bananas out the wazoo

Alexia and I made banana bread to give out to a few of the women in Pancho Mateo last night. On our way back into Puerto Plata, we bought 21 bananas (and 3 avocados) for a grand total of $1.88 (60 pesos). Pretty good deal if I do say so myself! The women loved the bread too which was great. One even asked when cooking classes were going to start up! It was a humble, but pleasant end before the Christmas break. One more day of class tomorrow and then it will be a mad house to get everything packed and ready to go before the flight out.

a restful weekend picks right back up to a heavy week

Ok, so I know that it has been a while and I apologize. I think that I might spend some time over Christmas while I am in the states typing up a few stories to post when I have a little bit more time. One thing that I would like to write about at the moment though is how wonderful the past few days have been. Matt, Brad, Halim, Ryan King, and Heather came up for a few days from the Austin Stone, and though our time did not overlap all that much while they were here, Alexia and I got to spend the past couple of days of their trip with them at the beach. We went snorkeling and tossed a football around, listened to people playing the guitar, and slept in an amazing hotel room with air conditioning. It was so wonderful to have familiar faces here in the DR, and it gets me excited that I will be back in Texas very soon! Thank you guys for making this last week before Christmas such a breeze to get through!

On a completely different note, I also wanted to pass on some information that I discovered today. Angel, one of Salvador's younger brothers (Salvador was the child that died not too long ago) was injured this past Saturday. He is 4 years old and can often be found running around Pancho Mateo in nothing but his birthday suit. Today though I found him lying on the hard floor in his house with a cast on his entire right leg. He was thrown from a moto and broke his foot and cut up his leg very badly. His cast covers his leg minus the spot that was cut out so that his bloodly wounds are receiving some air. Cristina spoke to the mom for a little while and said some pretty empowering words (she is so great), but I cannot imagine the pain that she is feeling with so many different things happening to her children.

Ian :)

We just got an updated picture of Ian with his new family in Haiti. He's huge!!!!!!!!!

Why the DR is like Little House on the Prairie

1. I teach in a 1-room school house
2. I read books at night by candlelight (when our power is out, which happens frequently)
3. My students sometimes bring me guayabas or oranges (apples, oranges, same thing right? I am starting to see why students gave their teachers apples back in the day)
4. We do not have hot water in the house (this has actually recently changed though)
5. Horses are used to cart things around and are a sign of wealth
6. People walk to the river to retrieve water in the villages
7. The kids play with marbles and jacks
8. People are married at a young age and start having babies (and therefore people cannot believe that none of us have kids at our age)
9. Things are bought only by using currency or trade (who ever heard of a debit/credit card or checkbook?)
10. It takes a million years to get anywhere in this country, we might as well be riding in a chuck wagon

how haitian am i

Yesterday when I was walking back from the main road to the house after my classes were finished, I was having trouble juggling all of my bags and school materials. I then proceeded to put the bag of left over eggs from the food program on my head, so therefore only had my backpack and one thing in each hand. I did this partly because I was struggling to carry everything and partly simply to see if I could do it. Surprisingly, I was able to walk all the way to the house with the eggs perfectly balanced the entire time, I felt very Haitian. The funny thing was, it was the fact that I was white and not the fact that I had something on my head that made me stand out.

why today was a good day

Why today was a good day:

-Two of my kids in Chichigua (Emilio and Jes Marco) were able to write the letter D on their own.

-One of the older kids (Ernesto) was able to read complete sentences from a book.

-Seeing their expressions each time one of these three kids was able to accomplish this 'unatainable' thing.

-Extending grace to a troublemaker in Chichigua (Ornando), and seeing his reaction as well.

-Having both of my classes in Chichigua be calm.

-Seeing Cristina (my teacher's aid) speak and teach the class in Pancho Mateo, and doing it from the heart.

-Being able to talk and connect with the kids in Pancho Mateo about the death of Salvador.

-Having the afternoon class in Pancho Mateo be calm as well.

-Paying a woman in Pancho Mateo to cut my hair, and having her charge me a minimal price because we are friends.

-Having a father of some of my kids in Pancho Mateo make and write a thank you card that also says that we are friends.

-Knowing that tomorrow evening I head to Santiago to celebrate Thanksgiving the following day.

you can't always trust a clown

I think that I have mentioned this before, but a guagua is the name of a bus that provides public transportation. They remind me of a clown car at the circus, playing the game of how many people can we fit in this tiny space. They usually seat 12 people, and the most that I have counted (on the days that I have actually counted) was 30. Guaguas are like 15 passenger vans, but not as long. Take out the last row of seats and diminish the length, width, and amount of space between each row and you have yourself a guagua. Bodies are contorted to always make room for more, and men usually stand on the outside of it by the door (the door is usually never closed) if space is tight. It really is like a clown car. (Keep in mind that I am making this analogy without ever have gone to a circus, so in actuality it is what I would imagine a clown car to be). With this information known, let me tell you a story that happened yesterday.

Alexia and I, along with Sharla (our director) and the twins went to the beach on Saturday to celebrate Alexia's birthday (which is Monday). Sharla took the babies back to Santiago and Alexia and I took a guagua back to Puerto Plata to our house. After waiting a while, a guagua finally arrived a we hopped on. It was pretty crowded so Alexia got in the front seat, that was already occupied by the driver and two other women mind you, and I sat on a bench that is set up behind the driver facing the first row of people.

To my right sat two women and to left (really almost on my lap) sat an old man. The row facing us sat four men, two were older, one was a young Haitian, and the one in front of me was middle-aged. I sat as (un)comfortably as I could, with purse, towel, and water bottle in hand. On a turn I noticed that the man sitting in front of me was grabbing tightly onto my purse. I figured it was to keep his balance in this crowded vehicle, but made sure that I had a good grip on my purse nonetheless.

I was talking with the women sitting next to me about how when people get off we were going to spread out because everyone in the front was going the rest of the route into Puerto Plata. Finally some people left and I was able to move to a seat a few rows back, glad to be in a different row than the man who clung to my purse as well as to have a little more space. That man, as well as the one I was originally sitting next to got off shortly after that.

As soon as they did, the two women starting going off talking about how those men were trying to rob me and how they (the women) were trying to get me to sit somewhere else out of their reach. They talked the whole way (in voices loud enough for everyone on the entire bus to hear) about how they had recognized them and how they do that kind of thing often.

I was grateful for these women looking out after this 'gringa.' Fortunately, the men were not able to take anything. This is not to scare anyone, most everyone is very kind, but you do come across certain types of people like this, just like you would in any place that you live. Y por eso, you can't always trust a clown.

(Circus analogy borrowed from Donald Miller).