I am happy to report that my first five weeks back in the Dominican Republic have been going smoothly. It feels great to come back to something familiar, but there are also a lot of changes this year that make every day different!
I had spent my spring and summer planning an arts class for the teenagers in the batey. I had noticed that some kids really had a talent for the arts but no training or exposure to it. I also thought it would be a great way for them to build their self-confidence and release stress. I've just finished my first two weeks of art classes, and they're actually going really well. The materials that generous donors have helped me buy are quality and I really think it makes a difference in the way the kids are valuing and working on their art. I have several truly talented kids. It's amazing the ability they have without any exposure to the arts. I've also had lots of surprises. I have far more kids than I expected (one of my classes has only about 9 kids but the other has about 20). We don't have enough space (let alone chairs) but we're making it work somehow. On top of that I have to balance my art lessons with helping another group of kids who enters at the same time with their homework. I've been doing elementary art projects (geared towards 3-5th grade), and even though my students are from 11-17 years old, they're finding it difficult to follow simple directions. One of my students (age 13) had trouble drawing triangles. My classes have required a lot of planning and preparation on top of my other duties as a normal teacher but I think a lot of wonderful things can come of it. Please pray for my students and me—I am not the most ept person for the job but I really want them to have this opportunity.
This is also my first year working with the pre-school and kindergarten children. Last year I had my special class with older kids while the younger kids came. I prefer working with older kids, but this has certainly been an eye-opening experience. These kids are nuts. On top of that, the government has required that the school day be four hours, even for our kids who are not even four years old. It's brutal. Most of my time is spent chasing kids, getting bitten, sitting them down, and asking them not to punch other kids. We even have to kick kids out—can you imagine kicking five-year-olds out of school in the states? Most of the kids are out of control, but we have quite a few kids who also have severe special needs such as Down syndrome, a complete lack of socialization from home (so no ability to talk or interact with others). We even have a kid we think is schizophrenic. I don't know what he is but he is something. Anyways, it is a tough job, and it is definitely not my calling. I love little children, but playing with them is a lot more fun than teaching them. Anyhow, I'm doing the best that I can, and as nuts as it is, it's often hard not to laugh. One of the little ones insisted that his name was niňo (child). We found out that his real name is Luis Miguel but he won't respond to it—apparently no one refers to him by any name. Another every day occurrence is watching a kid walking around or working with his pants around his ankles since none of their pants fit. A couple of our kids' uniform shirts literally go down past their knees—even more hilarious.
In addition to the changes at the school, we have two new volunteers here! One of them is my good friend Sarah from BU, and another is Martha, an elementary teacher from Wisconsin. They're adjusting really well to life here, and we're getting along really well. I think it's going to be a great year!!! Keep us in your prayers!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Last--Aventura Style (as in not the very last, but the last for now)
My time this year is up! The year ended on a beautiful note with a field trip to the beach. Only two of our kids had been to the beach before, and they were all excited and well-behaved. I spent the bus ride listening to kids reading signs “Profe, that says ‘supermarket’” and teaching the kids about stoplights (“Yes, you have to stop on red.”) My favorite part was when we got to the coast and the kids could see the ocean. As soon as the ocean was out of sight, Paulino (9) would say, “The ocean ran out” and I repeatedly had to explain that the ocean doesn’t run out and that it’s there even if we don’t see it. It was such a good day. These kids deserve so much more than they have, and I was happy we could give them a good day. Below are some lists summing up the year!!!!
Funniest moments
-Times with our Ethiopian neighbor friend. He’s a doctor doing his residency here through the World Health Organization and he lives up the street from us. He does not believe in evolution or dinosaurs, though we are hoping to show him Jurassic Park soon. When we asked if he was going to hang out with his friends, he assured us he was not going to hang out, later explaining to us that he thought “to hang out” had a connotation of drug use. We have had many moments like this.
-convincing some new Dominican friends that Leah was actually America Ferrara (actress from Ugly Betty). She bears a shocking resemblance to her.
-Visiting a resort we were not patrons of and getting a free meal and drinks .
-Snorkeling—we were invited by some Peace Corps people, under the assumption that some of them were going to snorkel and others dive. In actuality, all of them were diving, and only Leah and I were snorkeling. So we were placed in a group of a family of snorkelers, and the group guide kept calling the family to lunch or to snorkel, and we just followed along.
-The kids dancing Michael Jackson.
-Teaching my kids to eat with chopsticks
-While waiting for a bus, we were approached by a deaf motorist. He was part of a group of about ten deaf motorists, and we stumbled along in conversation. When we had to leave to catch the bus, the man signed to us that we call him. And how would that have worked?
-Everything the kids say. They are so funny. I can’t even think of an example, because they say hundreds of funny things every day.
Worst moments
-Death of three year old boy (malnutrition)
-Finding out Yolanda (11 years old) had been repeatedly raped
-Watching parents beat their children
-Seeing toddlers (and babies!) left by themselves in the street.
-Losing my patience with the kids.
-In passing, a mother (who neglects her children) walks by her crying child (with an eye infection) and told me to take her child to the clinic.
-Waking up in the middle of the night because the lights (i.e. the fan) went off and the heat woke me up
-The light going off in the middle of doing laundry
-Getting robbed
-this wasn’t actually that horrible, just annoying because it was the first time in my life that it happened. It was non-confrontational. I was eating fried chicken, and it just happened.
-I only lost my favorite sweater, playing cards, an origami crane, and my keys—all things which can easily be replaced.
-Whenever this song plays (so about every ten minutes):
-lyrics translated to English:
I want an American girl to send me a visa. I want an American girl to take me out of here, and then I’ll ditch her when I get there.
-this song was created so that men could harass us even more on the street.
Illnesses/health problems I’ve witnessed in the batey (death numbers since my arrival):
-malnutrition (2 deaths and several suffering from it)
-head funghus and ring worm (countless infected)
-parasites/amoebas (countless infected)
-conjunctivitis (epidemics break out, it’s really gross)
-black eyes/bruises (countless!!)—many from their parents’ beating them/hitting them with pans/cutting them with knives, you name it
-burns (it’s very common that kids get burned from cooking haha—not funny, just crazy that children cook over charcoal unsupervised)
-sickle cell anemia/anemia (most of the kids are anemic, several with sickle cell)
-cancer (2 deaths)
-dengue
-HIV/AIDS (1 death, I’m aware of a few cases; I suspect there are many more than I’m aware of, but they keep this information very private)
Personal Health Battles
infections (countless!!!!!!!!)
cold x 2
parasites x 2
dehydration!!!!!!!!!!
conjunctivitis
head lice
head funghus (I know, it’s gross)
(never amoebas!)
Funniest/strangest agenda items from our weekly staff meetings
-reminding teachers to make their kids wear underwear so that everything is covered
-telling the kids not to bring us flowers (they pick the trees to death to give us the flowers!)
-how/to whom we can give bread and milk out (this one lasted for a couple of weeks)
Only here moments
-While on a bus, the cobrador (the driver’s assistant/man who collects the money) offers to collect everyone’s trash on the bus (what great service!). He then throws all of it out the window.
-I found a toilet seat floating in the ocean (do you see a theme here?)
-During charades, my fellow (Dominican) teacher acts out a drunk
-Batey kids go to the bathroom on the floor in their house
-Rain means at most a third of normal attendance
-There is a dump nearby the batey where kids find all sorts of goodies to circulate. One of the most popular finds was thousands upon thousands of tattoos. Most recently, an adult in the batey found hundreds of bags of Wendy’s tortilla chips (for salad) and packets of syrup and jam (all expired from the month before). He was selling these from his house. This was a big hit.
Best moments
-Mango season (for a few weeks in may we’ve had more than 20 mangoes drop every day from our tree in the back yard! Only thing better than a mango is a free mango)
-Katrina (1 ½ years old) counting to 4!
- Birth of Melania’s baby. On May 1, I went to the hospital (and waited aaaallll day) to see Albeiro, Melania’s new baby! After repeated attempts to abort him, Albeiro came out on time and perfectly healthy. His birth truly is a miracle.
-Dancing merengue and bachata
-Playing board games and cards (we learned poker this year!) with the girls
-End-of-the-year outings (one with the staff and their families to the beach, another with the kids to the beach). I realized what a blessing it is to work with really good people. People from the batey who work with us were also there, so it was nice to spend time all together. The paseo with the kids goes beyond words.
-Life lessons from Bertha (one of the women I teach). She has a bit of a scandalous past, but she’s a strong woman of faith, mother of ten, and has a great sense of humor and outlook on life.
-Whenever the kids dance Michael Jackson. I know four year-olds who do it better than Michael. I’m serious.
-Time spend with my Kreyol teacher, Michael (11 years old). He came from Haiti about the same time when I got here, but his Spanish is already great. He’s a sweetie and we only just became friends. He’s taught me to say a lot of important phrases (Hurry up! You cheated me! That’s my bread!) .
-Teaching in the afternoon (We generally rotate groups of children every two-three weeks, but I had the privilege of teaching the same group of kids every afternoon all year). I know each of my kids very well and I love them. Three of my kids learned to read this year, and I taught almost all of them to successfully write in cursive. Sometimes I felt as though I wasn’t seeing any improvement, but at the end of the year I recognize how far many kids have come.
-Convincing my kids that our Flat Stanley doll (Florinda) really once was a girl who had been flattened. They are all a little confused about this.
-Singing with the kids. I taught my group “We are the World,” and other kids complained to me that my kids wouldn’t stop singing it—at home or at school.
-On the last day of school, the kids had the opportunity to say thank you to the American teachers (Katie and Amanda) who won’t be coming back next year. They were so beautiful: “Thank you, Profe Katie, for teaching me to read.” One of my kids from the afternoon got confused and thought I was leaving, and she started to cry.
This is it for the year! Next week the four of us are going to Haiti (don’t worry, we are avoiding the Port-au-Prince area) and I’ll be headed home on June 23. I’m returning August 1. Thank you all for your support and prayers this year. I hope everyone has a great summer!
Funniest moments
-Times with our Ethiopian neighbor friend. He’s a doctor doing his residency here through the World Health Organization and he lives up the street from us. He does not believe in evolution or dinosaurs, though we are hoping to show him Jurassic Park soon. When we asked if he was going to hang out with his friends, he assured us he was not going to hang out, later explaining to us that he thought “to hang out” had a connotation of drug use. We have had many moments like this.
-convincing some new Dominican friends that Leah was actually America Ferrara (actress from Ugly Betty). She bears a shocking resemblance to her.
-Visiting a resort we were not patrons of and getting a free meal and drinks .
-Snorkeling—we were invited by some Peace Corps people, under the assumption that some of them were going to snorkel and others dive. In actuality, all of them were diving, and only Leah and I were snorkeling. So we were placed in a group of a family of snorkelers, and the group guide kept calling the family to lunch or to snorkel, and we just followed along.
-The kids dancing Michael Jackson.
-Teaching my kids to eat with chopsticks
-While waiting for a bus, we were approached by a deaf motorist. He was part of a group of about ten deaf motorists, and we stumbled along in conversation. When we had to leave to catch the bus, the man signed to us that we call him. And how would that have worked?
-Everything the kids say. They are so funny. I can’t even think of an example, because they say hundreds of funny things every day.
Worst moments
-Death of three year old boy (malnutrition)
-Finding out Yolanda (11 years old) had been repeatedly raped
-Watching parents beat their children
-Seeing toddlers (and babies!) left by themselves in the street.
-Losing my patience with the kids.
-In passing, a mother (who neglects her children) walks by her crying child (with an eye infection) and told me to take her child to the clinic.
-Waking up in the middle of the night because the lights (i.e. the fan) went off and the heat woke me up
-The light going off in the middle of doing laundry
-Getting robbed
-this wasn’t actually that horrible, just annoying because it was the first time in my life that it happened. It was non-confrontational. I was eating fried chicken, and it just happened.
-I only lost my favorite sweater, playing cards, an origami crane, and my keys—all things which can easily be replaced.
-Whenever this song plays (so about every ten minutes):
-lyrics translated to English:
I want an American girl to send me a visa. I want an American girl to take me out of here, and then I’ll ditch her when I get there.
-this song was created so that men could harass us even more on the street.
Illnesses/health problems I’ve witnessed in the batey (death numbers since my arrival):
-malnutrition (2 deaths and several suffering from it)
-head funghus and ring worm (countless infected)
-parasites/amoebas (countless infected)
-conjunctivitis (epidemics break out, it’s really gross)
-black eyes/bruises (countless!!)—many from their parents’ beating them/hitting them with pans/cutting them with knives, you name it
-burns (it’s very common that kids get burned from cooking haha—not funny, just crazy that children cook over charcoal unsupervised)
-sickle cell anemia/anemia (most of the kids are anemic, several with sickle cell)
-cancer (2 deaths)
-dengue
-HIV/AIDS (1 death, I’m aware of a few cases; I suspect there are many more than I’m aware of, but they keep this information very private)
Personal Health Battles
infections (countless!!!!!!!!)
cold x 2
parasites x 2
dehydration!!!!!!!!!!
conjunctivitis
head lice
head funghus (I know, it’s gross)
(never amoebas!)
Funniest/strangest agenda items from our weekly staff meetings
-reminding teachers to make their kids wear underwear so that everything is covered
-telling the kids not to bring us flowers (they pick the trees to death to give us the flowers!)
-how/to whom we can give bread and milk out (this one lasted for a couple of weeks)
Only here moments
-While on a bus, the cobrador (the driver’s assistant/man who collects the money) offers to collect everyone’s trash on the bus (what great service!). He then throws all of it out the window.
-I found a toilet seat floating in the ocean (do you see a theme here?)
-During charades, my fellow (Dominican) teacher acts out a drunk
-Batey kids go to the bathroom on the floor in their house
-Rain means at most a third of normal attendance
-There is a dump nearby the batey where kids find all sorts of goodies to circulate. One of the most popular finds was thousands upon thousands of tattoos. Most recently, an adult in the batey found hundreds of bags of Wendy’s tortilla chips (for salad) and packets of syrup and jam (all expired from the month before). He was selling these from his house. This was a big hit.
Best moments
-Mango season (for a few weeks in may we’ve had more than 20 mangoes drop every day from our tree in the back yard! Only thing better than a mango is a free mango)
-Katrina (1 ½ years old) counting to 4!
- Birth of Melania’s baby. On May 1, I went to the hospital (and waited aaaallll day) to see Albeiro, Melania’s new baby! After repeated attempts to abort him, Albeiro came out on time and perfectly healthy. His birth truly is a miracle.
-Dancing merengue and bachata
-Playing board games and cards (we learned poker this year!) with the girls
-End-of-the-year outings (one with the staff and their families to the beach, another with the kids to the beach). I realized what a blessing it is to work with really good people. People from the batey who work with us were also there, so it was nice to spend time all together. The paseo with the kids goes beyond words.
-Life lessons from Bertha (one of the women I teach). She has a bit of a scandalous past, but she’s a strong woman of faith, mother of ten, and has a great sense of humor and outlook on life.
-Whenever the kids dance Michael Jackson. I know four year-olds who do it better than Michael. I’m serious.
-Time spend with my Kreyol teacher, Michael (11 years old). He came from Haiti about the same time when I got here, but his Spanish is already great. He’s a sweetie and we only just became friends. He’s taught me to say a lot of important phrases (Hurry up! You cheated me! That’s my bread!) .
-Teaching in the afternoon (We generally rotate groups of children every two-three weeks, but I had the privilege of teaching the same group of kids every afternoon all year). I know each of my kids very well and I love them. Three of my kids learned to read this year, and I taught almost all of them to successfully write in cursive. Sometimes I felt as though I wasn’t seeing any improvement, but at the end of the year I recognize how far many kids have come.
-Convincing my kids that our Flat Stanley doll (Florinda) really once was a girl who had been flattened. They are all a little confused about this.
-Singing with the kids. I taught my group “We are the World,” and other kids complained to me that my kids wouldn’t stop singing it—at home or at school.
-On the last day of school, the kids had the opportunity to say thank you to the American teachers (Katie and Amanda) who won’t be coming back next year. They were so beautiful: “Thank you, Profe Katie, for teaching me to read.” One of my kids from the afternoon got confused and thought I was leaving, and she started to cry.
This is it for the year! Next week the four of us are going to Haiti (don’t worry, we are avoiding the Port-au-Prince area) and I’ll be headed home on June 23. I’m returning August 1. Thank you all for your support and prayers this year. I hope everyone has a great summer!
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Easter—making all things new
Hello everyone! I’ve been back to work for two weeks now after a nice Easter break! I went traveling with fellow volunteer, Amanda. We bummed on the beach, got a lot darker, climbed up to and swam in waterfalls, and ate good Italian pizza (a lot of the beaches here have been taken over by Europeans).
We got back in time for Easter weekend. I went to what is apparently the biggest way of the cross in the country (which happens to be in my neighborhood). It was a little crazy, but interesting. There were trucks carrying the announcers, and the trucks were draped with political posters. To give you some background, EVERYTHING here is about politics. Their faces are everywhere. And, as we’re in a pretty low-income neighborhood, policies aren’t as much of an issue as results. For example, Junior Santos paved our street, so who do you think my neighbors will vote for? Also, trucks go by BLASTING reggeaton music with the words changed to support for the politician. You won’t understand how funny this is until you see and hear it, but to help give you an idea, imagine Obama campaigning with 50 cent songs BLASTING from a truck with his face on it “Obama, your next president, we’re gonna party like I’m your president.” Anyways, to my surprise, they start taking down the pictures of the politicos on the trucks, to emphasize that this is about God, not politics. Along the way (3 hours!), we hit politician stands passing out bags of water and paper fans. One fan had a picture of Jesus and a lamb, and at the bottom it said “Count on Jesus, and count on me!” (with Omar’s campaign symbol and colors).
We spent a really nice Easter Sunday. We went into the batey for the liturgy and then we went to the river with some of the kids. I hadn’t planned on going swimming, but they were too cute it was impossible not to. So I went swimming in my Easter dress haha. Very few of the kids know how to swim so we were trying to get them comfortable in the water, teaching them how to swim and hold their breath. Very cute.
Then afterwards, everyone had told us that people were coming to dance gaga. Gaga is the Dominican term for rara, a dance (supposedly voodoo) celebration that takes place leading up to Easter. To give you a better idea of the general feel of it, the word gaga refers to someone who has a less than normal mental state. It was strange because it was somewhat more organized than I thought it would be—a group of about 40 people came from a nearby community (a former batey, in much better shape than we are, but made up of mostly people of Haitian descent) with t-shirts that said gaga. At first I was a little disappointed because it didn’t seem organic, but it proved interesting. They started dancing in procession-like form, with people with flags at the front, followed by men with homemade pipe instruments/drums and some kind of leader it seems—he had a whip! They were all drinking rum at every chance they got and it was clear they were drunk. They were all chanting and dancing. At one point they reached a tree, where apparently they had buried something, and started dancing around it. At this point a woman from the crowd fell to the ground shaking and then got up and people proceeded to dance around her. I would have probably done the same thing if I had drank as much haha. No, but really, it was very interesting, but just hard to tell between the people who revered the ceremony and those who were just there for the party.
I only have seven weeks of work left. I really can’t believe it! We have lots of plans for the kids, including taking them on a paseo to the beach!!! These kids live on an island in the Caribbean, and most of them haven’t seen the water! I’m sure it’ll be chaotic but I can’t wait to see their faces once they find out (it’s a surprise!).
On the non-kid front, I've really been enjoying my time getting to know the women I teach better. This week, I had a really interesting experience with Melania. As I've mentioned before, not being a mother, and coming from such a different world, it's MUCH harder than I ever would have imagined to defend the children (from their parents' violent and abusive ways). I've been frustrated up to this point in my feeling helpless and unsure of how to do this. So, I was visiting Melania this week, and we were sitting with her daughter, Helen (6). Melania started talking about how she wishes she could just give Helen away--that she's so bad and doesn't listen to her, etc., etc. I kept trying to say that, no, Helen was good, that she is just being a normal six year-old, but during all of this Helen was silent, and then I realized that she was crying. When Melania saw this, she yelled at Helen for crying and sent her to her room with a final comment "que muera." In other words, that she dies. In that moment I prayed that I could defend Helen without ruining my relationship with Melania. And for the first time, I did! I told Melania that she was being unfair to her kids--that you can't expect young children to be perfect. I told her that the way she talks to them (let's not even talk about the way she beats them) makes them feel like she doesn't love them--so how does she expect them to listen? Melania tried to defend herself, saying that one time when she had a head ache Helen was shouting "que muera mi mama, que muera mi mama." In other words, "Helen has said that to me before." I reminded her of her age, and a child's age. Melania also said that her mom was worse. It's clear that the major factor in the way she treats her kids is the way she was brought up, and just not knowing anything else. The next day, Melania saw Katie (fellow volunteer) and told her about what I said. She said that she was embarrassed. I would be naive to think my conversation changed anything about the way she treats her kids. But I was happy that I tried to stand up for the kids, and also that she didn't just blow what I had to say off--that she did listen and process it. I do not want to make her feel embarrassed or judged by me, but if she feels embarrassed for her behavior, good, maybe she'll rethink it.
To close, I have important news. I’ll be staying here another year. The time has flown by, and I have learned so much about myself and how to do my job better, that I would love to have another year starting out with this kind of knowledge already. I love teaching these kids and I want to keep it up now that I have some skills and lots of ideas. And I love so many people in the community—I can’t part with them just yet! Thank you to all of those who made it possible for me to even come for this year. You can be sure that I’ll continue to keep you posted as best as I can.
More pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2514384&id=920832&l=274bd15fdd
We got back in time for Easter weekend. I went to what is apparently the biggest way of the cross in the country (which happens to be in my neighborhood). It was a little crazy, but interesting. There were trucks carrying the announcers, and the trucks were draped with political posters. To give you some background, EVERYTHING here is about politics. Their faces are everywhere. And, as we’re in a pretty low-income neighborhood, policies aren’t as much of an issue as results. For example, Junior Santos paved our street, so who do you think my neighbors will vote for? Also, trucks go by BLASTING reggeaton music with the words changed to support for the politician. You won’t understand how funny this is until you see and hear it, but to help give you an idea, imagine Obama campaigning with 50 cent songs BLASTING from a truck with his face on it “Obama, your next president, we’re gonna party like I’m your president.” Anyways, to my surprise, they start taking down the pictures of the politicos on the trucks, to emphasize that this is about God, not politics. Along the way (3 hours!), we hit politician stands passing out bags of water and paper fans. One fan had a picture of Jesus and a lamb, and at the bottom it said “Count on Jesus, and count on me!” (with Omar’s campaign symbol and colors).
We spent a really nice Easter Sunday. We went into the batey for the liturgy and then we went to the river with some of the kids. I hadn’t planned on going swimming, but they were too cute it was impossible not to. So I went swimming in my Easter dress haha. Very few of the kids know how to swim so we were trying to get them comfortable in the water, teaching them how to swim and hold their breath. Very cute.
Then afterwards, everyone had told us that people were coming to dance gaga. Gaga is the Dominican term for rara, a dance (supposedly voodoo) celebration that takes place leading up to Easter. To give you a better idea of the general feel of it, the word gaga refers to someone who has a less than normal mental state. It was strange because it was somewhat more organized than I thought it would be—a group of about 40 people came from a nearby community (a former batey, in much better shape than we are, but made up of mostly people of Haitian descent) with t-shirts that said gaga. At first I was a little disappointed because it didn’t seem organic, but it proved interesting. They started dancing in procession-like form, with people with flags at the front, followed by men with homemade pipe instruments/drums and some kind of leader it seems—he had a whip! They were all drinking rum at every chance they got and it was clear they were drunk. They were all chanting and dancing. At one point they reached a tree, where apparently they had buried something, and started dancing around it. At this point a woman from the crowd fell to the ground shaking and then got up and people proceeded to dance around her. I would have probably done the same thing if I had drank as much haha. No, but really, it was very interesting, but just hard to tell between the people who revered the ceremony and those who were just there for the party.
I only have seven weeks of work left. I really can’t believe it! We have lots of plans for the kids, including taking them on a paseo to the beach!!! These kids live on an island in the Caribbean, and most of them haven’t seen the water! I’m sure it’ll be chaotic but I can’t wait to see their faces once they find out (it’s a surprise!).
On the non-kid front, I've really been enjoying my time getting to know the women I teach better. This week, I had a really interesting experience with Melania. As I've mentioned before, not being a mother, and coming from such a different world, it's MUCH harder than I ever would have imagined to defend the children (from their parents' violent and abusive ways). I've been frustrated up to this point in my feeling helpless and unsure of how to do this. So, I was visiting Melania this week, and we were sitting with her daughter, Helen (6). Melania started talking about how she wishes she could just give Helen away--that she's so bad and doesn't listen to her, etc., etc. I kept trying to say that, no, Helen was good, that she is just being a normal six year-old, but during all of this Helen was silent, and then I realized that she was crying. When Melania saw this, she yelled at Helen for crying and sent her to her room with a final comment "que muera." In other words, that she dies. In that moment I prayed that I could defend Helen without ruining my relationship with Melania. And for the first time, I did! I told Melania that she was being unfair to her kids--that you can't expect young children to be perfect. I told her that the way she talks to them (let's not even talk about the way she beats them) makes them feel like she doesn't love them--so how does she expect them to listen? Melania tried to defend herself, saying that one time when she had a head ache Helen was shouting "que muera mi mama, que muera mi mama." In other words, "Helen has said that to me before." I reminded her of her age, and a child's age. Melania also said that her mom was worse. It's clear that the major factor in the way she treats her kids is the way she was brought up, and just not knowing anything else. The next day, Melania saw Katie (fellow volunteer) and told her about what I said. She said that she was embarrassed. I would be naive to think my conversation changed anything about the way she treats her kids. But I was happy that I tried to stand up for the kids, and also that she didn't just blow what I had to say off--that she did listen and process it. I do not want to make her feel embarrassed or judged by me, but if she feels embarrassed for her behavior, good, maybe she'll rethink it.
To close, I have important news. I’ll be staying here another year. The time has flown by, and I have learned so much about myself and how to do my job better, that I would love to have another year starting out with this kind of knowledge already. I love teaching these kids and I want to keep it up now that I have some skills and lots of ideas. And I love so many people in the community—I can’t part with them just yet! Thank you to all of those who made it possible for me to even come for this year. You can be sure that I’ll continue to keep you posted as best as I can.
More pictures:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2514384&id=920832&l=274bd15fdd
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Calming down
Life has been calming down since the last time I wrote. The horror stories haven't stopped coming, but I think I'm learning how to process things a little more. I don't even really know that that's true--I just know that I've been more aware of how I react to and process things here. It was easy to me before I wrote last to be aware and yet at the same time not really think about what my kids' home life was like (abuse, neglect, etc.). And yet after witnessing a few beatings, and a little corpse, I think the reality came crashing down on me.
Although certain episodes have really upset me, I have felt so sure of my work (well that's another story--let's just say I've never lost hope!) that it has been easy to keep on smiling and working and being hopeful. But I wonder how one does this kind of work long term. Making sense of things definitely can't be a strategy because it's seemingly impossible. Today I was talking to a young girl Johanny (just turned 15) about her new (parent approved) boyfriend (21). And yet I know this is life here, and I know that as much as we try to drill in their heads the value of an education, that it's a possibility that she will "marry" him in no time, leave school, and start a family. And so instead of frowning at her while she talks about how he's buena gente, I joke with her about how he better know how to cook and like doing dishes. Is that how you approach things? Should I just accept the things I cannot change (immediately, anyhow) and take things lightly? It makes me sick to think like that, but I've found that sometimes here that's the only thing I feel like I can (or have the right) to do. I haven't lost hope about opening these girls' minds to a different life than the one their mothers lead, but today (the same day this conversation with Johanny took place) I found out that one of OUR girls, Irene (13), got married. By OUR, I mean one of the girls who goes to school and comes to the teen homework help group every day. There are plenty of teens in the batey who don't go to school or come to us, but the ones who do we consider mas o menos on the right track. They all seem to have goals to graduate from high school and get good jobs (and many even to go to college). But in these past months, weeks, days, Irene has been saying all of this too. And now she's married. I don't know who she's married to, or how this all came to be, but I do know that most likely it's only a matter of time before she gets pregnant and leaves school.
Sometimes I feel like it's good enough if I can smile and listen to a woman or a child who has no one to listen to them--to help them take back their human dignity when their husbands or their parents don't afford them this. And yet when I see a girl like Irene, who seems to have her head screwed on right, get sucked into this cycle, I question whether we're changing anything at all. The work in the clinic seems to be more tangible--curing people's illnesses (sometimes) and keeping people healthy. And yet even as we help give people the health care that any person deserves, I sometimes question whether we're hurting them in the long-run by giving them handouts rather than helping them stand on their own two feet. I don't think it's true. The goal is to get these people healthy and well- (or better-) educated so that they can be empowered and independent. It's worked for some people. But then Irene gets married, or I see undercover cops arrest a man for drug sales as I'm letting the kids out of school, and I think: "Nothing has changed." I somehow continue to feel hopeful and motivated to do my job well, but the reality is that in 12 years little has changed. Maybe that's the mentality you have to have to do this job. That little will change, but that THAT'S what you're working for. That little.
So...I've given you very little substance. Let's see...well, I did turn 23. I was sick on my birthday, per usual, but the following weekend we went to the Aventura concert, which was great. I mean, because they play them non-stop here, and we were pretty far back, it kind of just felt like we were in the colmado (corner store--where they always play really loud music) with 50,000 other people but it was fun.
In other news, Melania found out the sex of her baby--it's a boy!! I'm actually not thrilled haha--I was really hoping for a girl for her. Her boys are pretty inquieto compared to her girl so I thought a girl would be a nice change of pace. Either way, it was a relief that, at 7 months, she actually got a sonograph, and that the baby seems to be healthy, if a little underweight. Early last week, Melania thought her water broke, but she wasn't having contractions and she didn't have money to go to the hospital, so she did nothing. I was so scared for her baby, considering how traumatic this pregnancy has been, but on Thursday the woman she cleans for gave her an advance on her pay to go and get a sonograph. She asked me to go with her and I was so thrilled. I think true friendships could get pretty complicated here, and some are pretty cynical about people wanting to take advantage of the volunteers (or at least getting us to buy them things). I know it's happened, but it's been so nice to not have that be the case with Melania and me. She wanted to pay for my ride, which I refused. But then she bought me a coconut. It was nice to know that she just wanted me (or somebody, anyways) there. And sitting in that waiting room (for three hours!) with a room full of other women (all alone i might add), I was happy that I could be with her. She found out that the baby's umbilical cord was choking him, and that if she had gone to the hospital that day they might have performed an emergency c-section. But miraculously (or not, I'm not really sure how these things work) the baby wiggled his way out of there and is shooting to come out at the end of April. Her name list is a little frightening (Vairo or Albero) but he's healthy for now and I'm grateful for that. She's still very depressed and in a miserable financial situation, but I think she's relieved that he's healthy. I'm praying for some kind of miracle to turn her situation around.
I'm also praying that all of you at home are happy and healthy. Missing you all!! :)
Although certain episodes have really upset me, I have felt so sure of my work (well that's another story--let's just say I've never lost hope!) that it has been easy to keep on smiling and working and being hopeful. But I wonder how one does this kind of work long term. Making sense of things definitely can't be a strategy because it's seemingly impossible. Today I was talking to a young girl Johanny (just turned 15) about her new (parent approved) boyfriend (21). And yet I know this is life here, and I know that as much as we try to drill in their heads the value of an education, that it's a possibility that she will "marry" him in no time, leave school, and start a family. And so instead of frowning at her while she talks about how he's buena gente, I joke with her about how he better know how to cook and like doing dishes. Is that how you approach things? Should I just accept the things I cannot change (immediately, anyhow) and take things lightly? It makes me sick to think like that, but I've found that sometimes here that's the only thing I feel like I can (or have the right) to do. I haven't lost hope about opening these girls' minds to a different life than the one their mothers lead, but today (the same day this conversation with Johanny took place) I found out that one of OUR girls, Irene (13), got married. By OUR, I mean one of the girls who goes to school and comes to the teen homework help group every day. There are plenty of teens in the batey who don't go to school or come to us, but the ones who do we consider mas o menos on the right track. They all seem to have goals to graduate from high school and get good jobs (and many even to go to college). But in these past months, weeks, days, Irene has been saying all of this too. And now she's married. I don't know who she's married to, or how this all came to be, but I do know that most likely it's only a matter of time before she gets pregnant and leaves school.
Sometimes I feel like it's good enough if I can smile and listen to a woman or a child who has no one to listen to them--to help them take back their human dignity when their husbands or their parents don't afford them this. And yet when I see a girl like Irene, who seems to have her head screwed on right, get sucked into this cycle, I question whether we're changing anything at all. The work in the clinic seems to be more tangible--curing people's illnesses (sometimes) and keeping people healthy. And yet even as we help give people the health care that any person deserves, I sometimes question whether we're hurting them in the long-run by giving them handouts rather than helping them stand on their own two feet. I don't think it's true. The goal is to get these people healthy and well- (or better-) educated so that they can be empowered and independent. It's worked for some people. But then Irene gets married, or I see undercover cops arrest a man for drug sales as I'm letting the kids out of school, and I think: "Nothing has changed." I somehow continue to feel hopeful and motivated to do my job well, but the reality is that in 12 years little has changed. Maybe that's the mentality you have to have to do this job. That little will change, but that THAT'S what you're working for. That little.
So...I've given you very little substance. Let's see...well, I did turn 23. I was sick on my birthday, per usual, but the following weekend we went to the Aventura concert, which was great. I mean, because they play them non-stop here, and we were pretty far back, it kind of just felt like we were in the colmado (corner store--where they always play really loud music) with 50,000 other people but it was fun.
In other news, Melania found out the sex of her baby--it's a boy!! I'm actually not thrilled haha--I was really hoping for a girl for her. Her boys are pretty inquieto compared to her girl so I thought a girl would be a nice change of pace. Either way, it was a relief that, at 7 months, she actually got a sonograph, and that the baby seems to be healthy, if a little underweight. Early last week, Melania thought her water broke, but she wasn't having contractions and she didn't have money to go to the hospital, so she did nothing. I was so scared for her baby, considering how traumatic this pregnancy has been, but on Thursday the woman she cleans for gave her an advance on her pay to go and get a sonograph. She asked me to go with her and I was so thrilled. I think true friendships could get pretty complicated here, and some are pretty cynical about people wanting to take advantage of the volunteers (or at least getting us to buy them things). I know it's happened, but it's been so nice to not have that be the case with Melania and me. She wanted to pay for my ride, which I refused. But then she bought me a coconut. It was nice to know that she just wanted me (or somebody, anyways) there. And sitting in that waiting room (for three hours!) with a room full of other women (all alone i might add), I was happy that I could be with her. She found out that the baby's umbilical cord was choking him, and that if she had gone to the hospital that day they might have performed an emergency c-section. But miraculously (or not, I'm not really sure how these things work) the baby wiggled his way out of there and is shooting to come out at the end of April. Her name list is a little frightening (Vairo or Albero) but he's healthy for now and I'm grateful for that. She's still very depressed and in a miserable financial situation, but I think she's relieved that he's healthy. I'm praying for some kind of miracle to turn her situation around.
I'm also praying that all of you at home are happy and healthy. Missing you all!! :)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Seguimos Luchando
Sadly, I have very little good to write about it. That’s not true—I’m continuing to love my work here and the kids, there have been great moments seeing them understand a concept or write a word, but since I last wrote too many horrible things have happened, and I feel compelled to share them with you.
I’ve been through phases here about how I perceive the poverty in the batey. My first realization was that there is a range of poverty in the batey---from people who eat a paste of flour and water to people who have DVD players (although I only know of two). Some visitors have commented that the situation in the batey didn’t seem as bad as they had imagined. But my second realization was that even if most of the people have food and shelter, poverty is about more than resources available and subsistence—it’s also about a lack of choice. No documents, no work (that’s not slave labor), no education, no way to break the cycle. Even if a family can afford to feed its children, that doesn’t give their children a chance at a better life. So my third observation is that poverty is more about resources and choices; it’s also about culture. Here in the batey there is a culture of violence—against children, against women, and against each other. These are all pretty basic concepts, but since coming back from Christmas I have witnessed these three elements of poverty at play so clearly.
RESOURCES
A little over a week ago, they told us once we got to school that a little boy (around 4)had died—from mysterious causes. I saw his brother Alejandro (8), who I’m buddies with, and he seemed to be behaving normally. So I started dancing with him, since I thought he might want someone to take his mind off of it. Then suddenly he said to me, “I can’t dance, profe.” When I asked him why, he told me, “My brother died.”
I asked him if he knew where his brother was, planning on telling him that he went to Heaven. Alejandro said, “Yes. He’s in the house.” When I explained that, “No, he’s an angel in Heaven watching you,” he said, “No, profe, he’s in the house!”
So I went to the house. The little boy was laying on the floor, naked, and they were cleaning him and dressing him. Propped up against the door was a tiny coffin made of little wooden planks stapled together. I just stood with Alejandro and stared in disbelief.
Everyone said that the doctors didn’t know what he had, and that his grandfather had died three months ago. Allusions to voudou and something fishy going on were preeminent. But I quickly found out that his mother brought him to the dispensary two days before his death because he was swollen, with sores all over his body. The doctor told us that he had wet malnutrition—caused by a lack of protein—which manifests itself in a swollen belly, swollen body, and can also come out in the form of body sores.
The only thing more upsetting than this was that four days later, another little boy (about 2-3 years old) also died of malnutrition. In this particular case, the community seemed to know about it---neighbors were saying “We knew this would happen, that kid never ate,” etc., etc. It’s so scary that 1) children are dying from something so preventable, and 2) that in this case community members noticed and didn’t take any action.
Our clinic does run a nutrition program that has had several success stories, but there are children like these that we hadn’t even known about. It’s definitely made us hyper-aware of the situation and we are working to create more awareness, get more children involved in our nutrition program, and educate the kids who come to our school about what a good diet should consist of.
Another death is imminent in Batey Lecheria—the father of many of our children, Ernesto. He stopped taking his AIDS medicine a while ago and is now waiting at home to die. His daughter, Angi (9), took me to visit him. It was dark when I went in the room, so I couldn’t see well, but I couldn’t make him out in the bed until I saw his head. His body didn’t even make a bump under the sheets, and he seemed to be unconscious. His children play outside the house, while their father dies inside the house.
CHOICE
TO FEED YOUR CHILDREN:
Last week, my friend Melania told me that her baby (about 11/2 years old) recently passed out from hunger. Sometimes she just doesn’t have enough money to feed her kids properly. She recently got a job cleaning a house, which will help, but I calculated her earnings and they’re pitiful: she works 12 hours a week and earns an equivalent of $67 per month—meaning she makes about $1.40/hr. So a pregnant woman and her three children are living off of a little more than $2/day. She has a good head on her shoulders—although severely emotionally and mentally troubled. She wants to make good decisions, but her lack of documents and family situation (single mom, three kids, another on the way) does not give her the luxury.
TO WORK
.
Recently two mothers of our kids moved to Argentina, which I was excited about until it was insinuated to me that they were part of a prostitution ring. I’ve recently become more aware of different mothers of her children involved in prostitution. I do not know much about how there work is arranged, but it seems as though some do not see any other option to find work and feed their families, while others see it as the best choice; the choice with the highest gain. On weekend beach trips we’ve taken we’ve seen COUNTLESS prostitutes (ALL Haitian women) with older European men.
CULTURE
OF VIOLENCE
Our school has a covered patio for an outdoor space. Coconut trees surround the school, so many times they fall directly on roof and it sounds as though a shot went off. This sound normally gets me every time but I always know what it is. Two weeks ago, while some kids were working inside and others were eating snack, we heard that noise, and it didn’t phase me. Then suddenly children were rushing inside saying that it was a shot. The crazy thing was that the kids weren’t even scared, just kind of excited. After a couple of minutes we were informed that it was over and the kids went back outside and continued as usual. This isn’t common (well, for my experience, anyways—clearly the kids were accustomed to the sound). Later we found out was someone shooting at a thief running away. The alleged thief ran into the school/clinic “garage” to try to get away from the man. Thankfully, the door was locked that goes from the garage directly into the school. The week before I had to throw out (I realize this sounds horrible outside of our situation—I had to “invite her to leave”) a badly behaving student, and within five minutes she had gotten back in. This is because often our handy man leaves the door from the garage to the school open. We asked him to be more careful and because of that the door—that the thief apparently was hoping to get through to get away from the armed man—was closed. If it hadn’t been closed he could have come right into our school. Thank God!
OF VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN
Today we got the worst news of all. One of our girls, Yolanda (12), has been repeatedly raped by a father of two of our children (Carla, 8, y Carlos, 10) for the past few months. She cleans his house regularly and apparently a lot of the community knew about this, but only last night a child saw it happening and told Yolanda’s mother, who wasn’t aware before. Yolanda has been vomiting and having dizzy spells and we are worried that she is pregnant. She is so nervous—she has almost chewed her nails off. I pray that this isn’t the case. Either way, this girl’s life has changed forever. Although I haven’t worked with her in a while, I got to know her pretty well in the beginning of the year. She looks much older than she is, so unfortunately she and other girls in her similar situation are prime targets for sexual abuse and assault. But she’s still such a little girl. When I picture her, I see her zipping through the Montessori materials—she’s a quick study. And then today I saw her, twelve years-old, torn apart, and possibly a mother-to-be. Some of the men in the community were overheard talking about how it’s not rape because it’s been going on for a while, and how she’s even talked to them in a flirtatious way. On the other hand, her step-father and other men in the community say that they are waiting for her rapist to come out (he’s been holed up in his house all day) to kill him.
HOPE
I see this community as a thriving one in many ways—families care for unwanted children, teenagers care for their younger brothers and sisters, women are seeking us out to learn to read and write so they can help their kids, and we have kids who learn to read every day. But in the last couple of weeks we’ve seen so much of the dark side of the batey. Mientras tanto, seguimos luchando. Please continue to pray for this community.
I’ve been through phases here about how I perceive the poverty in the batey. My first realization was that there is a range of poverty in the batey---from people who eat a paste of flour and water to people who have DVD players (although I only know of two). Some visitors have commented that the situation in the batey didn’t seem as bad as they had imagined. But my second realization was that even if most of the people have food and shelter, poverty is about more than resources available and subsistence—it’s also about a lack of choice. No documents, no work (that’s not slave labor), no education, no way to break the cycle. Even if a family can afford to feed its children, that doesn’t give their children a chance at a better life. So my third observation is that poverty is more about resources and choices; it’s also about culture. Here in the batey there is a culture of violence—against children, against women, and against each other. These are all pretty basic concepts, but since coming back from Christmas I have witnessed these three elements of poverty at play so clearly.
RESOURCES
A little over a week ago, they told us once we got to school that a little boy (around 4)had died—from mysterious causes. I saw his brother Alejandro (8), who I’m buddies with, and he seemed to be behaving normally. So I started dancing with him, since I thought he might want someone to take his mind off of it. Then suddenly he said to me, “I can’t dance, profe.” When I asked him why, he told me, “My brother died.”
I asked him if he knew where his brother was, planning on telling him that he went to Heaven. Alejandro said, “Yes. He’s in the house.” When I explained that, “No, he’s an angel in Heaven watching you,” he said, “No, profe, he’s in the house!”
So I went to the house. The little boy was laying on the floor, naked, and they were cleaning him and dressing him. Propped up against the door was a tiny coffin made of little wooden planks stapled together. I just stood with Alejandro and stared in disbelief.
Everyone said that the doctors didn’t know what he had, and that his grandfather had died three months ago. Allusions to voudou and something fishy going on were preeminent. But I quickly found out that his mother brought him to the dispensary two days before his death because he was swollen, with sores all over his body. The doctor told us that he had wet malnutrition—caused by a lack of protein—which manifests itself in a swollen belly, swollen body, and can also come out in the form of body sores.
The only thing more upsetting than this was that four days later, another little boy (about 2-3 years old) also died of malnutrition. In this particular case, the community seemed to know about it---neighbors were saying “We knew this would happen, that kid never ate,” etc., etc. It’s so scary that 1) children are dying from something so preventable, and 2) that in this case community members noticed and didn’t take any action.
Our clinic does run a nutrition program that has had several success stories, but there are children like these that we hadn’t even known about. It’s definitely made us hyper-aware of the situation and we are working to create more awareness, get more children involved in our nutrition program, and educate the kids who come to our school about what a good diet should consist of.
Another death is imminent in Batey Lecheria—the father of many of our children, Ernesto. He stopped taking his AIDS medicine a while ago and is now waiting at home to die. His daughter, Angi (9), took me to visit him. It was dark when I went in the room, so I couldn’t see well, but I couldn’t make him out in the bed until I saw his head. His body didn’t even make a bump under the sheets, and he seemed to be unconscious. His children play outside the house, while their father dies inside the house.
CHOICE
TO FEED YOUR CHILDREN:
Last week, my friend Melania told me that her baby (about 11/2 years old) recently passed out from hunger. Sometimes she just doesn’t have enough money to feed her kids properly. She recently got a job cleaning a house, which will help, but I calculated her earnings and they’re pitiful: she works 12 hours a week and earns an equivalent of $67 per month—meaning she makes about $1.40/hr. So a pregnant woman and her three children are living off of a little more than $2/day. She has a good head on her shoulders—although severely emotionally and mentally troubled. She wants to make good decisions, but her lack of documents and family situation (single mom, three kids, another on the way) does not give her the luxury.
TO WORK
.
Recently two mothers of our kids moved to Argentina, which I was excited about until it was insinuated to me that they were part of a prostitution ring. I’ve recently become more aware of different mothers of her children involved in prostitution. I do not know much about how there work is arranged, but it seems as though some do not see any other option to find work and feed their families, while others see it as the best choice; the choice with the highest gain. On weekend beach trips we’ve taken we’ve seen COUNTLESS prostitutes (ALL Haitian women) with older European men.
CULTURE
OF VIOLENCE
Our school has a covered patio for an outdoor space. Coconut trees surround the school, so many times they fall directly on roof and it sounds as though a shot went off. This sound normally gets me every time but I always know what it is. Two weeks ago, while some kids were working inside and others were eating snack, we heard that noise, and it didn’t phase me. Then suddenly children were rushing inside saying that it was a shot. The crazy thing was that the kids weren’t even scared, just kind of excited. After a couple of minutes we were informed that it was over and the kids went back outside and continued as usual. This isn’t common (well, for my experience, anyways—clearly the kids were accustomed to the sound). Later we found out was someone shooting at a thief running away. The alleged thief ran into the school/clinic “garage” to try to get away from the man. Thankfully, the door was locked that goes from the garage directly into the school. The week before I had to throw out (I realize this sounds horrible outside of our situation—I had to “invite her to leave”) a badly behaving student, and within five minutes she had gotten back in. This is because often our handy man leaves the door from the garage to the school open. We asked him to be more careful and because of that the door—that the thief apparently was hoping to get through to get away from the armed man—was closed. If it hadn’t been closed he could have come right into our school. Thank God!
OF VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN
Today we got the worst news of all. One of our girls, Yolanda (12), has been repeatedly raped by a father of two of our children (Carla, 8, y Carlos, 10) for the past few months. She cleans his house regularly and apparently a lot of the community knew about this, but only last night a child saw it happening and told Yolanda’s mother, who wasn’t aware before. Yolanda has been vomiting and having dizzy spells and we are worried that she is pregnant. She is so nervous—she has almost chewed her nails off. I pray that this isn’t the case. Either way, this girl’s life has changed forever. Although I haven’t worked with her in a while, I got to know her pretty well in the beginning of the year. She looks much older than she is, so unfortunately she and other girls in her similar situation are prime targets for sexual abuse and assault. But she’s still such a little girl. When I picture her, I see her zipping through the Montessori materials—she’s a quick study. And then today I saw her, twelve years-old, torn apart, and possibly a mother-to-be. Some of the men in the community were overheard talking about how it’s not rape because it’s been going on for a while, and how she’s even talked to them in a flirtatious way. On the other hand, her step-father and other men in the community say that they are waiting for her rapist to come out (he’s been holed up in his house all day) to kill him.
HOPE
I see this community as a thriving one in many ways—families care for unwanted children, teenagers care for their younger brothers and sisters, women are seeking us out to learn to read and write so they can help their kids, and we have kids who learn to read every day. But in the last couple of weeks we’ve seen so much of the dark side of the batey. Mientras tanto, seguimos luchando. Please continue to pray for this community.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
2010 and still going....:)
Hello everyone! I’m alive and well in this new year—I’ve just had an event-filled couple of months, per usual. I hope everyone enjoyed Christmas and that this new year is off to a great start. The last couple of weeks leading up to Christmas were busy, busy. We had activities for the kids including a spaghetti (well, espagueti) supper and a Michael Jackson impersonator. I lost a little of my motivation to make lesson plans but I think I was just overexcited for my parents and friends to visit. My parents came on the 23rd in time for festivities. We celebrated in the batey on the 24th with a liturgy and my kids’ Christmas pageant. The pageant was pretty horrible but in the cutest way possible (reading lines taped to a candle, and having to turn the candle to read it, the poor inn-keeper going out onto the stage after Mary and Joseph had skipped his part all together, etc.). The kids were happy and they looked adorable. Check out the pictures at: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2487710&id=920832&l=161ceae0cc. Then we had dinner with the neighbors and enjoyed the sounds of Los Alcarrizos all night long. On Christmas we went to mass with the sisters in the oldest church in the Americas (oooh). From there it was off to the beach. We did nothing for four days but it was great! I was going non-stop for most of my time here that I didn’t realize how exhausted I was. I literally collapsed the first day of vacation—I barely even ate (which you all know is pretty serious for me!) We lounged on beautiful beaches. The water was warm and crystal clear—it was perfect! Then we went into the city for some more relaxation and to ring in the new year. Leah and Katie came into the city to celebrate with us, and we almost missed midnight! We got back to the hotel after dinner and realized it was 11:53 so we ran up to the room to toast and see the (short-lived) fireworks. On the 2nd Leah and my friends Mary and Monica came in and my parents left. Minus some pretty lousy rain, we had a great time relaxing on the beach, catching up on lost time, and showing them around the batey. Now I’m feeling refreshed and excited to go back to work. The following is WAY too long so I figured I’d put up a warning beforehand—but I wrote it before break and I never got a chance to post it!
FRIENDS
One of the women I had planned on teaching, Melania, fell really ill for a while, so I had stopped teaching her. I had told you a little of her story (pregnancy, attempted abortion, “husband” in jail) but other people had all told me this—I hadn’t heard it from her. Then two weeks ago Melania said she was feeling much better and ready to start classes again. She had moved to a house on the other side of the street, and when I asked her why, she launched into a nearly two hour explanation of her relationship with her (now former) husband and how a lot of things had come to be. She told me of how he would beat her, how he had several affairs (once with a ten year old child, which, although I can’t look at it this way, was consensual), how she had gone to jail for him and had spent her savings countless times to bribe officials so they would send him to a better jail.
The most heart-breaking thing was listening to her talk about her children. Evelyn (10 years) has been raised by a friend living up the hill with a much better financial situation—as Melania describes it: “She drinks juice every day!” Once on a walk up the hill, she showed me Evelyn playing outside through the trees. We watched her for a couple of seconds and when I asked if she wanted to say hi she he said, “I don’t like her to see me watching her.” She told me how when her other children (now 5, 3, and 1) were younger everyone would comment on how beautiful and well taken care of they looked—new clothes, hair done nicely. It seems easy to say that nice clothes don’t matter as long as the children have food and are taken care of. But to hear a mother talk about all of the things that she wanted for her children that she couldn’t give was heart-breaking. She talked about how she didn’t love this baby to come (5 months pregnant) and didn’t want him to come into a home without love.
But even with all of the depression she’s been through, she seems hopeful. After attempts at her and the baby’s life, she’s thinking about baby names and expressed fear that her baby would be born with a bad eye because her husband had given her a black eye during the pregnancy (I assured her that wouldn’t affect the baby’s eye---it was equally hard to convince her that beer would affect the baby, even with her assuring me that it was fine because she would pee the beer out—what??). She told me how she realized that she used to beat her children because her husband beat her, and how she wasn’t going to do that anymore (although, she noted, she still has to beat them so they behave, but now it isn’t just in reaction to her husband beating her—one battle at a time). She talked about how she was close to getting documentation (she is not legal even though she was born here and has never been to Haiti), and about realistic goals to get better jobs and eventually get a passport to find work elsewhere. It was so wonderful to listen to the hope in her voice. She’s only twenty-five. She’s experienced so much but she still has a lot of time to make a better life for herself and her children. And she is really smart. This short time with her made me think a lot about how important it is to empower the women in situations like that of the batey. She is smart and wants to do the right thing, but has very little means to do it.
Since then we have been to visit her sister, Elizabeth, who I also teach, in a pica pollo (fried-chicken place) where she just started (and stopped!) working. It’s about a 15 minute ride from the batey, and it was really nice (but weird!) to leave the batey with her and not spend time “in class” ( I’ve done very little teaching, but I think the conversations we have are a lot more helpful to the both of us at this point). We sat and ate and talked. Elizabeth was working more than twelve-hour shifts with no days off. The work didn’t seem strenuous, but she was constantly serving or washing dishes, and the pay wasn’t making it worth her while. She doesn’t have other prospects for work at this time, but thankfully she’s in a situation where she can afford to turn down this degree of working conditions. She is in a much more stable situation than Melania, as I have mentioned before.
I remember being surprised during orientation when a former volunteer described many of the women in the batey as her friends. I don’t know why exactly—I had dreamt of being close to the people in the batey. But I think it was my instinct to think of true friends as standing on equal footing or being at a similar station in life. Thankfully, and for the first time, I’m beginning to make REAL friends with people in a completely different situation (not just with a different background who are at the same point in life as me). It feels a lot more normal than one might think. I anticipate a little trickiness as Elizabeth wants to go places with me (the salon, the club), and I know Melania is in no financial position to do that kind of stuff with me. But I’ll keep you posted .
WEDDING
So, I could go on and on about the wedding, but there is one thing everyone should know.
We were never told what time to get to the reception hall. The invitation said six, but the bride’s sister told us that we could get there around 6:30. We left the house at around 6:40 and we passed their (the bride’s family’s) house and noticed that nobody in the family (including the maid of honor) was even dressed for the wedding. So I breathed a little easier after worrying about being “late.” We got to the hall and waited until EIGHT o’clock to start the wedding. Most of the guests didn’t arrive until 7/7:30, plus we waited for a microphone that never came. Which was a shame because the music from the colmado outside was blasting and made it hard to hear (we couldn’t believe they didn’t talk to them ahead of time about not playing music—well, not so hard to believe I guess—this country is so loud). Aah, what a wedding.
FRIENDS
One of the women I had planned on teaching, Melania, fell really ill for a while, so I had stopped teaching her. I had told you a little of her story (pregnancy, attempted abortion, “husband” in jail) but other people had all told me this—I hadn’t heard it from her. Then two weeks ago Melania said she was feeling much better and ready to start classes again. She had moved to a house on the other side of the street, and when I asked her why, she launched into a nearly two hour explanation of her relationship with her (now former) husband and how a lot of things had come to be. She told me of how he would beat her, how he had several affairs (once with a ten year old child, which, although I can’t look at it this way, was consensual), how she had gone to jail for him and had spent her savings countless times to bribe officials so they would send him to a better jail.
The most heart-breaking thing was listening to her talk about her children. Evelyn (10 years) has been raised by a friend living up the hill with a much better financial situation—as Melania describes it: “She drinks juice every day!” Once on a walk up the hill, she showed me Evelyn playing outside through the trees. We watched her for a couple of seconds and when I asked if she wanted to say hi she he said, “I don’t like her to see me watching her.” She told me how when her other children (now 5, 3, and 1) were younger everyone would comment on how beautiful and well taken care of they looked—new clothes, hair done nicely. It seems easy to say that nice clothes don’t matter as long as the children have food and are taken care of. But to hear a mother talk about all of the things that she wanted for her children that she couldn’t give was heart-breaking. She talked about how she didn’t love this baby to come (5 months pregnant) and didn’t want him to come into a home without love.
But even with all of the depression she’s been through, she seems hopeful. After attempts at her and the baby’s life, she’s thinking about baby names and expressed fear that her baby would be born with a bad eye because her husband had given her a black eye during the pregnancy (I assured her that wouldn’t affect the baby’s eye---it was equally hard to convince her that beer would affect the baby, even with her assuring me that it was fine because she would pee the beer out—what??). She told me how she realized that she used to beat her children because her husband beat her, and how she wasn’t going to do that anymore (although, she noted, she still has to beat them so they behave, but now it isn’t just in reaction to her husband beating her—one battle at a time). She talked about how she was close to getting documentation (she is not legal even though she was born here and has never been to Haiti), and about realistic goals to get better jobs and eventually get a passport to find work elsewhere. It was so wonderful to listen to the hope in her voice. She’s only twenty-five. She’s experienced so much but she still has a lot of time to make a better life for herself and her children. And she is really smart. This short time with her made me think a lot about how important it is to empower the women in situations like that of the batey. She is smart and wants to do the right thing, but has very little means to do it.
Since then we have been to visit her sister, Elizabeth, who I also teach, in a pica pollo (fried-chicken place) where she just started (and stopped!) working. It’s about a 15 minute ride from the batey, and it was really nice (but weird!) to leave the batey with her and not spend time “in class” ( I’ve done very little teaching, but I think the conversations we have are a lot more helpful to the both of us at this point). We sat and ate and talked. Elizabeth was working more than twelve-hour shifts with no days off. The work didn’t seem strenuous, but she was constantly serving or washing dishes, and the pay wasn’t making it worth her while. She doesn’t have other prospects for work at this time, but thankfully she’s in a situation where she can afford to turn down this degree of working conditions. She is in a much more stable situation than Melania, as I have mentioned before.
I remember being surprised during orientation when a former volunteer described many of the women in the batey as her friends. I don’t know why exactly—I had dreamt of being close to the people in the batey. But I think it was my instinct to think of true friends as standing on equal footing or being at a similar station in life. Thankfully, and for the first time, I’m beginning to make REAL friends with people in a completely different situation (not just with a different background who are at the same point in life as me). It feels a lot more normal than one might think. I anticipate a little trickiness as Elizabeth wants to go places with me (the salon, the club), and I know Melania is in no financial position to do that kind of stuff with me. But I’ll keep you posted .
WEDDING
So, I could go on and on about the wedding, but there is one thing everyone should know.
We were never told what time to get to the reception hall. The invitation said six, but the bride’s sister told us that we could get there around 6:30. We left the house at around 6:40 and we passed their (the bride’s family’s) house and noticed that nobody in the family (including the maid of honor) was even dressed for the wedding. So I breathed a little easier after worrying about being “late.” We got to the hall and waited until EIGHT o’clock to start the wedding. Most of the guests didn’t arrive until 7/7:30, plus we waited for a microphone that never came. Which was a shame because the music from the colmado outside was blasting and made it hard to hear (we couldn’t believe they didn’t talk to them ahead of time about not playing music—well, not so hard to believe I guess—this country is so loud). Aah, what a wedding.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Last Weekend.....
On Friday night we had big plans to help a neighbor, Kenya, with her wedding invitations. The weekend before we helped her paint little memento boxes. Mid-painting, Kenya invites us (all FOUR of us) to be her bridesmaids. We hesitate and smile and de facto accept—we weren’t really asked, so how could we decline?? Her family is very close to the sisters—two of the daughters work as teachers in the school and Kenya is one of the sister’s secretaries. However, we barely know Kenya, so it’s definitely a weird situation. You should also be aware that her wedding is on Dec. 19, leaving three weeks for invitation-making and delivery. So Friday night we sit down to invitation-making, which includes mesh, green glitter, and butterflies. It was really horrible. I felt like I was doing an arts and crafts project with my kids.
Saturday morning:
After much discouragement (you can’t go without a Dominican! They’ll rip you off!), I decided to go to the Loz Alcarrizos market—they sell everything from clothes to medicine to fruits and vegetables. I took along an American volunteer visiting from a city on the coast to show her the real Los Alcarrizos. Not a really pleasant place to walk around---really congested, barely any sidewalks—but I like it. My mission was to look for jeans, as mine have gotten significantly holier since being here. After being shown several pairs of playboy bunny jeans (it’s an obsession here, people don’t even know what that bunny means), I found a nice (sans bunny) pair of $7 jeans (never buying jeans in the states again!) While in the dressing room (or behind a sheet), I hear the salesman giving my friend a gift that looks like her, and her responding by asking if she has blonde hair (she has my color hair). When I come out I see that the salesman has gifted her a fake (blonde-haired, blue-eyed) Barbie doll because it looked “exactly like her.” Upon exiting he told us in English, “I wait for you.”
Saturday night: the sequel to bad invitation making. So the first horrible thing about this wedding is that the celebration was scheduled for the night of the Beyonce concert, which Leah and I were determined to go to. Post-Saturday night, however, Leah found out that the concert date had been changed to March! Thank goodness. Two weeks to go until the wedding, and we still have two rehearsals and shopping for green and coral clothing to go. Wish me lots of luck.
Sunday morning
Every Sunday morning (since about a month ago) I have been going into the batey the liturgy and my youth group. There are about 7-8 girls (ages 10-14) who come regularly, which is a huge change from the beginning. I used to hold the group during the week, but attendance was poor. Now that it’s on Sunday I have a regular group and it’s going pretty well. They decided they wanted to put on a Christmas pageant, so we’re in the planning process. I foresee it being a little chaotic but you gotta give the people what they want, right? We are one child short for the number of characters, so I am currently slotted as a shepard. I’m hoping God sends me some other child to spare me from this role, but I’m sure that I’ll provide some entertainment.
After the group, I had promised some of the girls in my group that I would go to the river with them. The river is about a twenty-five minute walk from the batey, and the people go there to bathe and fill up on water when there is none in the batey (for example, right now). The kids love to go to swim and have fun. First, the girls cook spaghetti to bring along. I didn’t bring a THING to the batey that morning, and I hadn’t planned on eating, but they insisted on making food for me to bring along. The people here are so generous. Makes it a little difficult to refuse food you’re pretty sure will make you sick, but I haven’t gotten sick yet!
So, I’m sitting on the porch with the mother while the girls cook. I should mention that this family is doing really well compared to many families in the batey. The father is Dominican, so the girls have all of their papers. They have a four room house for 7 people which is also really incredible. But the mother, Elena, is 30 years old and has five children, the oldest being 14. Not strange for the batey standards, but so hard to grasp. While sitting on the porch a woman comes up and joins us. I quickly realize this is Elena’s mother, but I can’t believe because she looks no older than 45, and EVERYONE in the batey looks older than they are. I haven’t confirmed her age, but I’m almost positive that she’s no more than 15 years older than her daughter. While sitting on the porch I hear a commotion, and suddenly Elena grabs a stick and moves towards it. I stay with Mariano (5 years) to distract him, but I see someone with a machete and kids running away in my direction. I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but I do know that the fight involved Chichi, a woman I tutor, and someone getting their hands cut up by a machete. Just seeing those kids running from a machete was horrifying—how can they not respond with violence if this is what they see everyday?
So we finally head out to the river, and on the way we pick up about fifteen-twenty other kids and a rabid dog. Well, not rabid, but crazy--he had the week before bitten a chunk out of a little girl’s leg. So the walk to the river consisted of frequent scares in which the dog would go crazy and run after us and the children would run and hide. I, meanwhile, was fighting my temptation to put one of the kids in front of me and instead shield the kids. NOT easy, that dog was so scary.
Anyways, we arrived safely at the river. It’s wide and beautiful and lined with rocks. The water seemed to be pretty clean, definitely cleaner than the water we get at our house (how do I measure this? I swallowed some while swimming and I haven’t gotten sick, which would not happen with the water from the street). The river was shallow, knee-length in the deepest parts where we were, but the current was very strong. I was nervous a lot of the time because really young kids (5 years old) came along. The kids were so calm and good and they played so nicely with each other. The girls shared their spaghetti with every single kid there (and me). It was so nice to spend a lot of time with the kids outside of the school. We collected white shiny rocks (called americanas, “because they’re white”), skipped stones, floated down the river, and ate spaghetti. It was such a great afternoon, but it was long, and I was late for a plan to meet friends in the city.
On the way back home, I stopped quickly to pick something up at the school, and ran into Ricardo, one of the most malnourished and neglected children in the batey. He’s on plumpy-nut (peanut butter like meal substitutes, essentially), and he asked me to feed him, so of course I did. I thought it was so crazy that the thing that was “holding me up” was feeding a malnourished child. I had planned to meet a couple of the Dominican profes I teach with in the Colonial Zone for the free concert that’s held every Sunday night. They play a lot of Cuban son music, which we didn’t know how to dance to, but we gave it our best shot, ate fried chicken (they gave us extra pieces that we didn’t pay for…..and we didn’t tell….:)), and ended the night at a car wash.
Not a typical weekend here, but there isn’t really such a thing here. This weekend we’re having a Christmas decorating party in the house. And, of course, we have the first wedding rehearsal. Until next time.....
Saturday morning:
After much discouragement (you can’t go without a Dominican! They’ll rip you off!), I decided to go to the Loz Alcarrizos market—they sell everything from clothes to medicine to fruits and vegetables. I took along an American volunteer visiting from a city on the coast to show her the real Los Alcarrizos. Not a really pleasant place to walk around---really congested, barely any sidewalks—but I like it. My mission was to look for jeans, as mine have gotten significantly holier since being here. After being shown several pairs of playboy bunny jeans (it’s an obsession here, people don’t even know what that bunny means), I found a nice (sans bunny) pair of $7 jeans (never buying jeans in the states again!) While in the dressing room (or behind a sheet), I hear the salesman giving my friend a gift that looks like her, and her responding by asking if she has blonde hair (she has my color hair). When I come out I see that the salesman has gifted her a fake (blonde-haired, blue-eyed) Barbie doll because it looked “exactly like her.” Upon exiting he told us in English, “I wait for you.”
Saturday night: the sequel to bad invitation making. So the first horrible thing about this wedding is that the celebration was scheduled for the night of the Beyonce concert, which Leah and I were determined to go to. Post-Saturday night, however, Leah found out that the concert date had been changed to March! Thank goodness. Two weeks to go until the wedding, and we still have two rehearsals and shopping for green and coral clothing to go. Wish me lots of luck.
Sunday morning
Every Sunday morning (since about a month ago) I have been going into the batey the liturgy and my youth group. There are about 7-8 girls (ages 10-14) who come regularly, which is a huge change from the beginning. I used to hold the group during the week, but attendance was poor. Now that it’s on Sunday I have a regular group and it’s going pretty well. They decided they wanted to put on a Christmas pageant, so we’re in the planning process. I foresee it being a little chaotic but you gotta give the people what they want, right? We are one child short for the number of characters, so I am currently slotted as a shepard. I’m hoping God sends me some other child to spare me from this role, but I’m sure that I’ll provide some entertainment.
After the group, I had promised some of the girls in my group that I would go to the river with them. The river is about a twenty-five minute walk from the batey, and the people go there to bathe and fill up on water when there is none in the batey (for example, right now). The kids love to go to swim and have fun. First, the girls cook spaghetti to bring along. I didn’t bring a THING to the batey that morning, and I hadn’t planned on eating, but they insisted on making food for me to bring along. The people here are so generous. Makes it a little difficult to refuse food you’re pretty sure will make you sick, but I haven’t gotten sick yet!
So, I’m sitting on the porch with the mother while the girls cook. I should mention that this family is doing really well compared to many families in the batey. The father is Dominican, so the girls have all of their papers. They have a four room house for 7 people which is also really incredible. But the mother, Elena, is 30 years old and has five children, the oldest being 14. Not strange for the batey standards, but so hard to grasp. While sitting on the porch a woman comes up and joins us. I quickly realize this is Elena’s mother, but I can’t believe because she looks no older than 45, and EVERYONE in the batey looks older than they are. I haven’t confirmed her age, but I’m almost positive that she’s no more than 15 years older than her daughter. While sitting on the porch I hear a commotion, and suddenly Elena grabs a stick and moves towards it. I stay with Mariano (5 years) to distract him, but I see someone with a machete and kids running away in my direction. I’m still not exactly sure what happened, but I do know that the fight involved Chichi, a woman I tutor, and someone getting their hands cut up by a machete. Just seeing those kids running from a machete was horrifying—how can they not respond with violence if this is what they see everyday?
So we finally head out to the river, and on the way we pick up about fifteen-twenty other kids and a rabid dog. Well, not rabid, but crazy--he had the week before bitten a chunk out of a little girl’s leg. So the walk to the river consisted of frequent scares in which the dog would go crazy and run after us and the children would run and hide. I, meanwhile, was fighting my temptation to put one of the kids in front of me and instead shield the kids. NOT easy, that dog was so scary.
Anyways, we arrived safely at the river. It’s wide and beautiful and lined with rocks. The water seemed to be pretty clean, definitely cleaner than the water we get at our house (how do I measure this? I swallowed some while swimming and I haven’t gotten sick, which would not happen with the water from the street). The river was shallow, knee-length in the deepest parts where we were, but the current was very strong. I was nervous a lot of the time because really young kids (5 years old) came along. The kids were so calm and good and they played so nicely with each other. The girls shared their spaghetti with every single kid there (and me). It was so nice to spend a lot of time with the kids outside of the school. We collected white shiny rocks (called americanas, “because they’re white”), skipped stones, floated down the river, and ate spaghetti. It was such a great afternoon, but it was long, and I was late for a plan to meet friends in the city.
On the way back home, I stopped quickly to pick something up at the school, and ran into Ricardo, one of the most malnourished and neglected children in the batey. He’s on plumpy-nut (peanut butter like meal substitutes, essentially), and he asked me to feed him, so of course I did. I thought it was so crazy that the thing that was “holding me up” was feeding a malnourished child. I had planned to meet a couple of the Dominican profes I teach with in the Colonial Zone for the free concert that’s held every Sunday night. They play a lot of Cuban son music, which we didn’t know how to dance to, but we gave it our best shot, ate fried chicken (they gave us extra pieces that we didn’t pay for…..and we didn’t tell….:)), and ended the night at a car wash.
Not a typical weekend here, but there isn’t really such a thing here. This weekend we’re having a Christmas decorating party in the house. And, of course, we have the first wedding rehearsal. Until next time.....
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