un buen dia

So, for the past couple of days I had been concerned about my role in the villages. I have built some great friendships with so many of the kids, but not really any of the adults. We walked around the bigger of the two villages to spread the word about English classes starting up next week, and I really couldn't say if doing that was purposeful or me simply being intrusive by walking around these people's homes. I knew that it would take a lot more time than being in the villages a few weeks for deep relationships to really be built between the people here and myself, but it stinks still being kind of in a way, an outcast. Today some of those fears were taken away.

While riding on a moto from Chichigua to Pancho Mateo, I was talking to the driver about many different things. He asked if I was a Christian because he could tell in what I was doing that I was. It is not everyday someone sees a person in a poor and small Haitian village teaching the kids and helping the community, let alone an American. We started talking about the hatred built up between the Dominicans and Haitians that is so present in this country. We then continued and talked about other things such as what all I do while I am here, working in poor villages as a teacher and so forth. It was a great conversation. I had him drive me all the way to my final destination (which is more expensive by moto) instead of just out to the main road. When we reached the parada, he said that it would not cost anything. How I wish my life would look more like that, that of humble services to friends.

After teaching that day in the village, again Alexia and I walked around to tell people about the English classes starting up. We went to Dona Mercedes' house to ask if she might want to host one of the classes since I would be with the kids in the schoolhouse at the same time. We ended up sitting outside of her house for about an hour, talking and enjoying the weather. As we first started approaching, her granddaughter started running and screaming that the 'gringas' were coming. When we got to the house I asked her if she remembered my name. She did. 'Camila. Camila.' I smiled. Then Mercedes (who is obviously older because she has grandchildren) stood up cane in hand and offered her chair, as did her daughter, who is mute. Mercedes and her daughter retrieved a couple more chairs for themselves. A neighbor, Mercedes' brother, and a few neighbor kids were there as well.

Her little girl, Janebel, sat in my lap the whole time telling and asking me things, singing songs (sometimes with her little eyes closed), and also playing with my braids. They offered us coffee and cherries, and also showed us a portrait of Janebel when she was a year old. (She also agreed to having a class in her home). I am continually dumb-founded at how hospital the people are here. It was a great time talking with them in their home, and made me feel so much more relaxed and welcomed in the community.