Part 2...And for the parting shot

I may have embarked on uncharted territory with this one. After much thought and research as to fulfilling my EMT re-cert requirements, I have concluded that the only answer is to become a Dominican Republic volunteer firewoman. Requirements of: two pictures, a passport and cell number, my address (which consisted of just my street name since house numbers are inexistent), and a sentence stating my interest in volunteering. I handed those in and became an official DR EMT. I had to laugh when I turned it all in. In fact, I haven’t stopped laughing since I started volunteering. I hit my third Saturday and each week takes it to a whole new level of absurdity. Day one highlights: I learned how to play Dominican dominos. I got invited to be the fire department’s honored guest at Jarabacoa’s 150th anniversary celebration. I went inside both ambulances and was shown the one first aid kit with packages opened and unsterile. I was also shown that they DO have a C-collar (for head traumas…see below)

Day two highlights: Practiced proper saluting for a good 20 minutes with the fire boys (12 year olds training to be firemen and then me). The 20 mins. because I guess I just couldn’t figure out the correct contact of the index finger and corner of the eye. They also practice saying something like ‘yes Capitan, your most excellent honorableness, please, let me wash your motorcycle, and your wife’s motorcycle, and then the fire truck and the ambulance…’, at least that’s what I made up in my mind as they slurred every possible word into one big run on sentence and then asked me if I got it. I stared at them for a good minute with wide eyes and a little smile and then had a good laugh right then and there. Also we practiced unrolling fire hoses…and were getting ready to practice marching when I was called away to go on a run. We arrived on the scene of a man who had fallen off his motorcycle with obvious head trauma. Now typically this would mean C-spine immobilization, checking his heart & breathing rate, BP, dressing wounds etc. Well here in the DR we bypass all that…it’s better to grab him by his arms and legs, dump him on the gurney and run off to the hospital. He’ll be fine for the 5 minute ride and they can do all the rest at the hospital. So the guy wasn’t too bad, so this wasn’t too much of a problem, until we backed up to the emergency room door and couldn’t get the ambulance door open to wheel him out. So the guy I was with made Mr. Head Trauma get up, walk out the passenger side door and hop into the hospital…leaving bloody footprints behind. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the clean up was one swipe with a paper towel.

The second call was to transport a patient to the trauma center 45 minutes down the mountain. It was another head trauma patient, practically dropping off on us…as for monitoring the patient, I mentioned that maybe we should check to see if he was still conscious (luckily he was). The 45 minute ride was one continuous jerk back and forth...between speeding up to 60mph to screeching to almost a halt when nobody would pull over on the road. Unfortunately the head trauma victim had to feel the brunt of this without any spinal immobilization. At least at the hospital we were able to hose off the gurney pad with water. Much more effective. And the conversation for the way back up the hill was how the EMT got his training (his friend in the hospital showed him some stuff) and if I had a novio (boyfriend). Wow, what a day. Day three highlights: Nothing could really top day 2, and I really only stopped in for an hour on my third trip to the Fire Dept…It was then that I realized that I was in the newly formed class to become an actually fireman…I sat in for about 10 mins, watched some salutes, and then got a better show of the ambulance by the other city EMT who knows that you actually should use a C-collar when there is a head trauma. At least half of the week’s patients have a better chance of making it. But even still, the bottom line: don’t get hurt.

Part 1...Bring on the New

I was still half asleep, wanting to be back in bed, with morning eye crusties not yet brushed away, opening the cupboard in my new house (a very normal ritual for anyone to say the least), when four legs came hurtling for my face. Even though I live in the DR, it has yet to become a norm to find frogs living next to the glasses, and I’m surprised that the neighborhood didn’t come running at the racket I made. He didn’t stick around too long, although he found the orange juice and didn’t want to part without trying some. I managed to show him the door and decided that frogs in the morning are a bit stronger than any coffee I could ever make.

Sadly, a month ago I had to say goodbye to my old house with the lack of running water and the nasty kitchen. I unfortunately now pay less rent for a bigger room and my own bathroom, running water (and hot showers!), mostly constant electricity, a clean house and more importantly kitchen, 5 crazy-fun Dominican roommates, and living close enough to school that I can bike in under 4 minutes (close was important so everyone could walk to work since everyone is petrified of driving a motor). Why I didn't move earlier is beyond me. ( Right: The neighborhood boys enjoying the big puddles outside my new house. Below: my 5 roomates: L-R Walkiris, Randa, Loida, Elena, Rebeka)

The house is actually the Kids Alive women’s house. It was formed as a solution to our three Ark graduates whom needed a ‘transitional’ house of sorts. Now, the DR is no United States where girls leave home to stake out on their own before marriage. To find a woman’s house here is nearly impossible unless they are missionaries or Americans. So I imagine we are the talk of the neighborhood, the 5 girls and the bike riding American…which I add only because that is actually how people track me down. All they need is: American. bike. lives with 5 Dominican girls…in which I will add makes dodging unwanted house guest a little tricky.

On the topic of new, I have been instated as the official art teacher here at Anija. Yes Anija is a school, accredited by the country. And no I am not a teacher and I have not really taken any teaching classes, let alone art classes. I did paint a mural in my office. And that is good enough to secure my Dominican teaching future. So I’ve been thrown into 1st -8th grade Dominican madness, blindly wandering from one class to the next with paper cutouts unknowingly glued to my bottom and my hair falling out (or pulled out by my own hands to alleviate the pain of trying to stand up front and teach to attention spans of zero). But…the pay is great, and I always still have my other fulltime job of sponsorship to look forward to at the end of my teaching day. Thank goodness school goes just to 12:30.

But in all seriousness, teaching art and getting in the classroom has actually been fun. It takes you to a different level once you become a teacher. I now know the kids better and vice versa, I finally get 25 voices of correction for every Spanish word I say wrong (which is all of them), and I’m teaching art, something they are excited about. And I get to keep the best/silliest/cutest work and put it up on my door and get a constant laugh from the Mr. Potato Heads look-a-likes and attempts at 3D birthday cakes.

Excitingly, Anija has added a new program to our repertoire. Last year we had begun a small afternoon program for Haitian students needing to learn to speak, read, and write Spanish, with the hope that eventually we could get the then girls good enough to enter into our equivalent of kindergarten. This program, now officially the ABC program, has grown to both the morning and afternoon. We have both boys and girls, and it is for any students in our programs that need extra help getting caught up enough to enter a classroom. At the moment this pertains to mostly Haitian kids who have never gone to school, but on occasion we have similar cases with Dominican kids. (Left: Jenny, one of our ABC girls. Right: An ABC student's home and family)

It is remarkable at how fast we can see changes in kids that have so many factors fighting against them. From the house visits we have done, the trend is that they live in a one or two bedroom house, sharing a bed with 5 others and living with 7 others, brothers, sisters, cousins, parents, and family friends. They speak Creole and so must learn how to read, write and speak a new language. Their families are the poorest of the poor; they are discriminated against by the Dominicans, and can’t go to school unless they have a Dominican birth certificate, which is rare. And YET, they know much more Spanish than me, they love school, are learning about Jesus, and have a drive to learn. And two of our girls from last year are now in pre-premario (Kindergarten) and first grade!

It is a blessing and an encouragement to be apart of something that is breaking the mold here in the DR and giving hope to the most oppressed. Last year I dreamt of program growth that would allow the involvement of sponsorship. And as we entered a new year with the provision of day and afternoon classes, lunch, and a classroom, we have decided that we can take the dream a little further and start entering these kids into our sponsorship program. This means that our goal is not short-term with these students, but instead to see each one through 8th grade and beyond. (lower left: the ABC morning class- the two kids on the left live at the Ark and had never been to school before). Right: Angie and Rebeka on a ABC student house visit)

I’m appalled that I have yet to make
a plug for sponsorship in any of my blogs. I want to encourage each of you to think about sponsoring a kid. Kids Alive has taken a big hit with increasing food and oil costs, in addition to program growth and increasing teacher salaries, etc. Please consider sponsoring a child OR helping us by spreading the news about Kids Alive and finding people in your town, church, soccer team, bible club, school, etc that want to sponsor kids. Feel free to email me if you or you know of anyone with interest: erfrancis@gmail.com.

Thank you for all your prayers over the past months...my new house situation and roommates are truly a blessing. Please continue to pray for sanity as I teach art and try to keep sponsorship for multiple sites organized. More so, please pray for willing bodies to come fill the missionary vacancies that are and will be in the next months.

Oh the things that happen when your roommate leaves...

It’s funny how things go in phases. Over the past month I have found myself painfully throwing out a lot of food. It started when Sonia, my roommate, left to go back to Colombia. We actually had another American girl staying with us at the time, and so the first thing Emily and I did was to scour through what Sonia had generously left us: fermenting purple jello and freezer-burned mystery meat (the chicken that she left, unfortunately, had to be tossed after it leaked all over the de-thawed freezer…keep reading). In this whole process, Emily and I were working on getting the honking-big fridge (which sat in our kitchen holding photos for six months before I even tried to turn it on…I always wondered why we didn’t use it…) to work, so that Sonia’s fridge could be given to a friend. We got the repair man to come and fix the big whopper, and that night, Emily and I huddled together as we listened to the booms and bangs coming from the monster deep within our only hope of ant-free sugar and cold milk. The repair man visited us three more times after our noisy night. And of course he was always sooo punctual and sooo knowledgeable about the new parts that we were going to need. At the end of it all, we decided, heck, two of us don’t really need such a monster fridge for just a few items anyways. So the fridge still sits in my kitchen, holding pictures and wedding announcements, waiting for the next renter to delight.

(pictures- self-portrait of one of the girls at the ARK 2 in Constanza; Breakfast at Tom (one of my home church's pastor) & Tori's summer apartment out at the ARK; below: Jarabacoa interns, Tori, the tshirt flag and me. in the background: beautiful Constanza)

I want to you all to know that the fridge drama was actually quite enlightening as to how far my comforts can be pushed. I never realized how much my emotions rest on the dependability of a fridge! Yes, I’m not ashamed to admit it (you go live out of your comfort zone and we’ll see what you end up writing about). Anyways, a fridge in the DR is actually quite the same as a fridge in the US. Typically, there are no bugs…or mold (unless it’s your own fault); it keeps things from rotting or going bad within 24 hours, and sadly, for some of us, it holds our comforts. I never knew my addiction to cereal and PB&J was so substantial until this past month. I realized all I really want from my fridge is: cold (or even just unspoiled) milk, my PB&J, and unspoiled mangos and avocados. BUT, when you open up what you thought was a working fridge, to a wall of heat and smell, dripping water, a stream of ants, a couple cockroaches and flies, and thawed chicken, you have to reconsider the quality of the other items. The water didn’t even escape. It tasted like dirty fridge. Same for the bagged chocolate chips. Found that out when I attempted to make cookies. That was a sad one. Oh the tortillas…yeah, dirty fridge too. But hey, the butter was salvaged! And the sugar was still ant-free (sadly the same cannot be said about the bigger bag of sugar that lives in the cupboard). Oh, the ketchup was still good; can’t see that one going bad. Luckily, I was rescued by a mini-fridge. It’s on loan, but for now it is perfect for my new milk, PB&J and fruit, and the butter, sugar, and ketchup.

(pics- Sally (who just moved to Jarabacoa with her husband John and their 3boys from Lafayette. Sally and I are the proud woman's 14+ 1st and 2nd place Ark Marathon winners. My winnings? an XXL tshirt; below: Eladio the bus driver, some nice gardener's hose, and the steaming engine. I'm glad Eladio was in charge of that one.)
And through all this food tossing, which doesn’t include the bugs Emily found in the rice and the ants that took over the baked oatmeal I just made (which I happen to notice a bit too late to spit out), I have clung to the gratitude of my noisy next door neighbor friends. They tend to not mind what I despise and in fact seem to get fatter with everything I toss into their field. If the food trend continues, I will have to actually consider getting my own friends, so I can at least get some fresh eggs out of my chucked food.

I know I have been rambling about nothing with the happenings of work. In reality, so much of my energy is poured into learning how to live outside my comfort zone. I cannot say it is easy to be here in the DR as a single woman. One of the hardest things is walking alone through the normally- mindless daily tasks in life. I never thought that a hot fridge or a flat tire or sometimes even a trip to the store would need multiple deep-breathes. But also, I couldn’t imagine not having this period of sometimes near-desperation; for it is in these times when I remember, ‘oh yeah, YOU are here God’…’YOU are going to do it with me’. Of course my pea-brain tends to remember after the fact; but even then, as I’m slowly learning to see God and talk to Him in every moment, life becomes a bit more amusing and God becomes a bit more of a silly best friend…who likes to put ants on baked oatmeal.
(pic: english class food night. we had american food but we never got anyone to talk in english)

P.S. I guess maybe I should write a word or two about actual work…spent four weeks being gofer for the summer construction teams- aka- my new best friends are at the hardware store. And in the process I got to watch one man in less than a week fix all the toilets and sinks in the only bathrooms that all 260+ kids use on a daily basis. He is my hero. On top of that, you know you have made some serious language improvement when you can go into the hardware store and come out with semi gloss light blue paint, faucets, pipe caps, a bow saw and the innards for a toilet (obviously I don’t even know the English names).

But now that teams are done and the summer interns have left, I have spent the past week trying to spice up the horribly drab office I work in. I’ll post some pix. Happy August!

Before and after...!

Part 2

(picture: a Sunday out at the Ark)

Being in a place long enough also introduces one to the stories and realities that some of the kids walk in. Back in the beginning of the year a girl from one of our programs decided that our rules dictating her approach to dating was unsuitable for her situation. Thus she left our program and temporarily went to live in her boyfriend and his mom’s house. Time went by and obviously Kids Alive cannot continue to support her in the decision to live with her boyfriend. Many hours from multiple parties were poured into finding a different arrangement that would be less compromising. A couple things to keep in mind: first, people here tend to assume the worst; second, they do not go by our American philosophy of ‘their own business’; third, living together as boy/girlfriend is not done. Once under the same roof a couple is thought to be ‘married’ whether with or without the ceremony (not that that keeps them from seeing others or separating). Because the church is very conservative, in a Christian home, the daughters will not leave home to live solo. They live under the protection of their family until they are married. Thus the situation at hand had to be walked rather finely. It seemed appropriate that she would come and live with Sonia and me for the time being. Well, she came, moved all her stuff in, and stayed for the evening. Sadly though, she made the decision around midnight that she really didn’t want to stay. So Sonia brought her back to her boyfriend’s house. What really hurts though isn’t that she is 16 (although she might actually be 18) and he is in his 30’s, or that when she came to us that night after living with him for months she didn’t own a toothbrush or more than 2 pairs of underwear, or a pair of running shoes (and she is known as the best athlete in our programs); no, rather it’s that she has been offered full payment for her university (the chance of a lifetime that hardly ever comes around) and she is choosing not to take the gift. She has a chance to break the cycle, but she doesn’t even realize that she’s in it. Live here and you realize that this cycle of poverty is everywhere and fairly easy to break with perseverance and hard work. We see the answer and we want to scream and shout and hit them over the head with it, but these kids are trapped in a sight and soundproof room that poverty has put them in. And it’s only a few who are able to make out the light coming from outside and are able to find the door and break free from their prison. And it’s hard to imagine that all the fight that we do is only for a few to struggle free. Many are quite happy to have the same life that they have always known. But we do have some who want a change. This year we have 9 who have graduated and hope to go on to university. I came across a writing by C.S. Lewis about five months ago…and it is only after watching people walk through the situation with the girl from our program, that I understood how significant his words are, in both the realities with kids here and the tastiness of our own sin.

We are half-hearted creatures fooling around about with drink, sex and ambition, when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased! -C.S. Lewis

Prayer request:

Please pray that the Lord will fight against thoughts of hopelessness in the situations of some of our hardest kids.

Please pray for open ears and changed hearts towards Jesus in our kids

I will be taking some vacation time starting June 12th, so for renewed vision and purpose for my time down here

Strength for all the missionaries as we enter into summer programs and summer teams (below: this morning looking down the street from my house)

Thoughts over May and June Part 1

So I don’t really have any big break-in stories or weird customs to report about this month. Life has been rapidly plowing along. Things always tend to be a bit chaotic at the end of the school year.

I have begun to notice that now when I go around town I actually see people I know. BUT the amazing thing is that it isn’t just gringos that I see. No, I see kids from school, I see friends from soccer, I even recognize family members of friends. It makes me feel less like an American tourist and more like a, hmmm…not really local…maybe the cousin or the couch surfing friend that never really takes a hint to get lost. Of course I’m still ‘Jessica’ (the last American girl here) to a few of the students and to one of my neighbors- but heck, can I blame em?- I’m sure all we white people just look white and pasty and the same to them. But in a way, the white pastiness (which to my standards is actually tan) is rather a nice identifier to friends. Any white person walking/driving by or seen in the store is most likely someone known. It makes grocery shopping always fun. Last week my grocery trip ended up getting me a wonderful chocolate cake recipe and an invite to a party (from two different stores and two different sets of friends that I ran into). Unfortunately I was unable to attend the party (which I heard had a steady flow of Meringue (the dance)! So sad!) due to a untimely stomach virus that directly followed the eating of the chocolate cake…

I know I am absurdly slow but I feel I am making real progress at tiptoeing my way into the Dominican lifestyle. For what felt like the first time, I was able to sit at a Dominican friend’s house and start a lengthy conversation with a neighbor. It turned out that I had been to her house for the last party and we ended up having a good laugh (at my sake of course). Pause a moment to briefly go over this last party. Picture the PE teacher. He’s about 30, married to the office accountant at school. They have a young daughter and live in a one bedroom place with a kitchen and small living room. Their alley is full of identical places, which are full of his nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, etc. The family goes up the street and around the block as well. It’s a lot of people in a little space; busy, if you haven’t gotten the picture. So when a party is happening, it really IS a party. With the entire block. And there is always a party. When I arrived that night I jumped on an empty seat inside next to the couch. On the couch were the high school musical prodigies flowing with their bachata (a Dominican music and dance). Inside count: maybe 15 people- directly outside the window: 30 or so. Plates of steamy food (yes rice and beans) are tossed out to the waiting crowd. Pop is flowing, and the music, oh the music! It was a riot. (below: pictures from a recent trip up to our Contanza site. Constanza is a agriculture town up in the mountains about 2 hours driving from Jarabacoa. Kids Alive is building a care center that will open in October. On the same site is the Constanza children's home as well. The truck with the carrots is a typical site on any road in the DR.

Basketball, soccer, and an unplanned game of tug o' war

(below: one of the girls who comes to the Haitian project)

So I thought I wouldn’t have much to report his month, besides that I’ve joined THE Jarabacoa’s woman’s soccer team. Yes it’s true. I now play soccer (ok I’ve only played twice- one was practice and the other was in a game against Santiago- who are the country champions- and yes I played for a whole half after having gone to practice one time. I was pretty amazed.) Anyways, that’s the side story.

Last Friday night I got to see the real inner workings of the Dominican judicial system. I also lost about 30 dollars. And I learned that windows, not doors, should be opened for the benefits of sunlight and breeze. I bet you can see where this is going…So I was in the kitchen in my house waiting for a call about where to meet some of the other interns for dinner. Of course I had left my door open, not thinking twice about it. I was standing there washing my water bottle, I turn around, and there in my living room was a woman. Uh-oh, here comes trouble. She asks for water because she’s been walking oh-so far. After the water she wants to sit because she’s tired. Anybody familiar with ‘If you give a mouse a cookie…”? Well that’s me. I let her sit and she wants money to buy milk for her baby. This is going too far. I offer to give her milk powder instead. No she wants money. I go into the kitchen for the milk and I’m watching her like a hawk. And I see her open my bag on the couch (I had moved my computer bag to my room when she first sat down- but forgot about this one), I run in and I’m a tad angry because she’s trying to rob me (surprise surprise), and I tell her to get out. At this point I remove my wallet from the bag and put it in my pocket. She doesn’t move. I try and corral her out, she still doesn’t move. I go in and grab my phone…and then everything became slow motion. She grabs the phone, turns it off and grabs my wallet. Instead of letting her get away with it though, I grab back. And then we do this real mature sisterly tug-of-war over my wallet as if it were a doll we were fighting over. She gets it unzipped and so I reach in and toss all the cards to the floor. I’m yelling for help (in spanish of course) this entire time and thinking whether I’m suppose to actually punch her. The idea seemed so foreign- having to actually punch somebody. Anyways, I lost grip and she stuffs my wallet down her pants. Ok, well now she’s REALLY not leaving. I run to the door to block it and get someone from the street- a kid passing by on his bike. He stops and then all of a sudden my entire neighborhood is on my porch with machetes and big slats of wood. Good, everything is under control. Or so I thought. While I had run to the door she took the money out of my wallet and put that somewhere and tossed my wallet. The police came and took her to the station…in which the strip search (performed by the woman officer in the presence of my roommate) came up empty. Somewhere between her getting into the police car and arriving at the station the cash disappeared… hmmm. And here’s the clinch. In the states maybe this would have been a misdemeanor? Here: a night in jail and release in the morning, unless I took her case down to the city and had her prosecuted, in which she would have gotten anywhere from 6 months to 5 years. I didn’t do that, so she got a good talking to by Sonia and Leslie and now she’s back out. The sad thing is that the police know her, she most likely has AIDS, she uses drugs, she has a one year old daughter, she says she’s 17 (however, we know she is in her 20’s) and she doesn’t want help. Nor does the government offer her any help. Most likely she will be on the streets again if she isn’t already.

In a way it was a very surreal experience. Thank the Lord that he was watching over the situation and that I wasn’t hurt or anything big was stolen. I would rather learn a lesson about being more careful through ‘not-so-coherent’ woman than ‘big bad’ man. But through it all, maybe this provides an opportunity to pray for a woman who probably doesn’t have very many people praying for her.

So life was exciting for a moment. It’s back to normal now. Doing sponsorship work, I’ve started a basketball team for the older girls on Fridays. The girls who come love having basketball and always ask me about practice during the week, just to make sure its happening. I will also be in the Chicago/Wisconsin area from the 26th to 3rd for a soul- care conference. (pictures left: kids from the kindergarten class at Anija)

Please pray for safe travels for all the Kids Alive missionaries who will be going to the conference.

Sonia (roommate) is going back to Colombia at the end of June. Thus, we need to find a new director of the Anija program/school (this is a BIG job). Please pray that God places the right person in the position and that I know what to do about finding a new roommate/s or moving.

What happens when you run out of water

Out of Water
So, after about twenty attempts at writing this, I chanced to ask Jonathan for some ideas of what we have been doing in the office over the past month or so…his reply: ‘uh, learning your job’. Thanks John. Luckily, I think that has sparked something (I was a little skeptical at first). Actually a big part of ‘learning my job’ is in learning how to handle the chaos. Here in the DR and KAI in general, we are in the midst of trying to improve the sponsorship system. It’s quite the taxing process…on my brain at least. But it’s not only sponsorship that needs organization. I can’t begin to explain the number of things here that just plain out need to be organized! I tend to like things organized (or else I will never remember anything), and when things are unorganized, my entirety cannot rest until I do something about it. And there is my problem. I have entered a culture that is passive about the state of their affairs! Water might be shut off for days, weeks- the poop is flowing out of the toilets and yet nobody goes to the water company and does anything about it! (Yes this has happened). In fact, this past week I was out at Palo Blanco (one of the day care centers), I had been there for awhile and was in need of a washroom break. So I went on a search. I popped into the first bathroom, popped open the toilets, and, yes, a disaster in the toilet. Ooh. Ok. I continue my search. The girl’s bathroom, I stop at each toilet. Hmm, hmm, same story. Ok. Something suspicious is going on. I go into the kitchen to try and wash my hands and then I realize that there IS no water. And there had been no water for the past few days. Well, that explained the massive explosion in the toilets. But could you imagine…a whole school with a hundred or more kids, with no running water and thus NO TOILETS?! No don’t imagine it’s not pretty. But this is normal. Really. It’s a normal occurrence to walk into the bathroom and see poop. It really doesn’t faze anybody here. (pictures: Top left: a weekend at the beach. top right: easter painting. left: the view from my back porch. right: my living room…with furniture!)

Speaking of no water, my house has been out of water for the past two days. The novelty of a bucket shower is has just about worn off by now. Especially when I’m stepping into the shower, turning the handle (the ‘C’ (for cold) handle), and nothing is coming out. Then I look down at the bucket and its empty, meaning I have to run out to the back porch to get water. It’s actually kind of exciting. I even tried boiling water last night. (Yes, this time I tested the faucet before I got in the shower).

Living and Learning in the DR
Ok really quickly because I have to run off to Spanish class, a little about the mysteries of living and learning here in the DR. I went to a new church this past Sunday, and the topic was based around palm Sunday. As she was preaching I was trying to picture Jesus and his donkey and the people lining up and down the streets throwing their jackets, cloaks, palms, etc. down on the street for him. What jumped out though, was the fact that Jesus most likely did NOT have paved streets like ours in the US. His street would probably have been very similar to the street I live on. Dirt. And let me tell you, a dirt street means everything is a LOT dirtier (who would have guessed?). Our house should be swept once a day (ahem…should). I ride a motorcycle…when it hasn’t rained in a while (which it hasn’t), the dust gets kicked up…but not only that, in order to decrease the dust Dominicans will stand on the side of the road and water the road. No, no their lawn, they water the road. Their nice service to the motorists does keep the dust down in some areas, but it also creates lots of mud, and puddles. As for washing clothes, it requires a lot of time to use these Dominican washers. I really can’t explain it. It’s just a huge production in which you cannot leave the house because you have to do all this switching and moving and loading every 5 or 10 mins. So, I was re- thinking the whole Palm Sunday scene and actually thinking about the people throwing down their ‘clean’ clothes onto the dirty road for the King of all Kings. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I picture Jesus coming down the road, reaching the big water ditch that crosses my street right in front of my house (the one that always gets me muddy, no matter how hard I try!) and instead of mud and water in the channel, it’s my neighbor’s fresh linens and jackets that were drying on the lines a moment before.

Mark 11:8-10
Many people spread their cloaks on the road, while others spread branches they had cut in the fields. 9 Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted,

"Hosanna! [a]"

"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" [b]
10 "Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!"

"Hosanna in the highest heaven!"

(pictures: top left- easter card painting. top right: the most beautiful girl in caraballo

Prayer Requests:
On April 2nd, Jonathan will be leaving, and I will get the driver’s seat for sponsorship on the island. Pray for a smooth transition.

Continue praying for language learning- motivation and encouragement for the frustrating times.

There is a HUGE need for a public health program (something I am very interested in). One little testament to God’s timing and encouragement…I was briefly having a heart to heart with another missionary about my interest in public health. I mentioned it to my boss, Vic, who proceeded to tell me about this need for someone to do public health in our programs (not to mention all programs here). However, there is no curriculum in spanish anywhere (if you know of some- let me know!) BUT this past week I met someone on a work team who might be developing a curriculum specifically for the DR!

This would be a huge program to set up, and obviously it’s in its infancy, if even that. Please pray for clarity, encouragement, open doors, maybe even someone to partner with me in setting up such a program.

Empty gas tanks, leaves in the water glass, and other lessons learned

Well a month has passed. I went to the fruit store. I bought gas. I paid my phone bill. I went bed & couch shopping (without success). I got some things fixed on my motorcycle: lights, front brake, on/off switch (for a while, a key wasn’t necessary to start my motorcycle) Ah yes, I bought a motorcycle (with help from Sonia, my roommate, and Heladio, the Kid’s Alive driver (not to be confused with helado, which, ahem, is a VERY important word…ice cream) both of whom don’t speak English…). Ah, so much has happened. It doesn’t seem like much, but these are rather big accomplishments in my little world here. In fact, it’s a good day when I venture out to the gas station or supermercado. I have to talk myself into it; unless that is, I’m out of gas and am forced to roll down the hill to the gas station…no wonder I couldn’t get my motor started…

Things are finally becoming more familiar. I’m now an experienced Spanish speaker (‘experienced’), I know not to wear shorts to PE at Palo Blanco (unless I want to itch bites for a week- I took the picture below during PE at Palo Blanco). I know to go running early in the morning when people aren’t awake enough to yell. I know how to do the laundry…although I don’t know how to do it so that it won’t take 2 hours. I know not to use the water after it rains. Either because there IS no water after it rains, or because it’s full of leaves (yes-the water from the kitchen sink)

As you can tell, this has certainly become home…although by now I would have figured home would have included a table and maybe some chairs that weren’t broken … (it’s on the list for this weekend- see photo to right- it's our living room sin table/chairs- woman in pink is my roomate- the other two are our first dinner guest- Sonia's friends from church). Ok, maybe it’s not quite ‘home’, but it is a rather special place. A couple weeks ago, the Arc (the orphanage in Jarabacoa) received three sisters. I went over there the morning after they came. These girls came from an older male relative that failed to take care of them. They arrived scared, undernourished, and with lice. Of course they can’t read or write because they have never been sent to school. But what a blessing these girls are! I spent an hour taking the middle sister for a piggyback ride around the different homes at the Arc. We had some good laughs at my Spanish too.

That same day I got to meet Diary. Diary also lives in one of the homes at the orphanage. There was something different about meeting Diary, and it turned out that she is my grandma’s sponsor child. She’s part of my family. Yes, she has her house parents and her house siblings. But for me, it’s like finding a little sister. Even when we think we have left home, family, friends, God provides in the most unexpected way. I never even thought that meeting Diary would have such an impact. What a Father we have!

I am running out of time, so I will leave with this…”Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” Heb. 11:1. I was actually given this verse by a little old Dominican woman I was sitting next to during Sunday school. She grabbed my arm and pointed to it. Her bible was both in Spanish and English, so after I attempted to read the Spanish version, I read the English. This gift from the Lord, could not have been at more of a perfect moment. There are many moments when I am frustrated and down (not knowing a language can be very frustrating!), but there is hope! Being sure of what we HOPE for and CERTAIN or what we do NOT see.

(Picture to right- Ochaira- she likes to come into our office and speak spanish with me. maybe she just likes to get a good laugh.

Beginning thoughts...

So I have 11/2 weeks under my belt. At times it feels like longer, and at other times I wish time would jump five months so that I wouldn’t have to do so much memorizing (words, names, etc.). I wouldn’t be surprised if my brain was to explode at some point here. Despite being in the Caribbean, the weather is actually not hot here. In fact I wear pants most days; which is perfect because I don’t worry about my legs getting eaten alive. I think I have more mosquito bites in one week here in the DR, than I had in 5 months in Alaska. But it’s actually not too bad. In fact, I find that the bugs are the worst inside my Spanish tutor’s house.

Two Saturday’s ago, my Columbian roommate, Sonia, (who works as the ANIJA school discipline director-ANIJA is one of the schools that Kids Alive runs) and I moved into our house. Kid’s Alive people have rented it for years. I have my own spacious room and a porch out back. We also have a porch in front where I sit and eat breakfast. We have a nice door that likes to lock itself automatically. I’m sure this has already caused some amusement for our neighbors, considering that I got locked out Friday morning while I was in my PJ’s. Sonia had already gone to school and I didn’t have my keys, phone, numbers, or bike. I was banging on our downstairs neighbors door, when my next door neighbor poked her head out to see the commotion the new white Americano was making. I poorly explained that I had no keys. She repeatedly told me my neighbor wasn’t home. Darn, she might have had a key. The poor woman pitied me and took me to school to get the keys from Sonia. Whew.

Ok, so that’s not the only time I embarrassed myself this week. I fell off my bike while trying to go up an alley- in my defense-the streets and driveways are very unevenly matched, almost impossible to go from one to the other if going slow- which is what I was doing. I was also turning sharply. I’m not sure what I was thinking. But, yes, I fell, ever so slowly. Of course the old men on the corner turned. And the vender across the street. And the three guys playing basketball in the alley. What’s even worse is that I was on the wrong street, so I had to go down and ask the basketball guys for directions. And it’s not like I can’t show my face down there again; that’s where my tutor lives! But I have accepted the fact that this little white Americano sticks out like a sore thumb. I hope that I will bring laughter to the lives of many Dominicans as I hopelessly make mistake after mistake after mistake.

There are other stories I can tell…I embarrassed myself, once again, by not holding the left brake on the pesola (little moped thingy that I’m borrowing), while I was trying to kick start it, and of course I was giving it too much gas, and the thing shot off and did a huge wheelie, I screamed, the neighborhood was watching. My neighbor’s son came out to help me that time. I did laundry today. It took my a couple hours to try and figure it out…the washing machines are VERY different here. I put it out to dry. For a total of 10 mins before it started to, yes, rain…and it is still raining (7 hours later). In fact, I’m hoping it will stop in the next 20 mins here, cause I have to bike to tutoring. (all transportation is either: a) walking, b) biking, or c) motorcycling….and to think that I brought lots of useless stuff, like khaki shorts (think rain + dirt roads+ bike/motorcycle) and I DID NOT bring a poncho… I have a funny feeling that it’s going to be a very wet two years.