The Last Chapter

On December 29th I flew out of NYC to return to the Dominican Republic for a couple weeks on a visit back with my best friend from my semester, Elizabeth.

We started out in the capital, Santo Domingo, where we somehow found each other in a strange airport in the middle of the night without cell phones. We thought it wouldn’t be too hard to find a lone gringa, but we really had no idea what we were walking into. The capital proved to be less than exciting and by 1:00 the following afternoon we were out of things to do. We passed some time with an English-speaking Dominican girl named Genesis who loaded us up with “natural” key chains, jewelry and hair accessories. And with the remaining time to spare we did as gringas do and saw “New Moon” after having a heart-to-heart in the middle of the food court. You’d be surprised how much you have to talk about with your best friend after 2.5 weeks apart!

The final “F-you” from 2009 came on the 31st and our journey back to Santiago to stay the night at our mission/school; ILAC. We were efficient and ecstatic to be back in Santiago, but as we turned the corner toward ILAC, shit hit the fan (as comunidad 7 would say.) One of the ILAC staff members ran up to our cab and informed us that ILAC was closed and everyone was on vacation for the next 6 days. Awesome. After a couple hours of breaking into ILAC, searching for the proper keys and settling into a rented casita out back, E and I departed for the grocery store to stalk up for our upcoming campo visit. We should have known that 2009 wasn’t done screwing us, because when we got back to the deserted ILAC we discovered that we had the wrong key and our casita would not open. This continued to be an issue for a few hours until another staff member left his New Years’ party to come break into our casita. The night, however, improved and I rang in the new year with E on the roof of the church. It turned out to be one of the coolest New Years I’ve had…

2009… brought me to the DR twice; buried me in a loving, understanding, supportive familia; gave me some new heroes, introduced me to a new best friend; taught me how to work my ass off; grew me up in my new apartment; brought a lot of tears, some death and too much cancer; took the Amanda-train on a trip; and leaves me inspired to keep changing for the better, push myself head-first toward the future, to grow up and to live everyday.

Our “Welcome to the Beach House” was almost everything we had hoped for. Getting to our cheap, rented beach house was slick and we had no problem finding delicious Dominican food on the beach. We celebrated E’s 21st birthday with filling meals, flowing drinks, and hours of much-needed conversation on the beach. Not to mention the lights went out and we were “forced” to continue on in our plastic chairs by candle light. What a shame. We had a little run in with a monster spider and some blood, making the night one to remember. However, the theme song for this portion of the trip turned into “Monsoons” by Jack Johnson, for all it did was rain, rain and rain some more. We didn’t get to lounge around, tanning and reading like we had hoped. Instead we spent our few days touring around the surrounding towns, taking pictures, playing cards, and (of course) talking. So it wasn’t exactly what we had hoped for, but… it is what is and we made the best of it!

Going back to visit the campos was something we had both been waiting for since we left last time. The journeys there were priceless and so exciting and full of anticipation. We were greeted by hugs, screams, tears and joy. There were feelings of instant acceptance and a sincere “welcome home.” It was great to get caught up on the latest gossip, see old friends and to just be with our families. I played a bunch of casino and dominó, did a lot of mountain walking and took a ton of pictures and video for the comunidad. A couple highlights include cooking in both campos, dancing in Hato Viejo, making s’mores in San Isidro, heated debates with the gentlemen of San Isidro and my new niece (Scarlet) in San Isidro.
Leaving San Isidro this time was very different for me. I was not crying. I was smiling so big, that it hurt. We wound up taking a moto for 1.5 hours, down the mountain and into the nearest town to catch a gua-gua back home. It was the 1st day that the sun had really shone and everything was beautiful. The only word I could think of was; “love.” It was me loving the country and the country loving me back. The sights were stunning. The sounds, the smells, the heat… everything was perfect. There’s something about being on the back of a moto in a jungle on a mountain... Love it.

For the last few days in the country we passed time at ILAC with Kyle, Anna Buddinger, Cameron Hinkson (previous Encuentro students) and Mike Rios (a friend.) This was more perfect than we thought it could be, we had so much fun! We redecorated Kyle’s office, had some great conversations, laughed until we cried, and just enjoyed each others’ company. It was here that I realized something. Encuentro Dominicano for me was an amazing experience. But I think the piece that I carry closest to my heart is my comunidad, my familia. I am so lucky to have found them and have secured myself in this indescribable bond with such inspiring, loving people. I am also very fortunate that this part of the DR is transportable and only 7 min away as opposed to 14 hours. Being around them (Kyle and Nick included) makes me feel safe in the right way. Safe to dream and imagine my life however I want it to be. I feel a constant, supportive shove down the path that I know I need to be moving down.

Going back for 2 weeks was the perfect amount of time for a little bit of closure on a place that I love so dearly. I was able to do everything I needed to do without feeling rushed or stressed. The trip came at a perfect time in my life and reminded me how to find my inner peace and live calmly, like a “tranquila” Dominican. I was reminded of the girl with the burning passion for life in May, and set back on the right track. I am so thankful for both experiences I have been fortunate enough to have in the DR. I am peacefully content with putting the DR-book up on the shelf, ready for re-opening whenever I need, but politely out of the way of future books. I am ready for the next step, the next adventure, the next country. I carry the DR in my heart, for it showed me that I can do anything. And I will, so watch out!

"The search ends here, and the night is finally clear, and your heart is fierce. So now you finally know that you control where you go; you can steer."

feel the rain on your skin

After spending weeks finishing up our papers and studying for finals, everything school-related came to and end. To celebrate our success we headed out for 27 Charcos (puddles) last Friday. 27 Charcos is a collection of 27 waterfalls that you climb up and then proceed to jump down. Decked in swim suits, life jackets and helmets we made it all the way to 27 after paddling against rapid currents, scrambling up slippery rocks and heaving ourselves on top of each waterfall. Once I did the first jump, the rest were a breeze. The whole experience was a great community builder, not that we needed any assistance – we just really helped each other out and had an amazing time. It was such a liberating feeling, letting myself go and just fall; I could feel all the stress, anxiety and worries fly out of me each time I jumped. And everyone made it out alive with just a few scrapes and bruises and even more good memories.

In the same way that I enjoyed the refreshing water of the waterfalls at 27 Charcos, I was thankful for the Caribbean downpours that masked the tears that spilled from my broken heart all week.

Saturday we spent the night at our first campo, Sabana de San Isidro and had some time to say goodbye. Sunday was one of the best mornings I ever had at San Isidro. It consisted of some serious dominó, coffee and some tears. Saying goodbye to them was the hardest goodbye I had this week, bringing us all to heaving sobs and tears so thick we could hardly speak. Deep inside I know that I will go back, and I know that I will always have a home in San Isidro, but I can’t catch my breath when I think of the reality that I won’t be able to just hop on a gua-gua next week to go see them. Driving home from the campo, a few of us opted to ride in the bed of Kyle’s truck (despite the down pour) in order to lessen the number of trips Kyle would have to take to get us all to a bus. It was the best decision I made that day. It was exactly what I needed, for I was what you might call a “train-wreck,” putting on the usual Amanda-water-works, but at top notch. The rain joined my tears, combining as they both poured down and soaked my clothes.

Saying goodbye to Hato Viejo, the second campo, on Tuesday was not as emotional for me. In a sense, that family feels more like an aunt and uncle than a mom and dad. We played some dominó, visited the new house, took some pictures and ate before we headed back to ILAC. The tears that came this time were more due to the sinking reality that I was leaving the country.

Wednesday we said goodbye to our service sites. It was a pretty normal day. I read a story at the end of class and then said my goodbye. The kids were so adorable as they blessed me and sent me off with God, just like little grown-up Dominicans; “Te vaya con Dios.” (Go with God) I got a little choked up when I finally broke out of the mob that tried to hold me there and keep me in the classroom, “¡No te vayas!” (Don’t go!) Another one of those sinking-in moments.

We had a few despedida (goodbye) moments with the ILAC staff. A dance in the comedor (cafeteria) consisted of the 10 girls dancing for hours with about 5 male staff members; bless their hearts. Thursday before lunch we had a small final blessing in the church when the staff took turns placing their hands on our heads and sending us off with God’s love. We exchanged gifts and nice words before we all ate together for the last meal. Even though each of us has our own Dominican family in one campo or the other, we still feel at home with the ILAC staff. We share a home with them and spend time with them in everyday settings. Their parting words left tears in our eyes and goosebumps on our skin.

Undoubtedly the most impactful goodbye was the one we had together as Comunidad 7. I feel that this is going to be one of the most noticeable differences between the DR and life at our homes in the states. The 13 of us spent honeslty every second together, for as you may recall there is little-to-no privacy in the DR. We were never alone this semester and shared so much; laughs, memories, struggles, frustrations, tears, hugs, cloths, beds, jokes and relationships that will last a lifetime. One thing we learned during reorientation is that we cannot do this transition alone. But another, stronger message we learned… we are never alone. We are always there for each other and I think that we will be leaning on each other a lot. But, then again, what is family for?

“Bendito Dios por encontrarnos en el camino y de quitarme esta soledad de mi destino…” (Bless God for finding us along the path and for keeling me from being alone in my destiny…)

Speaking of the transition; I am expecting it to be interesting and probably quite difficult. I am sure that I will cry. I am sure that I will cry A LOT – you know me, would you expect anything different? But it’s not you, it’s definitely me!! It’s undeniable that life in the DR is incredibly different than life in the US. I know that I will miss everything about the DR, so I will be constantly longing for that. But, know that I am excited to be home. Without you, I would not have had this experience. Without you I will not be able to take this next step. I can’t do it alone. Be patient with me. Let me cry.
So what’s next? It’s tradition for the Comunidad to continue their work for the DR. We are seeking a project or a need that can be met by us up here, for our familias down there. We are waiting on a word form Kyle, but until then we will be brainstorming and fundraising as we stay in constant contact with each other. We will lean on each other. “My love will follow you, stay with you, baby you’re never alone.”

“Being torn between the First World and the Third World is a part of who I am… without it, I wouldn’t be me. I am more authentically me because of it.”

“We must learn to embrace the tension we find ourselves in, and we must see the grace in our silence, our solitude, and our communities. In this space, we can truly see the grace, even as we are pulled apart.”

As far as personally, I am open. I am sticking with education and Spanish, but I don’t know what I’ll add on. This experience has opened my eyes to so many more possibilities, and it has made me aware that there are even more out there, waiting for me to uncover. I’m excited and motivated, for I want to capitalize on the passion alive inside of me now, but not stressed… “Don’t worry, you have 9 months. 9 months is the time of a pregnancy, enough time to create an entirely new life.” So I guess I have at least 9 months, right?

It started with a powerful, open-minded step off the plane into the warmth of the Dominican Republic. It ended with a heavy, painful, teary step (and a little, encouraging shove from behind) onto a plane headed North. But that was not the last step, it was the first of many to come…

“Feel the rain on your skin,
No one else can feel it for you,
Only you can let it in.
No one else can speak the words on your lips.
Put yourself in words unspoken.
Live your life with arms wide open.
Today is where your book begins.
The rest is still unwritten…”

The Secret Life of Bees

For Holy Week I did like the Dominicans do, and went to the beach. Diana, Antonio and I went to Cabarete, got some serious sun and saw our favorite Dominican merengue singer, Omega.

The next weekend I went back to Hato Viejo for a day. Pulling into the campo was such an amazing feeling, I felt the rush of coming home as I waved to people working in the fields and sitting out on their porches. I passed some good time chatting with my family and playing dominó. We got a look at the house, it was almost completed!

On Wednesday of last week we had a killer bee invasion upstairs. They would disperse by night and swarm back in the thousands by day. We were banned from going upstairs on Wednesday and passed a lot of time in the library. Had some good laughs and good naps. Luckily Bruno, Geronimo and Hector (lovely ILAC staffers) took care of it by using palms, halved coconuts, bug spray and a cereal box stuffed with smoldering newspaper. I love this country.

Location: Hato Viejo. Date: Friday. Mission: House destruction. We went back again on Friday to knock down the old house and bless the new one. Walking through the new house, fully decorated and welcoming as ever, I got chills and choked up for you could simply feel the gratitude and joy in the woodwork. Knocking down the old house took a mere hour or two and a lot of fending off of the bugs. I had another run-in with a spider…on my neck. I was lucky this time and lived to tell the tale. The blessing was wonderful and the mother, Francisca, was moved to tears with her thanks. We sang a song that got us all clapping and dancing; “Quiero llevar este canto amigo, a quien lo pudiera necesitar. Yo quiero tener un millón de amigos, y así más fuerte poder cantar.” (I want to bring this song to my friendo, to anyone who might need it. I want to have a million friends so I can sing louder and stronger.)

Speaking of going back to the campo… Yesterday (Sunday) Elizabeth and I made the trek back up the mountains to Saban de San Isidro. Of course it rained, and of course we had inadequate clothing and foot ware on… you’d think we had never been to a campo before. But through the pouring rain, it was so totally worth it. Here’s my top 5 from the day: 1. Gossip session on my front porch with the mamis, 2. Secret sharing with my mami outside the latrine, 3. Our means of transportation… cough cough, 4. Walking hand-in-hand with my sister-in-law, María la Virgen, 5. Taking in the views and bottling the wonderful feelings of going home.

Other than that, I just turned in the final draft of my 30 page paper. Check it off the list. Next up = study for finals… Spanish is on Tuesday and Kyle’s is on Thursday. After that it’s our 10 day re-orientation before returning home to the States. Time is flying by and I am trying to hold onto every second so I can squeeze the life and memories out of every passing moment.

“I’m weeping warm honey and milk that you’ll stay surrounding me, surrounding me.”

Foto...

When I was posting the last entry, I had some technical difficulties putting up the picture. So here is a pic of me and Pimpa's daughter...

Hasta que te he conocido yo vivo tan feliz…

When we first pulled into Hato Viejo, everything was different. There was a significant lack of hills, mountains, pot holes, cacao, and my familia. The first day was pretty difficult for me; I was really missing the other campo. Nearly every aspect of Hato Viejo is different from Sabana De San Isidro. Like I mentioned in the last entry, it is s rice community (flat land) and it is a much, much larger community that has a very strong North American influence. I found myself judging way too quickly, associating myself more with the simpler life of San Isidro.

But of course, my bad mood didn’t stick for too long. After dinner I was quickly enthralled into a serious domino match with my mom, Elizabeth and her dad. And on top of the excitement of the game, I got to hold an adorable little girl in my lap. This was just the beginning of the little kids and the intense domino activity of Hato Viejo.

My family was a lot smaller this time around; just me, brother, mom and dad. I had 3 sisters who all lived in the capital, studying or raising families. My brother was hardly around, so it was pretty much just me and my parents. We played a TON of domino, I think I am getting pretty good – it’s amazing how much you can learn just by watching and trying it out. Let’s just say, my mom can throw a mean ficha (tile)!

The work in this campo was (of course) very different. Throughout the 10 days we split into 3 groups; baños (bathrooms), pisos (floors) and the casa (house.) One job was to build 10 latrines throughout the community; digging a hole, dropping a barrel down, filling the gaps with dirt/cement, laying a frame and putting up walls and a ceiling. We also built an entire house from digging a huge hole to putting up the walls and the roof for a family of 9 kids and a mom (my aunt) who is HIV positive. And then there was the project that I spent most of my time with; the floors. We went throughout the community and leveled the dirt floors, mixed a TON of cement, laid it down, and then smoothed and polished it. The theory was that everyone would rotate from job to job, but people were quick to fall in love with their sites, making the revolutions a little different than originally planned.

The most impactful task for me was with the 1st location of the pisos. 4 of us went off with 3 Dominican guys (conveniently our age and hysterical) to a small grouping of houses. We quickly learned that a large, extended family lived in the houses. We put in 7-8 floors over 4 days, learning and laughing a lot. After the 1st day we found out why this family was so deserving of our work. A month ago the mother of 5 kids (ranging in age from 4-25) was electrocuted while hanging wet clothes to dry on a power line. On the last day of the 2-week funeral memorial, the devastating rains that flooded Santiago completely wiped out some of their houses. We got very close to the family; providing us a great chance to speak Spanish and to tie some tight bonds with more beautiful Dominicans. Not to mention, we got very close to our “co-workers” and formed sort of brotherly relationships with them that lasted throughout the week and will, undeniably, go on to last for many years to come.

The crew; Tonio, Arnulfo, David. Tonio = the boss, 25 years old, married, 2 kids. Very funny, always pushing our buttons with a smirk on his face. He was great for challenging us to speak in Spanish; he was convinced that every time we spoke in English it was about him. Arnulfo = the polishing master, 20 years old, sweet, quiet, sturdy. He didn’t talk a ton, partly because his job isolated him – when all the cement is laid and flattened, the last step is to smooth and polish…aka walk carefully, keeping people off the floor. He was the go-to, do-it-all kind of guy. David = made us laugh everyday, 20 years old, dancing and cracking jokes left and right. He was really good about talking to us, but not in a stiff way but a humorous way. He did a good job of keeping the mood light and everyone feel involved and like a part of the family. Then there was Pimpa – my domino frente (partner.) We got to be really close, brother-sister close. He got my sense of humor, and to get my sense of humor through Spanish is saying something. We respected each other and confided in each other, learning and loving a little more each day.

A theme song for this campo was; “You’re Gonna Miss This.” Perhaps strikingly obvious, but also very encouraging and centering. We realized that this is our last campo, our last month in the DR. Every little thing that, at the time feels annoying will be missed. Splitting painful blisters open even before the lunch break, staggering under the weight of 4 kids jumping on you after a long day of work, waking up in the middle of the night to scratch your millions (not kidding) of mosquito bites, or holding your breath as you go to the bathroom and shower from a bucket inside a smelly latrine. These types of things can really ware you down, but we took them with a smile, remembering that soon we would be wishing we were scratching those Dominican mosquito bites.

Some of the highlights;
1) Water fight. On a ½ day of work on the pisos we decided it would be a great day to have a water fight. So that we did. We threw dirty, possibly pesticide infested water all over each other until our clothes were literally stretched two sizes bigger than when we began. It was truly a group of kids joking around and having a blast – a memory I will never forget.
2) The challenges. We saw a lot of things that were hard to accept and understand. One of the most prevalent for me was the married “men.” It is the culture to get married young and cheat on your wife in the DR. We were exposed to that, up close and personal this time around. Many of the guys that we worked with day in and day out were our age, but married with kids. I mentioned how I got especially close to a 17 year old named Pimpa who has an adorable little Chiquita, a spitting 1-year-old image of her dad. We had some conversations about fidelity and he (along with all of his friends) simply do not think that having a family is important, nor should it get in the way of dating around. I struggled a lot with drawing the line between holding that against them and letting it go. There were a couple times when I would tell one of them to stop dancing with me and go dance with his wife. I think that eventually it might have got through, for on the last night that guy was spinning his wife around the dance floor and rocking his baby to sleep in his arms.
3) Speaking of kids…There were a TON of little guys. Babies, toddlers, crazy 7 year old and then the guys our age. I fell in love with a little kid named Guillermo – perhaps one of the most adorable little 2 year olds I know. I was blessed with a ton of besitos (kisses) and gave a bunch of piggy back rides. One of the best moments was in one of the piso guy’s kitchens when he came around the corner and slid his 22-day-old nephew into my arms. It literally took my breath away, I was so at peace.
4) Holy Week. We experienced the Stations of the Cross and Palm Sunday in the campo. It was so interesting to go through these holidays from their points of view. We did Stations by walking along one of the roads, stopping at houses to read each station. It put it into the proper perspective as we walked along in the heat and dust, reading about JC’s final walk. Palm Sunday also included a procession into the church, HUGE palms raised in a similar way as to what JC might have come into. Both services were very active and mobile, giving the same old masses a little bit of Dominican flavor.

All in all, as hoped, the campo was an interesting, trying, fun and educational experience. I am very thankful that it was so different than San Isidro, for I was able to stop making comparisons and was able to experience an entirely different side of the DR. The mountains were replaced by vibrantly green rice fields, the magis bugs by pesty mosquitoes, the hills between homes by mere relationship-forming meters, the isolating roads by flat ones with guaguas, and the closeness of a big family with the tight bond of the brothers I never had. I am walking away knowing more about the DR, more about the world in general, more about people and more about myself. Another point to team Encuentro Dominicano. Well done.

Life Lately...

Life lately = paper.

For our "everything about the DR class" we can choose a core area in which to receive credit. I chose Theology, and in order to get that credit, I had to write a 20 pg paper on some theological topic. I chose to write about Liberation Theology, and my paper wound up being close to 30 pages. It was a HUGE job, but it felt so good to get it done.

We are leaving for another campo today around 2pm. We will be gone until Holy Week, and then we have Easter break. This campo is closer to Santiago (I think it is just outside of the town, La Vega) and it's called Hato Viejo. It is a rice farming community (as opposed to cacao, the last campo) so it's a lot flatter land, and the houses are a lot closer together. In our orientation meeting last night they told us that there might be some health-defects in the community, due to the damaging chemicals that come off of the rice patties. Our project this time actually consists of 3 smaller projects. We will rotate between laying down floors, digging latrines, and building a house. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to a whole new experience, a new familia, and a new batch of Dominican lovin!

"I'm gonna show you love in every language..."

Solo Le Pido A Dios

“Still my heart, and hold my tongue.”

DISCLAIMER: This entry is a little upsetting, so if you’re reading this to children, you might want to skim through it beforehand.

The contrasts between the DR and Haiti are numerous. It’s undeniable that the DR has some serious problems; poverty, lack of adequate health-care, an imbalance of wealth, a skewed education system… But, if you can believe it, Haiti is far worse off. First of all, the land gives them nothing, it is dry and hardly produces enough food to live on, let alone make a profit off of. The living conditions are ghastly, unreal and very similar to pictures you might see in a National Geographic issue on poverty…. The tensions between Haiti and the DR are nothing new. If was not from the desire of control by one side or the other, it was a longing of separation and distinction between the people. Some of the more distinct moments in history lie under the regime of the DR’s most infamous president, Trujillo. He is known for his want of a “whiter” island (Haitians are much darker-skinned than Dominicans) and the drastic measures he took in attempt to achieve it. Some of his stunts include mass deportations, discrimination and unimaginable killings. He put Haitians under ridiculous tests in which their accents were bound to get them killed. In 1937 one of the greatest anti-Haitian movements scarred the western part of the nation. Trujillo conducted a mass murder of Haitians, and then disposed of the bodies in the Massacre River in a border town called Dajabón.

Our 1st night in Dajabón we visited the bridge and the future location of the market. Standing on the bridge and looking down to the (rather high) waters of the Massacre River, I couldn’t help but imagine what it was like in 1937. I had just finished reading The Farming of Bones by Edwidge Danticat (story about a Haitian in the DR in 1937) so my mind was racing around, placing my fictional characters into their intended surroundings. Oddly enough, there are no markers or memorials symbolizing the act… the only thing left were the old trees along the banks that had surely seen the horrible sights.

Upon our return, the next morning, we walked into an almost completely different town. The streets were packed with people selling and buying their goods. We made our way around, observing and taking it all in. It was difficult, for I felt like a “poverty tourist” but I knew it was necessary for me to see it all. After a while we found our way back to the bridge. Now, instead of just a bridge, this instrument served as a path to money, sustenance, and a possibly better future. The people of Haiti want so desperately to get out. They travel for days to get to the border of Dajabón on Friday morning in order to cross into the DR to sell their goods in the market over the weekend, only to return home on Sunday and do it all again the next weekend. The strength and endurance I saw absolutely blew my mind. I saw tiny old men carrying multiple sacks of rice (about 100lbs each) on their shoulders as they crossed the bridge barefoot. Many people even cross the border by way of the (dirty, unsanitary) river, so as to avoid the UN guards, long lines, and crossing fees. It was very hard to see the exploitation, the injustice and the disregard (or lack of opportunity) for a suitable way of life.

A motif in The Farming of Bones was putting names and stories to faces of the millions of Haitians lost in the Massacre. The narrator was sure to provide keen details of every face that she encountered, for “Famous men never truly die. It is only those nameless and faceless who vanish like smoke into the early morning air” (Danticat, 280). This stuck out in my mind as we weaved our way through the crowds in Dajabón, led fearlessly by a 12 year old boy; mute and blind in one eye. I kept wondering what he would say if he could, what his eye had seen on the streets of the town, from the edges of the bridge. In a sense, he is a nameless, faceless encounter, but he does not have to remain that way. I, along with my group, am telling his story along with his neighbors and fellow workers of Dajabón.

As if I thought things could not get worse… Our next step was to visit the International Highway. “The highway along the north-south border dividing the island of Hispaniola into east and west. The road is an international highway in the sense that it is the only direct route through the very center of the island, right along the Dominican-Haitian border. Rather than the grand thoroughfare its name suggests, the International Highway is a maze of rocks, crevasses, and quicksand strung together through the mountains that helped give Haiti its name, from an indigenous Taíno word meaning ‘high place’ or ‘mountain’” (Why the Cocks Fight, Michele Wucker, 27). I don’t think I could have said it better. The majority of the bus ride along the small portion of the highway that we drove was muted by shocked, glazed stares out the windows at the new level of poverty we were witnessing. These people literally have nothing. One of the most hard-hitting images I have engraved in my head from this trip; the small children (some with no clothing) running after our bus, hands extended – not for a hug but for money. All I wanted to do was pull over, pick them up and play with them all day – feeding them, clothing them and wiping their runny noses. These children, along with their families, are truly an invisible race, for they do not live in Haiti and they do not live in the DR. They live on this border and are not recognized, nor helped by either country. They are in true need of aid, of support, of mere recognition, and of prayer.

Those of you who know a little of the history of the DR, will probably know that Trujillo’s regime did not end with El Corte, but instead drug on for another 30 years or so. It wasn’t until yet another brutal murder that the people finally took their stand against the dictator. On November 25, 1960, Trujillo was responsible for the death of 3 of the 4 Mirabal sisters. The Mirabal sisters (Patria, María Teresa, Minerva and Dede) were known for the “anti-Trujillo” movements. Patria, María Teresa and Minerva were brutally murdered after visiting their imprisoned husbands, standing as the last straw for the Dominican people. Shortly after their assassination, a group of citizens took to murdering Trujillo. The Mirabal sisters are known as Las Mariposas (the butterflies) and have inspired the novel/movie; En El Tiempo De Las Mariposas (In the Time of the Butterflies.) We had a chance to watch the movie and visit the memorial that the surviving sister, Dede, constructed out of one of their homes in a nearby town called Salcedo. This story is a favorite of mine, for the sisters are truly an inspiration. Not only did they take heroic measures against a serious injustice, but they did so as women in a time where women hardly had the chance at an education.

Though things have been stressful here with a looming 20 page paper, some members of the familia falling under the weather, and some “at-home-issues” amongst us – we have been managing to have some fun. This past week the goal was to get Kyle situated in his new apartment. Yesterday a few of us went shopping for some furniture and food. Later, we all went over to watch the baseball game and cook tacos for a family night. We definitely have our work cut out for us, furnishing the ultimate bachelor pad, but it’s a bonding experience that we’re all excited for!!

Coming up I have the 20 page paper that I am writing on Liberation Theology and Latin America, so that will pretty much knock me even further from the outside world. Also we have a slight change to the schedule in that our 2nd session of classes is extended an extra week and our next campo immersion is, in place, a week later. So we will continue forging ahead with the school work, looking forward to our next campo, Easter and our final weeks in the DR. It is amazing how quickly the semester has been passing!!

I also want to take a moment to ask for your prayers. We have had some sad news about Kyle’s sister back home being diagnosed with cancer. I believe that prayer works, and she needs all the prayers she can get. So if you can, please pray for Erin to have a successful treatment and for strength, support and comfort to shower her and her loved ones. Thank you…

Finally, I am guessing that this entry may seem a little depressing and disheartening. Know that all is well, I am still having the time of my life, and that these feelings simply come with the package. Life down here is very different and we are being exposed to ways of life that are not acceptable, but we are accompanying these revelations with motivation and hope for a change. We are not just sitting there with tears in our eyes. We are taking what we are observing, pairing it with what we are learning, and using it as inspiration to work for a difference.

And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best. (Phil. 1:9-10)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VAiNYpbD6o

Vivan las mariposas –
A

PS- please feel free to email me if you have any comments or questions, I’d love to hear from you!! amandareinhart@creighton.edu