Perspective

The pessimist would tell my story this way: The morning of my departure from the DR, I couldn’t find my passport. (Classic me, right?) I show up to the airport with a photocopy of my passport that I had made before I left in June. Never thought I’d actually need to use it. So the American Airlines rep in Santiago calls ahead to immigration in Miami to clear me through, and says I shouldn’t have a problem. The key word here is shouldn’t. When I try to go through security, the guard tells me I can’t go through with just a copy of my passport, unless I have the very same AA rep walk me through. So I run back to the desk to grab him, only to find that he is no longer there. So I wait about 15 minutes for them to go through the process all over again and okay it a second time, all the while literally holding my breath. I finally got a different rep to walk me through security, and barely made it on the flight.
Thinking my troubles are over, when I arrive in Miami for my connecting flight, I get flagged in customs. The guy takes the copy of my passport and sends me to immigration, where I’m told I will wait about 15 minutes. Let’s just say that 15 minutes quickly (or should I say slowly…) became 3 ½ hours. Every single time I tried to get up and ask what was going on, someone would yell at me to sit down and wait my turn. Meanwhile, I am carrying a laptop for a friend who was traveling with me, and I can’t leave the immigration room to get it to her before she gets on her next flight (which was the same flight I was supposed to be on). It turns out, they lost my copy of my passport, and the officer I finally talked to after 3 ½ hours told me that they shouldn’t have even sent me to immigration. So he stamps my customs card and I rush out to see when the next available flight is. Well, I get stopped again, because apparently the officer who stamped my customs sheet failed to right the number 1 over the stamp. So I go back to immigration, and wait in line again to get all the way through customs. At this point, I have been told that because of all this mis-hap, I will always have to go through immigration when I come back to the State from out of country. Exciting times ahead.
So…I go to transfer to the next available flight, and after waiting in an hour-long line, I get to the receptionist who happens to be making plans with her girlfriends for Monday night. When she hangs up, I tell her I need the next available flight to Chicago, because I got held up in immigration. After staring at her computer for about 15 minutes, she says, “There is a fight RIGHT NOW! RUN!” So I run to re-check my luggage, run through security, and run about a half mile to my gate with no shoes on, and all my bags flailing in the air. When I get to my gate, they tell me I’m only a standby passenger, so I might not even make it on.
Eventually I did get to board the plane, still dripping with sweat from my half-mile run. Our departure time was delayed, so we sat in Miami for about a half hour before we took off. Then we had to be re-routed three different times due to extreme thunderstorms, (the severity of which the pilot announced he hadn’t witnessed in 33 years in flying). We flew around the Carolinas, up to Wisconsin, and actually right over Columbus, and finally landed in Chicago. At this point, I’ve already missed my connecting flight to Cleveland.Lucky for me, the last flight of Cleveland had been slightly delayed, so I hiked up my jeans and ran again (this time with shoes on), and just BARELY made it on the plane. It was a very tiny plane, and the guy next to me just so happened to take up half of my seat as well. Somewhat claustrophobic. But alas, I made it home to Cleveland! It’s a shame they lost my luggage in the process.


Here’s an optimist’s version: I managed to lose my passport the night before I left the DR to come home, but it’s a good thing I made a photocopy of it before I left the States! Normally you have to go to the embassy (which was Santo Domingo, about a 5 hours drive from where we were), to get a temporary passport to leave the country. But since the representative from American Airlines was familiar with Orphanage Outreach, she walked me through security and I got right on the plane. Amazing luck…or providence?
When I get to Miami, I get held up in immigration for a little over 3 hours, where I was the only American citizen in a room full of different nationalities and ethnicities. It was so cool to be in such a diverse atmosphere, and to hear so much Spanish being spoken in the States. Although it felt like forever to wait, I met handfuls of people with incredible stories. It was here that my little pee-brain mind was opened up to a whole new realm of injustices in the immigration system. The Martinez family was stopped in customs and sent to immigration because the security guard claimed that they had a “common last name”. Suspicious I guess. A very professional-looking and –sounding woman I met (in about her mid-30’s) from the Caiman Islands was flying through Miami to get back home from one of her frequent business trips to the States. This is about her 50th time being stopped in customs because she was born in Cuba. Though she is not a Cuban citizen, she spent that whole first year of her life in Cuba. Again, suspicious, right? Another woman I met was ethnically Haitian, and even though she was born and raised in the Bronx, they stopped her in customs and sent her to immigration without reason. In the small crowded immigration room are officers herding people like cattle, and yelling for people to sit down. The bathroom is a tin can on a floor. The atmosphere was filled with tension and oppression. And we waited at the mercy of the officers, while they took their time scrolling through files, calling another name every 10 minutes or so. (There were probably 60 or 70 people in this room…families, babies, elderly, you name it.) They treat you so disrespectfully here, unless they find out you’re an American citizen. Then they try to save face and get on your good side.
I tell you all this to say that I am so thankful I got to experience immigration first-hand. I never knew it was so appallingly inhumane and undignifying. I had amazing conversations with the people I met during these four hours, some regarding more serious issues of prejudice and racism, and some more along the lines of comic relief (thank God for Kimberly, my Haitian friend, who has a smart mouth…she was absolutely hilarious). It’s one thing to hear people’s stories, and be aware that our system of immigration is slightly complicated, but it’s a whole different story to witness so much injustice first-hand. I could NEVER regret my experience at the Miami airport. It was such a painfully beautiful learning experience: something that I couldn’t have learned any other way. Even after I left immigration, I ran into my friend from the Caiman Islands periodically, as I was waiting in line to transfer my flight. It was kind of a cool thing to feel keep bumping into people I had already met...my little airport community.
When I got on my plane, I met a Bolivian girl a little older than me who spoke perfect English and perfect Spanish. She is studying physical therapy in Chicago, and she was home for the summer visiting her family. We had some amazing talks about both of our experiences in Miami customs, and she told me that she was stopped to for a reason which they never told her. This girl was hands-down the best airplane stranger I’ve ever met. We did the Sudoku puzzle and word games from the newspaper clippings Mrs. Miralia sent me down in the DR :) It was really a fun plane ride.
On my flight to Cleveland, I sat next to a man who grew up all over the world as a military kid, and went to boarding school in England. He just recently came back from a hunting trip in South Africa. Very interesting conversations we had. Oh, and I forgot to mention that I saw the most beautiful skies I’ve ever seen in my whole life. On our way to Chicago, we literally flew into the sunset. The sky was hot pink and orange: brighter and more vibrant than I’ve ever seen. After it got dark, we saw the coolest thunderstorms from the plane: huge cumulonimbus clouds and bolts of lightning flashing ever five seconds or so, literally lighting up the entire sky. Like I said, the coolest skies I’ve ever seen.

So you see, it’s all about perspective really. Honestly I think it's an exhausting task to be an optimist. But the thing about optimism is that it has the capacity to make your experiences so much richer…like every minute actually has value.

Lesson learned: Optimism is taxing, but so worthwhile.

And she RAMBLES!...

This week, Orphanage Outreach put on a camp in “Batey Isabella” each afternoon. A batey is a gated farming community, usually very poverty-stricken, with little access to good drinking water and almost no contact with the outside world.

I got an opportunity to train a group of volunteers how to run the English station, which—out of all the things I’ve seen here—may have been the most interesting experience I’ve encountered yet in the Dominican Republic. Volunteers come in all shapes and sizes, both literally and figuratively. Everyone is coming from a different perspective, a different frame of reference. Different ideas, different opinions, different personalities, different leadership styles, different motivations and/or incentives to do a week-long trip like this, and vastly different styles of communication. The four volunteers I worked with all had incredibly strong personalities. Muy muy muy fuerte. All, very passionate people: enthusiastic, excited, wanting to make a difference. At first, I thought planning for camp would be a breeze.

Let’s just say…I thought wrong.

On Monday, we basically fell flat on our faces. Like hard-core, bombed it. Because our personalities clashed so much, we couldn’t plan anything to save our lives. Haha, it’s almost funny in retrospect to think how horribly that first day went. I was going through any and every excuse that could possibly get me out of this particular group.

Well, today is Thursday. To everyone’s shock and amazement, we successfully completed this week of camp alive, with just a few scratches and bruises (not to mention 17 brand-new mosquito bites…). I really got an incredible opportunity to see change and growth in group dynamics in a way that highlighted each person’s strengths. Monday night after camp, we re-grouped to address the conflict and re-organize the structure of our station. By God’s grace (no joke) we learned how to work together, and I was able to learn the difference between enabling people and being lazy or apathetic. Let me explain. Because it was so difficult at times, I really just wanted to throw the towel in and let these four volunteers literally slit each other’s throats. But I just couldn’t do that at the expense of the kids who could truly benefit from this camp. On the other hand, it was also easy for me to just do everything myself. I’ve done it before; I know what’s best, so I can do it better, right?

Wrong again.

Empowerment is such a fragile balance. It is an important concept when doing social work, business, ministry, teaching, and even raising children. Helping a person or group of people in a way (or to the extent) that it cripples them in the long-run is not good. It forces a life-long dependency of this person or these people on you, meanwhile making yourself feel good. This is what we call in social work, enabling someone. However, you cannot then, go to the other extreme and provide zero guidance, zero instruction, zero tools, and expect this person or people to flourish; it’s simply not realistic. Empowerment is that fine line somewhere between enablement and apathy.

This past week, let’s just say I got plenty of practice with this concept.

What do they need?

When Tom Eklund first started Orphanage Outreach, he came to this orphanage in Monte Cristi that I’m at now. This time 15 years ago, the kids were dirty, and many of them had bloated bellies from malnourishment. There was very little food and water to go around. When Tom talked to Pastor Ramón about bringing some resources and volunteers down to assist the orphanage, he said “We’d be happy to provide you with more funding for food and water.” No-brainer, right? That probably would have been my gut reaction as well.

But Pastor Ramón simply said “No, what we need is a wall.”

If any of you are familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs, the primary necessity is safety and security. The children at the orphanage in Monte Cristi had no sense of boundary before the wall was built. People from the community could easily roam in and out of the orphanage grounds, and kids could easily wander off.

Now that there is a wall, the primary need of the kids is met: security. There is a thick wall, about 10 feet high, that runs the perimeter of the orphanage grounds. Inside the wall is the orphanage itself, where the children live, as well as a playground, a basketball court, a main office/educational center, and a cluster of ramadas (where Orphanage Outreach volunteers and interns live). The children here have clear physical boundaries that allow them the safety and security they need to gain some sense of emotional stability, amidst the trauma they have already endured.

I love this story, because it just goes to show that when you come in from the outside, you cannot make assumptions about what a community’s (or person’s) needs are. You have to ask. Tom Eklund thought he knew: food and water; it seemed obvious. But it’s a good thing he asked, because the answer he received was vastly different than what he expected. This is a good lesson for me as a social worker, but it is also a crucial aspect of any kind of helping profession and mission work as well.

In other words, feeling like we already have all the answers can sometimes be detrimental, even dangerous.

American Perfectionism

This past Sunday, I went to church with the kids from the orphanage. It was hot, stuffy, and swarming with mosquitoes. People got there early; people strolled in late. Some sang on-key. Some sang off-key. The “band” consisted of a guitar (which was barely audible), a ripped drum, and a tall tin can. In the middle of the service, the city power shut off. This meant no lights and no fans.

And yet, in the dark, humid sanctuary, the service continued on. We sang songs—some of which I understood and some of which I had no clue what I was singing. (I’m guessing they were about Jesus…) The mosquitoes attacked. The pastor preached a beautiful sermon. We swatted the mosquitoes. And we absorbed the Word of God.

I have to think that these kinds of things wouldn’t happen back home. I mean, we Americans are punctual (well…if you’re not a DiNardo), we make sure our worship bands and our church choirs are up to par, and we work hard at preventing the unpredictable. We get anxious if there is a glitch in the service, or if something doesn’t go as planned. If the lights aren’t right, if the air conditioning isn’t at the right level, if someone forgets they were supposed to usher…etc. Needless to say, our standards are very very high.

Now before I go on, let me throw out a disclaimer…a very large one, actually. It is truly a beautiful thing to utilize the resources to which we have access. It is CRUCIAL to view them as blessings—meaning we have done nothing to earn them, because they are gifts. It is a very godly, noble thing to make the best use of our talents and to be dedicated to our work. It is respectable and respectful to be on time. These are good, positive attributes found throughout American culture.

Okay, so that was my disclaimer. Now I can tell you what I really think…(just kidding, I really meant what I said!) BUT, I want to play devil’s advocate for a minute and challenge American Christians to—instead of seeing all of the imperfections around us—see the good. To focus our eyes on the things that are going well, instead of being overly critical about the things that don’t really matter. Because sometimes, our obsession with perfection is more of an unhealthy anxiety, rather than a genuine desire to glorify God. We cannot earn more of God’s love or more of his divine favor by making the flow of our services more perfect.

What’s more, is we cannot continue to let our faith ride solely on what makes us comfortable. Would we stop coming to church if there was no AC? Would we stop coming to church if the pews were uncomfortable or if—heaven forbid—there were no doughnuts or coffee?



So I ask the Church in America, what if we faced the reality of imperfection instead of letting it mercilessly taunt us with the fear of discomfort, or worse: failure?

the elefante in the room

Today at camp we talked about the huge elefante in the room: race.

We started the conversation by talking about differences in general. Likes, dislikes, short, tall, age, gender, personality, etc. Then it led to "soy dominicano and eres americana". Then we talked about how some of us are darker skinned than others and some of us are lighter skinned than others. Some of us are American, some of us are Dominican, and some of us are Haitian. Nuestras diferencias son magnificas. We need to treat everyone with respeto (respect), regardless of race or skin color. It's basic. It's true. But it is something that mankind has consistently struggled with throughout history.

There is another social work intern here named Etsuko, who lives in Hawaii, but is originally from Japan. The kids call her "americana" along with the rest of us, or they call her "china". Needless to say, there have been many teachable moments. We have also coached the kids to call us by our names, instead of "americanas" or "teacher".

Random side note: The cutest thing in the whole wide world is little Dominican children learning English. Yes that's a strong statement. But oh so true. Especially when they say the word "coconut". If only I was that cute fumbling around with Spanish.

Mas Fotos

one of my fave houses in monte cristi...

Mery Risa and I...she is so beautiful and precious...always ready to jump into your arms. She shows signs of autism, and has apparently come a long way since she got to the orphanage. She is finally starting to remember my name. She pronounces it "Dis-dina".

This is my new friend who came to camp everyday last week in Monzenio. Same spot, everyday. Faithful little oinker.

This is the house of Ozzie Virgil, the first Dominican to play for the MLB. Here's a news article I found, for all you baseball fanatics. http://mlb.mlb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20060922&content_id=1676418&vkey=news_mlb&fext=.jsp&c_id=mlb

"El Moro"

finally figured out how to upload pictures...

my favorite kind of tree...they're everywhere down here!

futbol americano!

this mosquito net has become my best friend

this is Yanena...looks like we're both stumped on this one lol

Yeah I know I look good in this one! This is Nicole Rosie.

Campamento en Monzenio

On Tuesday at the "social work" station of camp, we talked about various emotions. (Typical, right? lol) But anyway...in all seriousness, kids generally seem to use the same three words to describe how they are feeling: happy, sad, or mad. However, research has shown that if kids can expand their “emotion vocabulary”, then they will be able to better understand exactly what they are feeling and why. So we did skits demonstrating all the different emotions: celosa (jealous), aburrida (bored), cansada (tired), sorprendida (surprised), nerviosa (nervous), preocupada (worried), and so on and so forth. While this sounds very simple, our main goal was to empower kids with a larger vocabulary so that they can better express themselves.

On Wednesday at the "social work" station, we taught the kids about repect: respecting the environment, respecting their personal belongings, respecting their peers, as well as respecting their teachers and parents. Let me just say that it is incredibly difficult to teach these kinds of things in a fun "camp-ish" sort of way. We had to get real creative, but it was a lot of fun. We did a lot of skits, demonstrating the correct way to treat people, as well as relay races where the kids had to pick up trash, fold shirts and put away a deck of cards. They are very competitive, so it works really well to turn any kind of learning experience into a competition. I also noticed that no matter how competitive they got, they were ALL very meticulous about folding the shirts...it was so precious.

On Thursday at the rec station, we played a lot of futbol americano (football), papa caliente (hot potato), Simon dice (Simon says), and pata pata ganza (duck duck goose).

Canta Conmigo

This week, we put on a camp in the town of Monzenio for the kids in that community (which is about a 45-minute bus ride full of música dominicana away from where we stay in Monte Cristi). There were four stations: recreation, reading, English vocab, and health/social work. We were paired with Dominicans who helped us translate and keep the kids under control…and were a TON of fun to work with. On Monday, I was at the English station, and we taught the kids this song to help them learn their colors in English.

Wait, what's that...you wanna hear it?

Glad you're so eager to learn. (It’s to the tune of Frére Jacques)…

Red es rojo, red es rojo
Blue azul, blue azul
Yellow amarillo, yellow amarillo
iGreen verde! igreen verde!

Brown es café, brown es café
Pink rosado, pink rosado
Purple es morado, purple es morado
iOrange naranja! iorange naranja!

Black es negro, black es negro
Gray es gris, gray es gris
White es blanco blanco, White es blanco blanco
iLos colores! iLos colores!


iBuen trabajo! You sound great. Now you know your colors in Spanish.

Sabía que…? (Did you know…?)

…Haitians carry pots/baskets/etc. on the top of their head, and Dominicans carry things on their shoulders.

…everyone in the DR rides motorcycles and mopeds; it’s not uncommon to find an entire family piled on a single moped, nor is it uncommon to find two men riding together or a mother and several naked babies tucked around her.

…here in the DR, there aren’t separate communities for the rich and the poor (aka “the burbs vs. the projects”); often times you can find a dirt floor shack right next to an big beautiful home with lots of color and perfect landscaping. This is because is Dominican culture, it is assumed that where you were born is where you will spend the rest of your life. If you get rich, you build a nicer house on the same property you already own. Thus, the rich and the poor are used to living side by side. Having said all of this, it is typical to find more poverty in rural areas, because they are further from various resources that urban areas have to offer.

…Dominicans are a mix of Spanish, Taíno (indigenous tribe before Columbus arrived), and African blood. This is why Dominicans can fall almost anywhere on the skin color spectrum.

…racism is very prevalent in the DR, particularly against Haitians, but also against other Dominicans of a darker color. Darker-colored Dominicans are stereo-typed as dangerous, violent, less intelligent, and are seen as criminals and addicts. The darker the skin, the greater the prejudice. (Sounds a little bit familiar unfortunately…)

…because Dominicans typically do not enjoy walking far distances, it is very common to see people offer rides to complete strangers. Hitchhiking is not illegal in this country.

…it is common to hear men hissing at women; it’s their version of a cat-call. Dominican men have a thing for American women; they are seen as a trophy or a prize. When we go through town, we often hear “Marry me!” or “Mi amor!” or “I love you baby!” I mean hey, if they think I really look that attractive in my oversized Orphanage Outreach t-shirt and the beautiful aroma of bug spray and sweat, I’m okay with that.

…here in the DR, prostitution is in fact legal, however, it becomes illegal only when there is a third party involved. In other words, pimps and brothels are illegal (which doesn’t mean nonexistent), but people can choose to prostitute themselves on their own.

Detox

An important value in social work is the strength’s perspective. It’s where you look at the strengths of an individual or group or community, and you figure out how to empower them in a way that uses and highlights their strongest attributes.

Dominicans are a people completely consumed by the present moment. While some would say their lack of planning and punctuality is exactly why this is still a developing country, I would argue that their ability to recognize the value of the here and now is extremely powerful. Their primary concern is relationships, not productivity and definitely not efficiency. Thus, life seems to move at a much slower pace down here. Being here is like going through detox. My stress, my frustrations, my impatience, my constant need for multi-tasking, and the general fast-paced busyness of American culture are literally being flushed out of my system. (And I definitely experience withdrawal from time to time...) Every day we have a one to two hour siesta. It gives me time to rest, to recharge, to read, to play with the kids, and to simply think and reflect. In the Dominican, all that exists is the here and the now.

The now is always here and that’s all we ever have. Tomorrow is a then; yesterday was a then; this fall at Taylor is a then; going back home is a then.

So how do the strengths of this people come into play with regards to social work on a macro level? How can this community, or this entire country for that matter, continue to develop without ever having a sense of urgency or efficiency? (This is something I am constantly mulling over, so I would love your thoughts!)

Yanena

7/1/10
Today, I got an opportunity to work with Yanena, a 21-year-old girl here at the orphanage who always wears her hair in one long French braid and has a giant toothy smile, full of braces. Unlike most of the kids here, she has spent her entire childhood at this orphanage in Monte Cristi; she has been allowed to stay past the age of 18, because she shows numerous signs of mental retardation (although she has not been officially diagnosed). Just a few hours ago, she read me the story of Cinderella. Ella está preciosa. Her reading level is probably that of a second grader, and she also has some minor speech impediments. Although my Spanish is not great, I know pronunciation fairly well, so I was actually able to help her practice reading and pronouncing words correctly. I never thought Cinderella could be such a mutually beneficial tool for literacy, speech therapy, and learning Spanish...gracias Cinderella! (LP I totally thought of you…literacy! Thas yo’ thang girlll.) After working with Yanena, I really think she is also dyslexic, because she kept switching the same letters around over and over again. When I asked her to spell the word for me, she still had a very difficult time saying the letters in order. But...we will keep reading together and helping each other. She’ll become a better reader and I’ll (slowly but surely) get better at Spanish.

Quick sidenote - all of the kids at the orphanage pick on her and laugh at her, and I believe that she lives a very isolated life. Please pray for Yanena.

…the PRISON.

6/30/10
Today the social work interns got to see the prison, where over 400 inmates are crammed into a space built for 70 people. There are currently 386 men and 36 women at the Monte Cristi prison, and on any given night, approximately 150 inmates are forced to sleep on the floor due to the massive overcrowding. While males and females are separated, there is no differentiation of any kind between prisoners with varying degrees of offenses. Some are cheaters, some are thieves, some are drug lords, and some are murderers: all living together under one roof—que fiesta! Fights, sexual assaults, bribery, threats, and severe injuries are incredibly common. When it rains, the men stand under the roof shoulder to shoulder. There is virtually no access to medical equipment if someone is injured by another inmate or contracts an illness of any sort. Disease spreads like wildfire – if one person is sick, everyone is sick. Also, these inmates are required to pay for their own transportation to court; otherwise, they will remain in jail until they can pay. The corruption and manipulation of the political structure spills over into the judicial system and the prisons. Authorities turn a blind eye to the atrocious conditions and overcrowding in the prisons, as well as a deaf ear to the numerous complaints of the disciplinary officer.

Social Work in Monte Cristi

Christina, what do you do all day besides miss Cleveland?

Glad you asked! First, here’s a brief background on Orphanage Outreach. It’s an organization founded by Tom Eklund that empowers existing orphanages with a constant influx of volunteers and interns, who facilitate programs and provide resources and fresh creativity. I just found out today actually that OO even provides a scholarship opportunity for some of the orphans to attend a local university after they leave the orphanage (age 18). Every week, Orphanage Outreach volunteers put on various camps and programs that benefit the kids on a holistic level. However, this is the very first summer they’ve brought in a group of social work interns…aka me and 4 other girls. Consequently, they do not have a specific role for us to fill quite yet. We are here to do some trail-blazing, and hopefully establish a long-term partnership between agencies in the community of Montecristi and social work interns here at OO. It involves a lot of exploring, a lot of debriefing, a lot of questioning, a lot of observing, a lot of creativity and a lot of critical thinking and brainstorming. Our group leaders are Mary (a school social worker) and Patty (a swk prof who has been in the field for a long time). When we are available, we assist the other volunteers with the different programs—this week is math camp…divertido, no? lol—however, our main goal is to assess the existing welfare structure and figure out where the gaps may be. Thus, we hope to spend the majority of our time out in the community. Today, we visited two different agencies: la Fundacion Madre Tereza de Montecristi, as well as a local physical rehabilitation center. Both are doing some amazing work but struggling financially, and both agencies need fluent Spanish-speakers with skills in the medical field and/or social work field.

So where are the gaps?

Another great question. There are zero MENTAL HEALTH institutions or group homes for people who are mentally ill/disabled. There is a huge stigma with mental illness—even more so than the United States; these people are usually locked up in a shed or the back room of a house so that they aren’t in the way. The DR lacks education and awareness on the topic of mental health and treatment.

There is also very little NUTRITION education, if any, and absolutely zero sex education. Most of the orphanages and other organizations do not provide SEX EDUCATION because of strong Catholic influences that highly discourage the usage of birth control and/or contraceptives. Promiscuity rates are very high, and it is common for spouses to have another fling on the side, even to the knowledge of their children. Teen pregnancy rates are incredibly high as well.

Why math camp?

Love these fabulous questions. Keep ‘em comin. The education system in the Dominican Republic is the worst in the entire western hemisphere. Even worse than Haiti? Yes. Why is that? While the Dominican has a much better economy than Haiti, there are multiple reasons why their education is worse. It is culturally “normal” for school to start at least an hour late and end an hour early, with lots of recess and free time during the day. The kids only receive about 2 ½ hours of real instruction each day, most of which lacks any type of challenge or critical thinking. Math is an especially slighted subject; many teachers here simply have students copy down numbers, without ever learning real equations. Monte Cristi has the notoriously worst schools in the country, where a 12-year-old may not know the solution to 12 + 4. (I remember doing times tables in third grade.) Kids often times do not even finish grade school, because there isn’t a good system of accountability in place to make sure they are completing their education. Also, while the DR economy is in a much better spot than Haiti’s, the government here is very corrupt. Although they have a representative democracy, politicians are usually known for making false promises and pocketing most of the money themselves. Hence, the funds for various social services and education don’t always quite reach their destination.

AGUA ESTA PRECIOSO!!!

I miss the airport bathrooms.

Ha, never thought I’d say that. The plumbing system here in the DR is very poor—(but at least they have one!)—which means that toilet paper cannot be flushed, otherwise we will take showers with sewage water. There are waste baskets next to every toilet with the beautiful aroma of urine and human waste. Here, we use the motto “If it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down.” Mom, sorry if I come home and forget to flush!

Water conservation is HUGE over here, which is why we try to flush the toilets only every so often. It’s also why we take “army showers”…2-3 minutes tops, and why we turn the water off when we are shampooing our hair. Water is PRECIOUS here.

We only drink the water that’s been filtered…the water from the sinks and showers is not safe to drink, even if you are just brushing your teeth. You have to use a water bottle at all times.

Airport Bathrooms (6/26/10)

The great thing about flying by yourself is you get to bring all of the crap that is on your person into the bathroom stall with you. You open the little door, which conveniently swings inward so that once you get inside the stall you have to practically stand on the toilet seat to get the door closed. Then you set down your carry-on, your purse, and your cup of coffee on the grimy bathroom floor while you do your thing. Washing your hands is also really fun. After fighting with the door to get back out of the stall, you make your way over to the sinks, smacking the entire line of people in the stomach with your carry-on as you walk by. Your purse is on one arm and your carry-on is one the other arm. You balance the cup of coffee on the edge of the sink that’s 1.5 inches in diameter. More often than not, your coffee spills…which means spending more time in the bathroom trying to get cleaned up. You proceed to leave with wet hands because it’s getting crowded in there and you just want to get out of the bathroom. You pull the germy door handle open and wonder why you bothered to wash your hands in the first place.

And that my friends, is a true (recurring) story.

Oops. (6/26/10)

So…apparently when I was buying my plane ticket online, I filled in my last name as my first name and my first name as my last name. Needless to say, I go by “DiNardo” here at the O’Hare airport.

“Enjoy your flight, DiNardo!”
“Welcome to Chicago, DiNardo!”
“Where are you traveling today, DiNardo?”

This is one of those things that’s almost funny, except for the fact that I’m flying internationally and will most likely have to pay a $150 fee to have my first and last name switched so that I don’t “arouse suspicion”. I mean, I probably do look threatening…I have an eyebrow ring and a tattoo that’s a Bible verse. Good thing I left my firearms at home.

In other news, I am sitting in the food court with two hours to kill waiting for my next connecting flight…and I am people-watching like crazy. I am noticing that all of the employees at Dunkin Donuts are Indian, all of the employees at Starbucks are African American, all of the employees at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory are white, all of the employees at Manchu Wok are Hispanic…and O’Brien’s wins the diversity prize with two black employees and one white employee. Congratulations O’Brien’s!

ADDRESS!!!

I forgot to mention that I looooooooove snail mail ;)

Christina DiNardo
C/O Coco Barrett
Orphanage Outreach
Calle Altagracia #80
Monte Cristi, Dominican Republic

Welcome to "the Other Side"

The Dominican Republic is the Carribean's largest tourist destination: warm, tropical weather, beautiful white sandy beaches, year-round golfing, deluxe resorts and all-inclusive restaurants and bars...the perfect get-away. But believe it or not, this is not how the natives live.

Let me introduce you to "the other side" of the Dominican: 42.2% of the people live below the poverty line. Education standards are quite low, and the literacy rate fluctuates in the low 80s(%). The DR is the 4th largest exporter of prostitutes (only behind Brazil, Thailand and the Philippines). And generally speaking, the native people tend to fall lower in economic priority than the tourism industry, which just so happens to be largely funded by American vacationers.

Now believe me when I say I am NOT anti-vacation. I love me some vaca. Still, I think Americans need to be awakened to the reality that this country is so much more than a hub of tourism. On the other side of the white sandy beaches, there are real people and real issues; real poverty and real beauty.

I will arrive this Saturday (the 26th of June) in Monte Cristi, to explore this "other side".