Softbol

Softball culture here reminds me a lot of softball in Hartford. There are a lot of similar personalities from players on my team here and players who I played with in the U.S. The team here is full of Manny Ramirez type personalities: grown men who share a passion for a kids’ game, pulling pranks on one another and are apt to do something you’ve never seen before in an organized sports game at any moment.

[In case you are not familiar with Manny being Manny, here are some of his antics. Some additional Manny being Manny highlights: he once left his paycheck in a pair of shoes in the visitors clubhouse, he peed mid-inning inside the Green Monster; my personal favorite: he climbed the wall and high-fived a fan while the play was still live before turning a double play; he lost his $15,000 diamond earring sliding into third base; he refused to stand with a Little Leaguer for the national anthem during a public relations promotion.]

In both Hartford and Haina, there is a high level of competition, loyal fans, love of the game, showmanship and alcohol are integral to the event, and everything is in Spanish. I’ve played just a handful of games with my community’s team, but each one has been memorable. My first game, I wanted to prove I was a legit player who would help our team win and not just being given special treatment as the token gringo. I played okay, not great, but also not embarrassing myself and our team won easily. My second game, I decided on the way there that I was going to make a statement and hit a home run. Again, playing around so much talent (a good number of our players played in the minor leagues in the U.S., while others were signed to camps in the D.R.) and others who haven’t seen me play I felt I had something to prove and could do so with a home run. My first at bat I popped out to third, but the third baseman dropped the ball and as it kicked away I took off for second, just beating his throw. Later on, as I was on first I mentioned to Chacho how the third baseman resembled “Kung Fu Panda” (a similarly stocky third baseman who plays with the SF Giants – the third baseman also happened to be decked from head to toe in Giants gear). It turned out later that he had gotten all the Giants gear from Melky Cabrera (last year’s All Star Game MVP who is from a nearby neighborhood) who he is close friends with and works as a trainer for.

My next at bat I connected pretty well to the gap in left center, I heard a fan yell “It’s a Home run!” and I slowed into my HR trot thinking “I did it!” until I looked up and saw the ball hit the wall. I ended up with a long single. My next at bat I hit another deep ball, but was again held to a single because Bulin, a chubby jokester whose pants are always falling down, was in front of me on the bases and was not going to go first to third, unless there was a jumbo waiting for him there. My final at bat came against my friend Chacho, one of our best pitchers who we traded to the other team to pitch against us, as we were beating them so badly. Confident from my previous at bats and ready to win bragging rights against one of the biggest mouths on the team, I instead ended up striking out on a foul tip – which Chacho will never let me forget.

Yesterday we played a team from Nagua, which was supposed to be really good. Over 20 of us showed up to play and we ended up splitting the team into two squads, one to start the first game and one to start the second. The Nagua team brought in two vans full of fans and by the start of the game there were well over 100 people watching, with the stands full as well as the entire area behind the backstop. The Nagua team showed up late, which allowed our team full of Mannys to rack up 8 pre-game “fines”. As we broke our huddle, a few more players were fined for not yelling our comical call and response team chant in unison (Chacho/Bulin: “Who made us?” Team: “Christ!”, “What’s our name?” “The Traitors!”). Each fine is $100 pesos, which is the price of one large beer, and where all the fine money goes. The Evangelicals on the team are allowed to buy Gatorade or Malta Morena instead of beer if they are fined. Next to our dugout there was a giant barrel full of ice and jumbos which were opened up for every fine as well as for every home run. Other memorable moments: Chichi hitting the first of his 2 HR’s: a towering home run which he stagnantly watched for a good 5 seconds as it flew over the wall before stylishly flipping the bat and finally breaking towards first base, Roberto (a former Expos minor league pitcher who threw 98mph while still in his teens and still a five tool player today in his late 30′s) threw out a runner tagging up from third base on a fly ball to center – one of the best throws I’ve ever seen live, an old neighbor of mine walked on to the field and threw a crumpled up $100 peso bill at the batter daring him to hit a home run and take the money, Roberto walking up to the batter’s box while having a conversation on his cell phone before sticking the phone in his back pocket, Jonny reaching in his back pocket and taking out his car keys and giving them to the umpire to hold. Perhaps my favorite moment was when one of our relief pitchers – an older more serious looking player – gets out on to the mound and starts to shake before throwing the first pitch. At first he starts to shake out his arm as a pitcher might normally do, but then as the batter is in the box waiting for the pitch, he begins to violently shake his whole body. Other players on the field begin to shake their bodies too as the fans go crazy and cheer for “el temblador” (the shaker). The batter never stood a chance, by the time el temblador finally got around to throwing a pitch, it was the fastest I’ve ever seen in a softball game (albeit I am still relatively new to the softball world).

2nd from Left Roberto, 3rd from Right Jonny. 1st Row Chichi and Raul

1st Row: Johnathan was signed as a pitcher to a training camp in the D.R., Raul played in the U.S. in both the Rangers’ and Red Sox system

Being the only white player in an area where few if any, white non-Dominicans ever step foot, I always have more attention on me during these games. I recognized a good number of my neighbors in the stands, and a number of fans knew who I was calling me out by name even though I didn’t recognize them. As I took the field, I heard one fan yell the typical one or two English phrases people generally know “Americano! How are you?”, “Watchya name?”. It is definitely an exercise in concentration, as every little act is magnified. As I fielded a routine ground ball, I heard one of my neighbors yell “That’s my gringo! Daniel is good!!” Where each time I took the field I felt I had something extra to prove to the other players, each time it was rumored among the other team that I was a MLB player brought in as a ringer (never mind that I was batting 8th or that spring training is already underway).

In my first at bat of the game yesterday, I had the bases loaded and two outs as I stepped up to the plate. After swinging and missing, I lined a soft drive into the gap in right center, scoring two before Bulin got thrown out at third. I enjoyed the extra attention and trying to put on a show for the fans, as well as being part of an elite team of guys who are in a sense looked up to and talked about throughout the community. As I walked down the street yesterday, a neighbor called me over and said “You’re a traitor!” I was taken a back for a second before realizing he was referring to our softball team name “The Traitors” or as it is slightly misspelled on our jerseys “Los Traidore”.

As I often have compromisos on Sundays (either Chicas group meetings, camps, conferences, etc.) I haven’t been around to play with the team as often as I would like. I enjoy the atmosphere, teammates, and the competition which I’ve missed in not playing on an organized team in so long.

Every Sunday is a big celebration in the D.R. After the games, both teams and their bus of fans headed over to “El Pailon”, a night club which also brings in strippers and has a pool on Sundays. While 2pm might have seemed early to head out clubbin’, the colmados are already blaring bachata, merengue and salsa by 9 or 10am on Sunday mornings, with the usual crowd out front already drinking and playing dominoes. I look forward to playing more games with the team and will try to get some pictures of the characters on the team soon.

January-February: A Repaso Breve

I am finally taking a deep breath this morning after running around for the past month. The running around started with bringing my host family and Topito (the little neighbor who is as much a part of the host family as I am) to Family Camp. The camp was organized by volunteers and led by Vicky who did an amazing job! Themes of the camp centered around forming healthy habits: nutrition, hand washing, healthy communication, to name a few.

A few pictures from the camp, including kids eating gummy worms out of pudding cups without using their hands, Topito eating his first pancake ever, doñas bobbing for apples, playing basketball and partaking in other activities outside their daily routines.

After 5 days at Family Camp I returned to my site for less than a week before heading to the Mi Futuro Brillante conference in the capital. I brought two of the brightest young women from my community to the conference, where they practiced professionalism skills, toured the oldest University in the Americas (UASD) and had the opportunity to interview and shadow a female, Dominican professional in the capital. This conference was a huge success, as it was nice to work teaching more concrete skills which will serve the young women well in helping them achieve their future goals.

Yudi, Me, and Crisely

Once back from Mi Futuro Brillante, we had planned to host a Deportes Para La Vida Sports & HIV/AIDS prevention camp. However, due to a mix up within the Peace Corps office, our grant was submitted late and I was told that the funds wouldn’t come in until another 3 weeks after our event was scheduled to start. While initially disappointing, this mishap combined with a last minute need for translators allowed me to participate in what has been one of my best experiences in country thus far: The Geraghty Medical Mission. The setback in our camp date will also allow us more time to plan and organize the mothers’ group who will be learning healthy recipes to prepare for the kids during the camp.

Having only been back in my community a few days between the Mi Futuro Brillante Conference and leaving for the Geraghty Mission, I was able to get in a Chicas Brillantes meeting where we discussed stereotypes and beauty standards (why is straight hair or lighter skin commonly viewed as more attractive? Why are nearly 100% of telenovela protagonists and news anchors white Hispanics? etc.). I don’t think the chicas really got as much out of the talk as I would’ve liked, but we will definitely return to the issue again as a main objective of the course is improving self esteem, an integral part of which is understanding perceptions of beauty and each girl being proud of her individual, unique look. We had a Chicos meeting the following night where the central theme was the relationship between one’s thoughts, actions, and emotions. The goal of this charla was to get the boys to think about the consequences of fighting and choose to avoid the fight before it takes place. On the way to our group, we passed two of the group members just coming home from school. Alejandro had a stick in his hand, a scowl on his face and was being restrained from attacking Guanel. I figured the whole group could learn from this experience, but neither boy attended the meeting that night. The lesson was just as appropriate for the boys in attendance who continued to fight themselves throughout the meeting which was orchestrated to teach them non-violent habits. As our boys group is still recently formed, we are still figuring out which boys will continue with the group and which we will have to cut to maintain order, as openly allowing every boy to participate results in constant chaos and deprives those who want to learn. Also, some of the boys who are prone to act out in certain situations, will benefit by being surrounded by more well behaved boys and a more structured environment. On Wednesday, I met with the Escojo Mi Vida / Older Youth Group, The Junta de Vecinos (neighborhood association) on Thursday and then left Friday for the Geraghty Mission.

I will relate my Geraghty Mission experiences in a separate post, as I’m still processing the experience some and there was a lot to cover.

After returning from the Geraghty Mission, I was in my site for a few more days before heading to the capital on Sunday, to get one of my neighbors who had been operated on by Geraghty Mission doctors last October, checked out by the doctors who were just finishing up their final week in the country. Later that day, while looking for one of my other neighbors who has a keloid on her ear, I ran across about 10 members from my community selling flowers for valentine’s day in prime territory just outside Independence Park.

Yulissa was told that they couldn’t operate on her ear, since the keloid had already been operated on and grown back 4 times. Later on I found out that she could have an injection done to reduce the size of the keloid. However, she does not like needles and did not want the injection which she felt would be too painful.

This past weekend (my fourth consecutive weekend out of my site) I attended my first Chicos Superman camp. Chicos Superman is a relatively new initiative which works with boys primarily 10-14, trying to reach them while they are still in a formative stage, to develop healthy habits, positive communication skills, avoid HIV/AIDS, and overall develop into caballeros (gentlemen). I’ve enjoyed working with my boys group so far and for obvious reason feel like I have more to offer in teaching boys how to be respectful men, then I feel I can offer in teaching girls how to be women. Hopefully, some of the older girls I have been working with will be willing to take my girls’ groups over themselves, which will allow me to work more with boys and sports teams in the community. Sports are a huge part of daily life for both boys and girls here (as I write this, an informal game of baseball is going on in front of me). However, there are few coaches and little formal sports organization here in the community. Baseball, basketball and athletics in general is a passion of mine, through which I feel I am most effective in teaching the same lessons which I learned through sports: how to be an effective teammate, leadership, respect, dedication, persistence, etc.

The Superman camp also touched on many of these same themes – teamwork, positive communication, respect – and all three of the boys I brought really enjoyed themselves. I had a tough time deciding which two boys I would bring in addition to Natanael who not only does not look 12, but also has a maturity level much more developed than even most teenage boys in the neighborhood. My host brother, Jalen, is also incredibly mature for his age and has been one of the few non disruptive members of the group, but he had already been to two other camps and I wanted to give another boy the opportunity to go. In the end, I decided that since Jalen is always paying attention and listening, he would get more out of the lessons at the camp than anyone else would and deserved the opportunity to go. The last spot was a close call between ñingo and Domi, but I ended up going with Domi as I have a stronger relationship with him and knew I could reel him in easier should he happen to get too excited or disruptive.

A few of my favorite pictures and moments from the camp:

During a charla about constellations one of the newer volunteers, Alex, asked the kids to name some planets.

Muchacho: “Saturn!”

Alex: “Good”

Muchacho 2: “Jupiter”

Alex: “Yes”

Muchacho 3: “Singapore!”

Also, during his presentation of the constellations and telling of the story of Orion’s belt (Orion is pronounced “Oh-ree-ohn” in Spanish) one of the kids raised his hand and in all seriousness asked “Doesn’t Orion have a cookie named after him too?” … “No, that is Oreo. The constellation is Orion.”

Me and my 3 supermen: Jalen, Natanael, and Domi Junior

Mario and Luigi … What were the odds of us getting a Mario and a Luigi in the same group at the same camp in the D.R. of all places?

The kids trying to get close enough to the giant fogata to roast their marshmallows. The fire was so big and the heat was so strong, that it was a legitimate challenge

2013

A new year, a new front door (pictured below on the back of a motorcycle), a new bathroom makeover, and lots of roasted pork …

Chicks

In December, as there is often a little more money, families who have a little expendable income generally tend to repaint and/or repair their houses. Two houses on my block have turned pink within the past week. Although the outside of my house could use a fresh coat and the inside of my house desperately needs to be repainted, I prioritized my requests to my landlord and instead purchased tile to lay in my bathroom. My landlord also offered a new door to put on the apartment. Niño, my woodworking neighbor, was supposed to montar the new puerta on Friday, which turned into Saturday then today …

My day today started off prepping for my landlord’s nephew (who also happens to be the taller of the two barbers in the pic from this post: http://dkinthedr.wordpress.com/2012/04/16/the-barbershop/) to bring his tile cutting tools so we could cut and lay the tile, as he assured me he would be at my house by 7am. By 8am he still hadn’t showed up, so I ended up playing bitilla – baseball with  5 gallon water bottle caps – for a few hours, dominating my little trash talking neighbors. After Carlos Manuel, 11, changed the rules so that any hit into our neighbor’s porch was an automatic HR, regardless of whether it was “caught” or not (if the bottle cap is picked up off the ground while it is still moving it is considered an out), I called my shots and down two strikes rattled off 4 HR’s in a row to hush his taunts. As the kids are much more advanced in trash talking and gamesmanship than in their skills and sportsmanship, I gave them a little post game talk on the subject. 

A few minutes later a truck trading baby chickens for scrap metal drove by and I bought 3 baby chicks for 5 pesos (12.5 cents) a piece, which interestingly is the same price for which an egg sells at the colmado. I wasn’t sure where to put them after buying them, and was actually surprised when they didn’t throw them in a plastic bag after the sale, as is standard with EVERYTHING else purchased from a colmado or truck. So I carried them into my house and set them down on the table while looking for something to put them in.

The first 3 pollitos on my table

I found a cardboard box, bought some feed, and mandar-ed a muchacho to buy 2 more chicks. While sitting outside with the chicks, Chicken Leen (my 7 year old neighbor, appropriately nicknamed for today’s events) came by with his pollito which he named Juan Pablo Duarte (one of the founding father’s of the D.R.). Juan Pablo, like Chicken Leen himself, instantly was a handful – nearly stumbling into the fire Cecilia was cooking soup over, falling off a 3ft. drop, etc. Darlin, 7,  who bought 3 chicks, Cabeza Pino was the only name I remember of his chickens, left them with me in our hanging cardboard contraption as he knew his mother wouldn’t let him keep them in his house.

Darlin posing with our hanging chicken box, tied near my kitchen light bulb to keep the chicks warm and away from Tiguere, before the luz showed up

Posing with Chicken Leen, Carlos Manuel, Darlin and our collective 10 chicks

Chicken Leen with Juan Pablo Duarte on his head

Pollito aka Chick Pics:

‘Merica

I had written this post December 3rd in the airport on my way back to the D.R., but had yet to post it. After a hectic few weeks and a bad horario de luz, I’m finally getting around to posting it now …

 

Thanksgiving!

Ben enjoying his T-day Meal

Hartford

Having made the adjustment from life in Los Estados Unidos to small town life in the Dominican Republic as my latest cultural adjustment (others include switching from an inner city public school to a suburban private high school, moving from Philadelphia to study abroad in Buenos Aires, etc.), I figured all the “culture shock” hype in returning home to the states was probably a little exaggerated. After all, how hard could it be to adjust to having electricity 24-7, hot showers with water pressure, not having to sleep with a mosquito net and having some variety in my diet?

That answer turned out to be a little more complicated than I originally thought. For one, I noticed that I had newly acquired Dominican instincts. For example, whenever I was in a room and someone would turn on the lights I would do a little fist pump and excitedly think “llegó la luz!” before realizing the luz was there all along. During my layover before arriving back in the Northeast, I thought to myself “is the tap water safe to drink in Fort Lauderdale?” While going through at&t’s automated customer service menu, I nearly pressed the asterisk just because the voice told me to, before realizing that the voice was in Spanish and that oprima-ing the “*” would have put me through to a Spanish speaking operator. I would occasionally see wooden pallets on loading docks or sitting outside of warehouses and think “look at all that unutilized furniture wood!” and while in stores look at certain pieces of furniture and/or products and think “I could make that.”

My flight out of the D.R. was delayed 3 hours (over twice the amount of time the short flight to Fort Lauderdale should have taken in itself) which caused me to miss my connecting flight to New York. As most of the flight seemed to be missing their connections to one place or another, I ended up traveling to the hotel where the airline put us up, with a group of Dominicans from the flight. Being back in the U.S., but still speaking Spanish for the first 12 hours was strange, but also amusing as a father hoped that the hotel would have mangú for dinner upon our arrival. A grandfather traveling to visit his granddaughter in NJ for the first time, suggested we skip the shuttle to our hotel (which was taking forever) and try to get a bola (free rides common in small towns in the D.R.), before we advised him hitchhiking from the airport in Florida  to a hotel we didn’t know how to get to at midnight wasn’t going to work.  As our shuttle finally came, a child complained about the AC to his mother, who was travelling with 4 young children, the mother replied in Spanish “you’re cold, you’re tired, you’re hungry … anything else?”

My initial moments back in NYC were strange as well, as I am less familiar with La Guardia than JFK and felt quite outsider-ish on the bus as everyone else sat around in their winter coats on their smart phones, as I checked the time on my non-serviceable Dominican cell phone, in the warmest clothing I had brought with me when I left in August, a hoodie. While waiting for the train, I quickly found the nearest halal food stand, where the only other customer ordered in English before turning to talk to me in Spanish. Ah America, where I am often confused as being Puerto Rican, unlike the D.R. where I’m picked out as “Americano” or “Gringo” from a mile away.

Back in Connecticut, the biggest adjustment was the cold. While still not winter, I was constantly freezing, sniffling, sneezing, and would wake up everyday with my muscles tighter than I can ever remember them being. After Connecticut I made stops in both Philly and New York. I knew I was back in Philly as I waited for a friend to pick me up from the bus stop and overheard a few expletive laden conversations, and watched a bicycler run a light through a busy intersection, yelling at the cars with the right of way that they didn’t want to mess with him (although to be fair, in NYC I saw a taxi driver hit a pedestrian who had the right of way. As the pedestrian, who was fine, calmly approached the driver telling him he was in the wrong, the driver charged out of the cab after the pedestrian cursing him out along the way, while a bystander took the opportunity to hop in the back seat of the empty cab and wait for the driver to finish his tirade).

Having gotten to visit most of the friends and family I wanted to see and having put on 10lbs in my first week from all of the food I had missed, I am happy with the outcome of my first visit back in over a year. As I finish typing this post in the airport terminal (waiting on yet another delayed Spirit flight – avoid flying Spirit if you can!), I am excited to get back to work in my community. I now have a better understanding of what sorts of projects can be successful here and what steps can be taken to assure their success. In addition to resuming my youth groups, I am most excited about the basketball league we are forming and the baseball field we are planning to build. In the last sports related meeting I attended before visiting the U.S.A., an athletic director from San Cristobal shared my distaste for meetings where a lot is said, but little accomplished saying: “Estoy harto de teorizar!” / “I’m fed up with theorizing!” After a little over 2 weeks of explaining my work and future plans to friends, family and strangers I too am tired of the talk and ready to get back to taking action in the community.

Visiting Constanza / Protests

Jeff, one of the business volunteers who came in with my group decided to ET and recently returned home to Nevada. His site, which happens to be home to the tallest waterfall in the Caribbean, was in a small pueblo of 5 families and 200 people, 30 minutes outside of Constanza. As I had heard great things from a few other volunteers who had visited his site, I wanted to see him and his site before he headed home, and figured I might not get out to Constanza during the rest of my service if I didn’t aprovechar the opportunity now. So I headed north to the coldest part of the country, which is also home to about 70-80% of the country’s agricultural production. As I was on the bus out to his site, I texted “Whereabouts” to let the Peace Corps know where I would be. Literally seconds after my text sent, I received a text warning me of protests in my region and to stay in my site … As I was already out of my site, and had received similar texts before but had never seen any protests in my tranquil community, I continued on with my journey. I arrived in Abanico, the transit point between the capital and Constanza and boarded the back of a pickup truck with a Haitian who was on my bus from the capital and waited for the driver, who told us that he wouldn’t leave for another 2 hours until the truck was full. I called Jeff to let him know I was stuck and he replied “Oh, yeah that happens sometimes.”

Probably spoiled by my location near the capital, I was baffled that such an important transit route in the country had such little transportation options. A few more Haitians climbed into the back of the truck to wait with us, one carrying three pillow cases full of live roosters and another with a plate of chicharron and yucca which he offered to the rest of us before spilling it all over the dirty bed of the truck. He ate the parts which didn’t touch the floor, and his friend would occasionally pick a piece up off the floor and eat it. I found it strange, not that he was eating the meat after it hit the floor (it is chicharron after all – a tasty and relatively expensive lunch), but that in complete violation of the 5 second rule, he didn’t pick all the pieces up at once. Instead, he let them sit on the floor and over the course of the next 5-10 minutes would occasionally pick a piece up and eat it.

Annoyed at the driver for holding all of us up for 2 hours in order to make a few extra pesos, I was happy when the truck finally took off and held on for dear life as we whipped up a mountain and around curves with gorgeous views of a river and town down below, before finally entering Constanza an hour and a half and 53km later.

Not the best picture, as I was trying to hold on in the back of the truck while flying around curves, but a little taste of the views of the ride

Most people remark how different my site is from theirs or from what they expected, but for me Constanza was by far and away the most unique of sites I have seen. Nearly everyone was either Haitian or White. With the green rolling hills, potatoes everywhere and freckily white Dominicans it felt at times like a pseudo Ireland. The ride was rough, but the scenery breathtaking. The waterfall was awesome as well, although the water was freezing, it was fun and definitely worth the visit.

View from the top of the falls

Jeff on the mid level platform

Swimming in the freezing water

Although I spent less than 24 hours there, I really enjoyed the time hanging out with Jeff’s vecinos and taking in the scenery.

While waiting for Jeff to finish saying his goodbyes, view to my right

Cockfight to my left

After Jeff’s host Dad was late in picking us up the next morning, we missed the direct bus back to the capital and again rode in the back of a pickup truck to Abanico. This time 8 of us in the back with the luggage (and a bundle of roses which we would pick up along the way), having seen more people and things crammed into the back of these trucks, Jeff wasn’t as impressed as I was.

Jeff treated me to a delicious plate of chicharrones, which we wouldn’t have been able to get had we made the direct bus and before long we were back on our way to the capital.

Chicas Subregional

Me and the 8 chicas I brought to camp

My most rewarding moment so far during my Peace Corps service took place during the Mid South Sub Regional conference which I coordinated this past weekend. It was only a one night camp/conference, but had its fair share of adversity throughout the planning process. Since most of the conferences I have been to have all taken place in Rancho Campeche, I thought it would be nice to have a change of scenery and began looking for a different venue. Nina, the project partner of the previous volunteer in my community, gave me the name and approximate location of the center she had been to a few years back as part of a Peace Corps conference. Since the phone number she had for the center didn’t seem to be in service, I headed out to the center and was satisfied with the facilities. I met the security guard/groundskeeper, Ortiz, who is actually a police officer but apparently assigned to protect the facility.

Quick digression:

One thing which I have come to like about Dominican culture is that people often treat strangers as friends. Walking to the gym, there is a man, who I’ve never formally met, that sells fruit and often gifts me bananas or star fruit as I walk by. Another example of this is the type of information and frequency with which it is immediately shared with strangers. Strangers are expected to saludar (greet) one another upon entering public transportation as well as upon passing on the street (not so much in the city as in smaller towns). I usually make a habit of waving and greeting my neighbors as I walk by, but have occasionally been called out by strangers who I’ve never seen before, because I walked by without saying hi. Upon entering a guagua, strangers often strike up both heated and comical conversations on any topic as if they’ve known the other passengers their whole lives. I’ve met a few people in my community who have introduced themselves to me by telling me their name, state they were living in, number of children they have in the U.S., their history as a drug dealer, years served in prison, and how that led to their deportation, “Ah ok, nice to meet you, I’m Daniel”, I would reply.

Now that you have some of that background information, Ortiz’s introduction to me included his salary discrepancies with both the police (he gets paid $7,000 pesos or $180USD once a month) and the owners of the center as well as his wife’s health problems which are racking up medical bills they can’t afford. No doubt, I’m sure part of his intention in telling me his story was that he hoped I would reach into my American pocket and hand over a wad of pesos to alleviate his problems, but nonetheless he was an overall nice guy, pleasant to talk to and helpful in showing me around the grounds and putting me in contact with the owners. Thanks to his help, I was able to reserve our spot at the center. A few weeks later, after our deadline had passed to submit our grants which included our budgets and quotes from the centers we would be using, my boss asked me in passing how the process was going. When she heard which center I had chose she informed me the Peace Corps no longer does business with that venue and we would have to change locations. Scrambling to find another center, while simultaneously hosting my visiting family was a challenge, but led to our returning to Rancho Campeche which was a blessing in disguise.

As we had 8 volunteers and 4 Committee Members (older chicas who run their own groups in their respective communities, essentially functioning as young, Dominican PCV’s) we budgeted for 48 people to attend the camp. However, as our region had a plethora of volunteers, one switched regions and four others dropped out for various reasons, including one the night before. Knowing I had plenty of chicas who would be great to bring to the camp, and that the Comite girls would bring their entire groups if I let them, between us we made up for a good portion of the empty spots. Even though we were highly outnumbered by the chicas, most events I’ve been to have had 1 volunteer for every 2 chicas and we had 30 girls to 3 volunteers, the maturity and experience of the comite members made all the difference and allowed for the camp to run smoothly, despite small set backs such as our t-shirts for our wiki wiki (aka tie dye) activity not being ordered – we rolled with the punches and tie dyed our camp t-shirts which due to another error were white instead of the light purple our PCVL Kristy had requested. So it all worked out in the end. Also, I received a call a day before the camp from Rancho Campeche asking me when we were arriving, as there was a further miscommunication between the PC office and them, where the office called and changed the date I had reserved (which was given to me by the office) without informing me of the date change. Rancho Campeche was very understanding and allowed us to still come on the day of our original reservation, although it was a hassle to them as they had all arrived to work to prepare food for us.

The hectic planning and spot filling aside, the camp itself was a success. I was able to bring 8 girls from my community, which was in itself a challenge, but led to girls from the rival communities of Arenoso and El Caliche to form new friendships which I’m hopeful will solidify our group from here on out. As we left our community, I felt like a father as I fired back at the full time tigueres, part time motoconchistas and told them to drive slowly for the girls who were nervous riding motos. Nonetheless, moments later it felt as though we were in Mario Kart as the 5 motos carrying the 9 of us and our luggage whipped in and out of traffic and around each other on our way to the highway where we would catch a bus to take us to my favorite motorcycle ride of the country (through a sugar cane field then up the side of a mountain which overlooks the pueblo of Yaguate). As the 9 of us climbed on to the guagua and I counted the girls, I briefly wondered what had I gotten them into, as one tiguere in the cocina (back of the bus) started to hit on one of my girls and the girl in the front of the bus, closest to me sat next to an old man drinking Brugal rum straight out of the bottle at 9:30am. Be that as it may, we arrived safely and timely, with the girls taking in the new surroundings and loving every minute of the trip.

At the camp, I was incredibly impressed by the maturity and confidence of the youngest girls who were the best behaved and most appreciative children I have yet to meet. We made mailboxes for the girls to write each other positive notes, thus raising their self esteems. I wrote generic notes to all the girls but wanted to write specific ones to the girls I brought as well as Yisel, one of the younger girls who made a point of telling me she had written me a note and put it in my mailbox. Shortly after I wrote Yisel a little note, she came and found me, very formally and graciously thanking me for my note – not the typical behavior from 8 to 9 year olds I’ve dealt with thus far let alone most teenagers or adults! The notes themselves were really special to me as the girls seemed very appreciative of all the work that went into the camp and very pleased with the outcome, only complaining about the mosquitoes and the fact that the camp was only one night long.

Some of my favorite notes:

Daniel, Thank you for allowing me to participate in this event. I hope that our group lasts forever, and with this energy that you have given us. Don’t change and let God reward you for your efforts.

Hola Daniel, I am writing to tell you that you are a very special person, cool and friendly, thank you for allowing me to be here. I like your style and the way you treat other people.

“Thank You” for the opportunity to be part of this chicas brillantes event. It was very nice and charming. I liked everything we did during the day, the ice breakers and the themes were very special for me. Thanks for your care and for all of your help. You are very funny, I hope we do this camp again. May God bless you always!

Hola, First, thanks for the opportunity to participate with you all, for all of the knowledge and I hope that we do this camp again. May God bless you, you are super special!

It is always inspiring to see and hear from so many young leaders and to be able to give them the opportunity to learn and divertirse away from their communities in a camp atmosphere different from any other most of them have ever experienced. The little laughs – such as the frog in the bed, or all the younger girls who were away from home for the first time pushing all their bunk beds together to make a big bed for all of them – were the icing on the cake and the gracious notes definitely made my day!

To give an idea of what we actually do at the camps, here is a run down of our agenda:

FRIDAY

11:30am – 1pm           Arrival, registration, lunch

1pm-1:30pm                Welcome, Camp Rules, Introductions, Run Down of the Day’s Schedule

1:30pm-2:30pm         Community Introductions, Bingo

Franchesca, my 12 year old neighbor, introducing herself to the group

Girls getting to know each other through our “Bingo” game

2:30pm-3:30pm         Women’s Health

3:30pm-4pm                Snack Time

4pm-5pm                       Teamwork and Healthy Communication Activity Stations:

a) Drawing with a partner sharing the same pencil

b) The human knot

c) Group lifting of a glass of water (with strings attached to a piece of cardboard which the  glass was placed upon)

5pm-6pm                     Friendship bracelets

6pm-7pm                     Free time / Swimming in the Pool

Pool time

7pm-7:45pm              Dinner

My favorite little girls eating dinner together

8pm-9pm                     Tie Dye

9pm-9:30pm              Sweet and Salty – Reflection Time

9:30pm-10pm           Preparing for Bed

10pm                             Lights Out!

SATURDAY

7:30am-8:15am           Breakfast

8:15am-8:45am           Dinamicas (ice breaker games) and Reviewing the Day’s Schedule

8:45am-9:45am           Developing Leadership Skills

9:45am-10:15am         Snack Time

10:15am-11am             Breaking up by Community to Plan an Event/Activity

11am-11:45am             Certificates and Closing Activities

11:45am-12pm            Packing/Organizing Luggage

12pm-1pm                     Lunch and Send-Off

October Update

Usually I get reminded how long its been since I’ve written a post when I get an email update from fellow PCV James’ blog: http://jamescorps.wordpress.com/ . I feel as though he articulates well many of the feelings and experiences common to most PCV’s, so I encourage you to check out him out, especially during the lulls between posts here.

That said, I figured an update here is over due. It is a sort of strange in-between time with most of my groups, as my Construye Tus Suenos business class has finished, as has my Chicas Brillantes group, and my Escojo group is also nearing its graduation. Although I didn’t really want to teach English again, I started a night class on Tuesdays for some of the neighborhood kids who really want it.

What started as two girls coming to my house to practice turned into a group of 20 by our third class.

My main focus recently has been on organizing the sports programs in the community, starting with a basketball league for 10-12 year olds. We had our first practice to evaluate skill levels of the players this past Sunday, and I am excited to both have a league up and running for the youth in the community as well as have the potential to teach certain values and lessons which I feel can really be driven home through sports (teamwork, dedication, sportsmanship, responsibility, punctuality, etc.). Currently the youth lack pretty much all of these skills necessary to succeed in any team sport and pickup games are spent equal parts arguing and playing. One of the issues which came up at our last practice was that a few youth didn’t want to play on the same team as others who they thought were less talented.

Even though he retired before some of the kids were born, the majority still claim Michael Jordan as their favorite player (my favorite spelling of his name during our registration: “Maico Lloday”). As very few youth actively follow the NBA here (more due to a lack of available media than interest), Jordan is one of the few household names from the NBA here (along with Lebron, Kobe and to a lesser extent Durant) which probably explains his “popularity”. Nonetheless, since most of the youth claim him as their favorite player, we had a brief lesson about how Jordan was not only a great player himself, but how he brought out the best in his teammates, elevating their level of play as well. He didn’t look around at his team and say “I’m better than all of you, so I don’t want to play with you”, he stepped up as a leader, rose to the challenge and ultimately won 6 championships. I’m hoping that having the opportunity to be part of a team for the first time, will allow the kids to get over some of the petty differences which they have when playing pick up games where an inferior player is instantly kicked off the court for the next kid and teamwork and sportsmanship are blatantly absent.

In other news, this weekend my group of volunteers will be celebrating 1 year in country by heading to the beach in the South. It should be a lot of fun, and I will put up pictures when I’m back. The following weekend we have the Construye Tus Suenos National Conference, where selected youth will present their business plans in a competition to win funding for their ideas. While my joven wasn’t selected to present, we received positive feedback on our business plan and were told that since the business is already up and running, we would have the best chance to secure a loan from the micro financing organizations which will be present at the competition. The possibility of securing a loan to grow the business (they would like to purchase a second oven and a mixing machine to be able to produce larger quantities of bread to meet the market’s demand, as well as add cakes to their variety of products) is exciting and a nice consolation to not competing for the prize money. The competition is supposedly moving towards a focus on micro finance and small loans versus free prize money, so it is additionally exciting to be part of the project which is pioneering the Peace Corp’s relationship with these lending organizations.

One last short story: I recently completed the medical and dental exams which are required for us one year into service. While at the doctor’s office, the doctor struck up a conversation on who I thought would win the NBA Finals this upcoming year. As it came to the part of the exam to turn your head and cough,  he walked across the room and noticed my Licey (my favorite Dominican baseball team) hat sitting on the counter top next to his gloves. He asked me if I was a Licey fan and I told him I was and asked if he was a Licey fan too. He shook his head in disgust and said he was an Escogido fan (the other team from Santo Domingo and one of Licey’s main rivals), then as he snapped on his gloves added “this is not good for you, since I’m about to touch your testicles.” In USA terms, this is roughly the equivalent of a Red Sox fan/doctor literally having a Yankee fan by the short and curlies.

Anyways, I’m off to take care of a few errands and build a second table for my house this afternoon, before heading to my Escojo class tonight where we will discuss a design for the non-violence mural we plan to paint in the community.

Julio as a condom at our last Escojo Meeting

A few pictures from the bakery which we are trying to get funding to grow to meet the demand for their product in our community:

Wilkin’s Dad kneading the dough

Product rising before it is baked

The current oven which the bakery uses

Coconete – a coconut/sweet bread

Sale being made to one of my neighbors

Itsy Bitsy Spider

This is kind of old news by now, but I finally had my first cacata in my house. Compared to some other volunteers’ sites, my site doesn’t seem to have as many – although I’ve heard multiple people here say that you can see the babies marching down the street when they hatch – and of the few I’ve seen in my site none had been near to my house. They supposedly come indoors when it rains to avoid getting wet, and we have had a lot of rain recently (esp. with Isaac having just passed), but if they are seeking dry, my house is not necessarily the best place to seek during storms as it usually gets wet inside as well. I had been on a pretty good streak, the mouse hasn’t made an appearance in a while, I don’t see many roaches anymore (and the few I have seen Tiguere has killed and eaten), no giant centipedes (just a bunch of the babies, which are easily disposed of), not even the chicken jumping up and down on my tin roof (although I had to chase a dog off of my roof last night and the roof is now bombarded by giant avocados falling from a tree which partially hangs over my backyard).

It was 11pm at night, there was no luz and Tiguere was nowhere to be seen – he doesn’t usually andar the calle at night, unless he gets himself accidentally locked in the colmado, so I called his name a few times to make sure he wasn’t causing trouble. With no response, I grab my flashlight and see that he is sitting staring into the bathroom … at a tarantula which is reared up ready to attack.

Still without a machete and too late to borrow a neighbor’s, I started a mental checklist of what I had in my house that I could kill this thing with. I’d heard of another volunteer using his bug spray like blowtorch to light one on fire and briefly considered using a frying pan, before I remembered all the scrap wood dumped behind my house which my neighbor and I have been building furniture out of. I ran outside, grabbed a piece of wood, paused to take a few pics, then bashed it. There are a lot of cacata stories that go around, including how they jump and will occasionally play dead, so I half expected this one to spring back to life as I carried the carcass outside.

A few nights later, again without luz, I hear some commotion next to my bed. Grabbing my flashlight, which I keep inside my mosquitero for just these circumstances, I figure it is probably Tiguere climbing over my med kit … which it was, except he was climbing over the med kit to get to a second cacata which had silently crept in the dark to within about a foot and a half of my face! As I wasn’t in the mood to get out of bed and go cacata killing, I figured I would see if Tiguere would kill it for me. He chased it under my dresser and the two stayed under there for a while without any sound. I shine the light under and see Tiguere lying down with no sign of the tarantula, great. With it already having gotten that close to my face, I didn’t really want to go back to sleep knowing that it was somewhere around my bed, but I by now I had lost track of it and Tiguere had lost interest. After much searching and throwing of the cat into and under the few pieces of furniture which I own (trying to get him to use his spidey senses to find it and herd the tarantula into the open), I noticed that the tarantula had doubled back on its tracks to where I had already searched and was now against the far wall under my bed. Working in our cacata bashing duo, the cat went under, chased him out into the open and I decided to give Tiguere a second chance to see if he would kill it himself.

The cacata did its best to escape, but feeling cornered reared up and with two legs poked at Tiguere’s eyes, at this point I intervened with my stick (now marked in bright red letters “HANDLE” on the non-hairy/gutsy side) and gracias a Dios we have been cacata free ever since.

Camp GLOW 2012 and My Cumpleaños de Oro

For the last 4 months the girls in my Chicas Brillantes group have been “competing” for points to decide which two of the 27 girls officially in the group would get the opportunity to travel outside the community and meet other Dominican girls from around the country in an overnight camp run by PCV’s. The point system was simple: 1 point for showing up to class, an additional point if you show up on time (if you haven’t held a mtg in the DR, you have no idea how big of a challenge this is!), and 1 point for an insightful comment/helping another girl out in class/anything extraordinary.

The point system worked fairly well, pretty much distinguishing which of my chicas were the well behaved, responsible ones, although one troublemaker did earn a number of last minute points desperately trying to make herself relevant in the Camp GLOW 2012 sweepstakes. There were 3 girls who participated regularly, were at the top of the points chart, and who I was having a hard time deciding between to fill the 2 spots I was allotted for the camp.

Karen had the most points, showed up on time, worked well with others, would help out when needed, etc. however at 11 years old she would be one of the youngest girls at the camp and a few of the charla themes might be above her head.

Direini (3rd from left) was a quiet but solid participant in the course, and like Karen was one of the few girls who could be counted on to show up on time. However, she missed one of the bigger activities we planned (the doing of the little girls’ hair day) and didn’t actively help as much as some of the other girls at our movie night. A handful of girls in the course had some issue with her and were adamant in trying to make sure they had more points than she did.

Niñita was also a strong participant in the course, often helping to clean up without being asked, and taking the initiative to come to my house to help with projects outside of the class; however, she occasionally has a bit of a short fuse with some of the other girls and while I didn’t think it would become an issue at the camp, there would be a little more risk with her than with Karen or Direini.