Life in my community hasn’t turned out exactly how I had envisioned in many aspects, which is fine. I thought, however, that my social life would at least be similar to how it was in the States. I figured my main group of friends would be a bunch of guys my age that would share the same interests as me. For various reasons, however, I have had to steer clear of that particular focus group. Dominican males, from the age of about two, are taught to spit mad game at any and all females. For this reason, by the time they reach puberty they have more confidence than a 7-times divorced American man. Dominican males who are around my age that live in my community are mostly married with kids, and don’t really pay much attention to me. The ones who aren’t married, from the time they are about 15-years-old tend to sit around on the corner a lot, talking about chicks using slang I will never understand, drinking rum, listening to god-awful regaeton, and thinking they are a lot cooler than they really are. Girls my age that aren’t married or pregnant don’t exist in this country. So what has resulted, is that I have found friendship in many unexpected places. My best conversations are with Dominican women over the age of 40, who are the most gentle, loving, and accommodating people on the earth. We have two topics of discussion: my community projects, and town gossip…call me an old drama queen, but I could gossip for hours. The latest gossip: So and so went to jail for throwing hot oil on his brother-in-law when they were both drunk, So and so tested positive for HIV, and So and so moved in with her baby’s daddy, making them officially “married”.
Most of my youth group members are teenagers, but we tend not to hang out when we’re not having group meetings or going on trips. So apart from middle aged ladies, I also hang out with my fair share of little kids in my free time. My best friend of all is a 12-year-old deaf/mute girl named Patricia, who is more commonly known as La Muda (the mute one), but contrary to her nickname, she is extremely vocal in her own personal language. She comes over every day and usually cleans my house. Sometimes she cleans for free, but sometimes she feels she deserves payment so I give her 5 pesos or a couple candies and she carries on feeling content and appreciated. I know what your thinking: That’s underpaid child labor!… Well, all I can say is, MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! THINGS WORK DIFFERENTLY HERE! Me and Patricia tell each other stories using hand gestures, yet we only understand about half of what is being said. Maybe it is best that way because the kids who I can understand tend to drive me insane after a while. Patricia’s favorite thing to do is talk on my cell phone, so whenever I’m talking to another Peace Corps friend with our free family plan, Patricia asks for me to pass her the phone, and when I do, she begins to tell my friends a story using very animated noises and hand motions. She then passes the phone back to me and my friends ask me, “Who was that and what language was she talking in?” We haven’t said it to each other yet, but me and Patricia both know that we’re BFF’s.
Being an avid fan of youth camps, I recently signed up to go to a girls youth camp, to which I brought two girls from my youth group. At the camp, there were 40 teenage Dominican girls, 17 female volunteers, and 3 male volunteers (me, Jared, and Dean). The estrogen was running high and we were clearly outnumbered. However, this camp turned out to be incredibly fun and the girls treated us men like kings. Everyone at the camp was given a little mail box with their name on it so that whoever wanted could leave a note for their new friends. By the end of the three days, the mail boxes belonging to Jared, Dean, and I were overflowing with love notes. Throughout the first 2 days of the camp, we kept dropping hints that there would be a special guest appearance by Carlos Baute and Marta Sanchez (2 well known singers who have a hit duet on the radio). Then, as promised, on the second night of the camp, as all the girls were waiting in pure excitement, Dean announced, “Give a warm welcome for Carlos and Marta!!!” Then I, dressed and Carlos, and Jared, dressed in drag as Marta, came running into the room where we were met by 40 screaming girls, as if it were an N’sync concert. They were so star struck you would have thought we were the real musical artists. Once we got to the center of the crowd, the girls rushed in on us and we were almost smothered before Dean came to the rescue and acted as security and told the girls to calm down. Me and Jared sang our famous duet and for the remainder of the camp, we were called Carlos and Marta. My 15 minutes of fame was over before I knew it, but now I know what it’s like to be Justin Bieber, who, by the way, recently took the place of Justin Timberlake as the person people refer to when they first learn my name…great improvement. (My latest prayer: Dear God, please allow someone named Justin to become famous for something more respectable than singing love songs to 12-year-old girls. Amen.)
Most of my youth group members are teenagers, but we tend not to hang out when we’re not having group meetings or going on trips. So apart from middle aged ladies, I also hang out with my fair share of little kids in my free time. My best friend of all is a 12-year-old deaf/mute girl named Patricia, who is more commonly known as La Muda (the mute one), but contrary to her nickname, she is extremely vocal in her own personal language. She comes over every day and usually cleans my house. Sometimes she cleans for free, but sometimes she feels she deserves payment so I give her 5 pesos or a couple candies and she carries on feeling content and appreciated. I know what your thinking: That’s underpaid child labor!… Well, all I can say is, MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS! THINGS WORK DIFFERENTLY HERE! Me and Patricia tell each other stories using hand gestures, yet we only understand about half of what is being said. Maybe it is best that way because the kids who I can understand tend to drive me insane after a while. Patricia’s favorite thing to do is talk on my cell phone, so whenever I’m talking to another Peace Corps friend with our free family plan, Patricia asks for me to pass her the phone, and when I do, she begins to tell my friends a story using very animated noises and hand motions. She then passes the phone back to me and my friends ask me, “Who was that and what language was she talking in?” We haven’t said it to each other yet, but me and Patricia both know that we’re BFF’s.
Being an avid fan of youth camps, I recently signed up to go to a girls youth camp, to which I brought two girls from my youth group. At the camp, there were 40 teenage Dominican girls, 17 female volunteers, and 3 male volunteers (me, Jared, and Dean). The estrogen was running high and we were clearly outnumbered. However, this camp turned out to be incredibly fun and the girls treated us men like kings. Everyone at the camp was given a little mail box with their name on it so that whoever wanted could leave a note for their new friends. By the end of the three days, the mail boxes belonging to Jared, Dean, and I were overflowing with love notes. Throughout the first 2 days of the camp, we kept dropping hints that there would be a special guest appearance by Carlos Baute and Marta Sanchez (2 well known singers who have a hit duet on the radio). Then, as promised, on the second night of the camp, as all the girls were waiting in pure excitement, Dean announced, “Give a warm welcome for Carlos and Marta!!!” Then I, dressed and Carlos, and Jared, dressed in drag as Marta, came running into the room where we were met by 40 screaming girls, as if it were an N’sync concert. They were so star struck you would have thought we were the real musical artists. Once we got to the center of the crowd, the girls rushed in on us and we were almost smothered before Dean came to the rescue and acted as security and told the girls to calm down. Me and Jared sang our famous duet and for the remainder of the camp, we were called Carlos and Marta. My 15 minutes of fame was over before I knew it, but now I know what it’s like to be Justin Bieber, who, by the way, recently took the place of Justin Timberlake as the person people refer to when they first learn my name…great improvement. (My latest prayer: Dear God, please allow someone named Justin to become famous for something more respectable than singing love songs to 12-year-old girls. Amen.)
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