Thanksgiving 2009:
Meet up with volunteers at hotel. Enter hotel room. See friends. Feel joyful. Make talk of making a run to the liquor store to buy drinks. Notice ceiling fan and its unusually low position, less than an arm’s reach away. Recall one time in the U.S. when I touched a moving fan with the tip of my finger creating a light thud sound with each passing blade, giving me a sense of curious accomplishment. Decide to recreate this experience. Reach slowly towards the fan as friends look on. Instantly regret previous decision as a sharp pain shoots through my finger. Look at finger and see blood, but assume its not that serious. Go to bathroom sink to run water on it. Realize that the tip of my finger has the ability to flap open. Turn white. Nearly faint. Go to emergency room, 4 blocks away. Get 6 stitches. Return to hotel less than 2 hours later. Take a closer look at the fan and discover that Dominican fans are made of sharp metal. Make mental note. Party all night.
4th of July 2010:Go to Samana and meet up with other volunteers at our weekend beach rental. Have a few afternoon drinks in the pool overlooking the ocean. Break out the football and start to play a game of catch. Reflect on the beauty of all things American: hot dogs, speaking English, money, football, etc. Watch as innocent game of catch evolves into smear the queer (tackle whichever guy has the ball), and continue to participate. Watch as good friend Duncan grabs ball. Move forward to tackle him. Quickly approach Duncan but come to a halt as my mouth is met by an illegally executed elbow defense maneuver. Notice by the touch of the tongue that my front teeth are now much closer to the back of my mouth than they used to be. Bleed from my mouth onto the grass as friends continue to tackle each other like barbarians. Walk towards group until someone notices the problem at hand. The barbarians point and laugh, not the reaction I was hoping for. Call the Peace Corps on-call doctor. Send for a cab. Enter a 15 minute depression due to the displacement of teeth, but more due to the fact that I must leave the party. Come out of the depression and decide to enjoy the party as much as possible until the taxi arrives to take me to the capital. Take shots of hard liquor with several friends. Take pictures with everyone, making sure mangled tooth is in full view. Start an elite club of individuals who were willing to lick my bloody mangled tooth. Final member count: 14. Taxi arrives. Begin 4 hour journey to the capital. Sleep the entire way. Taxi fare: $8000 pesos. Visit dentist the next day. Find out the agonizing road to recovery: Removal of tooth, temporary 2 week replacement of original tooth using glue, surgical placement of implant piece into jawbone, insertion of fake tooth on a retainer thing for 3 weeks, insertion of fixed-temporary fake tooth for 5 months, 2 root canals, insertion of permanent implant tooth. Smile again.
New fears acquired in the Dominican Republic: Fans, Elbows, Duncans.
While my personal (physical) development has taken a few steps backwards, community development is moving along quite nicely. Thanks to a group of American highschoolers, 4 local ladies are now proud owners of brand new firewood stoves. Normally, the women here cook with a giant pot set upon 3 blocks with a wood fire burning underneath. The fire fills the room with smoke, which the women breathe for several hours a day, leaving their lungs as black as the ceilings above their stoves. The concept of the improved cookstoves is that the fire is contained so that the heat is maximized while the smoke is directed out a chimney that exits above the roof. We have trained 3 local guys to build these stoves, which they earn RD$600 for each one that they build.
We are hoping to eventually build about 100 stoves.I took the 20 kids from my Brigada Verde group on a trip to my buddy Andrew’s site, where we spent the day with his youth group. We rode a cable car up to the top of a mountain, my kids gave presentations about how to take care of the environment, and then we hiked 3 hours back down the mountain. All the kids complained the next day that their legs hurt so bad they could barely walk. Whereas before, the kids had a somewhat indifferent view of nature, I think now, they actually despise it. Not really the outcome I was hoping for but what can you do…? I just explained to them they were all stronger because of their efforts. They then threw trash on the ground to spite me. Sigo luchando pa’lante.
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