Homecoming

Note: I wrote this article over two months ago and never got around to posting it.  I felt it was long overdue and necessary to post, even if just for myself.  I'll have one more follow up to post in the coming days as well.

Days 213 – 244

It’s hard to believe that 244 days have come and gone since I left for the Dominican Republic in January.  Even though I leave Barahona tomorrow morning, I simply cannot find the time to finish packing my bags.  It seems to me that once I finish packing my bags and collecting my belongings, it’s one step closer to moving on.  It’s hard to clearly state my feelings – I do believe I am ready to return home and am eager to see my family and friends but also have a pang of pain leaving the people here.  

It’s funny how quickly time passes, especially when you’re trying to utilize every passing second.  That’s the realization I felt during my last couple weeks in Barahona.  As eager as I had been to get home and see my family and friends, it was very hard to part from the life I had grown accustomed to for the past eight months.  

September felt like an odd month then whole time, knowing it would be my last month.  Times would pass when I would think of people I had met here – and realize I may not get the chance to say goodbye or see them ever again.  Since it’s an unknown, it’s hard to fathom the latter and wrap your mind around it.  Not only that, but how am I supposed to say goodbye to some people when I knew I still had time left in the country?  I began to realize it was partly my acceptance with the fact I was leaving as much as it was for my acquaintances.  What I mean to say is that it was very difficult for me to pick up and leave so quickly.

As a volunteer, work still went on around me, only I now had to decline a few projects here and there because of time.  It was an odd feeling going from accepting every odd job to evaluating the tasks to determine which I actually had time for.  It didn’t feel right, but just as my thesis adviser said, there comes a point when you have to stop taking on new work and finish what you’ve started.  That’s what I knew I had to do – finish what I started.  The only problem was part of me didn’t want to finish.  After all, this was different from leaving home back in January.  I knew I’d be back at home at some point in the future and could pick up where I left off.  Here, there was the doubt in my mind; the fear that I might not see some of these people ever again.  So I did the best I could with the time I had left and tried to let people know what they meant to me.  This was no easy task for me though as the goodbyes were often emotional and left me drained afterward.  In fact, during one of my last days I had planned to visit the homes of a number of families to say goodbye and had to stop after a few because I was emotionally drained after speaking with them.  

Sor Maria and I

It didn’t help that I was physically tired as well my last week in Barahona.  It just so happened that, with only one week left, I got very sick to the stomach and had to go to the hospital.  I was very low on fluids and got two IVs in the hospital, which helped immensely.  After I got back, I downed some pollo y yucca and went to bed for the rest of the day and night.  It felt good to be able to hold some food down and rest for a while.  It was in this miserable condition that I met Sor Maria, who had worked in Austin, TX for a couple years.  She had the “shoot first (or in this case, help first), ask questions later” type mentality and wasted no time helping when I was sick.  It was a shame that our time together was so short, but I still believe myself to be fortunate for having had the chance to meet her.  

With my time winding down, I feel a complete mixture of feelings: joy to see my family and sadness to have to say goodbye to so many wonderful people.  Excitement to see my friends and a bit of anxiety going back to the culture I grew up in with a fresh set of eyes.  

 
 

Certain questions bounce around in my head: Have I changed? (I believe I have, but for the better?  Has anything back home changed?  Will I find it hard to adjust back to life in the US with all the amenities and commodities?  What will I take with me from this trip?  Will I be missed?  How can I stay in contact with everyone there?  Will Barahona be the same when I return?  The questioning wears me out, I need not find all the answers just yet and I know they will be revealed to me in time.  

In closing, I wish to thank everyone for my time here – too many names to list, but each one has helped shape my story.  This shared experience has opened my eyes and helped me grow in so many different ways.  While this is the end of my mission in Barahona, I will always be there because of the wonderful people who have given me so much joy and so many memories to keep in my heart.  Gracias por todo.  

Changes and Cuba

Days 169-212

I’m back in the Dominican Republic after a very successful and interesting trip to Cuba.  I’ll describe more about that trip in the latter part of this entry.  First, I must update you all with a few bits of news and changes here in Barahona.

The variety of La Habana.

Each August 5^th is a special day for the Salesian Sisters as it is a day to celebrate their founding, but also a time for change.  Sor Elizabeth and Sor Dulce both were chosen to work in Santo Domingo, ending their time (for now) in Barahona.  With great sadness we had to say goodbye to these fantastic Sisters, but also welcomed the new director, Sor Pilar, back into the community.  Sor Pilar has many years experience already in Barahona and the community is very fond of her, so she received a warm reception upon her entrance into Barahona.  

Sor Elizabeth’s parting was difficult for everyone in many ways.  For the community, they had grown to depend on her presence and leadership over the past four years.  For her, she has poured her time and energy into developing the community here and has grown to be a part of it.  For me, Sor Elizabeth has been my director and guide for the past 7 months, both in work and faith.  It is a difficult parting and a challenge, but I’ve learned that is how we grow.  It is more important to remember the good parts of the past and look forward to the future than to dwell on the past and wish things hadn’t changed.

The bakery is thriving now and I can have a sense of peace in my mind that, unless something drastic happens, it should keep growing for years to come.  It is in good hands and we planned carefully in the beginning stages.  It feels good to be a part of it, but better to know that the community can benefit from it for years to come.  

Guanabacoa Sunset.

School is back in session again, just proving how quickly time flies.  Many familiar faces greeted me when I came back from Cuba making Barahona my home away from home.  There is that new energy upon the start of a new school year, when the kids are still excited and motivated to be here each day.  It’s contagious and I think will help me get back into the swing of things.

We survived tropical storm Isaac, but Barahona itself suffered some damage.  Due to the softer soil and shallow roots of the trees here, many houses were damaged and crops destroyed.  Of course, in an area such as this, they will re-grow rather quickly.  Flooding of rivers and creeks wreaked the most havoc here by far.  I was grounded in Santo Domingo for an extended stay after Cuba because a bridge was out on the ONLYroute from Santo Domingo to Barahona.  Before this, I had not realized that there is no other way to access the south besides that one highway.  It was another reminder to me of the good fortune we have in the US of our highway systems.

 

Now, about Cuba.  Cuba is quite a different world; I’m not sure how better to describe it simply.  Yes, we know our history with Cuba and that it is still a communist state, but what is life in Cuba like?  That’s what I wanted to know, and I found out on my trip.

I was presented with the opportunity to help out with a Summer Camp for the kids in the community of Guanabacoa, Cuba, a couple months ago.  I jumped at the opportunity, knowing I might not have another good chance to visit Cuba in my life.  I had learned a bit more about Cuba from some other Cuban volunteers here in Barahona, but just stories.  I wanted to have the opportunity to witness the country firsthand.  

However, the Sisters warned me that life was a bit difficult in Cuba.  Since we were going though, they used the opportunity to send some provisions to the Sisters in Guanabacoa, since they’re not easy to come by there.  We were each to take two suitcases with us, one with our belongings and the other with materials for the kids’ camp and provisions for the Sisters.

After preparation, I set out for Cuba on August 9^th with two other Dominican volunteers: Ana and Melianny.  We had our bags weighed and boarded the Cubana Air plane, headed for La Habana.  I noticed immediately the rules on the plane were a bit more relaxed, as people walked freely down the aisles, even during ascension.  The flight was short, but eventful.  With only 10 minutes left in the flight, we hit the strongest bit of turbulence I’ve ever felt.  Luckily for me, I was in my seat with my seatbelt.  However, one man was waiting to use the restroom and we dropped and recovered so quickly that he became airborne and hit the floor fast enough to fracture hit ankle.  The plane was shaking, he was screaming, the pilots were yelling in Spanish over the intercom.  Not my ideal scenario for a flight.  Luckily we landed safely 10 minutes later.

The propaganda in Cuba is a sight in itself in Cuba.

This was only the beginning of our troubles though.  After we got off the plane, we were asked to show our documents by a man in civilian clothes.  The man turned out to be a government agent screening “suspicious” people.  We were questioned for a half an hour about our intentions in Cuba.  We mentioned we were volunteers, which ended up being a mistake.

Painted on the wall next to the sign: "Socialism or Death."

After he wrote down all our information (repeat ALL our information), we went through security to get our bags.  Things seemed fine at first, and we were almost at the door when a group of officers came towards us and told us that they needed to search our bags.  It turns out that the agent in civilian clothes had flagged us and radioed to other officers to search us.  So, for the next three hours, we have our bags searched thoroughly.  Article by article, they went through everything.  It turns out that they declared many of our things “gifts”, which they do not permit people to bring into the country.  This included our materials for the kids and provisions for the Sisters as well as other items.  They took our passports and kept us under surveillance the whole time.  I wanted to say that this isn’t right, but remembered that I was not in a democratic state.  

After three hours, we were able to leave the airport – missing three bags.  They had confiscated them, claiming contraband.  We heading to Guanabacoa a bit tired and frustrated.  The days leading up to the camp, we scrounged for materials and prepared the best we could.  The frustration wore off as the camp started, with the kids bringing an energy and aura of joy with them. They were one of the most well-disciplined groups of kids I've ever worked with and must say that I grew quite attached to a few of them in the short time I was there.

Every day during our stay in Cuba, one determined Sister, Sor Lupita went to the airport everyday to request our bags.  I want to note what a sacrifice this was, as it took 30 minutes to get to the airport, using the Sister’s van with precious fuel.  Finally, after 8 days, our bags were released with everything inside.  We were all pretty amazed that none of the items had been removed during that time and thanked God (and Sor Lupita) for the provisions.  However, at this point, there were only 2 days left of the Summer Camp and we had gotten by on the supplies we had.  That didn’t keep us from feeling a bit relieved though with a plethora of supplies for the last two days.

Santiago, Ana, Jairon, and I in Villa Maria.

After the camp finished, we had made acquaintances with various parents and leaders of the communities.  We were invited to a dinner party in one community, Villa Maria, and turned out to be an unforgettable night in Cuba.  As a citizen of the United States, I was unsure how I would be treated in the villages.  I can assure you though that the people welcomed me warmly and greeted me with respect and kindness.  Though they did admit they had a few qualms with our government, they noted that it was not my doing, just as they were not to blame for living under Fidel.  That night, the kids showed me their houses, I learned to dance salsa, and ate a variety of Cuban dishes prepared by the community.  

I found it interesting how the various communities acted as large families, a by-product of living in a communist society.  They all knew who was who and openly depended on each other’s strength to fulfill daily requirements.  Unfortunately, the downside is that the relationship community to community suffered.  People normally wouldn’t talk to one another if they weren’t acquainted, just because you never know who is on which side.

Dancing in Villa Maria.

Another event happened the following day, during lunch in another community.  As we were eating and enjoying ourselves, a man came by the house and asked for the head of the household.  He went to the front door and his wife motioned for us to be quiet.  The man at the door was working for the government and was making his random inspections of household allotments: water, bread, cheese, milk, energy, etc.  Though we were not talking about anything of importance, his wife later told us it was better to keep quiet in times like those.  It’s the small experiences such as those that remind me how lucky I am to be free.

Mango tree in full bloom in Guanabacoa.

This is not to say that Cuba does not have anything to offer.  The plethora of fruits, vegetables, fresh cheese, and milk available (for tourists) was worth noting.  Both the cheese and the milk were amazingly cheap and fresh, something I could definitely get used to.  It is hard to go back to store-bought dairy after having eaten real dairy.  The coffee and (so I’m told) tobacco is both cheap and of high quality in Cuba, with the same exact price in every single shop.

Scene from Mad Men?  No, just a typical street in Cuba.

La Habana was another experience as well.  Setting foot in La Habana, you might feel as if you’ve stepped into a time machine and gone back to the mid 1950’s.  Old Chevy’s and Ford’s are the most common sight and all the buildings have a colonial Spanish style to them.  I was amazed at the size and number of buildings with beautiful facades in La Habana alone.  Unfortunately many buildings are in need of renovations and reparations.  With just a little bit of money, La Habana could be one of the most beautiful cities I’ve seen.  It was as if everything had stopped in the 1950’s.  Oh wait…

La Habana Vieja Residential District

La Habana Vieja Tourist District

Ultimately, after two weeks, we left La Habana and headed back to Santo Domingo without incident.  Upon arriving in Santo Domingo, I felt a feeling I hadn’t fully experienced before: liberty.  I wasn’t even in my native country, but I felt safer and more secure.  It’s interesting the psychological impact and feeling of control the government has in Cuba.  Too many things are made too difficult: the transportation, the food, the money, the communication, and education.  For this reason, and my experiences, I have to admit that I never want to live in a Communist society and hope that there is a non-violent change on the way in Cuba.  

Santa Maria Beach, Cuba.

I could write for hours about the many experiences in Cuba, but unfortunately I do not have the time to document all them.  To me, this entry seems a bit shallow compared to my overall experience, but I’m afraid it will have to suffice for now.  However, I want to make the impression that I am extremely happy that I was able to experience these things and get to know the people of Cuba, for they are some of the nicest and humble people I’ve met.  I’ve learned from them and their life and will pray for change and their well-being. 

Community

Days 125 - 168

Note: As with my last entry, this one is again personal for me.  However I realize that my last entry was very serious and not too uplifting.  I don´t want to send the impression that every day is like that.  While the reality is that people do live in those conditions, they don´t live in a continual state of melancholy and sorrow. This entry is a continuation of sorts to my last entry, but with a more positive tone.  

The events that happened in May left me with the feeling that I was still missing something.  Though I had been here for a little over three months, I still didn´t quite understand everything.  In my mind, I thought I felt I had absorbed a fair amount of knowledge about the community, yet was often still treated as an outsider.  Of course it still frustrated me, but I tried to look at it with a new perspective.

Oftentimes we mix needs with wants and can easily confuse the two. I wanted to feel a sense of belonging, but didn´t want to work and wait for it.  Trust can only be formed with time and shared experiences.  Of course it was harder for them to build up trust than I when so many volunteers come and go here in Barahona.  For me, I was out of my comfort zone, out of my community – and I wanted to be a part of this one.  

It is common knowledge that our Western society has spoiled us a bit to the point that we oftentimes prefer instant gratification rather than waiting for the fruits of our labor to ripen.  I am just the same way, wanting to be initiated into the community as soon as possible without trial and due process.  I should know from my own experiences that real relationships need time and a solid foundation for stability.  

Luckily for me, I have a lot of time to spend here in Barahona with the Sisters and members of the community.  I´ve begun to notice a slow and gradual initiation into the community here, and it brought me joy that my prayers were being answered - with God´s time, not mine.

Sancocho!

On my birthday, the day started off great with many people greeting me at morning mass and a special blessing from Padre Edvard.  The Sisters arranged the kitchen with festive items and even went out of their way to get me a few things.  Ana, our excellent cook, knew my favorite meal (Sancocho!) already and made it for us that day.  Other people stopped by the school just to wish me a happy birthday.  I felt very fortunate to be working in such a community that cares enough to go out of their way just to stop by and wish me well.

Later that day, I went for a run down the Malecón (street by the sea, almost every coastal town in the DR has one).  I have made it a habit to run a few times a week and enjoy getting to different people of the community when I go.  On my birthday, something unusual happened.  As I reached the Malecón, I recognized kids from the school who were also jogging.  They asked to run with me and I gladly accepted.  We made our way down to the beach where we encountered many more kids, who somehow all knew it was my birthday.  I felt bad in the fact that I didn’t even know all their names.  We parted ways at the beach and I headed back into town to continue my run.  

El Malecón in Santo Domingo.

Not two minutes later, another man caught up with me, a Haitian.  I had seen him running before, but had never had the chance to talk with him.  He mentioned that he had seen me run a number of times and wanted to introduce himself.  His name was Spelucia (I probably did not spell that right, as it is a French-Creole name pronounced speh-loosh-cha) and he was training for marathons here in Barahona.  We ran together and told each other how we both came here, me as a volunteer, him with him father when he was younger.  Again, it brought be pleasure to have company instead of stares and odd looks.

 

It seemed that this was just the beginning for my running companions.  Since my birthday, I´ve had at least 10 other people wish to run with me, many of them being kids from the Mini Basketball team I helped coach.  At one point, three kids from the team and I were running and we passed a house they knew.  The mother of the house asked the kids what they were up to, and they replied that they were running with their friend, Russell.  I couldn´t hold back my smile.  

Apart from that, I´ve had another great gift in recent days – my whole family came to visit.  It was a very busy week, as I showed them Barahona, Santo Domingo, Pedernales, Polo, and Jarabacoa, but a once in a lifetime experience.  Again, the planning, the execution, and the last minute requests showed that people here would go out of their way to help me, and I was so thankful for them.  I could go on and on and tell about the adventures my family and I had here, but since many people who read this blog are my family members, I’m sure they’re heard it firsthand.

My family and I in Jarabacoa!

My family coming to visit me also brought about an unexpected effect on my life here in Barahona, something I hadn’t planned for.  The people in the community appreciated that I brought my family here to Barahona and they really enjoyed getting to meet them!  They know that a lot of tourists come to the Dominican Republic, but it was somehow different with my family.  They liked the fact that we spent the majority of our time here in the South, and not the north or the east like the majority of the tourists.  Even people who did not get to meet my family have come up and told me that they were happy that I was happy that my family came.  

Reflecting on these comments and recent events, I’ve realized that the one thing I was missing is starting to fill in: community.  I believe strongly we all need some form of community in our lives, what we group we decide to be a part of is our choice.  Here, I was easily accepted into the community with the Sisters, but it took a while to build trust with the larger community of the school and neighborhood.  This trust and sense of community must be a mutual feeling, and it finally was.  For the people here, they had a community before me and will have a community after I leave, which is why it can be doubly hard to be initiated into the community.  As humans, we know this and it is often the reason why we have difficulty accepting new people and groups into communities we feel are whole.  Why change something that’s functioning and risk injury to our pride and heart?  For one, we also know deep down that investment in others can also lead greater rewards than pain.  Because of this delicate balance between risk and reward, we must evaluate the person before initiation.  In my case, I was able to invest my time and energy into helping here and the people have recognized this and now done the same for me.  

I’m sure there are other psychologists who have stated all this much better than I could, but the revelation came through experience and being on the opposite side of the fence. 

Other good news relating to trust – nearly a year ago I was fortunate enough to travel to Ethiopia with Grace Giving International, a very generous non-profit organization who founded a school in the small town of Burayu and was in their first year of running the school.  During my stay in Ethiopia, I befriended a teenager named Dika who was always helping around the church and the school.  I noticed that for his age, Dika was a bit taller than the other kids, closer to my height in fact.  However, he wore a pair of sandals and pants that looked like they had been worn for many years and were long out-grown.  Towards the end of the 11 day trip, I noticed that he had never changed clothes while we were there.  I asked another volunteer who had lived in the community for an extended time about him and she filled me in on some details: his mother was sick and everything he earns goes towards her medicine and feeding his family.  He had received other gifts from organizations, but ended up selling them for money for food.  My heart ached.  Before I left, I wrote him a note to encourage him and left a pair of pants and tennis shoes for him.  The volunteer who’d be staying there said he might end up selling those too, but I was ok with that, I had a feeling that I needed to.  

Dika and I in Ethiopia

A few weeks ago, I received an e-mail from one of the board members of Grace Giving International telling me about the trip this year.  The email was filled with positive news of growth and well-being, but also held a gem for me.  Dale had encountered Dika this visit, who asked about me.  Dale informed Dika that I was unable to come this year but would pass on the greetings.  Dika also wanted me to know that he still had my shoes and pants and only wore them on special occasions, so as not to wear them out.  It is hard to express the rewarding feeling I felt when I heard this.  However, I must not pat myself on the back too much, as I believe it was GGI’s hard work in establishing trust and building a community in Ethiopia that allowed me to walk in and help where I could.