So much had changed and so much was the same. First we entered a sleek airport, nothing like the sweaty, sticky port I once came into as a Peace Corps volunteer 25 years ago. Then they plied us with little cups of rum and coke to start the thirst for island life. Now a carefully crafted mural of the artesania of Hispaniola graced our path to immigration. But as we left customs Freddy appeared with open arms and his big, loving smile.
Trekking through the capital on our way to San Jose de Ocoa took me down a notch. So much pulsing traffic, basura (garbage) and so many barrios, nestled on the sides of the river banks, waiting for the next ciclon to whisk them away, find themselves noted in the drama of headline news and forgotten a day later. Here the cholera of Haiti's lingering tragedy has taken root.
Why are some of us born into security, education, health and wealth? Why are others born to the barrios?
We navigated onto Highway 2 and headed west. The skies filled with rain. Sonia stopped to barter with the mango sellers...dismayed by their outrageous price (30 pesos la dozena...$1/dozen!). We didn't know then that she would stockpile the mangos to bring to our beach day in Las Salinas a week later.
We were exhausted, excited and quiet as we entered the relatively prosperous San Jose de Ocoa where the sisters have a beautiful complex and we each claimed a bed. We had arrived.
There is much more to note but what cannot go unmentioned was the evening's mass, complete with live music blaring through awful speakers, the din of motorcycles roaring past and horns honking outside near the parque, a toddler wandering the aisles, and a couple celebrating their 22nd wedding anniversary, blessed by the priest who officiated that evening. Welcome to La Republica Dominicana.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Domingo (Sunday) : Traveling to Los Palmaritos
Awoken by the sounds of roosters crowing and school children singing, it was quickly clear to me where I was. After breakfast we made our way to the Hospicio, a place for elders of the community to reside. The language barrier for the most astute and well-tuned ears is a challenge at best, making communicating with these men and women nearly impossible. Intimidated by this obstacle, I stepped on to the patio of rocking chairs uncertain of what to do. Men and women were scattered on every side, and a woman with few teeth but many wrinkles caught my eye with hers. Drawn to her, she reached out her hand and I took it in my own. That is when I learned that the people here did not all want to talk, they just wanted company in the form of smiles and hugs. They were being taken care of fantastically by an ultra-attentive nurse, catering to every move or utterance of all there. Our time there passed quickly, and we soon headed back to our villa to pack for our trip into the mountains.
Armed with duffle bags and backpacks, our group of eleven piled into the back of an ADESJO pick-up truck. Our destination this time is a more permanent stay; a village in the mountain that will be our home for the next five days. The truck winds its way around hairpin turns and up the steep sides of hills, the air cooling with the climb in altitude. The dirt road is primitive and at any given point one side of it disappears entirely into the side of a cliff. Our driver is careful, and we pass through many small villages on our way through the mountain range. The houses are humble and made primarily of wood and tin. Livestock roams everywhere and we pass many goats, pigs, and cows as our truck bumbles through. As far as the eye can see in every direction, there is nothing but rolling hills and greenery. It is incredible to think that nestled within these mountains are several small villages. After a quick hour of travel we arrive at our home in Los Palmaritos. A typical cement home, our house is being generously lent to us for our time by a member of the community. Inside there are four rooms, five sets of bunk beds, and (upon our arrival) eleven people. There are lights but often no electricity, and no running water. Our bathroom is the shell of a port-o-potty above a hole in the ground with the most beautiful view. The kitchen resembles a lean to, attached to the house and providing primarily more counter space. There we meet a woman who will cook for us, named Louisa. She is soft spoken and has kind eyes that twinkle with decades of wisdom. Set upon a small hill, the field next to our house climbs steeply into the mountains.
We walk down the heavily trodden dirt road and see the site or our work for the rest of the week. As we descend upon the field being used for a local baseball tournament, I see crowds of people intent upon the game. A few of us walk toward the eager audience and as I am seated upon the ground, the crowd erupts and swarms upon the field. A team has won, and its members are lifted and carried up the street where their prize (a goat) awaits. After a whole-hearted but lacking attempt at our own baseball game, our group and some curious community members find the way back to our home. It is decided that we would like to climb the mountain behind our home and see what lies at the top of the hill. Clearly, word spread quickly, and by the time we made our first uphill steps each of our hands was held by at least one member of the community. Our cozy group of thirty or more men, women, and children, hike the luscious green hills behind our home. Following nothing but goat paths and promises that our destination was “Just over that next hill…” our very innocent walk had swiftly turned into a hiking expedition. Eased by conversations with community members and the joy of the children with us, after a couple hours, our trek culminates in a tomato field. Led by the fearless (and sometimes shameless) Eris, owner of said tomato field, we take a shortcut back to our home through a field of pea pods.
Louisa prepared a delectable meal for us, and we take time afterwards to discuss and reflect our experiences thus far with each other. Already it strikes me that our group is unusually comfortable and open with each other, and our discussion thrives because of it. I wonder how we are being received by the community that surrounds us. Are they confident in the work we will do? Do they care about where we come from? Are they unsure of our motives? What are their expectations of us? Our group is an incredible hybrid of insight, validation, and opinions. Together, we discuss our emotions and conclude the night in a group hug. I could not imagine ten better people to be here with.
We peruse the open air dance hall up the street and are spun around the floor by some enthusiastic locals. With my mosquito net hung, I climb into my bed and sleep soundly, excited for our first day at the work site tomorrow.
-Meredith
Armed with duffle bags and backpacks, our group of eleven piled into the back of an ADESJO pick-up truck. Our destination this time is a more permanent stay; a village in the mountain that will be our home for the next five days. The truck winds its way around hairpin turns and up the steep sides of hills, the air cooling with the climb in altitude. The dirt road is primitive and at any given point one side of it disappears entirely into the side of a cliff. Our driver is careful, and we pass through many small villages on our way through the mountain range. The houses are humble and made primarily of wood and tin. Livestock roams everywhere and we pass many goats, pigs, and cows as our truck bumbles through. As far as the eye can see in every direction, there is nothing but rolling hills and greenery. It is incredible to think that nestled within these mountains are several small villages. After a quick hour of travel we arrive at our home in Los Palmaritos. A typical cement home, our house is being generously lent to us for our time by a member of the community. Inside there are four rooms, five sets of bunk beds, and (upon our arrival) eleven people. There are lights but often no electricity, and no running water. Our bathroom is the shell of a port-o-potty above a hole in the ground with the most beautiful view. The kitchen resembles a lean to, attached to the house and providing primarily more counter space. There we meet a woman who will cook for us, named Louisa. She is soft spoken and has kind eyes that twinkle with decades of wisdom. Set upon a small hill, the field next to our house climbs steeply into the mountains.
We walk down the heavily trodden dirt road and see the site or our work for the rest of the week. As we descend upon the field being used for a local baseball tournament, I see crowds of people intent upon the game. A few of us walk toward the eager audience and as I am seated upon the ground, the crowd erupts and swarms upon the field. A team has won, and its members are lifted and carried up the street where their prize (a goat) awaits. After a whole-hearted but lacking attempt at our own baseball game, our group and some curious community members find the way back to our home. It is decided that we would like to climb the mountain behind our home and see what lies at the top of the hill. Clearly, word spread quickly, and by the time we made our first uphill steps each of our hands was held by at least one member of the community. Our cozy group of thirty or more men, women, and children, hike the luscious green hills behind our home. Following nothing but goat paths and promises that our destination was “Just over that next hill…” our very innocent walk had swiftly turned into a hiking expedition. Eased by conversations with community members and the joy of the children with us, after a couple hours, our trek culminates in a tomato field. Led by the fearless (and sometimes shameless) Eris, owner of said tomato field, we take a shortcut back to our home through a field of pea pods.
Louisa prepared a delectable meal for us, and we take time afterwards to discuss and reflect our experiences thus far with each other. Already it strikes me that our group is unusually comfortable and open with each other, and our discussion thrives because of it. I wonder how we are being received by the community that surrounds us. Are they confident in the work we will do? Do they care about where we come from? Are they unsure of our motives? What are their expectations of us? Our group is an incredible hybrid of insight, validation, and opinions. Together, we discuss our emotions and conclude the night in a group hug. I could not imagine ten better people to be here with.
We peruse the open air dance hall up the street and are spun around the floor by some enthusiastic locals. With my mosquito net hung, I climb into my bed and sleep soundly, excited for our first day at the work site tomorrow.
-Meredith
Lunes (Monday) : First day of work!
Today was our first day at the worksite and I didn’t know what to expect. I had never built a house before and the language barrier surely wouldn’t make it easier. Despite my excitement and anticipation I was slow to descend from my top bunk this morning, and as my fellow group members quickly discovered, this would be the norm for me. Eventually, with a bit of effort and some delicate maneuvering of my mosquito net, I jumped down and joined everyone for breakfast. After eating, dressing, filling 11 water bottles with our Poland Spring jug, and applying ample amounts of sunscreen to each other, we were almost ready to go. But just as we were preparing to walk down the street, Annalisa, a community leader, came over and told us that the mason was running late. We didn’t know it at the time but we would soon learn that the happy-go-lucky mason was well-respected in the village and workers did nothing until directions were given by him. So we relaxed on our porch, talked with Annalisa, relived particularly funny moments from yesterday’s hike, silently wondered what was in store for us today, and continued to take in the new sights and sounds of Los Palmaritos. Eventually the mason passed our house on his motorcycle and we followed him down to the worksite, which was conveniently just 3 houses away from our own.
The plot of land we’d be working on had been flattened before our arrival, but we were literally starting from scratch on day one. From the moment we began working I carried with me a hope that we’d see the finished product in 4 days, but I tried to balance this hope with a realistic understanding of how much work there was to do. The first step was to dig the foundation where the first layer of bricks would lie. With 3 picks, 4 shovels, and about 25 people eager to help, it quickly became apparent that there weren’t enough tools to go around. In addition to us, there were many men from the community lending a hand because ADESJO, the organization with whom we partnered, asks all beneficiaries of their projects to give back in some way. This is a truly remarkable system and it has allowed ADESJO to impact many people in 90 different communities within the province of Ocoa Dominican Republic
After a few hours of digging, chatting, and attempting to understand directions in Spanish, we all left for our lunch break. Lunch is the biggest meal of the day in the DR and it typically lasts for 2 hours. We were once again blown away by Louisa’s delicious cooking and truly amazed by the amount of food she prepared for us. Meal times had quickly become a special part of the day for me, not simply because I’m perpetually hungry, but because it was a time for our group to reconvene and discuss whatever was on our minds, ranging from serious topics to absolutely ludicrous ones. As our lunch break was winding down, Freddy arrived at our house. Freddy works for ADESJO and immediately worked his way into all of our hearts. Throughout the week, as we spent more time with him, he became an inspiration to us all and his presence was a constant comfort. His gentle manner, his eagerness to take care of us as if we were his own children, his appreciation for every individual he interacts with, coupled with his obvious passion and dedication to his life’s work is absolutely awesome, in the truest sense of the word. The purpose of Freddy’s lunchtime visit today, however, was simply to take Erin , Allison, and Lino back to San Jose de Ocoa. There they would present ADESJO with the check from our group and visit with the staff that hadn’t seen us over the weekend.
As Freddy drove off with Erin , Allison, and Lino (his soon-to-be best friend), the 8 of us headed back to the worksite. Still lacking tools and the strength to work for extended periods of time, we established a new routine of digging until we were tired, then tapping a fellow group member in to take your shovel. Just a few shifts of shoveling later the skies opened up and rain came pouring down. We weren’t sure what protocol was when the weather changed, but quickly got our answer when everyone else ran for cover. Back at our house it was impossible to do anything outside without becoming a muddy mess, so the 8 of us climbed into the 3 bunk beds in the biggest bedroom and took a lengthy nap. After waking up an undetermined amount of hours later, we all stayed in bed listening to the rain fall heavy on the roof and hoping that “mom, dad, and mom” would make it back home to us despite the wet dangers of the winding mountain road. A short while later we were thrilled to hear familiar voices speaking English outside our window and, after celebratory chants and singing, we were filled in on their visit to Ocoa.
Not long after our dinner was served and, once again, the meal was delicious. The rain had turned the ground into a mudpit, but Moira was kind enough to clean our entire porch so we’d be less likely to traipse mud into the house. Moira is a woman in the community who was helping Louisa cook for us and, upon its completion, she would be moving into the house we were building. Her husband was killed 5 years ago in a car accident while he was drunkenly driving to another village to visit his other family, and now she is left with 3 children to support. She’s been doing odd jobs whenever the opportunity arises to make some extra cash, but hopefully this new house will lift some of the burden from her shoulders. So with our clean porch and full bellies, we spent the evening chatting with neighbors and playing with children. Our porch had become the gathering place for Dominicans of all ages and we enjoyed the company.
When it finally became dark and people started to head home, we gathered inside for our nightly reflection. Despite it only being our first full day in the village we had many interesting and challenging topics to grapple with. Are the men in this machismo society intimidated by the 10 American women that wanted to do manual labor? Is there a way to use everyone’s skills effectively at the worksite? What are the children expecting of us this week? How can those of us that don’t speak Spanish relate to the community meaningfully? How can we set boundaries with the young men but still assure them that we want to build friendships? What is the purpose of our service work and collaborations in the Dominican Republic
I’ve spent a great deal of time processing our reflections from the week, and that one on Monday night was really incredible. It not only challenged me to think more deeply about what I was doing in the DR, but it opened my eyes even wider to the beautiful people that surrounded me. I had 10 extraordinary people, some were old friends and others new, that I felt unbelievably comfortable around. Each one of them had strengths that I admired and weaknesses they weren’t afraid to voice. We had come together for 7 months of preparation and 8 days in the DR, but the experience meant something different for each of us. For many of us that have just graduated this trip seemed like a culmination, a final stamp on our time at St. Mike’s. For others it felt like a beginning, a spark of inspiration for things to come. For all of us, it came at a time of transition. Through our reflections, beginning with this special one on Monday night, we were able to understand what the experience meant to each other and what it will come to mean to us going forward. For this reason, and many, many more, I’ll always feel blessed when I think of the 10 people with whom I was lucky enough to share this experience.
love, Sarah
love, Sarah
Martes (Tuesday) : Second day of work...just keep swimming...
It is Tuesday afternoon and we have been in Los Palmeritos for only three days – yet, as we laugh about in our group of eleven, we feel as if we have been here for two months! Every moment is a dynamic experience; every sight a stimulus because of its novelty; every thought a new interpretation of what life is and how people live it; so that living here for just a few days, we feel weathered by perspective and giddy with the depth of living each day attentively.
I sit with legs cradled into my chest, my bare feet prickled from the grass grazed by goats, looking across at the softness of a cloud and its intimacy with the nearest mountain peak. Kalina and Alicia ask us in reflection, “When was a moment on this trip when you have felt truly yourself?”
I am grateful for their question – for the chance to allow this service experience to become all I believe it to be: a tumbling fall into love with an incredible community in the Dominican Republic; with this inspiring group of students and staff from a little college in Vermont; and, surprisingly, with the deepest parts of ourselves. It has been obvious (though no less fulfilling) to recognize the richness in a village working to better their quality of life and to be captivated by a group of individuals coming together on a service trip because of a similar passion for social justice; yet, it is a slower process to see myself at the heart of it, to take the time to see my own blossoming amidst all this love.
Their question settles on me easily and the answer drops in a tear. This morning, waiting for our next shift at work, I had the privilege to sit with Freddy, our dear friend and liaison between ADESJO and MOVE, and with his co-worker, the Director of Infrastructure. The conversation sparked from our questions about the logistics, the challenges and the joys of the past thirty plus years of their work. We wanted to understand the heart of the organization and to even have the opportunity to ask specific questions related to what we have heard these camposinos of Los Palmeritos talking about. These very busy men sat with us, under the shade of a Dominican tree, and took the time to tell their story. Each of them carries the vision of one man, Padre Luis Quinn, the founder of ADESJO, who witnessed both the people of San Jose de Ocoa’s struggles as well as their absolute ability to work together and provide a peaceful, sustaining future. His love for them and his ingenuity to create lasting change has lived on in people like Freddy since his passing in 2007.
While I do not have the words to relate everything they told us this morning, I do know what lingers from the memory of that conversation. In the midst of their talk, as I realized all of the hours they spend a day on this mission and their humble drive to continue on, I felt a rush of emotion, biting my lip to keep from breaking into tears. The rush was pure gratitude --knowing all at once that I was in the presence of truly great men – and that they are it; that this is it; this is life: to live deeply, to live authentically, to live with great love.
Erin Bodin
Miercoles (Wednesday) : Third day of work...You go girls (and Lino)!
Today we plugged away, doing more work on the house. We are all nearly experts now on the fine art of putting cement in between the blocks. Despite our learned skill, I think we are all amazed at the talent of the Mason. He is respected by the community and has an incredible talent for building. While many contractors in the U.S. wouldn’t think of going near a work site without their tool belt and blueprints, the Mason comes every day with little more than a rope, a couple trowels, and one level. It’s nice to see that the technology we rely on and often think we can’t live without is really just a convenience. Lesson learned: with common sense, ingenuity, and teamwork the work can be done just the same.
At the end of the work day, some of the representatives of ADESJO come from San Jose de Ocoa to celebrate our final full day of work. They thank us for the work we have done, and are very genuine in their words of appreciation. They have brought a gigantic cake for us to share with the community. Out of the wood works come all the faces we have come to know, and a lot of faces we’ve never seen before. We serve the cake along with cups of soda to the people in the community, but to me the act seems odd and out of place. It’s hard to simply give them a slice of flour, water, and sugar and feel like it matters. Though many appreciated the treat, to me it is hollow and trivial to give an impoverished community member one slice of cake. It is a well-intentioned but uncomfortable celebration. When it is over, we break out the embroidery floss we have brought to make friendship bracelets. Thinking this would be a treat for the women, we were excited to share this with our friends. Much to our surprise, though the women and children enjoyed themselves, we were surrounded by men of all ages braiding with their friends! It was a wonderful sight to see. After everyone has made and shared bracelets, we go to play dominoes for one last night.
-Meredith
At the end of the work day, some of the representatives of ADESJO come from San Jose de Ocoa to celebrate our final full day of work. They thank us for the work we have done, and are very genuine in their words of appreciation. They have brought a gigantic cake for us to share with the community. Out of the wood works come all the faces we have come to know, and a lot of faces we’ve never seen before. We serve the cake along with cups of soda to the people in the community, but to me the act seems odd and out of place. It’s hard to simply give them a slice of flour, water, and sugar and feel like it matters. Though many appreciated the treat, to me it is hollow and trivial to give an impoverished community member one slice of cake. It is a well-intentioned but uncomfortable celebration. When it is over, we break out the embroidery floss we have brought to make friendship bracelets. Thinking this would be a treat for the women, we were excited to share this with our friends. Much to our surprise, though the women and children enjoyed themselves, we were surrounded by men of all ages braiding with their friends! It was a wonderful sight to see. After everyone has made and shared bracelets, we go to play dominoes for one last night.
-Meredith
Jueves (Thursday) : Leaving our hearts in Los Palmaritos
I'm not sure what "processing" is supposed to look like, but I know I have to try and make sense of this trip. I don't know, and can't yet explain, a lot of what I felt and didn't feel. It was clear that I wasn't the same person who went two years ago; I connected differently, observed more, got frustrated more easily. But somehow, this time, I fell more in love. Maybe not with the people individually, but with the region, the village, ADESJO (Freddy). I'm not in love with the Dominican Republic, but rather with one region. One specific place most people never see, let alone love.
My mom asked me if I love it just because it is where I was most recently. Somehow, it's more than that. It's like when you fall in love; sure, you will love other people, but not in that same, specific, deep way. I don't know if it's a lifetime love, but right now it is where my heart lies. There, and with our family of eleven. I want, and need, to go back. Whether it is with my STL kids, SMC or alone. I need to be there. I need to be in their culture, in their systems and work side by side for more than five days. I want to share their struggles and triumphs; be a woman in a machismo society. See where it takes me. Right now, this is my lifetime organization. Donations, spreading the word, volunteering. It makes sense that ADESJO would be my lifetime partner; how easy is it to share about an organization when the love oozes from your soul? when the people hold your heart?
I don't really know what comes next, or what just happened. I don't know my next adventure will change my path; it's okay if it does. What I do know is right now I want to save, travel and serve. Today that destination is to San Jose de Ocoa. Maybe next year it will be somewhere else. But I have to save and I have to serve. I'm okay with my path changing so long as I hold firm to my beliefs and fall in love with what I am working with others to accomplish. Jesus knows the way.
I fell in love in a different way this trip. Looking back, it makes perfect sense. How can you fall in love the same way two years apart with different people? I had changed and the village was new. How can one expect two relationships to be the same with two entirely different entities? So now, it makes sense. But then? I was scared it wasn't following what I was used to; I was scared love couldn't exist twice. How vulnerable I was and how blind; the love was there, just in a different form. I see that now. It was/is because of my family of eleven that I not only did see that love, but now I get to hold on to it.
So here's to you guys. Thank you. For opening my eyes, for being my support, and for showing me the way. Without you, I would have turned my back on one of the greatest loves I've ever known. That would have been cray cray.
With love,
Sabrina.
My mom asked me if I love it just because it is where I was most recently. Somehow, it's more than that. It's like when you fall in love; sure, you will love other people, but not in that same, specific, deep way. I don't know if it's a lifetime love, but right now it is where my heart lies. There, and with our family of eleven. I want, and need, to go back. Whether it is with my STL kids, SMC or alone. I need to be there. I need to be in their culture, in their systems and work side by side for more than five days. I want to share their struggles and triumphs; be a woman in a machismo society. See where it takes me. Right now, this is my lifetime organization. Donations, spreading the word, volunteering. It makes sense that ADESJO would be my lifetime partner; how easy is it to share about an organization when the love oozes from your soul? when the people hold your heart?
I don't really know what comes next, or what just happened. I don't know my next adventure will change my path; it's okay if it does. What I do know is right now I want to save, travel and serve. Today that destination is to San Jose de Ocoa. Maybe next year it will be somewhere else. But I have to save and I have to serve. I'm okay with my path changing so long as I hold firm to my beliefs and fall in love with what I am working with others to accomplish. Jesus knows the way.
I fell in love in a different way this trip. Looking back, it makes perfect sense. How can you fall in love the same way two years apart with different people? I had changed and the village was new. How can one expect two relationships to be the same with two entirely different entities? So now, it makes sense. But then? I was scared it wasn't following what I was used to; I was scared love couldn't exist twice. How vulnerable I was and how blind; the love was there, just in a different form. I see that now. It was/is because of my family of eleven that I not only did see that love, but now I get to hold on to it.
So here's to you guys. Thank you. For opening my eyes, for being my support, and for showing me the way. Without you, I would have turned my back on one of the greatest loves I've ever known. That would have been cray cray.
With love,
Sabrina.
Viernes (Friday) : Los Martinez y La playa!
We awake in San Jose de Ocoa and bring our donation bags to Sister Teani. Most of them contain supplies for the hospital, but some contain materials for their school as well. We are also able to give her a check to help their efforts in the villages, and we learn that our money will go toward creating a scholarship fund. After a long drive, our group finally arrives at another village named Los Martinez. Los Martinez is a model community for ADESJO, and a prime example of what kind of results their projects can produce. Around fifteen years ago, the community was destroyed by a horrible hurricane. After many years of ADESJO’s presence, the village now has an elaborate irrigation system, hydroelectric power, something resembling an internet café, three greenhouses for women, and a sustainable fish pond. Members from organizations like ADESJO come from all over Latin America to see how the community has developed here, and are amazed at how sustainable the projects are. ADESJO even won an award for their model community and its success.
We walk around the fish pond, and down to one of the greenhouses. To get to the greenhouse we pass a man who is carefully removing the shells from coffee beans. When we return from our walk, he has brewed us coffee with the beans he was shelling. Again, we are astounded by the incredible hospitality of the men and women we encounter.
After Los Martinez, we head to a beach where we relax and debrief for a couple hours. Sonia gives us the most amazing mango I’ve ever had in my life, and we get a chance to laugh and play in the water. The water is so blue and the beach is deserted but for our towels strewn across the sand. After a while we return to San Jose de Ocoa for our last dinner and night in the Dominican Republic.
-Meredith
We walk around the fish pond, and down to one of the greenhouses. To get to the greenhouse we pass a man who is carefully removing the shells from coffee beans. When we return from our walk, he has brewed us coffee with the beans he was shelling. Again, we are astounded by the incredible hospitality of the men and women we encounter.
After Los Martinez, we head to a beach where we relax and debrief for a couple hours. Sonia gives us the most amazing mango I’ve ever had in my life, and we get a chance to laugh and play in the water. The water is so blue and the beach is deserted but for our towels strewn across the sand. After a while we return to San Jose de Ocoa for our last dinner and night in the Dominican Republic.
-Meredith
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