Give me your arms for the broken hearted

One minute I held the key, next the walls were closed on me and I discovered that my castles stand upon pillars of sand.

It was the wicked and wild wind that blew down the doors to let me in. Shattered windows and the sound of drums… people couldn’t believe what I’d become.

The drive to Sabana de Isidro was more than breathtaking, as we wound up the mountains flanked by huge green trees splattered with orange flowers. We went straight to mass where we were greeted by a tearfully excited community. We split into our families quickly after dinner, and it was off to our new homes for the first night in the campo. As some of you can probably guess, the first thing my mami told me to do was to sit in a plastic chair and within 5 min my sister-in-law pulled up across from me to engage in an intense game of Casino. When it was time for bed, my mami showed me to my room (easily the “master bedroom”) and told me that she was there for me if I needed anything. That pretty much became her attitude for the rest of the stay; such a blessing.

Every morning I woke up around 7:30, got dressed and waited on my porch for Antonio and Diana to come up the hill so we could walk to breakfast at Juana’s. (Juana is the cooperadora, the health link between the campo community and ILAC) Each meal was prepared for us gringos by Juana and some of the women of the town, and then eaten at Juana’s house. After breakfast we headed out to the ditches where we worked along side the Dominicans. We broke for lunch around noon and resumed work after that until 4:30ish. We had a little time with our families and time to shower* before dinner at 6ish. Usually after dinner we would all hang out at Juana’s with our families and play dominoes/casino or dance if there was light (and sometimes even when there was no light!) Bed time came early, but it was welcomed by all of us because we were usually wiped out from a long day’s work in the sun.

* The showering experience was quite humbling. My showers took place in our family latrine (a cement/tin, permanent pot-a-potty) with a bucket of rain water. A bucket of cold rain water. Each shower was accompanied by a lovely soundtrack of the family rooster, perched on top of the latrine.

Acuaducto. Our project was to build an aquaduct for our community; dig a ditch alongside the 4km road, lay and glue tubes in the ditch, and cover the ditch up after the water was flowing. We ran into some weather road-blocks (torrential downpours for the 1st few days), but we finished the project just in time to see the absolute joy on our families’ faces. We wore thin from time to time, but frequent fresh fruit breaks, laughs with our Dominicans, a “frente/partner-system” and a solid PMA (positive mental attitude) kept us going. Perhaps one of our “Top 5 things we’re thankful for in the Campo” was our boots; big, black rain boots. Best spend of 250 pesos, by far.
“Seeing the pure joy on their faces when the water finally came bursting out, made this work totally worth it. These people have gone their whole lives without running water and we just changed that.”

Ramonita, Edwin, Tete, Euris and María La Virgen…aka mi familia. I got very close to my sister-in-law, María LV. She’s 16 and pregnant with my 25 year old brother (her husband’s) baby. (This is very common in the campo. Most of the girls my age are married with a kid at least on the way) She walked me to Juana’s every time we had to go, and she helped me out with my Spanish a lot. Lucky for me, she loved hugs – so we were literally connected at the hip. It was very hard to say goodbye to her. The goodbyes in general were heart wrenching. Bridget and Carolyn always told me that leaving the campo would be one of the hardest parts of the semester, but I highly doubted that I could get close enough to a family in 10 days that it would break my heart. As usual, B and C were right; around day 6/10 I suddenly felt extremely attached to my family and I knew it would be a process to let them go. When Kyle’s truck came down the hill take us back to ILAC, the tears started flowing from both sides. My mami hugged me so hard and asked me to call her often. María LV couldn’t even say anything as she just squeezed me and bawled. Every time I moved onto the next hug, people were breaking down left and right. When my big brother held me, I truly felt like I had a big brother who would stop at nothing to make me happy. A group favorite, 17 year old Martín, hit us all pretty hard. Martín was that smile that greeted us day in and day out with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. He was constantly teasing us, joking with us and talking to us in English and Spanish. He embodies the idea that Brackley talks about in his book; “When the poor insist on celebrating life no matter how bad things are” (35). On the last day Martín was crying so hard, he couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye. But, to keep up our PMA, we kept telling them and ourselves that there is still plenty of time to return and that we will.

Life after the campo has already been noticeably different…
1) The 2 days following our departure, we had a retreat at the ILAC retreat center. A time to reflect and get over our homesickness. Padre Pat came and did a mass for us. The only thing was, it was our 1st English mass since orientation week. The 1st thing I noticed was that I forgot the responses in English and I only knew them in Spanish. The next thing I noticed was that my sister wasn’t next to me and didn’t weave our fingers together during the Our Father. I am certain that this will bring me to tears for a long time.
2) Lent is approaching us quickly, kicking off this Wednesday. A bunch of us have decided to strive for solidarity with our familias and save water by continuing our bucket-showers until Easter. We figure it’s something we can do to feel connected with our familias and try to keep the campo alive.
3) We can all feel our priorities in life rearranging and shifting. “The victims help us find a deeper purpose in life” (Brackley 3). Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you were red sweat pants with a red shirt. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you wear those same red sweat pants and red shirt, 3 days in a row. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you have to walk 20 min before you eat. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you have to wait an extra 15 min before making that 20 min journey to your meal. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you pass an evening with your papi, lounging in a plastic chair, not saying anything. Suddenly it doesn’t matter if you’re covered in bug bites that look like chicken pox. Suddenly none of that matters. What matters is the love, the simplicity, the relationships, the laughs, the lessons learned, the immense “thank yous” that cannot be expressed in Spanish or in English.
4) We’re having trouble accepting the conditions that our families live with. Elizabeth said it best; “Sure poor people live like that (walking miles for water, not getting 3 full meals a day, not having proper health care)… but that’s not ok for my familia.” A lot of our reflections and classes with Kyle consist of us venting our frustration about the injustices we’re witnessing and the hopeless feelings we have when dreaming of making a difference.

Perhaps the most motivating, comforting idea I’ve heard regarding making a difference comes from none other than Whinnie the Pooh; Go out and find your own little corner of the world that you can clean up. I definitely found a corner that I love… Sabana de San Isidro.

(Amanda)

Ps- Next step = Spring Break! I’ll be back at ILAC on Friday (maybe) and we will start back up with the 2nd session the following Monday!

Pps- If you want to know the soundtrack for the campo: “Give Me Your Eyes” (Brandon Heath) “Viva La Vida” (Coldplay) “Steer” (Missy Higgins)

Where Are All The Trees...?

Last weekend we took a trip to the capital, Santo Domingo. We took off early at 5am and arrived in the city around 9 for breakfast by the ocean. Our first stop was at the office of a sugar company where we got the low down on sugar and the cane industry. Then it was off to the fields…

Ask yourself this; where does pineapple come from? If you’re like me, you are probably picturing a palm tree type plant with pineapples sprouting from the top, amongst the leaves. Wrong. Pineapples grow from the ground and come up in the middle of a fern-type plant. Imagine the top of a pineapple that you would buy at the grocery store, but about 8 times that size… This revelation along with the piña taste-test contributed in making this one of my favorite days.

Next stop, the bateyes. A batey is a “neighborhood” for Haitian field workers. I would hardly call them neighborhoods, however, because they more closely resemble the slums you would see in National Geographic. The bateyes are tucked back amongst acres and acres of sugar cane, so much so that you wouldn’t even know they were there unless you went looking for them – somewhat similar to the (invisible) Haitians who reside in them.

The latest plan is to combine 40-some bateyes and make a “mega batey.” This would include a school, a community center, and a clinic. All sounds great, but it is being met with some resistance; people don’t want to leave their bateyes, each of which has its own culture and way of doing things. It should be done in about a year, and very interesting to check up on.

Of course we had to try some sugar cane, but this is much easier said than done. Elfie grabbed a machete, cut and peeled us some cane like it was nobody’s business. Now, one doesn’t actually eat sugar cane, per say. It’s more of a bite, chew/suck, spit act. Needless to say, we stood out like the bunch of gringos that we are, and got sugar juice alllll over.

Then we were off to the city and Crazy John’s hostel. The hostel was gorgeous and eclectic, but John brought a certain air of insanity to the room that we were glad to only stay one night. We took a tour of the Colonial Zone in the morning; royal houses, Columbus’ house, and one of the 1st Cathedrals of the New World. We ended our trip by stopping at little beach and swimming in the ocean – true Caribbean style. The drive back was breathtaking as we wound our way back through the layers of striking mountains.
Beauty in the breakdown. Lately in class we have been talking about letting go of our control and allowing ourselves to dive fully into the culture. I keep finding different aspects of this country that I love with all of my heart. The people never cease to amaze me, and I could just sit with them or observe them all day long. They have a beautiful understanding of what is and what is not. They so effortlessly let go of the reigns and just go with the flow. We are reading a book called “The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times” by Dean Brackley and there’s a paragraph in there that has pulled me back to read it over and over;

“As the humanity of the poor crashes through the visitors’ defenses, they glimpse their reflection in the eyes of their hosts. They feel gently invited to ay down the burden of superiority of which they were scarcely aware. They are brushed with a light shame and confusion, and feel they are losing their grip. Actually, it is the world that is losing its grip on them. I mean the world consisting of important people like themselves and unimportant poor people. That world starts to unhinge. The experience threatens to sweep them out of control like a stream in spring. It is like the disorientation of falling in love. In fact, that is what is happening, a kind of falling in love. The earth trembles. The horizon opens. They are entering a richer world” (Brackley 35).

(ps- This coming Sunday we are headed off to the Campos where we will live with Dominican families and help them build an aquaduct for their community. I will be gone for about 10 days, so I will talk to you all when we get back! Much love)