata hits and some Shakira and saw what my legs had left. Dominicans are really enthusiastic and loud in all areas of life so it was great to sprint across the finish line being sprayed and cheered on by my Dominican fans. I obviously still had some energy left at the end but not wanting to die midrace I decided to make sure I didn’t have to walk. Success! Climbing and descending stairs the next day was a bit difficult but nothing a swim in the Embassy pool couldn’t fix.

I think the best part of the race was knowing so many people that were participating. The last 7 miles was a loop so you could shout out to your fellow running buds as they went by. I am not in the shape I was in the states before I left, but at least I know I will be able to get back there someday when my diet improves and the heat abates.

July fourth: I celebrated America’s birthday with eight of my closest Peace Corps friends in the mountains of Constanza. Constanza is the highest town on the island and the climate and landscape is another world compared to where I live. Constanza sits in a valley surrounded by lush green mountains and it is the agricultural mecca of the DR. Fruits such as apples and strawberries which cannot grow anywhere else on the island, are cultivated there. Receiving frequent frosts and downright pleasant temperatures, one forgets that you are in the Caribbean. While most Peace Corps volunteers took off for the Peninsula of Samana to spend the fourth on a beach, I could not have been happier escaping the heat for a weekend in the mountains. We met up and spent the night at a ranger station that is the starting point for many hikes to Pico Duarte: the tallest peak in the Caribbean. We decided we would hike to Constanza. No locals could tell us for sure how long that would take as there is a series of connecting fireroads and we received estimates between 30 and 60 kilometers. All Dominicans warned against such a stupid idea as hiking. We figured that if we brought enough snacks and because vegetable trucks often pass through, if it was getting late we could always hitch our way to the end. Setting off at 6 AM we were blissfully unaware of the distance. We hiked until 4, probably covering close to 15 miles and decided to take the last bit in the back of a Dihatsu truck. The flat bed happened to be full of lumber and 10 Haitian laborers. We piled on up. Driving into the beautiful valley of Constanza while the Haitians sang and played a bucket like a drum. It was a perfect end to a great hike. We spent the next day cooking and relaxing at a beautiful bed and breakfast type inn.

Medical Mission: I participated in my second medical mission for eleven days at the end of July. It was a great contrast to the surgical med mission I had worked on in February. The mission was comprised of a group of nursing students, nurse practitioners, athletic training students, and one sole physician and about 15 interpreters (Peace Corps volunteers and other bilingual volunteers from the states) from the University of Southern Maine. This group travels to the mountainous villages around Santiago every six months, in January and July and keeps records of all of their patients in order to ensure consistent follow-up care. For many of the patients in the rural villages, the nurses from the Univ. of Southern Maine are the only medical personnel they see because their communities are far from any clinic or hospital. For me, it was a great opportunity to see rural medicine in action. We traveled by foot or by pick-up truck to a different village each day. Most of the patients suffered from hypertension or diabetes. The program is able to function so well because it functions in conjunction with local health promoters in each village that keep the University aware of any sudden changes in the patients as well as informing the nurses of which patients need to be seen in their homes because they are shut-ins. We would set up clinic in the local school or church and were able to see many patients each day. I especially enjoyed the mission because I was among students and therefore felt very comfortable asking fundamental questions about medicine and procedure whereas the last mission I did involved surgery and was not as conducive to teaching me the ins and outs of rudimentary healthcare. I left the second medical mission even more sure of my decision to pursue a future in healthcare. Not to mention, I realized how much my Spanish skills have improved. I tend to doubt whether or not I have learned any Spanish in country because my Dominican neighbors and friends are constantly telling me I don’t speak Spanish, they don’t understand me, etc. and yet when I was around Americans that truly do not speak Spanish, I realized I at least know more than some people. Ha

Transitioning back to the syrupy slow pace of life in my campo was especially difficult after being so occupied and needed for two weeks, not to mention I had been hanging out with Americans which I still find to be more comfortable than hanging out with Dominicans, at least more predictable.

Youth Conference: I took two adolescent girls from my community to a health conference called Escojo mi Vida (I choose my life). Escojo is a Peace Corps initiative for youth under the health sector that trains youth in subjects ranging from HIV and AIDs prevention, proper self-esteem, healthy relationships, and overall sexual health. The idea is that after youth are trained and attend all 12 sessions and pass a test, they will continue the class with other Dominican and Haitian youth, but as teachers. The group has been highly successful throughout the island and numerous local youth now have their own groups. I brought two youth in the hopes that they would be inspired by the conference and will help me start up this initiative in my community. We have our first planning meeting this afternoon to see which youth we are going to invite. Picking the right group members is always fairly tricky because there is always initial enthusiasm and then numbers inevitably dwindle once the kids realize they will not be given more than a new way of viewing the world if they come to my classes, they are usually disappointed by my lack of giving away soft drinks and lack of English knowledge imparted by my presence.

Club de Madres: My women’s group continues to be both a frustration, a pain, and a weekly occurrence with occasional breakthroughs. We are currently planning the village-wide “semana cultural” (cultural week). Near as I can ascertain from conjecture (Dominicans do not like providing me with concrete details) this is going to entail renting booths to sell copious amounts of beer, soda, fried chicken, lots of loud music, dominos tournaments, and baseball and softball games. People where I live really enjoy over imbibing so I can only imagine what will happen when the whole week is geared towards this goal. The women’s group is adamant that I should man one of the two booths selling beer because more men will want to buy from me. They also confiar en mis abilidades matematicas (believe in my math skills). Every suggestion I offer to change the cultural week to include more culture is shot down with the statement, no we don’t do that at culture week. I have suggested a youth dance competition, a yucca cook-off: think iron chef, ingredient: starchy tuber, poetry readings, drama…but apparently we should not change what has always worked so well.

ECO-Banos: Thanks to everyone’s very generous donations at home, I have almost reached my goal for my latrine money!!! A small piece of bad news however: I wrote two grants to fund this latrine project. One is the grant that so many people at home have contributed to: A PCPP or Peace Corps Partnership Program. The grant I wrote for the remaining funds was a Community Challenge grant funded by returned Peace Corps volunteers. Unfortunately, I was recently informed that this grant ran out of money for the fiscal year and will therefore be unable to fund the remaining $2000. Because applying for grants is such a lengthy project I figure it might be easier to put up another PCPP grant for an additional $2000 in the hopes that people I know are still willing to give to my project. I cannot help but think how great it would be if I had just one really rich friend… haha. But hopefully I will be reaching out to new communities such as my family’s Church and former high school classmates in order to fund what remains. Thank you to all of my family and friends that have already donated to my ECO-Bano project! I cannot wait to send home videos and pictures of this project actually in action!

On Wednesday I will be taking a mason from my community to a four day training workshop outside of Santiago so he can learn how to build this type of bathroom. We are using ferro-cement technology which is much more cost effective. It is thin layers of concrete bolstered by chicken wire and rebarb and then covered in a non-porous coating to cut down on leaching of waste into groundwater. Because the mason in my community built an eco-bano with another NGO about 5 years ago everyone in the community keeps telling me that he doesn’t need the training because he already knows how. I keep insisting that Peace Corps uses a different technology and that he does not know how to build our prototype…

On Monday I am calling the first meeting of my health promoters to begin training them how to conduct the interviews and how to make the 9 home visits that will be required of each promoter and beneficent family. This is going to be retraining these women with proper methods because the NGO that has worked in my community only requires the health promoters to make 2 home visits whether or not the entire family is present at that time. These women don’t even know what they are getting themselves into working with me… They better get ready to work!

Water filters: trying to pass on the responsibility of this project to members of my community has been a nightmare. Of the four people I sent to the training, one boy moved to another city to find work, one is helping me, and the other two refuse to do any community work without pay. In other words, instead of watching the project organically work without my input, I am instead accosted daily with why the community has still not received the second round of filters. Once again, I will be forced to play hardball because many community members have decided they will not pay until the filters get here even though I have been very clear that I will not be going to get any filters until everyone has paid. Therefore, I will be making an announcement today that people have a week to pay and if they don't they will be scratched off the list. Why cant people in my community act like adults? Why do they insist on raising my blood pressure everyday with their mind games?

I have caved in and decided to spend a good portion of my monthly budget on internet in my house. Since I came into the country 16 months ago, this option was not readily available. Not many volunteers other than technology volunteers, whose projects are based around computers and generally live in the pueblos or in cities had internet in their homes. Also, because the internet only works where there is cell phone service, this was not an option my first 8 months in the country because my first community did not have cell signal. I therefore got used to going to the pueblo every time I wanted to use internet. However, now that I am applying to grad school programs I noticed that I was spending a frustrating amount of time at a little cafe in Montecristi using their spotty Wi-Fi and was leaving my community every other day. Therefore, I decided to buy internet for my house yesterday. It is a little flash drive that I plug into my computer and pay for monthly. It is not unlimited so Ill have to see if I use it up quickly or not. I cannot help but feel guilty as the image in my head of Peace Corps life comes into sharp contrast with my actual life here in the DR. In addition, being on facebook and having such a strong connection to the US also makes me feel that much more isolated here in my little part of the island. However, I think it will be a great help to be able to work on my applications in the relative comfort of my shack. No running water, electricity 10 hours a day, no plumbing... but I have internet! I guess this is the fate of modern development work. That being said, I cannot wait to Skype with lots of people at home!



Cooking Espaggheti! church cook out! Dominican version of pancake breakfast, i cant even tell you how many pounds of pasta were cooked.


Birthday party with a super cute neighbor


My girls and I at the Escojo Conference


Reading club at my house: the book about Prairie dogs is a big hit!


Birthday party: I look like a giant!



Lovely neighbor friends!



the birthday kids putting cake on each other


Devils food cake I made in my Dutch oven. All my baked goods come out in doughnut shape

Sweaty Sunny Days and Dark Sweaty Nights

Ah summer in the campo…Mothers bring their undisciplined children to stay with Grandma , children are finally liberated from their strenuous three and half hour school day, the sun kills any lingering ambition to motivate host country nationals to do something outside of their plastic chair, and the mosquitoes morph into giant specimens overnight, it truly is a special time of the year. The moments in my day where I turn around in circles in the oven that is my bungalow and struggle what to do with myself in the heat are increasing, those hours have turned into the hours between 10 AM and 6 PM. The heat makes me sluggish, irritable, and very very sweaty. It also makes me extremely sensitive to Dominicans very loud way of talking, aka yelling and screaming to each other from their respective porches.

One blaring difference I have noticed between the Dominican Republic and the States are the parenting styles. As Americans we prefer free-range poultry while here, my island friends and neighbors raise nothing but free-range children. Children as young as three wander the streets from sun-up until long after sun-down only stopping at home when hunger compels them to visit the rice pot. Some of the older children organize baseball games but for the most part, there is a lot of idleness, littering, and throwing rocks at chickens and dogs. Unfortunately, as one of the only adults in town that engages the children with eye contact and questions in a non-aggressive tone of voice, I have hordes of children at my house all day every day. There is one little terror in particular that I have had to bar from entering the house. Oliver is staying with grandma for the summer, he has a very prominent stutter and has not learned how to talk yet without yelling (which, judging by the society, he might never learn). He also continually asks me why I talk strange, look strange, and if my dog will bite him. I am almost positive I am the first gringa he has come into contact with in his four years of life. I now say that yes, my dog loves the taste of little boys named Oliver, but this has not deterred him from stamping out my flowers and throwing candy wrappers in my water tank. It is going to be a long summer for sure.

My last week was spent trying to get some Dominican friends excited about starting a youth group but everyone keeps saying it is far too hot to do anything but sip sugary-sweet coffee and talk about how hot it is. Therefore, I took advantage of the free time (of which I am never short on) to do some baking and plant a garden. The baking has been a big success as it gets me a little “street credit” with the doñas. So the Americana does know how to do some things they say. Banana bread and oatmeal raisin cookies have been big hits, although everyone is confused why the treats are not more sweet, think: so sugary that the granules cannot incorporate. I dovetail this complaint with the conjecture of why so many Dominicans have developed Type II diabetes: I believe that is what we call a teaching moment.

Since I started baking and because I walk my dog daily, I am seen as the epitome of good health here in Judea Nueva, a bit like the island version of Richard Simmons. Although I still get called fat each and every day I have to remind myself that that is a compliment in this society, sometimes. Hopefully my women’s group will enjoy a cooking/nutrition class this summer. Dominicans do take a lot of pride in their cuisine. To my outsider’s opinion, it is bland, overly salty, and overly greasy. That sounds harsh and that does not mean I have not had delicious Dominican food and I definitely crave my MSG filled beans and rice every day. However, a scary number of Dominicans are developing high blood pressure and diabetes and it is a direct result from their horrendous dietary habits. For me, the most tragic part of this whole scenario is the abundance of delicious fruits, vegetables, and tropical delights that thrive on this diverse island. The island supports strawberries, mangos, avocados, bananas, tamarind, papaya, pineapple, legumes, cocao, coffee, spinach, beets, peppers, tomatoes, coconuts…and the delicious list goes on. However, most of the national dishes do not revolve around fruits and vegetables; rather, the national dishes all seems to be descendents of slave food brought over from Africa. Lots of stews with starchy tubers, rice and beans, boiled platano with fried cheese, etc. The average Dominican is not friends with spice; rather, they prefer los amigos MSG, sugar, and soybean oil to flavor their food. Perhaps this diet worked fine fifty years ago; however, like we have seen in the states, the culture is increasingly sedentary and people can no longer get away with this horrible nutrition. Hardly anyone walks. If one is going five minutes away, they will take their motorcycle; walking is deemed below them. Haitians walk and Dominicans ride their motos…

In other news, my women’s group (who so endearingly named the club after me: Santa Clara) has signed up for a domestic sewing class. The course is provided free of charge by a Dominican technical institute; it is scheduled to take place over the course of three months and at the end of the course we will each know how to make a pair of pants, a dress, skirt, and blouse! Personally I was pretty excited for our group to take the baking and pastry class but the women wanted to take this course instead. That being said, so far, our first weekend of meetings was fraught with problems. The instructor, a short, white-haired man who lives in Montecristi and devoted much of his life to working in a sweat shop, will be teaching the course. Because our women’s group is banned from using the multi-purpose room at the grammar school because of certain unsavory outbursts that happened in the presence of the children and teachers at one of our raucous meetings a few months ago, we have been relegated to meeting in a very inadequate one room tin roofed pre-school. There are only about 15 seats and they are all seats with attached desks built for children under the age of 7. The class is supposed to take place from 2-6 every Saturday and Sunday. I will say it is nice not being the one in charge of running the meeting; rather, I get to sit back and watch the women not listen and be rude to someone other than me.

It is eye-opening to witness the lack of book education of many of these women even though all of them have at least an eighth grade education. We spent one hour of the first class having the women practice filling in on the attendance sheet their name in small boxes. The instructor explained that the important thing is to sign your name the same way every time. The box to sign is extremely small so it was recommended to everyone to just sign their first name. However, like most Latinos, Dominicans are very attached to all four of their names and it was painful to watch woman after woman fail at the simple task of picking just one name to sign; rather, they tried and failed to squeeze in at least 2 of their names. The funniest thing about all this is that most women do not even know the real names of people they have grown up next to for fifty-plus years. Almost every Dominican I know has an “apodo” or nickname that everyone knows them by: Coca, Blanca, Morena, Ola…to name a few. Combine the formality of having a multi-part name just right with the fact that no one actually knows each other’s real name, and you run into some big problems. For instance, the other day I was sitting out on the sidewalk with a neighbor “cogiendo fresco” (getting cool) beneath a shade tree, a popular way to spend the hot hours outside of the house so as to not slowly roast one’s self under a tin roof, when a man came by on a motorcycle with a letter. He was looking for the address of the recipient. The three neighbors I was sitting with began asking everyone within earshot who this person was, they all surmised that this might be the correct name of Pipa who lives on the corner, or perhaps it was Lula. Mind you, all these women have lived on the same street with the same neighbors for their entire lives, yet none of them had any clue who their good friend and neighbor was (or what her birth name is), nor did anyone know their actually house number. I was just happy to not be the man on the motorcycle looking for the woman as he was sent from house to house inquiring after a phantom. I ate the rest of my tamarind ice pop and smiled to myself at the funny problems created by this society: which is an amalgam of formal rules and informal realities.

Another example of this is the formality and informality of dress and comportment. For instance, men and women in their homes will often lift their shirts up after eating, walk around barefoot, and wear ridiculous clothes in the house but if they go into town they will suddenly pull out very nice clothes, make sure their hair is just so, and put on very nice shoes. I on the other hand live and work in clothing that can go from beach to meeting, always trying to look less sweaty than the person next to me. In the same vein, when you go to the beach most Dominicans will bathe with all of their clothes on, even though they are wearing a bathing suit; however, in the street they walk around with bare-assed booty shorts and extremely low-cut leaving-nothing-to –the-imagination shirts: and I’m the one who gets weird looks at the beach for swimming in a bikini. The frustrations are endless and hilarious.

I am happy to say that we are expanding the Bio-Sand water filter project to two neighboring communities as well as doing a second round in my community. With two new helpers that went to the training workshop I am trying to pass off a lot of the responsibility to my counterparts, a 17 year old and 21 year old Dominican men/boys. Unfortunately, I still find myself planning the meetings and at our first meeting yesterday we waited twenty minutes for the boys to show up and then one of them was too embarrassed to say anything. That being said, the 21 year old, Edward, is extremely dynamic (he proselytizes at the Evangelical Church in town) and doing a charla with him was fun. It is always helpful to use local counterparts to do the teaching and I think usually more successful. I tend to worry about “dumbing down” the information too much, but when a Dominican gives the charla they always state very obvious things that nonetheless need to be said. Not to mention, people tend to love meetings where they are not learning new information but simply confirming things they already know. For me, the success will be seen with the change of habit: every kid and adult in town can tell me when they should be washing their hands; however, spending lots of time at people’s homes has enlightened me to the reality of the extreme disconnect between knowledge and practice. I do acknowledge that change will not happen overnight, but is a long and tedious process.

We will be doing four lectures or charlas for each community. The charlas focus on improving hygiene and general health practices in the home, how to maintain and care for the filter, etc. Yesterday, my group of about 50 women and children in attendance had a great time with our educational game: spider web of contamination. We had signs with words like poop, fly, hands, water, mouth, etc. and we had volunteers come up and hold the signs and then attach strings to see the chain of events that lead to people becoming sick with GI issues; this knowledge is very important right now as the cholera outbreak is spreading on the island and we have also just entered el tiempo de moscas! (time of the flies)..

In other news, I am heading to the capital tomorrow for a doctor’s appointment, an English Teacher’s Conference and the annual Lowenbrau Half-Marathon! I am a little concerned about my level of fitness going into this physical challenge (especially because doing anything other than sipping a beer poolside in June Caribbean heat is next to impossible), but I think it will be a fun event and I am just hoping to finish and do not mind if I have to walk. I have needed a reason to start moving again. Training for the race this past month has involved getting up at 5 am (before the sun is too hot) and running out into the rice fields. It has been beautiful to watch the sunrise as I am greeted by countless Haitian men giving me the fist pump of encouragement as they meander to their work in the rice and banana fields.

I mentioned to one of my neighbors that I will be participating in the competition in the capital because people started questioning me as to the purpose of my early morning sweat routine. He was so excited about me entering in this race and was convinced that I would not only be on television but that I would win the race. He went on to tell me that he learned some fool-proof method for winning from a movie (I think it was one of the Rocky movies: big hits among Dominicans along with anything by Jackie Chan)…start out slow and then when all my competitors collapse to the ground I will burn by them…he acted this all out while about 10 people waited to buy things from him at his convenience store. I mentioned that I doubt all of the competitors will collapse from the race, but he is convinced I will be on television Sunday night and I am supposed to give a shout-out to all my friends in Judea Nueva. Besides, they say, How could an Americana lose?



The Christmas pig in my backyard



Banana Bread in my new Dutch Oven! Let the baking begin...


Happy Baker


Planting and Preparing the soil with my one and only tool: Machete


The Garden being protected from chickens with banana fronds


My twin and I on Peace Corps Prom night (Dominicans and Americans alike can not tell us apart)


Blue with her foot bandaged after self-inflicted cuts from biting her rash


My neighbor burning her trash in front of my letrine despite my daily reminders that this is bad for the environment and for our health


Summer Baseball Tournament in Judea Nueva: I was asked to throw the first pitch to kick off the community tournament.



My host mother (on left) and the principal saying prayers for a safe and friendly competition