My entry "A Day in the Life of Hombre Serio Cero" has been republished on the Peace Corps website! They trimmed off some of the fat but the meat remains.
I put a lot of time into this blog so it's nice to know that I'll have chance to reach a broader audience.
Showing posts with label success. Show all posts
Showing posts with label success. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
How to build a barbershop in the campo
The picture below was taken nearly a year ago during jornada (workday) that Cat and I scheduled to improve a local hiking trail. I haven't written much about it here because it was kind of a fracaso (failure). Trying and failing is a big part of Peace Corps service but it's not the kind of thing that motivates one to lift the pen.
We still haven't completed the project.
.
Junior earns part of his income as a guía turistica (tour guide). It was he who guided us out to the waterfall and did most of the work that got done that day. The idea was (and still is) to improve the conditions of local trails to make them more attractive (and safer) for tourists to visit local
gems.
gems.
 |
Because he is an hombre serio Junior decided to use the windfall of cash to better his prospects by beginning construction on a peluquería. It was a good idea!
Junior is a talented peluquero (barber). Personal appearance is very important in Dominican society so the muchachos need to look sharp for school. Local parents prefer Junior over the other peluquería which is attached to the discoteque and sold rum. With a steady clientele all he needed was a work space that wasn't his living room.
But he started the project without a presupesto (budget) and his money quickly ran out. For months it looked like this.
Until my counterpart suggested to Junior that he get a loan. Lending in the DR is pretty precarious: my community-run institution charges 33% APR and we offer better rates than most banks! I was worried about Junior's prospects of paying back the loan so I suggested to him that we institute a system of contabilidad (accounting).
What we came up with was pretty simple. Junior wrote down them name of every client that came in, what service they wanted, and whether they paid en efectivo or whether he gave them fiao. We used this to estimate his average monthly income.
We also totaled up all they money he had spent on construction and used the data to estimate how many pesos it would take to complete construction.
Now Junior knew exactly how much money he needed to borrow and how long it would take him to pay it back.
So he was able to open the doors . . .
. . . and start construction again.
This is what it looked like when I got my hair cut there last week.
Friday, May 5, 2017
A Day in the Life of Hombre Serio Cero
This is not the story of any one particular day. Some days I am not nearly this productive and - and some days I have even more to do. What follows is a sketch of the "average" day.
04:00 Awake to the sound of screaming roosters.
04:30 Fall back asleep after much tossing and turning.
06:30 Alarm on cell phone. Wake up and get up.
06:30 - 07:30 Morning meditation and old man stretches.
07:30 - 08:30 Breakfast: black coffee and oatmeal. Brush teeth, shower and shave.
08:30 Holler into the street to remind neighborhood muchachos about math lesson at 9 AM.
08:45 - 09:15 Talk about the day ahead with Cat
09:20 - 10:10 Math lesson with two or three muchachos. It's a surprising amount of effort but is a good way to warm up my Spanish for the day.
10:15 Leave for the community bank, in theory a two minute walk.
10:30 Arrive at savings bank having briefly chatted with at least five neighbors and politely but firmly resisted at least one invitation to sit and have coffee.
10:30 - 10:45 Chat with the cajera (teller) catching up on important local news: deaths in the night upcoming and/or religious holidays I might not not know about.
Most important: is the Señor (my project partner) in today? He was but he left on an errand while I was teaching math. When real news gives way to chisme (gossip) I know it's time to get to work.
11:00 I finally sit at my desk. I review my email and calendar to see if I have any reports due to Peace Corps (they are surprisingly frequent). Nothing today, but I do have an appointment with a business student at 02:30.
11:15 - 1:00 I review my notes about what the Señor and I need to discuss, writing an informal agenda of questions and bullet points. To avoid about 15 minutes of increasingly frustrating back-and-forth questions, I take special pains to identify and look up any jargon that I don't know necessary jargon: e.g., "Cartera de prestamos" (loan portfolio).
12:00 - 12:45 I review notes and terminology for the afternoon's appointment and print out and examples of simple accounting ledgers for us to practice with.
12:45 - 12:50 I repeat the same hello/goodbye gauntlet on the way "home" (host mother's house across the street from where we actually live) for lunch. It takes less time because less people are outside in the the mid-day heat. The president of the bank's credit committee is on his front porch, in the shade. I stop to remind him of the meeting we have scheduled one week from today.
12:50 - 13:50 Lunch, la bandera in all it's glory: beans, rice, a little bit of pollo criollo (backyard chicken) still on the bone, and a mayonnaise-based salad featuring boiled, cubed tayota squash.
During the meal, I help Host-Mom badger Host Brother into getting ready for school.
Cat shows up at 13:30, done up for the afternoon class session and whisks off Host Brother with her.
I let the food settle as I watch the last half of a telenovela with Host-Mom. We chat about the silly plot and how her grown kids in the big city are doing. I let her know that Host Brother behaved himself during the morning math lessons and is really starting to get the hang of it.
13:50 -14:00 Sit at home with the doors and windows shut so I can enjoy an afternoon cup of coffee in peace and quiet.
14:05 I arrive back at the office, having said adios to anyone who said saludo to me - which is culturally appropriate and I greatly appreciate it. While I wait for the 14:30 appointment I write idle fragments of poetry.
14:45 My 2:30 appointment arrivals.
2:50 - 15:30 After small talk we get to work. Instead of reviewing the practice ledgers, she wants to talk about getting a loan for her small business. We talk about the pros and cons of loans and how they aren't always necessary even if you qualify for one. We brainstorm likely expenses to put together a budget for her project. Around 3 PM el Señor pokes his head in to let me know he's here.
15:30 -16:30 Finally sit down with the Señor. We discuss his oficios (errands) outside of the pueblo: business or personal? As always, both.
On the agenda: the accountant says we should increase the size of the loan portfolio if we want to offset our troubling spending deficit. He also recommends initiating a promotion campaign to promote other financial products. Is that realistic with a staff of one and a half people?
The door is open so we notice when the President of the Board of Directors comes in for a routine transaction. The Señor and I form a friendly tag team and force him into an impromptu meeting. We review all of the above. The afternoon rain kicks in, keeping us inside a little longer than planned.
16:45 - 17:45 Home sweet home. I sit in the shelter of my front porch and scribble notes for this blog entry while I watch muchachos play in the street. The mom of one collects laundry that she has hung on the barbwire outside my house and lets me know she has an English exam at the university next Monday. Could we study tonight?
18:00 - 18:00 We practice English in her out-kitchen as screaming children run in and out. In 30 minutes we have maybe 15 of actual concentration but she is steadily coming along. I leave because the sun is setting and the light will come late tonight.
18:30 - 19:30 Romantic dinner by candlelight with Cat: lentil soup (she made it) supplemented with individually wrapped single-serving pieces of bread from the colmado ("corner store"). Cat tells me we are running low on key provisions (e.g. lentils) that we can't get in the pueblo. We talk schedule and logistics about heading into the nearest big city - an entire days errand. We realize we can't go tomorrow but the day after works. It's been a while and it will be nice to take a break from our campo.
19:30 - 19:45 Romantic dish washing by candlelight.
19:50 We hear the scrape of the front gate against the sidewalk and the tell-tale call of "¡Vecinos!" (neighbors). It is, of course, Fulano. We are tired but he is a good friend so we invite him to sit on the front porch. While we chat, the evangelical church three houses over commences and it's raucous service. We botar Fulano at 20:30 because we are tired.
20:30 - 21:30 Meditate, brush teeth and collapse into bed with a good book by light of electric, solar-powered lantern. The church service has wrapped up.
22:00 Pitch black tranquility gives way to an impromptu celebration as the light arrives. Every family on the street turns on their televisions all at once and the corner store turns on loud music just for the hell of it. So much for reading! Cat and I load an episode of /Narcos/ on the laptop.
23:15 All at once everyone remembers that they have to go farming tomorrow morning. The TV and music go silent. Cat and I close our eyes. Somewhere, for some reason, dogs begin to bark in the darkness startling a lone rooster who begins to crow.
04:00 Awake to the sound of screaming roosters.
04:30 Fall back asleep after much tossing and turning.
06:30 Alarm on cell phone. Wake up and get up.
06:30 - 07:30 Morning meditation and old man stretches.
07:30 - 08:30 Breakfast: black coffee and oatmeal. Brush teeth, shower and shave.
08:30 Holler into the street to remind neighborhood muchachos about math lesson at 9 AM.
08:45 - 09:15 Talk about the day ahead with Cat
09:20 - 10:10 Math lesson with two or three muchachos. It's a surprising amount of effort but is a good way to warm up my Spanish for the day.
10:15 Leave for the community bank, in theory a two minute walk.
10:30 Arrive at savings bank having briefly chatted with at least five neighbors and politely but firmly resisted at least one invitation to sit and have coffee.
10:30 - 10:45 Chat with the cajera (teller) catching up on important local news: deaths in the night upcoming and/or religious holidays I might not not know about.
Most important: is the Señor (my project partner) in today? He was but he left on an errand while I was teaching math. When real news gives way to chisme (gossip) I know it's time to get to work.
11:00 I finally sit at my desk. I review my email and calendar to see if I have any reports due to Peace Corps (they are surprisingly frequent). Nothing today, but I do have an appointment with a business student at 02:30.
11:15 - 1:00 I review my notes about what the Señor and I need to discuss, writing an informal agenda of questions and bullet points. To avoid about 15 minutes of increasingly frustrating back-and-forth questions, I take special pains to identify and look up any jargon that I don't know necessary jargon: e.g., "Cartera de prestamos" (loan portfolio).
12:00 - 12:45 I review notes and terminology for the afternoon's appointment and print out and examples of simple accounting ledgers for us to practice with.
12:45 - 12:50 I repeat the same hello/goodbye gauntlet on the way "home" (host mother's house across the street from where we actually live) for lunch. It takes less time because less people are outside in the the mid-day heat. The president of the bank's credit committee is on his front porch, in the shade. I stop to remind him of the meeting we have scheduled one week from today.
12:50 - 13:50 Lunch, la bandera in all it's glory: beans, rice, a little bit of pollo criollo (backyard chicken) still on the bone, and a mayonnaise-based salad featuring boiled, cubed tayota squash.
During the meal, I help Host-Mom badger Host Brother into getting ready for school.
Cat shows up at 13:30, done up for the afternoon class session and whisks off Host Brother with her.
I let the food settle as I watch the last half of a telenovela with Host-Mom. We chat about the silly plot and how her grown kids in the big city are doing. I let her know that Host Brother behaved himself during the morning math lessons and is really starting to get the hang of it.
13:50 -14:00 Sit at home with the doors and windows shut so I can enjoy an afternoon cup of coffee in peace and quiet.
14:05 I arrive back at the office, having said adios to anyone who said saludo to me - which is culturally appropriate and I greatly appreciate it. While I wait for the 14:30 appointment I write idle fragments of poetry.
14:45 My 2:30 appointment arrivals.
2:50 - 15:30 After small talk we get to work. Instead of reviewing the practice ledgers, she wants to talk about getting a loan for her small business. We talk about the pros and cons of loans and how they aren't always necessary even if you qualify for one. We brainstorm likely expenses to put together a budget for her project. Around 3 PM el Señor pokes his head in to let me know he's here.
15:30 -16:30 Finally sit down with the Señor. We discuss his oficios (errands) outside of the pueblo: business or personal? As always, both.
On the agenda: the accountant says we should increase the size of the loan portfolio if we want to offset our troubling spending deficit. He also recommends initiating a promotion campaign to promote other financial products. Is that realistic with a staff of one and a half people?
The door is open so we notice when the President of the Board of Directors comes in for a routine transaction. The Señor and I form a friendly tag team and force him into an impromptu meeting. We review all of the above. The afternoon rain kicks in, keeping us inside a little longer than planned.
16:45 - 17:45 Home sweet home. I sit in the shelter of my front porch and scribble notes for this blog entry while I watch muchachos play in the street. The mom of one collects laundry that she has hung on the barbwire outside my house and lets me know she has an English exam at the university next Monday. Could we study tonight?
18:00 - 18:00 We practice English in her out-kitchen as screaming children run in and out. In 30 minutes we have maybe 15 of actual concentration but she is steadily coming along. I leave because the sun is setting and the light will come late tonight.
18:30 - 19:30 Romantic dinner by candlelight with Cat: lentil soup (she made it) supplemented with individually wrapped single-serving pieces of bread from the colmado ("corner store"). Cat tells me we are running low on key provisions (e.g. lentils) that we can't get in the pueblo. We talk schedule and logistics about heading into the nearest big city - an entire days errand. We realize we can't go tomorrow but the day after works. It's been a while and it will be nice to take a break from our campo.
19:30 - 19:45 Romantic dish washing by candlelight.
19:50 We hear the scrape of the front gate against the sidewalk and the tell-tale call of "¡Vecinos!" (neighbors). It is, of course, Fulano. We are tired but he is a good friend so we invite him to sit on the front porch. While we chat, the evangelical church three houses over commences and it's raucous service. We botar Fulano at 20:30 because we are tired.
20:30 - 21:30 Meditate, brush teeth and collapse into bed with a good book by light of electric, solar-powered lantern. The church service has wrapped up.
22:00 Pitch black tranquility gives way to an impromptu celebration as the light arrives. Every family on the street turns on their televisions all at once and the corner store turns on loud music just for the hell of it. So much for reading! Cat and I load an episode of /Narcos/ on the laptop.
23:15 All at once everyone remembers that they have to go farming tomorrow morning. The TV and music go silent. Cat and I close our eyes. Somewhere, for some reason, dogs begin to bark in the darkness startling a lone rooster who begins to crow.
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
A letter to a friend
Hey Kenny,
About a year ago you were here on the island for a wedding. You offered to come out and see me but I couldn't make the time because I was still in training. Training is mostly powerpoint marathons and icebreaker games but your visit overlapped with something important - my first trip into the field to visit an actual volunteer. This is like job shadowing but compressed and abbreviated: since PC service is a 24/7 job you spend three solid days hanging out to get an idea of what it's like.
One year on, it`s on me to return the favor. This past weekend I played host to a new volunteer, still in training, so he could get an idea of what life is like. My site is super tranquilo: clean, safe, and isolated, near the Haitian border. There's not a lot to do for fun and what gets done for work gets done more slowly. During the visit I showed the newbie around and introduced him to some of old timers I work with. It's SOP for getting anything done: no one takes you seriously if you haven't the decency to spend a few hours on the front porch with them shooting the shit and drinking coffee. At one such gathering newbie tells us a story.
In training they stick you in a barrio outside the capital. It's safe-ish, as long as you don't walk around at night, not that different than the neighborhoods where you and I worked in San Francisco except your street smarts don't always translate. One night newbie wakes up to all the dogs on his street barking. He gets up to see what the fuss is and sees two guys running from roof-to-roof being chased by what can only be described as an angry mob. The two were trying to steal motorcycles - way more common than cars here - but instead of getting away they get caught. The police show up but stand back while the mob works the thieves over a bit: this, too, is SOP. When the crowd is done the thieves are bloodied but not seriously hurt. The cops take them away and the neighbors use the occasion as an excuse to party.
Newbie has been in the country less than three weeks and is telling this story to practice his Spanish and make conversation but also to process the event. The old timer responds with a story of his own: a few weeks back, two guys were caught trying to steal motorcycles in a town just on the other side of the border. They, too, were caught by a mob. But instead of turning them over to the cops, the mob doused them with gasoline and set them on fire. I am reminded of the Old West: they didn't have gasoline back then, so when mobs caught horse thieves they hung them from trees.
When I first got to the DR I was still processing the experience of our work in SF. I made constant comparisons not just between the US and Dominican and Haitian culture, but between the Americans I had left behind and the Americans I found myself working with. The average PC volunteer is a decade or more younger than I am, which makes them the exact age as the "at risk" folks we used to work with. That was the biggest difference of all: not the Spanish or the threat of violence (plenty of both of those in Bayview, right?) but going from working with 23 year old gang members who couldn't write a complete sentence to working with 23 year olds with masters degrees. Because PC has been on a big diversity push in recent years the demographics even overlap: plenty of African Americans and Latinos, though not any Pacific Islanders - at least not in my group.
A year on, this education gap remains the biggest difference that I am aware of. Not just between the kind of Americans who get accepted into PC and the kind of Americans who end up in programs like the one we used to run in SF, but the difference between Dominicans and Americans and Dominicans and Haitians and even the difference between Americans now and Americans in the Old West. I think this one key difference eventually manifests in the other types of differences that bring PC here to the DR: a struggling economy, too many teen moms, violent crime, etc.
When we were in the thick of it in SF, we were usually too busy putting out fires to reflect on what we were doing. At least I was. Now, here, in between the cups of coffee and parlays in Spanish, I have had a little time to process it all. I know we weren't always able to make the difference that we wanted to, to prevent the violence from reaching the kids or reaching out of them, but I want to you to know I am proud of what we did, as small as it might seem in retrospect. I am proud of you and thank you for being there with me through all of it.
I hope you and Amy are well,
Kevin
About a year ago you were here on the island for a wedding. You offered to come out and see me but I couldn't make the time because I was still in training. Training is mostly powerpoint marathons and icebreaker games but your visit overlapped with something important - my first trip into the field to visit an actual volunteer. This is like job shadowing but compressed and abbreviated: since PC service is a 24/7 job you spend three solid days hanging out to get an idea of what it's like.
One year on, it`s on me to return the favor. This past weekend I played host to a new volunteer, still in training, so he could get an idea of what life is like. My site is super tranquilo: clean, safe, and isolated, near the Haitian border. There's not a lot to do for fun and what gets done for work gets done more slowly. During the visit I showed the newbie around and introduced him to some of old timers I work with. It's SOP for getting anything done: no one takes you seriously if you haven't the decency to spend a few hours on the front porch with them shooting the shit and drinking coffee. At one such gathering newbie tells us a story.
In training they stick you in a barrio outside the capital. It's safe-ish, as long as you don't walk around at night, not that different than the neighborhoods where you and I worked in San Francisco except your street smarts don't always translate. One night newbie wakes up to all the dogs on his street barking. He gets up to see what the fuss is and sees two guys running from roof-to-roof being chased by what can only be described as an angry mob. The two were trying to steal motorcycles - way more common than cars here - but instead of getting away they get caught. The police show up but stand back while the mob works the thieves over a bit: this, too, is SOP. When the crowd is done the thieves are bloodied but not seriously hurt. The cops take them away and the neighbors use the occasion as an excuse to party.
Newbie has been in the country less than three weeks and is telling this story to practice his Spanish and make conversation but also to process the event. The old timer responds with a story of his own: a few weeks back, two guys were caught trying to steal motorcycles in a town just on the other side of the border. They, too, were caught by a mob. But instead of turning them over to the cops, the mob doused them with gasoline and set them on fire. I am reminded of the Old West: they didn't have gasoline back then, so when mobs caught horse thieves they hung them from trees.
When I first got to the DR I was still processing the experience of our work in SF. I made constant comparisons not just between the US and Dominican and Haitian culture, but between the Americans I had left behind and the Americans I found myself working with. The average PC volunteer is a decade or more younger than I am, which makes them the exact age as the "at risk" folks we used to work with. That was the biggest difference of all: not the Spanish or the threat of violence (plenty of both of those in Bayview, right?) but going from working with 23 year old gang members who couldn't write a complete sentence to working with 23 year olds with masters degrees. Because PC has been on a big diversity push in recent years the demographics even overlap: plenty of African Americans and Latinos, though not any Pacific Islanders - at least not in my group.
A year on, this education gap remains the biggest difference that I am aware of. Not just between the kind of Americans who get accepted into PC and the kind of Americans who end up in programs like the one we used to run in SF, but the difference between Dominicans and Americans and Dominicans and Haitians and even the difference between Americans now and Americans in the Old West. I think this one key difference eventually manifests in the other types of differences that bring PC here to the DR: a struggling economy, too many teen moms, violent crime, etc.
When we were in the thick of it in SF, we were usually too busy putting out fires to reflect on what we were doing. At least I was. Now, here, in between the cups of coffee and parlays in Spanish, I have had a little time to process it all. I know we weren't always able to make the difference that we wanted to, to prevent the violence from reaching the kids or reaching out of them, but I want to you to know I am proud of what we did, as small as it might seem in retrospect. I am proud of you and thank you for being there with me through all of it.
I hope you and Amy are well,
Kevin
Friday, December 16, 2016
Small world, small starts
The other day Cat and I woke early to get on the first pickup out of town to head to a community called (in Spanish) "The Cherry Trees". We went there to meet some Chris and Matt of Earth Sangha, the NGO who were the iniciating force behind the tree planting that we participated in not long after we first arrived in site.
I recognize that the phrase "iniciating force" is somewhat awkward, so allow me an explanatory note: I want to give ES the credit they deserve but not all of it. They are essential to the reforestation project of which the planting was a small part - they literally started the project and it is doubtful that this type of project would have (literally) taken root without them - but the vast majority of the work is done on the ground by Dominicans. The planting we participated in was organized by another Peace Corps volunteer with the help of the local Asociación de Productores del Bosque ("Association of Forest Producers"). There are 3 paid staff here in the DR and the directors of ES only need to visit once or twice a year.
Before heading out to check on the seedlings we planted we sat down with Chris and Matt for a get-to-know you conversation. Cat recorded some great audio that should be up on the podcast shortly. Earth Sangha is an interesting organization. Sangha is a Buddhist word that means "collection of things". Originally the word referred to the community of monks who followed the Buddhas but can also be understood to include the community of all living beings. Por lo tanto, the "sangha" in ES includes not just the staff and the members of the association but also the trees themselves and the wildlife that will return to the new forest.
It turns out that Chris, the founder, and I studied under the same Buddhist teacher despite doing so at different decades in different countries and being more than 20 years apart in age. Small world! So how did Chris come to planting trees after studying Buddhism?
After many years working for an organization trying to raise awareness about the dangers of deforestation he wanted to produce more tangible results than just reports. He began with the idea in 1997 and after nearly 10 years of false starts he was able to establish a sustainable project among the Cherry Trees of la República Dominicana. To me, this is an inspiring Buddhist lesson about the importance of persistence in the face of difficulty, whether he thinks of it that way or not. A key Zen teaching is "continue under all circumstances" - never give up. No matter what happens.
And so today the Earth Sangha has led to the reforestation of over 200 acres of hillside in the Cherry Trees. Erosion has been halted, rainwater conserved and pesos injected into the local economy. I am truly impressed by the variety of different programs that ES operates here and in the US. I won't go into all that here since their website does a far better job of that and has better pictures. Check it out and donate some money while you are at it.
So how are the trees doing?
There was some failure but enough have taken hold that a forest will soon stand where now there is only grass.
In Peace Corps we often talk about the long game of sustainable development. Unlike other groups that build buildings or donate goods PC works with the people to introduce ideas and teach techniques that will continue to have impact long after we've left. Volunteers don't get to see that impact while they are in country and may never see it at all. Some volunteers leave country after two years of hard work with the feeling that they have failed. The metaphor often used is that PC service is like planting trees in whose shade you will never get to sit. I get that - I just never thought it would be so literal!
Before heading out to check on the seedlings we planted we sat down with Chris and Matt for a get-to-know you conversation. Cat recorded some great audio that should be up on the podcast shortly. Earth Sangha is an interesting organization. Sangha is a Buddhist word that means "collection of things". Originally the word referred to the community of monks who followed the Buddhas but can also be understood to include the community of all living beings. Por lo tanto, the "sangha" in ES includes not just the staff and the members of the association but also the trees themselves and the wildlife that will return to the new forest.
It turns out that Chris, the founder, and I studied under the same Buddhist teacher despite doing so at different decades in different countries and being more than 20 years apart in age. Small world! So how did Chris come to planting trees after studying Buddhism?
After many years working for an organization trying to raise awareness about the dangers of deforestation he wanted to produce more tangible results than just reports. He began with the idea in 1997 and after nearly 10 years of false starts he was able to establish a sustainable project among the Cherry Trees of la República Dominicana. To me, this is an inspiring Buddhist lesson about the importance of persistence in the face of difficulty, whether he thinks of it that way or not. A key Zen teaching is "continue under all circumstances" - never give up. No matter what happens.
And so today the Earth Sangha has led to the reforestation of over 200 acres of hillside in the Cherry Trees. Erosion has been halted, rainwater conserved and pesos injected into the local economy. I am truly impressed by the variety of different programs that ES operates here and in the US. I won't go into all that here since their website does a far better job of that and has better pictures. Check it out and donate some money while you are at it.
So how are the trees doing?
There was some failure but enough have taken hold that a forest will soon stand where now there is only grass.
In Peace Corps we often talk about the long game of sustainable development. Unlike other groups that build buildings or donate goods PC works with the people to introduce ideas and teach techniques that will continue to have impact long after we've left. Volunteers don't get to see that impact while they are in country and may never see it at all. Some volunteers leave country after two years of hard work with the feeling that they have failed. The metaphor often used is that PC service is like planting trees in whose shade you will never get to sit. I get that - I just never thought it would be so literal!
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Sunday, June 19, 2016
A Race from Top to Bottom
Our first few weeks have mostly been concerned with getting to know our way around but we've already been able to participate in a satisfying project. It was not just technically outside of my site but also technically out of my province and far outside of my assigned project. Though it took place just up the mountain road from our pueblo when we hopped out of the pickup bed we were no longer in Elias Piña but Dajabon. And just as I don't live in the hot and dry Elias Piña of the south, this was not the busy and bustling Dajabon of the famed international market. We were in a small hillside village and we were there to plant trees.
The project was coordinated in part by another PCV and an NGO but most of the work was done by locals. The trees had been grown in a vivero (plant nursery) owned by the local Asociación de Producción de Bosques (Reforestaction Association) and the lion's share of the labor was done by local high school students.
The land was steep and the day was hot and the bosquedores had grown some 2000 pines and other native trees for us to plant. We worked the entire hillside from the bottom to the top and back down again. The jovenes (youth) approached the job with the uneven effort of teenagers everywhere. Some worked, but the kids who were literally too cool for school (they got the day off for volunteering) chatted in the shade. My work with troubled youth in the States has taught me skills rooted in positive reinforcement to challenge and motivate the disengaged. This worked with some of them, but the doña's approach was more effective. "Look at me! I'm over 60 years old and I'm dripping with sweat! What are you, flowers?"
Dominicans, generally speaking, are more direct with their children than American parents but slightly less so than American drill sargents. They worry about delincuencía (juvenile delinquency) but this to me seemed more like garden variety laziness. Also, some of the muchachos would likely be working in the fincas (agritultural tracts of land) later that week and possibly for the rest of their lives so I can't blame them for lack of enthusiasm. Still, we got the work done in time for lunch. We were assisted by a kicky mule who dutifully hauled saddlebags of matitas (seedlings) from the bottom of the slope to the top. He was a huge help but you had to steer clear of his hindlegs.
The land we planted was owned by the bosquedores so we know the trees won't be cut down but in the national parks it's a different story. The slopes of nearby Nalga de Maco are steadily being denuded of their timber. Some blame Haitians coming over the border to harvest carbón (charcoal) but more often than not it is poor Dominicans. Without better prospects the best way to make a living along the border is to plant beans in the hillside and sell them at market.
They lack land and opportunities but not consciencia. Dominicans are well-educated on the problem of deforestation. Haiti is so badly deforested you can see the difference from space. During the years of dictatorship and caudillisimo the Dominican forestry service was militarized and illegal loggers and farmers were jailed. Today, enforcement is lax. I imagine it is a grim business. Just barely getting by and knowing you're not doing yourself any favors them in the long run.
Every time it rains the water washes loose clay from the hillside where it runs into the valley where it runs in a ruddy band in the river. The locals tell me that the river is wider and deeper than it used to be. Without trees to drink it it the water flows into the valley. Without trees to retain the moisture and release it as mist it rains less and each season grows hotter. Climate change is real.
One local I talked to likened it to a race between deforestation and reforestation. It remains to be seen which side will win but I got back in the pickup proud, tired, and happy to have carried the baton a little further in the right direction.
The project was coordinated in part by another PCV and an NGO but most of the work was done by locals. The trees had been grown in a vivero (plant nursery) owned by the local Asociación de Producción de Bosques (Reforestaction Association) and the lion's share of the labor was done by local high school students.
The land was steep and the day was hot and the bosquedores had grown some 2000 pines and other native trees for us to plant. We worked the entire hillside from the bottom to the top and back down again. The jovenes (youth) approached the job with the uneven effort of teenagers everywhere. Some worked, but the kids who were literally too cool for school (they got the day off for volunteering) chatted in the shade. My work with troubled youth in the States has taught me skills rooted in positive reinforcement to challenge and motivate the disengaged. This worked with some of them, but the doña's approach was more effective. "Look at me! I'm over 60 years old and I'm dripping with sweat! What are you, flowers?"
Dominicans, generally speaking, are more direct with their children than American parents but slightly less so than American drill sargents. They worry about delincuencía (juvenile delinquency) but this to me seemed more like garden variety laziness. Also, some of the muchachos would likely be working in the fincas (agritultural tracts of land) later that week and possibly for the rest of their lives so I can't blame them for lack of enthusiasm. Still, we got the work done in time for lunch. We were assisted by a kicky mule who dutifully hauled saddlebags of matitas (seedlings) from the bottom of the slope to the top. He was a huge help but you had to steer clear of his hindlegs.
The land we planted was owned by the bosquedores so we know the trees won't be cut down but in the national parks it's a different story. The slopes of nearby Nalga de Maco are steadily being denuded of their timber. Some blame Haitians coming over the border to harvest carbón (charcoal) but more often than not it is poor Dominicans. Without better prospects the best way to make a living along the border is to plant beans in the hillside and sell them at market.
They lack land and opportunities but not consciencia. Dominicans are well-educated on the problem of deforestation. Haiti is so badly deforested you can see the difference from space. During the years of dictatorship and caudillisimo the Dominican forestry service was militarized and illegal loggers and farmers were jailed. Today, enforcement is lax. I imagine it is a grim business. Just barely getting by and knowing you're not doing yourself any favors them in the long run.
Every time it rains the water washes loose clay from the hillside where it runs into the valley where it runs in a ruddy band in the river. The locals tell me that the river is wider and deeper than it used to be. Without trees to drink it it the water flows into the valley. Without trees to retain the moisture and release it as mist it rains less and each season grows hotter. Climate change is real.
One local I talked to likened it to a race between deforestation and reforestation. It remains to be seen which side will win but I got back in the pickup proud, tired, and happy to have carried the baton a little further in the right direction.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
A Tale of Two Murals
Two friends of mine in San Francisco are landscape designers. When, about this time last year, I was asked to oversee the installation of an educational garden at an underserved school I went to them first. They are at the top of their game, well-respected and well-connected, and were generous with their time and talents and their network. They not only worked for free but recruited a well-known local artist to paint a mural at the school and got them to work for free, too.
It was an exciting project. My friends put together an innovative design with several unique features, almost all of which never got off the drawing board. There was a permit that we had to sign, you see. It was over 20 pages and had very specific guidelines about what could and couldn't happen. Must of what we wanted fell into the "couldn't" category. The mural was one of these things. It wasn't exactly prohibited by the garden permit but was subject to it's own 10 page permit. This required the artist to, among other things, submit the proposed design to the Design Approval Committee for review and sign away all rights to their work while at the same time agreeing to maintain the mural if it was damaged.
They didn't sign it and I can't blame them. I wouldn't have signed it, either, though I did sign the other permit. The kids didn't get a mural but they did get the garden, even if it was a pale imitation of the original vision. The permitting process dragged on for months and was so dispiriting that one of my designer friends literally broke down in tears at one point.
What does this have to do with the DR, you ask? Well, despite having been here for less time than the aforementioned permitting process, my fellow volunteers and I have already completed a mural at the wall of a school. This was another project of my "advanced" Spanish class. Here's a picture of it:
I am (almost) not exagerrating when I say that we were able to complete this world map in less time than it took me to read the permits for the San Francisco project. The "permit" here was a simple conversation with the directora of the school. Instead of bureacratic obstructionism the process was marked by trust and flexibility. When the project was delayed (twice) by political actions and (once) by weather we had only to make a simple phone call to change plans.
In a previous entry of this blog, I used the phrase "Third World" when reflecting upon the Dominican Republic. A fellow volunteer has since told me that "developing nation" it a more accurate phrase. As I noted, it's not that the DR doesn't have the stuff of modernity it's just that it's not always evenly distributed or hasn't reached same height of complexity. In that vein, it's not that don't Dominicans have bureaucracy but it hasn't invaded all levels of society in the way it has in "developed" countries like my own.
Sometimes, this is a good thing.
It was an exciting project. My friends put together an innovative design with several unique features, almost all of which never got off the drawing board. There was a permit that we had to sign, you see. It was over 20 pages and had very specific guidelines about what could and couldn't happen. Must of what we wanted fell into the "couldn't" category. The mural was one of these things. It wasn't exactly prohibited by the garden permit but was subject to it's own 10 page permit. This required the artist to, among other things, submit the proposed design to the Design Approval Committee for review and sign away all rights to their work while at the same time agreeing to maintain the mural if it was damaged.
They didn't sign it and I can't blame them. I wouldn't have signed it, either, though I did sign the other permit. The kids didn't get a mural but they did get the garden, even if it was a pale imitation of the original vision. The permitting process dragged on for months and was so dispiriting that one of my designer friends literally broke down in tears at one point.
What does this have to do with the DR, you ask? Well, despite having been here for less time than the aforementioned permitting process, my fellow volunteers and I have already completed a mural at the wall of a school. This was another project of my "advanced" Spanish class. Here's a picture of it:
I am (almost) not exagerrating when I say that we were able to complete this world map in less time than it took me to read the permits for the San Francisco project. The "permit" here was a simple conversation with the directora of the school. Instead of bureacratic obstructionism the process was marked by trust and flexibility. When the project was delayed (twice) by political actions and (once) by weather we had only to make a simple phone call to change plans.
In a previous entry of this blog, I used the phrase "Third World" when reflecting upon the Dominican Republic. A fellow volunteer has since told me that "developing nation" it a more accurate phrase. As I noted, it's not that the DR doesn't have the stuff of modernity it's just that it's not always evenly distributed or hasn't reached same height of complexity. In that vein, it's not that don't Dominicans have bureaucracy but it hasn't invaded all levels of society in the way it has in "developed" countries like my own.
Sometimes, this is a good thing.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Some shame on Earth Day
I am in the Advanced Spanish class, the highest level here in CBT. Based on the strength of my conversational skills, I have been placed with native speakers and those who have lived in Spanish speaking countries for extended periods of time. I am clearly bringing up the rear and for this I feel a little vergüenza (shame).
I used Spanish for several years at a job in San Francisco but there it was more important for me to be understood than to understand. I can talk fine with other slow Americans. Also I can communicate easily what I mean to Dominicans but when a Dominican is speaking to me it is like listening to a song from a radio station faraway. I can catch words and phrases among the noise but I understand totally only when the signal is particularly clear. I (almost) always get the gist but often miss details. Yes, I am thrilled to be invited to your party but I have no idea where we are meeting or at what time.
Despite that, I am an "advanced" student so my Spanish class is not focused on the practice of grammar and vocabulary but on practical application thereof. As a group we have been required to plan and execute community projects and that means speaking in Spanish without a net. This is how I came to find myself entering the offices of the ayuntamiento (municipal services division) to meetloop with the alcade (mayor) of the pueblo. Hello. I am Kevin. I come from Cuerpo de Paz from the United States. Us volunteers are organizing a cleaning of the river for el dia de la tierra. Can the ayuntamiento help us?
Such a meeting is bread and butter for me in English but the idea of doing it in Spanish provoked some anxiety. I knew I would recognize the alcalde from his posters all over town (it's an election year - more on that later) but what would I say if he asked me difficult questions? I ended up speaking to his assistant - the alcalde was presumably campaigning - who thought highly of Cuerpo de Paz and spoke slowly for my benefit.
It went exactly as a meeting would in the US except that he did everything longhand on paper. There was no computer anywhere in the office. He called in the head of the workers who did not speak slowly but I survived. I had to ask him to repeat himself more than once. Would the ayuntamiento be able to help us? Yes, his honor the alcalde would be thrilled to assist the volunteers of Cuerpo de Paz in cleaning up the river with local youth. How many students would we be bringing?
We had already planned to paint a map of the world on a wall at a local liceo (high school) the day before the river. We had also prepared a short charla on environmental conservation. We hoped to recruit some kids there and there's 16 volunteers, so let's say 30 total?
Thirty estudiantes! Que Bueno!
CBT is a busy time. Training sessions and Spanish class run from 8 to 5. Parts of most weekends and evenings are devoted to tarea: individual assignments and group projects. We get so busy that we barely have time to play dominoes and drink cerveza. The morning of the day of we were to paint the mural we took a field trip to a cacao factory in the campo. In a small settlement of 300 souls a dozen women turned the local harvest into dulces, bollos, and vino. They were supported by a PC volunteer who functioned as a sort of live-in business consultant. It was a wonderful project to see.
The fábrica was 40 minutes from the carretera (highway) deep among the fincas de cacao acessible only by treacherous dirt roads. Our guagua bottomed out more than once and a times the river ran over the road a few inches deep.
they were so treacherous that the locals staged a huelga to demand the local government improve them. It is after all an election year and the síndico (the same guy as the alcalde but in a different position, something akin to a state senator - DR politics will get their own post when I am less confused) should be paying attention. The manifestantes felled trees and blocked the road at both access points to the highway. It was a nonviolent action. We were safe but would be delayed. We rolled up the windows and turned around.
Our only option was to cut north, deeper into the campo, through even worse roads to reach a different carretera. As we proceeded into the interior the houses turned from concrete (the construction staple of the Dominican well-to-do) to frayed wood, a legacy of an earlier poorer time. The faces on the campaign posters changed. People sat on their front lawns and laughed at us from plastic chairs. I am sure they thought us to be profoundly confused tourists. Eventually the land flattened and we were in a new country. The fincas gave way to fields of piña and we found the carretera.
Our chofer got us back without complain but three hours later than we planned. We had called the directora of the liceo from the road. It was not a problem to reschedule the mural and the charla but it would be after earth day and we wouldn't be able to recruit estudiantes for the river clean up. After the
The next day my Spanish class advanced, sin estudiantes and somewhat shamefacedly, to the river. It was a gorgeous morning.
Lacking cars and packed into busy families, Dominican teenagers go to the river to have fun and accidentally start new families. We found evidence of this in the bushes and on the banks. Workers from the ayuntamiento joined us. They had provided fundas (plastic bags; Dominicans use the more common Spanish bolsa to refer primarily to the scrotum) and latex gloves for 50, but between bothe groups we were about 15.
The head of the workers was there. He explained that his men (and they were all men) hadn't visited the river to clean up since Semana Santa the previous month after which they removed about 25 fundas of picnic debris. We worked side-by-side, my radio tuning in and out of my English thoughts to catch the kind of words that working men exchange on a hot day: curses (Dominicans use "c**t" with the versatility that Americans use "f**k") chistes, and fragments of popular songs.
Some unscheduled Dominicans came and the head man entreated them to volunteer: ¿No tienes consciente? Don't they have a social conscious? No, they were just there to wash their horses, or their motorcycles, or themselves.
The radio signal tuned in perfectly for me to hear him say: "It's a c**ting shame that the only volunteers that clean our river have to come all the way from the US.
I wanted to tell him he needn't be embarrassed. The river, honestly, wasn't any dirtier than one in any similarly poor area of the US. I have sat on river banks in depopulated areas of Michigan where no one has come for the beer bottles and condom wrappers in a long time. I wanted to explain to him all the complexity of what had lead to that moment, but I was shameful of my Spanish and tired.
Between us we removed about 20 bags of trash, some of it half-buried in the tierra. Behind a bush I found some feed bags filled with earth. I asked the head man about them and he told me that they had been gathered by a caco farmer to use as potting soil for new plants. These we let be.
I used Spanish for several years at a job in San Francisco but there it was more important for me to be understood than to understand. I can talk fine with other slow Americans. Also I can communicate easily what I mean to Dominicans but when a Dominican is speaking to me it is like listening to a song from a radio station faraway. I can catch words and phrases among the noise but I understand totally only when the signal is particularly clear. I (almost) always get the gist but often miss details. Yes, I am thrilled to be invited to your party but I have no idea where we are meeting or at what time.
Despite that, I am an "advanced" student so my Spanish class is not focused on the practice of grammar and vocabulary but on practical application thereof. As a group we have been required to plan and execute community projects and that means speaking in Spanish without a net. This is how I came to find myself entering the offices of the ayuntamiento (municipal services division) to meetloop with the alcade (mayor) of the pueblo. Hello. I am Kevin. I come from Cuerpo de Paz from the United States. Us volunteers are organizing a cleaning of the river for el dia de la tierra. Can the ayuntamiento help us?
Such a meeting is bread and butter for me in English but the idea of doing it in Spanish provoked some anxiety. I knew I would recognize the alcalde from his posters all over town (it's an election year - more on that later) but what would I say if he asked me difficult questions? I ended up speaking to his assistant - the alcalde was presumably campaigning - who thought highly of Cuerpo de Paz and spoke slowly for my benefit.
It went exactly as a meeting would in the US except that he did everything longhand on paper. There was no computer anywhere in the office. He called in the head of the workers who did not speak slowly but I survived. I had to ask him to repeat himself more than once. Would the ayuntamiento be able to help us? Yes, his honor the alcalde would be thrilled to assist the volunteers of Cuerpo de Paz in cleaning up the river with local youth. How many students would we be bringing?
We had already planned to paint a map of the world on a wall at a local liceo (high school) the day before the river. We had also prepared a short charla on environmental conservation. We hoped to recruit some kids there and there's 16 volunteers, so let's say 30 total?
Thirty estudiantes! Que Bueno!
CBT is a busy time. Training sessions and Spanish class run from 8 to 5. Parts of most weekends and evenings are devoted to tarea: individual assignments and group projects. We get so busy that we barely have time to play dominoes and drink cerveza. The morning of the day of we were to paint the mural we took a field trip to a cacao factory in the campo. In a small settlement of 300 souls a dozen women turned the local harvest into dulces, bollos, and vino. They were supported by a PC volunteer who functioned as a sort of live-in business consultant. It was a wonderful project to see.
The fábrica was 40 minutes from the carretera (highway) deep among the fincas de cacao acessible only by treacherous dirt roads. Our guagua bottomed out more than once and a times the river ran over the road a few inches deep.
they were so treacherous that the locals staged a huelga to demand the local government improve them. It is after all an election year and the síndico (the same guy as the alcalde but in a different position, something akin to a state senator - DR politics will get their own post when I am less confused) should be paying attention. The manifestantes felled trees and blocked the road at both access points to the highway. It was a nonviolent action. We were safe but would be delayed. We rolled up the windows and turned around.
Our only option was to cut north, deeper into the campo, through even worse roads to reach a different carretera. As we proceeded into the interior the houses turned from concrete (the construction staple of the Dominican well-to-do) to frayed wood, a legacy of an earlier poorer time. The faces on the campaign posters changed. People sat on their front lawns and laughed at us from plastic chairs. I am sure they thought us to be profoundly confused tourists. Eventually the land flattened and we were in a new country. The fincas gave way to fields of piña and we found the carretera.
Our chofer got us back without complain but three hours later than we planned. We had called the directora of the liceo from the road. It was not a problem to reschedule the mural and the charla but it would be after earth day and we wouldn't be able to recruit estudiantes for the river clean up. After the
The next day my Spanish class advanced, sin estudiantes and somewhat shamefacedly, to the river. It was a gorgeous morning.
Lacking cars and packed into busy families, Dominican teenagers go to the river to have fun and accidentally start new families. We found evidence of this in the bushes and on the banks. Workers from the ayuntamiento joined us. They had provided fundas (plastic bags; Dominicans use the more common Spanish bolsa to refer primarily to the scrotum) and latex gloves for 50, but between bothe groups we were about 15.
The head of the workers was there. He explained that his men (and they were all men) hadn't visited the river to clean up since Semana Santa the previous month after which they removed about 25 fundas of picnic debris. We worked side-by-side, my radio tuning in and out of my English thoughts to catch the kind of words that working men exchange on a hot day: curses (Dominicans use "c**t" with the versatility that Americans use "f**k") chistes, and fragments of popular songs.
Some unscheduled Dominicans came and the head man entreated them to volunteer: ¿No tienes consciente? Don't they have a social conscious? No, they were just there to wash their horses, or their motorcycles, or themselves.
The radio signal tuned in perfectly for me to hear him say: "It's a c**ting shame that the only volunteers that clean our river have to come all the way from the US.
I wanted to tell him he needn't be embarrassed. The river, honestly, wasn't any dirtier than one in any similarly poor area of the US. I have sat on river banks in depopulated areas of Michigan where no one has come for the beer bottles and condom wrappers in a long time. I wanted to explain to him all the complexity of what had lead to that moment, but I was shameful of my Spanish and tired.
Between us we removed about 20 bags of trash, some of it half-buried in the tierra. Behind a bush I found some feed bags filled with earth. I asked the head man about them and he told me that they had been gathered by a caco farmer to use as potting soil for new plants. These we let be.
Monday, April 18, 2016
How to Play Dominoes
My wife and I own a set of dominoes with fruit on them instead of numbers. The set is called, both charmingly and obviously, "fruitominoes." We read that dominoes is a national pastime in the DR, so we packed our set. We have since discovered - though, it seems glaringly obvious now - that every Dominican household already has a set. If we do end up using the fruitominoes it will likely be in our own home, wherever that ends up being.
We played it once or twice before we left, but prior to that it had probably been 20 years since I last had. I hated it. It seemed stupid. Why would I want to spend time matching numbers that I drew randomly from a pile? It was something I did because I was expected to when we visited my grandparents. I would excuse myself to do something solitary as soon as I had the chance. At the time I was so busy being bored that I failed to notice two important facts about the game.
The first is that although the fichas (tiles) are dealt randomly, the outcome is far from arbitrary. As with all enduring games there is an element of chance but strategy and attention to detail matter. You can count dominoes the same way you count cards. This is not considered cheating. A skilled player will have a good idea of what is in the hands of the opposing players. In games of four, the players form teams of two sitting across the table from each other. You have to work together without communicating directly. I don't know the Spanish for "table talk" but it goes over here about as well as it does back in the US. Tile counting is all the more important with teams because you need to think about the best moves for two players. This is challenging for people who, like me, are unaccustomed to thinking in terms of limited probability and is all the more impressive considering that a good session of dominoes usually involves more than one round of cerveza.
The other important fact about dominoes is that the game doesn't really matter at all. It's nice if you know the rules - if you don't, Dominicans will gladly teach you - and better still if you are a skilled player but the most important part is the time spent together. The Spanish word for this is compartir, which means "to share." In practice, it's meaning has something common with our US notion of "quality time" but has additional subtlety. While substance is certainly appreciated, quantity matters too: confianza ("trust," the secondary product of compartir) accumulates like interest in a bank account. When you compartir, you soak up each others presence like a plant does the sun and from this a trusting relationship can blossom.
A key part of CBT is a performing a diagnostic in which you ask community members probing, sometimes nosy questions about their families, religion, how much they earn, etc. It makes perfect sense that in order to provide meaningful assistance to a community you need to get to know it first, but how do you get people to answer such intimate questions? One answer is dominoes.
During research for my community diagnostic, I spoke to the dueña (owner) of a local colmado - think of a corner store where people also drink and dance in the evenings. The colmado is across the street from where a friend lives. I've visited him there to work on projects and have shared meals with his host family. The dueña knows the doña of that household and, more importantly, she knows that the doña knows me. She also knows me because friends and I have passed many an evening at her establishment drinking cerveza and playing dominoes once our work is done. It's mostly us gringos but when there is an opening at the table we offer the spot to any Dominican who wishes to join us. She has sat across the table from me herself. When it came time to ask diagnostic questions she spoke openly about her community, her business, and herself because I had earned some confianza.
Compartir and confianza are key concepts in Dominican culture. They have been drilled into us during core PC training in a way that seemed redundant at first but I have since come to appreciate. In a society where the official systems, be they government or business, don't function as reliability as they should personal trust is that much more important. This could be a chicken/egg thing - maybe the systems don't work well because people put relationships above impartiality? - but it's too early for me to call and nothing I think I will be in a position to change. Right now, I am just really glad I learned to play dominoes.
We played it once or twice before we left, but prior to that it had probably been 20 years since I last had. I hated it. It seemed stupid. Why would I want to spend time matching numbers that I drew randomly from a pile? It was something I did because I was expected to when we visited my grandparents. I would excuse myself to do something solitary as soon as I had the chance. At the time I was so busy being bored that I failed to notice two important facts about the game.
The first is that although the fichas (tiles) are dealt randomly, the outcome is far from arbitrary. As with all enduring games there is an element of chance but strategy and attention to detail matter. You can count dominoes the same way you count cards. This is not considered cheating. A skilled player will have a good idea of what is in the hands of the opposing players. In games of four, the players form teams of two sitting across the table from each other. You have to work together without communicating directly. I don't know the Spanish for "table talk" but it goes over here about as well as it does back in the US. Tile counting is all the more important with teams because you need to think about the best moves for two players. This is challenging for people who, like me, are unaccustomed to thinking in terms of limited probability and is all the more impressive considering that a good session of dominoes usually involves more than one round of cerveza.
The other important fact about dominoes is that the game doesn't really matter at all. It's nice if you know the rules - if you don't, Dominicans will gladly teach you - and better still if you are a skilled player but the most important part is the time spent together. The Spanish word for this is compartir, which means "to share." In practice, it's meaning has something common with our US notion of "quality time" but has additional subtlety. While substance is certainly appreciated, quantity matters too: confianza ("trust," the secondary product of compartir) accumulates like interest in a bank account. When you compartir, you soak up each others presence like a plant does the sun and from this a trusting relationship can blossom.
A key part of CBT is a performing a diagnostic in which you ask community members probing, sometimes nosy questions about their families, religion, how much they earn, etc. It makes perfect sense that in order to provide meaningful assistance to a community you need to get to know it first, but how do you get people to answer such intimate questions? One answer is dominoes.
During research for my community diagnostic, I spoke to the dueña (owner) of a local colmado - think of a corner store where people also drink and dance in the evenings. The colmado is across the street from where a friend lives. I've visited him there to work on projects and have shared meals with his host family. The dueña knows the doña of that household and, more importantly, she knows that the doña knows me. She also knows me because friends and I have passed many an evening at her establishment drinking cerveza and playing dominoes once our work is done. It's mostly us gringos but when there is an opening at the table we offer the spot to any Dominican who wishes to join us. She has sat across the table from me herself. When it came time to ask diagnostic questions she spoke openly about her community, her business, and herself because I had earned some confianza.
Compartir and confianza are key concepts in Dominican culture. They have been drilled into us during core PC training in a way that seemed redundant at first but I have since come to appreciate. In a society where the official systems, be they government or business, don't function as reliability as they should personal trust is that much more important. This could be a chicken/egg thing - maybe the systems don't work well because people put relationships above impartiality? - but it's too early for me to call and nothing I think I will be in a position to change. Right now, I am just really glad I learned to play dominoes.
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