Increíble

Manuelito

la playa

Another week in the Dominican Republic has come to an end. I can't believe I'm halfway to being back home in Austin. I've learned and experienced so much...but it seems like it's all happened over about 4 days. I really do love it here. So, so much.

Jeson

So, to update!

This past week two groups, one from Austin Ridge Bible Church and one from the Austin Stone Community Church (holla!), were here to serve with us in the bateyes. There were around 30 of us living in the house, which was fun for me because I love living in community (that may be why it's my job at UT...). The high school girls from Austin Ridge were helpful, encouraging, and really energetic. This past week they led field days in Pancho Mateo and Tamarindo, which was like a sports day-camp sort of event. Word on the street was that it was a success; the children from the villages, during this week off of literacy camp, were able to be actively engaged with people, their bodies, and their environment, and the gringas (Americans) learned a great deal through their time in the villages with the children.

My time wasn't spent at field day, however. I worked this past week with the young adults from the Stone (several of them UT students and alumni--Hook 'Em!) in Chichigua, putting on a VBS for what was originally just the pre-schoolers (including Wilson, at left), but was then opened up to anyone who wanted to come because not a kid in Chichigua didn't want to. I served as a part-time translator, part time pato, pato, ganso (duck, duck, goose) participant, part-time jungle gym, etc. VBS was great, and I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the little Chichiguans and the gringas (some of whom are pictured below, and with whom I look forward to spending time in Austin this fall!); however, I think my favorite parts of the week were those times each day that I was able to take a little time away from VBS to hang out with the women in Chichigua. Part of what I really wanted in coming here was to form real relationships with the people whom Makarios serves (especially considering that my personal project involves introducing Dominican Joe patrons to these Dominicans and Hatians) and I felt really blessed to get to do that this past week.

Each one of these women is so welcoming, so inviting, and so eager to get to know you. I spent the most time with Gerda, who runs a little colmado (food shop) out of the front room of her house, which is next to the one-room church. Her house also opens up to the common area in Chichigua (where their cistern sits, pictured below), so I see her as knowing a lot of what goes on, just by default. She is incredibly generous and when I asked her a question from her window, she proceeded to invite me in for the afternoon.


We looked at the photos of her children and grandchildren, some of whom still live in Haiti, hung out with her daughter, Mercuis (who is also 21!), discussed the importance of mosquito nets, and even went through Romans 8 together (not my idea...just was lucky enough--right, "luck"--to be invited to read it with her). Her house is beautiful, a Caribbean mix of orange and blue. She has a neatly swept dirt floor, shelves neatly stocked with a modest amount of food, a dining/bedroom/living room, and a room for cooking (not quite a kitchen) in the back. She was incredibly patient with me as I fumbled over some of my Spanish, and incredibly jovial and generous with her sense of humor when I tried to make a joke that may or may not cross cultures.

As I mentioned, her daughter Mercuis came home and joined us while we were chatting. Mercuis told me that she had just completed typing school and then proudly showed me her certificate, printed in English. She and her mother explained that it took nearly a year to complete the course because when they didn't have money, Mercuis just didn't get to go. (This is a theme in developing countries--the inexistence of student loans--and will be the focus of my thesis this coming year.) I asked what she does now that she is finished, and she explained that she cannot find work, but would love a job as a secretary. She asked to exchange emails, eager to practice her well-earned skills. I look forward to keeping in touch with her and pray that somehow she will find work.

the cistern

The theme of joblessness here is a constant topic of conversation. The unemployment rate for Dominican citizens is around 16%, which does not include the unemployed Haitians who reside here illegally, seeking to find better opportunities than in their home country where there is a 60% unemployment rate. One Chichiguan woman this past week told me that she can only find work braiding hair, usually just a few clients weekly, which is not enough now that her brother, formerly a moto-taxi driver and primary income-earner, passed away 8 months ago. And though she is nearly destitute, constantly searching for more work and at times relying on la comida del gringo (food from a white guy she knows), she has not lost her beautiful faith or hope.

The verse that is brought to mind is Proverbs 31:8-9, which says, "Open your mouth for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute. Open your mouth, judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy."

house in Chichigua

[Here is where I spare y'all the exposition on the poverty trap. While thinking of it in my own mind, somewhat hopelessly, I couldn't help but be reminded of the promise that if you have faith and do not doubt, you will be able to say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and it'll happen. ]

To conclude, I'm going to leave you with a little fact and some personal reflection-- To begin, check out the photo below:














Chichigua, a mile into the cane fields, has a beautiful view of the hills and the Atlantic ocean into which they fall. Therefore, logically, it is the perfect place to build a golfing resort. Thankfully, Chichigua has been spared and the resort is being built across the dirt road; however, in order to keep the future patrons from resting their eyes on the poverty, the wall above (which reads, no pase, propiedad privada) has been built. At first, I was disgusted and wondered at what sort of injustice the developers were commiting by keeping their patrons in ignorance, but then I (soberingly) realized that I'm just as guilty. The wall above is merely a physical manifestation of what I do by living on the West side of I-35 and vacationing at nice beaches far away from the hungry. Every single day I keep myself at a safe distance from poverty, indulging in my own desires. I may not have built a physical wall and told the poor, No pasen, but I certainly have built a wall with distance, fear, and selfishness. And until I can honestly overcome the part of me that prefers air conditioning and pleasant smells and sights to whole-heartedly, utterly, and uncomfortably serving those in need, which won't happen until I see the King of Glory face-to-face, I have no room to judge.

Is anything too hard for the Lord?
Genesis 18:14