To Feed a Child

Friends!

I have been back in the US for 2 months now and after finishing my summer with the Sierra Leone Partners Conference, I’m ready to get back to Blacksburg. A new school year marks the start of a fundraiser that is near and dear to my heart, and the very reason I started this travel blog. The Feed a Child Campaign, which lasts from 8/17-11/9, is a student led initiative that aims to raise over $50,000 for nutrition programs in Bo, Sierra Leone. Can I get an Amen? My trip to the CRC last year only made me more excited about this amazing cause and motivated me to go the extra mile this year- literally. I’ve decided to take a different route with fundraising.  On November 13, 2012, I am lacing up my shoes and running my first marathon in an effort to raise money for the Feed a Child Campaign and honor the countless malnourished children I met in Sierra Leone. Hunger and malnutrition is entirely preventable.  That means that in a country with one of the highest child mortality rates in the world, over 40% of all childhood deaths are preventable because malnutrition is responsible for over 40% of all childhood deaths in Sierra Leone. Preventable. What a beautiful, hopeful word. And we can give these children a bright, long, healthy future if we provide them with nutritious food that will allow them to grow strong and healthy for their country. Because we are blessed to be a blessing. Again- can I get an Amen?

I am asking you to please commit to sponsoring me, as I have committed to raising $2,620 for the Feed a Child Campaign by completing the 26.2 miles. Please give as generously as you can by donating to my Crowdrise Account online or sending in your check payable to Helping Children Worldwide to my address below. Just in case you need a little extra motivation to sponsor me, here are the Top Ten reasons.

1.                    You can sleep in late November 13^th while still funding nutrition programs in one of the poorest countries in the world, while I get up to drive to Richmond the morning of the marathon.

2.                    You can transform my terribly beaten sneakers into the freshest money-making machines as I raise $100 a mile.

3.                    Your donation is tax-deductible! What’s not to love?

4.                    If you sponsor me, I have no excuse to jog, walk (or crawl) and promise to run the entire 26.2 miles.

5.                    Nearly 1/4 of toddlers in Sierra Leone suffer from muscle wasting and stunted growth because their families lack the skills and tools to grow low cost, protein rich foods. Let’s change that.

6.                    If I do not raise my promised $2,620, I will have to wear a shirt saying “I came $____ short of my goal.” Please don’t let this happen!

7.                    You can get something in return for a donation- besides feeling part of something greater than yourself. When you purchase a Feed a Child T-shirt ($15) or Sunglasses ($5), 100% of the proceeds go towards promoting nutrition programs.

8.                    In Sierra Leone, 1 in 4 children do not live to see their fifth birthday.  We’ll give Sierra Leonean kids more birthdays. And that’s worth celebrating.

9.                    I will go through 13 weeks of training, 728 oz of water, 91 power bars, 2 bottles of Advil, 1 pair of running shoes and all you need to do is donate online or send in a check payable to Helping Children Worldwide.

10.                Most importantly, you can prevent and treat malnutrition with particular focus on those most vulnerable: women and children. Using a community-based approach, Mercy Hospital trains families on locally available nutritious foods, solar water purification, and sustainable gardening techniques. Also, families are being provided with locally produced nutritional food supplements, with referrals to the hospital where necessary. Your donation makes this possible!

Please, join me!

Donate online at www.crowdrise.com/feedachild2012/fundraiser/KathrynBerlin.

OR

Send Cash or a Check payable to Helping Children Worldwide to:

Kathryn Berlin

890 Plantation Road Apt. #413

Blacksburg, VA 24060

**Please attach a note with your check saying you want Helping Children Worldwide to send you a receipt for this tax-deductible donation if that is of interest to you.**

OR

Email me at bkath100@gmail.com with T-Shirt and Sunglasses orders and an address for shipment. For shirts, please designate Amount, Men/Women, and Size S, M, L, XL preferences. For sunglasses, please designate Amount and Color (Neon Pink, Blue, Green, Orange) preferences.

Do Good, Look Good

OR

Become a fundraiser yourself! Get involved! Join the Feed a Child 2012 Facebook group and fundraising team on Crowdrise (www.crowdrise.com/feedachild2012) by making your own personal account. Spread the word online, write letters to friends and family, have a bake sale, be creative! The more people, the larger the movement, the greater number of kids in Sierra Leone who won't go to bed hungry. Do itttt.

I’ll leave you with some last minute words for thought that shaped my experience in Sierra Leone. 

“If you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, your light will rise in the darkness and your night will become as bright as noonday.” –Isaiah 58:10

“What good is it, brothers and sisters, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, without action, is dead.” –James 2:14-17

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed it is the only thing that ever will.” –Margaret Mead

“God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.” –Sierra Leone Prayer

“The only real nation is humanity.” –Paul Farmer

Plus a few pictures, sometimes they speak louder than words. And because I can’t get enough of these faces.

….Ok and some videos, since they have both words and pictures and I just want to show off what my friends and I made on here.

Feed a Child Campaign Video

Meet the Kids!

I am so grateful for your prayers, support, and service to this campaign. Thank you.

Love,

Kathryn :)

Sri Lanka

I've been journaling less and less with each country. Started out strong writing about each city in Morocco- down to 1 entry per country. My notes on Sri Lanka are pathetic, but only because I've been too busy having an amazing time to write. And I fall asleep immediately during any moment of free time we get. Sri Lanka was hands down my favorite part of the trip. I've never been to a place this colorful- the clothing, skin, food, mountains, plants, animals, it's like all the rain and heat soaks and bakes everything in hot colors. After being awake for over 24 hours, the gang made it to Colombo at Sarvodaya's Peace and Meditation Center. We all crashed immediately. I felt like I was dreaming when I woke up, it was such a serene place, I couldn't figure out how it was just a driveway off the road of the chaos of the Capitol city. There is a sapling of the tree Buddha reached enlightenment under on the grounds! That night, we had the honor of meeting Dr. Ari, the founder of Sarvodaya and the leader behind a service movement that started in one village and now is active in over 15,000 across the country. This man received the Gandhi Award and is widely known and respected across Sri Lanka and the world. He is so old and wise and humble and I could not believe we got to hear him speak in such a small group setting. The next day we drove an exhausting 12 hours across the country to Trincomalee, a northern coastal city that is still struggling severely from the devastating aftermath of the tsunami and civil war. While traveling and crazy driving on dirt, winding roads made for a long day, it allowed us to see so much of the country- jungles, mountains, wild elephants, tea and rice fields, tons of monkeys, and tuk-tuks, a kind of tricycle motorcycle/mini car that everyone drives way too fast here. A lot of it reminded me of Sierra Leone and the DR, the tropical beauty contrasted with extreme poverty. Palm trees standing tall and proud above hunched over shacks made of mud or rusty scrap metal. We stopped to hike to the Buddhist Golden Temple, which is built into a cliffside and offered breathtaking views. We spent the rest of the week at Trinco, doing a Shramadana in the village of Jamailia. On the first day, we were greeted by the entire village with beautiful handmade flower garlands, a marching band, and parade. Sarvodaya means "awakening of all" and believes in an all inclusive community model. Ceremonies are huge in Sri Lankan culture, and a leading representative of each religion, ethnic group, and political party was at the front table of the jam packed room. A buddhist, muslim, hindu, and christian priest gave very long encouraging speeches in Tamil that followed a lot of clapping and lighting candles. It was so wonderful to witness everyone in the village united and excited about renovating the school. I worked on the preschool building with a group of mothers and their children. We painted the outside and landscaped the schoolyard. The mothers took me under their wing and wouldn't let me paint for more than 5 minutes before offering (forcing) me to take a seat, cookie, fish biscuit, or glass of tea or hot milk. At first I felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed by all the attention they extended us, as I was here to help and work hard. But then I realized what a western "efficiency" mindset I had. It is custom for them to take frequent breaks for talking and eating and they wanted to give their guests the best they had. And I did have the best time getting to know them- we even finished our project early on the final day. "Mothers" shaped my experience in both Morocco and Sri Lanka, and I will never forget the love, warmth, and endless supply of food that was given so freely to me by these inspiring women. I got the superlative "most likely to get stolen by 5 year olds" because of the little gang of misfits I acquired at the preschool. Boys Mufit, Nadir, Doggi, and Bakhar and tomboy Lisma. At the end of the day, we played a lot of "RUN" which involved pointing at a faraway landmark, racing to it, collapsing in a pile up, and then jumping back up to point and race to the next destination. Back at the District Headquarters (sounds straight outta Hunger Games), our group hung out at the beach. All 14 of us girls shared a dorm style bedroom and a rat infested bathroom- we grew closer than ever. Sang Annie's "Hard Knock Life" on the beds under our pink mosquito nets. There was a girl's vocational school upstairs. We made friends with the beautician trainees and they practiced on us! I was able to meet with Jeeta Jacobson and Jeeva Rajah, the two supervisors of the YITP Integration Program for 350 war affected children in Trinco, Amparai, and Baticcolo. Recruitment into the rebel armies robbed children of their childhoods and this program reunited them with families and provided social support, job resources, community internships, and trauma therapy. They both stayed after work hours to answer my 100 questions and were invaluable resources for my research. We were given our farewell with a huge cultural show of singing and dancing before heading to the mountain city of Kandy for 2 days. Our contribution to the talent show was singing "In the Jungle" a capella and doing the Thriller dance. Go USA. We went to the market, visited the famous Temple of the Tooth, Helga's Folly, and the Sri Lankan International Buddhist Academy. Greatest thing about the city is the advertisements. They're in English and make me so smiley. Everything is called (positive adjective, object). For instance, you want a sandwich? Get a Happy Sandwich. In the mood for a cookie? We've got a Friend Cookie for you. How bout a cake? Nice Cakes come in many flavors. On our way back to Colombo, we stopped in the middle of beautiful nowhere at a rural mountain village to learn about a Sarvodaya water project and microfinance SEEDS bank. We spent the final 2 days at the Center for Higher Learning doing what we named "reflection boot camp". It was the most peaceful, yet learning intensive part of the entire trip and just what we needed to retreat and digest all we've learned in this whirlwind of a month. Now 2 days of traveling from Sri Lanka to Qatar, Qatar to Turkey, Turkey to France, and France to DC. We shall overcome. I feel so blessed to have had this adventure, but do not want to set foot in an airport or eat airplane food for a little while. 

Turkey

The Blue Mosque

On the Bosphorus

Grand Bazaar

Cappadoccia

 I am writing in the Qatar airport! The man next to me just bit into his apple from the top- stem and all and went to town on the core. I'm typing away trying not to crack up. Qatar airlines is fancy shmancy. Economy class never looked so good. I accidentally sat on my cup of water and it looked like I peed myself, they brought me an extra pillow and hot towels to sit on. Felt like a queen in my wet pants. Our time in Turkey felt much longer than the week we were there, but I see that as a good thing. I am feeling much better- I had the flexibility to eat vegetarian so my stomach is back to normal and was able to run everyday! I think that's why I couldn't sleep in Morocco, my legs and mind aren't used to not running and get too restless without one. Each morning I did five miles along the Bosphorus. Turquoise water on my right, the Old City wall on my left and the Istanbul skyline ahead. It was such a cool way to get to know the city. I am absolutely not a city person, but I loved Istanbul. For one its a coastal city and I love anywhere near salt water. Two, it is gorgeous. So colorful, the architecture was different than anything I've ever seen. Three, the food. Even just the street food. Why don't we have stands of watermelon bowls, spiraled apples, cashews and pistachios, gelato and sesame twists instead of corndogs? And the fresh seafood- whole fish with scales and eyeballs. I went native and ate a fish eyeball for a year of good fortune. Not worth it. And the baklava... I've come to terms with the fact that I'm gaining weight on this trip. I ate a lot of baklava. Our days consisted of Turkish development discussions from 9-1 at Kadir Has University, where we debated issues such as Turkey's undecided identity and standing in the world, as well as issues it must address if they hope to continue to rise as a global power- the Armenian Genocide, the Kurdish national struggle, the potential danger of a single, extremely powerful political party. It was so interesting. We spent the afternoon doing as much sight seeing as possible- there were too many beautiful things to be seen. We often stopped for apple tea and coffee in the Taxim. I loved how you couldn't get anything to-go. It's not an option. It is expected that you'd want to sit down, outside under the lanterns, to enjoy the tea and the day and the company of your friends. The highlight of Istanbul was the Turkish bath. Six of us girls went and together we shed our clothes and any barriers between us. We got totally naked, herded by another naked, extremely large and in charge Turkish woman into a furnace of a room where we sweat our body weights, then taken by the hand and told to lay flat on our back as we got scrubbed- more like sand papered, head to toe. When they say full body they mean Full. Body. No part of me went unscrubbed. Rolls of black, dirty, dead skin came flaking off- and I'd showered that morning! When she was doing my arms she kept yanking them, and as a result, my face into her very prominent belly and chest. Definitely full cultural immersion. Afterwards she sent me to rinse myself with buckets of cool water and then laid me back down for a full body massage. Quite possibly the best 30 minutes of my life. Then you go to a large communal bath, the sauna for a second time,and then back to the bath. I've never felt so clean or comfortable in my own skin. There was no shame or vulnerability in it at all. We were just a group of women bathing together. No one was looking, judging, comparing- everyone has a body and bodies are beautiful because they are different and not perfect. My lady gave me a bear hug before giving my towel and sending me to change, really topped off the experience. We spent the weekend in Cappadoccia, which is in Central Turkey. I never imagined such a place existed on the world. Google image it, my pictures and words can't do it justice. Only description is it looked like valleys of drippy sand castles. Or Atlantis, except not underwater. We explored underground cities from the 6th Century, visited ancient Christian sites, and hiked and climbed the huge rock formations. Shan- everyone was so weirded out by me hiking barefoot, I said this earthy Dominican girl rubbed off on me. I hope to come back to Anatolia someday. I haven't mentioned how much I like my group. Everyone is funny, low maintenance, and scary intelligent. They're the best. Doha, Qatar, tonight and Colombo, Sri Lanka by morning!

Fez

Fez

Missing 2 more brothers!

I am writing this from the Paris airport on the way to Istanbul. Trying to think about our last four days in Morocco is very difficult. Everything is blurring into one endless day. I am exhausted from not sleeping and got really sick ever since my host family fed me lamb tongue and dates for dinner Saturday night. I'm so surprised!
Despite the tongue, my second host family was equally wonderful as the first. The Benlamleh family reminded me of my own- four kids, 3 crazy brothers and my littlest princess, Aischa. I didn't know what was going on most of the time but my favorite moments in Fez were spent playing with them. On Friday we spent the day touring the city, stopping at amazing buildings and traditional metal, carpet, leather, and clothing workshops. It was interesting but since it was our first day of doing touristy things I realized what a big, loud group of Americans we are and that meant people trying to sell you anything you made eye contact with.
That night Emily and I went out with my host family's oldest son and his best friend, Anouar and Achraf. They took us downtown to a cafe and then some bars. We stood out even more. For one, we were blonde Americans, and two, we were women- you don't see much of either in Fez at night. It was a good time, I am glad the guys were with us because we were still harassed quite a bit even in their company. We helped them practice for an upcoming interview in English and they gave us some good insight on the Moroccan view of Americans. Anouar had never met an american and admitted he was worried we'd be "cold blooded". He thought I would not like his house. But he said "Kathryn, I do not understand half of what you are talking to me. But I know we are good friends. Polite and big smile all the time. I worry for nothing".
Before I left, a friend of mine asked out of curiosity if I was scared about going to two Muslim countries (Not in a judgmental way at all). I hadn't thought about it. Unfortunately, atrocities committed by extremist groups have caused some to view the entire Islamic population in a negative light. Just like problems caused by US interference has led some Moroccans to view Americans in a negative light. When it comes down to it, Islam is a religion that teaches how to be a good person. And I am not exaggerating when I say that every single person I have gotten to know personally here, all of which are Muslim, have been nothing but good to me- kind, welcoming, generous. Calling me daughter and sister, insisting they sleep on the floor so I have a bed. We need to experience people before we judge them, their religion, their country. Because people are good.
Anyways, on Saturday we went to an artisans workshop. I was in heaven. They even let me take a try at the wheel and lay down tiles while everyone was shopping! That afternoon we had another discussion about US/Moroccan relations with university students. In class discussions at Tech, no one wants to offend anyone by disagreeing. I always start an opposing view point with "You know, I totally see where you're coming from and you made a great point, but I kind of sorta have a slightly different perspective..." I never want to offend anyone because it makes me uncomfortable. But the Moroccan students would straight up fight. Instead, they would say "I completely disagree and I think you're wrong." They weren't afraid to raise their voice or make angry gestures. They didn't hesitate to call us out either. Big fan of that.
That night I watched the annual fashion show. Asmae, the mom, and Meryem, her neighbor, are both seamstresses. They held my hands the whole time and oohed and ahhed over all the beautiful, colorful dresses while little Aischa braided my "barbie" hair (daps to barbie corrupting perfect little girls world wide). It was such a fun girls night. Then they brought out some of their most fancy dresses for me to try on. I could not believe Asmae made them! They proceeded to take approximately 900 pictures of me in each dress, in every room, in front of any large piece of furniture. It has been decided that I will marry in Morocco so they can make my wedding dress. Have I mentioned how much I love them? Yesterday we said goodbyes and saw some Roman ruins, a huge demonstration, and Casablanca. I was sick and delirious most of the day but it was cool.
Some final thoughts about Morocco that shouldn't be left out: Touching is healthy. Here, everyone gives kisses on the cheeks, walks arm in arm, and gives pats on the back. It's the best. It is also perfectly socially acceptable for random strangers to hold another random stranger's baby for a quick snuggle before handing it back casually. Families stay together. Both my families were so close and had lived in the same community, with the same neighbors, for generations. There is great respect for the elderly. The Benlamleh family treated Fatima, their deaf and handicapped grandmother with a love and care that was really beautiful. Last, the call to prayer happens five times a day, reminding everyone to give thanks for God's constant presence. My host dad, Mohamed, said "Just like you need food for your health, you need prayer for the spirit". So true. You can tell from how long this is how much I loved my 11 days in Morocco. On to Istanbul in a few hours!

Azrou

It seems like so much has happened, yet it has only been a few days since I last wrote. The days here are incredibly long! They say time flies when you travel, but I feel like I have been in Morocco for far longer than a week. Each day gets better, but slower. Maybe because I haven't been getting any sleep. Roughly 3 hours a night. I am the queen of sleeping, since when do I have insomnia? Anyways, we left Rabat and headed to Azrou, making an afternoon stop in the beautiful city of Meknes, where we saw some Spanish ruins, the mosque, and the Old City market. We had goat tajines for lunch in this little cafe on our way to an overlook of the Middle Atlas Mountains. It was breathtaking and I took a million pictures trying to capture how deep and wide and spectacular the view was but was unsuccessful. Upon reaching Azrou, a very small, very charming city in the mountains, we walked around and met Latvi at the school to get briefed and assigned to our host families! I am in love with, but allergic to Azrou. I haven't stopped sneezing and sniffing. I only stayed with my host family three nights, but they were so overly generous, welcoming and hospitable I feel like I have known them for years! Abbas, my host father, is the sports coach at the local college. He and Zhara have 3 kids, two at university and Souhail, an 11 year old. Abbas speaks some English which is helpful but also embarrasses me for needing him to communicate when they are all fluent in two, almost three languages. Zhara is an incredible cook. The first night, she brought out a full spread of breads, jam, yogurt, fruit, cakes and cookies. I assumed it was dinner so I ate my fill. Soon afterwards was another table full of chicken, vegetables, fruit, soup, and always, more bread. Every single meal is the same production- I keep telling her it is too much but she just shakes her head and motions "more"? No isn't an option. Souhail, the youngest, was shy at first, but so smart and well behaved. We went walking before dinner- he gets so giggly at the way everyone stares at us. I loved having lunch with Zhara. Abbas is so funny and friendly but when he is home he leads all conversations. When I ask Zhara about ingredients or how she cooked the meal, he answers. During lunches, we don't speak much but she comes out of her shell so much more. Everything about her radiates motherness. She is petite and plump with short gray hair and laugh lines and smile wrinkles. She pats me on the back a lot and it is the nicest. I loved Mama Zhara, even if she is responsible for my gaining 20 lbs in 4 days. Working in the school was equally wonderful. We laid down bricks and concrete to make a courtyard in front of the school and did some much needed gardening. It looks good. Like really good. Some of the children helped which was awesome- they were genuinely helpful and so eager to do anything we asked. The last day we did a recycling art project and finished early. We went hiking with Khalid, another host dad and a mountain guide. We literally hiked from Azrou, up a mountain, and back down. It took 8 hours. We fed monkeys, took in unbelievable views, cooked over a fire and sweat buckets. It was the best, most exhausting day ever- I am tired and sore but hopeful this will allow me a full nights sleep! Khalid calls me "California" and is the best guide in all of Morocco. He wants us to come back for a 2 week trek! I hope to someday, inch Allah (God willing- they say this whenever referring to something/anything ever in the future, pretty inspiring). I came home for a final dinner with my hosts, we had a fun evening looking at family photos. Tomorrow we leave for Fez. More projects and another host family- I don't know how either will compare to the work we did and the people we met here but so far Morocco has not ceased to amaze me. I don't think I'll be disappointed. 

Rabat

In our living room at home, we have a coffee table that is worn out- the paint is chipping, the wood is faded. But it is supposed to look that way and looks beautiful because of it. That is what Rabat reminds me of. In the medina, many of the walls are cracked, streaked with dirt, bright colored paint chipping away. But it makes the narrow, twisting alleys beautiful. And the doors- why do we not have doors like this in the US? Here, the doors add all the character to the medina walls. They come in all different shapes, shades, materials, and styles. I could make an entire photo album of just doors. And like the maze of the medina, the doors seem to open only to a little foyer or staircase and then upon entry, you realize how big the building is inside- with more hallways, more turns, more rooms. Mazes within mazes. Our hotel, for instance, has a tiny wooden door on the wall of a narrow alley. The door leads to an entry way that suddenly opens to an enormous open air court yard with two stories of surrounding rooms. There is a pool on the roof! I don't understand it. This was ignorant on my part, but I had no idea how developed and modernized Morocco was, particularly the capitol city. There is construction everywhere.  There are many things I love about this place, and I was only here for four days. First, the ocean. Our hotel in the medina was a short distance from the ocean. I love how pedestrian friendly it is, and I ran to the beach each morning. It is a big public area and I would sit out on the rocks of the jetty or only the small cliffs and people watch. I saw a lot of men. There are so many more men out and about than women, and most women were in the company of men. That doesn’t even compare to the amount of men working- only 25% of women are employed in North Africa, compared to 50% in other developing countries, including those in Sub-Saharan Africa. This has caused me to think about an observation I made in Sierra Leone. How much of my life is determined by circumstance?  What, where, and who you’re born into makes up so much of who you become. If I had been born in Morocco, would I have (or even want) a future outside of motherhood, marriage, and subservience to men? Would I be Muslim? Would I be part of the 54% who are illiterate in this country? Would I be anything like the Christian-raised, college educated American I am today?  The person I thought I spent my whole life supposedly choosing to be? I honestly do not know, and that scares me. I do think I would be better looking had I been born here. This sounds weird, but Moroccan women are as beautiful as their country, especially the elderly women. Granted, I love old people but I think the old women here look extra dignified and wise. I also think I would be more alert. How could you not be in a city like this? I feel like I am constantly using all five of my senses at once. Especially in the market. Seeing all the deep colors, patterns, architecture, shadows, and lights, smelling the mixtures of spices and cooking food, hearing the calls from street vendors and other people in Arabic and French, touching the hanging fabric and jewelry, shoving and being shoved through mobs of people, and tasting mysterious street food I can’t understand the names of. (I tried cow brains and liver. Never again. The roasted corn and fresh OJ is amazing, though.)  While there have been a few uncomfortable exchanges with men, everyone here has been nothing but welcoming. From the extreme-hospitality of our hosts to our first night out to dinner when the band pulled me up to dance with them, spinning me around and around while they clapped really fast, to clubbing with the students who befriended us at EGE- Moroccans are friendly, fun people. I’ve learned a lot from our lectures and panel discussions with Moroccan students at EGE. I’ve been fascinated by Moroccan history, informed on current political events, and horrified, yet empowered, by women’s conditions and movements. Overall, I am infatuated with this place. Sad to go, but excited to meet my host family and start working on the schools in Azrou tomorrow. 

Anna- Every baby I see, I look close to check if it is Salma. I see you everywhere here. :)

Around the World in 30 Days

So strange to think that the last time I wrote, I was getting way too sappy for the internet about leaving my Punta Cana. While I miss it (so much) everyday, I feel very lucky- my month back has consisted of enjoying my job at HCW, lots of Spanish, beach and lake visits, concerts, a trip to see my incredible sister in Memphis, and time with family and friends. I am happy, but so ready for my next trip. This one is a month of traveling from Morocco, to Turkey, (lil pit stop in Qatar), to Sri Lanka- staying with village families and doing service projects along the way. Three continents in four weeks! Since it will be so much so fast, I need to be as open as possible. These are three very unique places, each with something special to offer- but I want to keep the mindset that “the only real nation is humanity” (shout out to my idol Paul Farmer). I want to see the similarities between the three countries- the commonalities between cultures and people rather than being shocked by the differences and only noticing what sets us apart. This amazing opportunity was made possible by research grants and various donors (including my great parents). I am so thankful for their generosity and my professor and TA- I only met them once and they were willing to post all the materials and readings I needed for the pre-departure research class while I was in the Dominican. Since I was gone, I have never met any of the students in my group. They have had a semester worth of class together- meeting four times a week to learn about each country, taking introductory Arabic and Sinhala, becoming best pals. I skyped into the final meeting from Bek’s classroom and my presence was explained with “Here on screen is Kathy Berlin, she was living in the Dominican Republic and is now teaching in Memphis. Say Hi.” Thank you for that introduction, Dr. Siegle. I love the man, but I’ve given up telling my professor my name isn’t Kathy... I've signed literally every email with Kathryn- maybe I should have written it in Caps. I’m shy and a little nervous about being the new girl but also eager to make friends and explain that I wasn’t just randomly living in the DR and don’t actually teach in Memphis- my name is Kathryn and I go to Tech. Basically, we will be helping to install an irrigation system in Morocco, attending lectures in Turkey, and hosting a Shramadana in Sri Lanka, where we will renovate village schools. My personal research will take place in Trincomalee, Sri Lanka, a village that was devastated by both the tsunami and civil war. I will be working with Sarvodaya, an NGO that has a center for ex-militant youth. I’m comparing the demobilization and reintegration of child soldiers after the civil wars in Sri Lanka and Sierra Leone. The war in Sri Lanka ended three years ago but since it is such a sensitive subject, I will only be allowed to speak to staff members. It is hard to wrap my head around- writing this research paper has resulted in a lot of tears and anger and questions and I am sure I will have a much harder time with it when I see the children I have been reading so much about. But I can’t wait to meet them, to learn from them. After choosing to wear the same five outfits for 3 months in the Dominican, I’ve learned I am a really light packer. As long as I have clean underwear, a toothbrush, and my passport, I’m good to go. I have one backpack and half of it is filled with books for the plane rides. Leaving in a few hours. I'm real excited. Peace be the journey!

Week 12- Salida (Departure)

La Basilica 

Coral Surveys

Catching my first baby wave

I leave in 48 hours… Is this real life?

I have been waking up early to catch my last sunrises and thought I’d write my last post before everyone wakes up.

This week was similar to last- wrapping up final projects, learning Creole, practicing Spanish, teaching English, getting in as much sea, sand, and sun time as possible, and reminiscing with friends we’ve made at farewell celebrations. The highlights included spotting a nurse shark and family of sea turtles during a coral survey and knocking off the last two items on my DR bucket list- surf lessons at Playa Macao (paid for by my March Madness winnings, holla) and a day trip to Higuay to see the Basilica. Cultural rookie moves included me tripping over a bloody cow head in the street market and accidentally ordering “Penis with Pomodoro Sauce” in Spanish- you should have seen the waiter’s face, I guess I was so excited about non-Dominican food I forgot and said “penne” instead of “pasta”. More than anything, I have spent this week considering many questions in preparation for my return home from paradise. What has God been teaching me this semester? Have I taken advantage of my time here? What experiences am I most thankful for? What will be the hardest (and easiest) to leave?

Here are some of my answers:

What I will miss most

-The Community: I will never view a hotel in the same light again. The gardeners, cafeteria staff, security guards, maids, receptionists, maintenance workers, bee keepers, scuba instructors, tour guides- there are so many fabulous characters that make up this place and I have loved getting to know them personally. I am thankful for their Dominican hospitality and how warmly they welcomed us into the Punta Cana community. I don't want to say goodbye to my friends!

-La Fundacion Ecologica: I hope the white board covered in 3 months worth of quotes never gets erased and that the building always stays painted rainbow colors. I will miss living with teams of field scientists and popping in on Ben downstairs in his office, always keeping things running and me laughing. The labs, gardens, lagoons, zoo animals. This funny place was home.

-Disconnection: These were never big distractions at home and I was by no means roughing it, but I’ve noticed how much I like being (partially) unplugged rom the world of technological connections. I didn’t miss it at all. For 3 months, I got along great with no phone or TV and a spotty, slow Internet connection. It was refreshing.

-Spanish and Creole: I will miss speaking Spanish- being forced to speak Spanish. I loved learning and hearing both languages all the time.

-The Gang: The nine of us have put up with one another 24/7 for 3 months. We lived together, travelled together, and didn’t kill each other. I am so grateful for everyone and the quirky contributions each person made to our Hokie family. 

-Natural fruit juice, bueno bars, and empanadas. So good.

-Sharing a room: This one surprised me- I like my own space. But I never felt as though I had to live around Shannon. It was fate for us to be room(soul)mates. I will miss talking before bed, exchanging books and music, hiding notes, and hunting down our third roommate- the lizard. 

-Veron: I will miss the blaring horns and music, hole in the wall Colmados, after school baseball games, and colorful murals lining the streets. I loved teaching the beautiful children at Las Manantiales, volunteering with Nate and Sabine, and not being that surprised when I saw something like a loose donkey roaming around the gua-gua stop or an elderly woman driving a motorcycle, holding her Chihuahua in one hand and the handlebars in the other.

-The Beach: I saved the hardest one for last. I cannot imagine the reality of having to drive for hours to breathe in salt water. I think I am going to feel claustrophobic at home without it. Where will I go when I can’t sleep? No more scuba diving? No more ocean sunrises? Homework in an office chair instead of a beach chair? I will miss spending entire days perched at my favorite palm tree or dock with my books and music and sketchpad and thoughts.

Things I am looking forward to (least to greatest)

-The convenience of having a phone, TV, and dependable, fast Internet connection. Contradictory I know, but I’m pretty pumped about catching up on 30 Rock and not waiting 10 minutes for my email account to load. And I don't like skyping, way too much planning involved. 

-Air conditioning.

-Hot showers.

-Toilets that flush.

-Ability to drink tap water.

-Not getting harassed by men in every public setting. I’m sick of it, especially the hissing and grunting. Goodbye “Rubia” (blonde) and “Ti fi blan” (little white girl), my Spanish and Creole street-call names.

-Not sharing a room with uninvited creatures and crawlers.

-Not having at least 10 new mosquito bites when I wake up each morning and 10 more when I go to bed each night. My legs look like I have small pox.

-Vegetables. Green ones. Cooked myself with the magic of a working stove or oven!

-Scratch that^- literally any food other than fried chicken, beans, and white rice.

-Seeing my amazing friends and wonderful family!!! A little sad that it took a semester of being away from everyone I love for me to realize how much I appreciate them. 

Greatest Lessons

-Roosters and donkeys make noise all the time. I’ve learned to sleep through them, and am now fully confident I can sleep through anything. Great life skill.

-My good days were the ones I spent more time outside than I did inside. 

-My best days were the ones I spent more time doing things for other people than I did for myself. What keeps me from having those days everyday?

-All my money being stolen was a blessing in disguise. I’ve learned I want a lot more than I need.

-I can do things all by myself. Before this, I’d never done anything where I didn’t know anybody. So lame right? I was terrified at the prospect of going to a foreign country for three months with eight strangers. But I did it! And had the time of my life!

-I’m my own best company. Like I said, I’ve had a friend by my side my whole life. But this semester taught me that I get along great with just Kathryn. I don’t feel lonely when I’m alone anymore. I needed this semester to finally do and choose Me. Time for self-discovery has been good and helped me figure out the person I am and the person God made and wants me to be. I think that liking yourself enough to be happy on your own is an important step in life and faith. I just took it a little late.

-“Viva la vida Dominicana”- Live the Dominican Life. This is a developing country and almost anything you do here is done inefficiently- so different from the culture of Northern VA. No matter how far in advance you make plans or how clearly you communicate something, things take a lot of time; details are left unmentioned and nothing runs on a schedule or goes how you think it will. It took me a little while to realize that’s why it’s so fun! Most of my favorite memories happened because Plan A didn’t work out. I think the Caribbean has molded me into a more easy-going person. Like the lifestyle, the rules are simple: Relax. Roll with the punches. Complaining about them doesn’t change anything. Stop to talk to people. Take risks, try new things. Time flies way too fast so enjoy the journey, don’t lose the now. It will be different than what you wanted. But chances are, everything will turn out even better. My semester certainly did. Cheesy but true. 

-I follow the God of the world. He lives in the most impoverished areas of Sierra Leone and the Dominican Republic, where the poor are struggling and fighting back. He is everywhere in everything good and beautiful. I am thankful for the opportunity to live in, learn from, and fall in love with another piece of His creation.

Todo se lo debo a Dios. Sin Fin, Republica Dominicana. 

 

Week 11- Semana Santa

Concert

Class Acts

 It is funny how I have two weeks left here and yet, this is the first week that felt “routine”. Almost like college. This is most likely due to the fact that like the good student I am, I put off four out of six final projects for the last 2 weeks of the semester and had to force myself to plan each day instead of thinking, “I’m tired of writing this paper, who wants to play volleyball.” So, this blog post is not that exciting. I woke up at 7 am to have an hour and a half of Creole/Spanish/English tutoring with Wisley, went on a run, had breakfast, class from 10-12, lunch lessons with Luckner and Daniel, hang out at the beach for 3 hours, class from 4-6, dinner, and homework until bed. Repeat.

This week did have a few special events, though. We discovered the lizard that made an appearance in my bed and last week’s post is living in our room. We. Cannot. Catch. Him. I like lizards and they’re everywhere here. I don’t mind them sometimes visiting our bathroom, chillin in the common area, or out on the balcony but come on now, my bed is a lizard-free zone. And this is a big, fast lizard. There have been two more sightings. Once when I was reading Mountains Beyond Mountains (great book about Haiti) and felt something staring at me- there he was, perched right above my shoulder on the bed frame. A few days later, I woke up to him staring at me, drinking the milk out of the cereal bowl I left out over night. Ok maybe that one was my fault for eating cereal around 2 am and being too gross and lazy to walk back to the kitchen with it.  Doesn’t excuse him taunting me- Shannon has similar experiences.

We got to be Fancy once more this week. Ben, our site director got us free tickets to a classical music concert and wine tasting on Playa Serena. The concert was amazing and sitting outside on the ocean, underneath palm trees and the full moon made the experience an unforgettable one. It also gave me a craving to play my violin. The night was so perfect I opted to walk home on the beach around 10, forgetting I hadn’t eaten dinner and that it would be over three miles back. Ben had food delivered for when we returned- I was so hungry I relived those faraway moments in my life where I was excited to see white rice.

Finally, this week is Semana Santa- Holy Week. Spanish Catholicism is not for me, but I have learned so much from the way this country treats Holy Week. The resort has been dead, as most employees have all or part of the week off. The market is closed (the Fundacion forgot this minor detail so the 9 of us rationed off a box of plain cheerios, a half gallon of yogurt, and a dozen eggs this week- I like to think of it as fasting).  People take intentional time to celebrate this week of hope. And wow, do they celebrate. The bars are the only places where the hours are extended and more empty bottles of rum litter the streets of Veron than usual. But the idea that time should be set aside for family and friends to enjoy each other in the spirit of this week is there. Wisley taught me my new favorite Spanish phrase in honor Semana Santa. “Todo se lo debo a Dios”- I owe it all to God. I have been thinking a lot about those beautiful words and observing the Dominican treatment of Holy Week by using my afternoons at the beach to listen to sermons, read the Bible, and most importantly, talk with God. Yesterday morning a large cross was placed in the ocean and I was still out when they lit it on fire after sundown. This morning, I woke up at 5:30 and finished my run at the beach to wait for the sunrise over the water. When it did, it was awe-inspiring. The charred cross was illuminated and the words “Christ has come, Christ is risen, Christ will come again” registered- truly registered for the first time. There is so much to be thankful and hopeful for, especially today.  

Happy Easter!

Week 10- Last Field Trip

The Lizard Incident

Catedral de Santo Domingo

Serenaded in Santiago

My favorite

Casa de Campo

Before I begin I must share some funny happenings. Our current professor’s name is Greg Justice. He is one of those people I always accidentally call by first and last name because it’s so solid. His wife kept her last name. Get this: her name is Jane Midnight-Justice. It’s like a superhero power couple.  Another sidenote- we have had several interactions with wildlife recently. We had a birthday party for Cynthia the 12 year old turtle last week. She lives in the lagoons but likes to saunter into the Fundacian for a visit from time to time.  A baby hawk flew into the Fundacion last week as well. We cornered her easily but she freaked out when Cat went to pick her up. It was one of my moments where I die laughing at inappropriate times because it destroyed Cat’s hand but the bezerk flapping of wings in her face combined with Cat’s shouting profanity and even just the fact that there was a hawk in the common room was too much to handle. Shannon and I were traumatized by nighttime visits from both a praying mantis and another rat-sized cockroach. But the worst was last night when a huge lizard crawling in my bed. I cried like a ninny. Shan, equally terrified, turned on the lights but grabbed her camera to document me standing on my bed yelling at Christian to “GET IT!” Not one of my proudest moments.

We left last Sunday for Santo Domingo on our last, and very different field trip. I am glad they saved the Cultura class for last because Greg Justice spoiled us rotten- we were treated like royalty. I even wore dresses and finally broke into the unopened tube of new mascara and eyeliner I brought here! I was clean! I smelled good! I looked like a real girl! It was like getting a taste of what I imagine it would be like to study in Europe. I am so thankful that all our other field trips required us to get our hands dirty- backpacking instead of bussing, sleeping on mats in hostels and homes without showers rather than nice hotels, touring factories, Bateys, rural villages, medical clinics and NGOs instead of museums, eating with families or at Pica de Pollos (street food) instead of nice restaurants. Those trips shaped my experience here and revealed the real, raw Dominican Republic. But it was such a treat to have a week of being Fancy. And taking my first hot shower in ten weeks. It's the little things in life. We spent Sunday through Tuesday in the Colonial Zone of Santo Domingo. We stayed at a bed & breakfast called El Beaterio, which is a remodeled convent from the 1500’s. It was the most romantic place I have ever been- Shannon and I cracked up when we walked in our room to find a huge four-poster bed complete with rose petals, chocolates and lit candles. The architecture, colors, gardening, street art, plazas, and shops in the Colonial Zone are charming. It was cheerful and clean- the complete opposite of the Santo Domingo slums we spent time in with Dale and Stacy. I took far too many photos of street alleys and buildings but I couldn’t help myself, they were all so picturesque. My favorite of the many historical sites we toured Sunday was the Catedral de Santo Domingo. The Spanish stone architecture was beautiful and it sits in the center of the district, surrounded by the main plaza with lots of people socializing at cafes, kids playing, craftsmen selling their art.  And our tour guide was really cute. On Monday we toured a Larimar shop and saw the process of crafting the bright blue stone into art and jewelrey. Larimar, the national gemstone, is only found Dominican Republic. The girls went crazy for it but I was too cheap to buy anything. The salesmen took desperate measures to talk me into it- “Look here, blondie! Your blue eyes sparkle like the Larimar! Buy some earrings to match!” Thanks, but my eyes aren’t even that blue and please, stop fastening that necklace I said I didn’t want ten times around my neck. I escaped to the back of the shop and chatted up some of the craftsmen, who slipped me two pieces of raw larimar before I left. Score. That night we went to a Dominican restaurant (complete with options of, you guessed it, rice, beans, chicken, mashed plantains, fried fish, and cassava) and saw traditional dancing during our meal. My favorite dance was the El Conado, where the woman dances with one foot on top of a rum bottle while the man twirls her around and around. On Tuesday we went to El Museo del Hombre Dominicano, which was basically a National History museum, and El Museo del Arte Moderno. We spent the rest of the day at the city market. There were so many incredible local painters there. I spent two hours looking at all of them and feeling terrible as I explained I didn’t have any money but wanted to know what kinds of materials they used because I love to paint, too. They were not enthused. Tuesday was a very special day because we got ICECREAM. I spent a solid twenty minutes debating what three flavors I should put in this treasure that I had dreamed of for so long and spent another twenty eating it, making every bite last me another three weeks without my vice. That night we celebrated Tricia and Sally at Falafel, as they both turned 21 that day! It was the coolest restaurant; we ate on the roof but the entire building was open air and decorated in Mediterranean tile. I ate entirely too much hummus and falafel and thought I was going to bust the seams of the skirt I wore to the club we went to after dinner. On Wednesday we packed up for Santiago, where we met our beloved tour guide Miguel. He was such a comedian and had me laughing the entire trek from the massive monument Trujillo built for himself during his dictatorship, El Forte de San Juan, an abandoned prison from the 1700’s, several main plazas and churches, and the city market. Santiago is a funny place. There are so many characters in that city. I was serenaded by a man playing the accordion in a pair of purple tinted glasses, a top hat, and many large plastic rings as well as hugged by a very drunken elderly woman with no teeth. Both were gladly received but the second one left me empty- why was she drunk before noon? I have never in my life seen as many homeless people as I did in Santiago, and a huge number of them were either children, crippled or blind. My heart grew heavier and heavier and I felt smaller and smaller as we walked through the city. On Thursday we went to Centro de Leon, an impressive Dominican History and Art museum. Last weekend we read Anna in the Tropics, a play about workers in a Cuban cigar factory. We toured the Aurora Cigar Factory and saw the play come to life, as it is still a traditional factory that does everything naturally and by hand. They still have a Lector, someone who reads classic literature to the workers to educate them and help pass the long days. It smelled heavenly and was such a fascinating process to watch. The workers were so kind to us, the men maybe a little too kind. I loved seeing them joke around with each other and looking at all the personal touches each made to their little work stations- photographs of their children, Bible verses, postcards. Our tour guide killed me- he had me in tears I was laughing so hard at one point. He gave me a free cigar at the end because he'd never heard a laugh like mine and no one had ever thought he was that funny, but I clearly needed to relax. Not sure what to think of that one. That night we went to the fanciest, most lovely restaurant I have ever been to. It was in this restored building from the 1600’s and overlooked the city skyline. We ate outside in the gardens out front. I ate a disturbing amount of paella and seafood and once again thought I was going to bust the seams of the dress I wore to the bars after dinner. On Friday we went to Casa de Campo, the most exclusive area in the Dominican Republic. Sammy Sosa, Micheal Jackson, and Julia Roberts have houses here. One of the billionaires who lived there built an entire medieval styled village complete with shops, restaurants, a church (that MJ himself was married in), an amphitheatre, plaza, a school, stables, and apartments for his daughter as a birthday present. She hated it and said she didn’t want it. Talk about spoiled. He donated the place and now it is this gorgeous, fake, medieval town that sits on a cliff overlooking a river that flows into the ocean. Easily one of the most beautiful, peaceful places I have ever been- the architecture and gardens in this place were unreal. We all went off on our own and explored for a few hours before meeting up for lunch, where I unashamedly stuffed myself with shrimp, zucchini, eggplant parmesan, and lasagna. Are you noticing a recurring theme here? Had to go big this week since it’s back to beans and rice from here on out. One of my favorite Dominican phrases is “Sin Fin”. People often say it as a salutation- it means “without finish” or “endless”. That phrase popped into my head and I rode home for the next four hours just staring out the window, passing the mountains, plains, deserts, and ocean views of this amazing country one last time, not wanting to believe this was our final field trip and overwhelmed by all I have seen and learned and loved. My memories here are endless and the journey is limitless. Sin fin.

On Saturday I went with Christian to the Polytecnico for an English-Spanish workshop with Sabine, Nate, and two other visiting Peace Corps volunteers. I caught the gua-gua and am happy to say that I held my ground and did not let the driver rip me off this time! I argued and sassed in Spanish like a real Dominican lady! Veron never fails to amaze, today I saw a man pulling three donkeys on the back of his motorcycle and a German Shepherd chillin and cheesin on the roof of a barber shop. How he got there, I will never know. It was one of the best days of the semester (I know I say that a lot). We split up into five groups based on skill level, one of us volunteers per group. I was placed with the Beginner group- we were spread out in age from 12 to 70 but became fast friends. They were incredibly welcoming and accepting of me- Haitians and Dominicans continue to amaze me with their friendliness. The point of the workshop was for them to practice speaking and so I was instructed to only talk to them in English. We did skits, played Pictionary, and sang Karaoke. During dinner (of deelish homemade empanadas), we could speak in Spanish and Creole, which I am doing my best to learn thanks to lessons from my Haitian friends Daniel, Wisley, and Luckner. Mom- they were hyped when I told them you were in Haiti these past weeks, asking me to send you their thanks. I loved knowing you were on my island. Can't wait to hear about it and go with you someday. Anyways, Elvis, (great guy with a great name) is the English director and was impressed with my Spanish! He offered me a job at the school after graduation next year! Pictionary was probably the highlight of the day. I am not sure who made the words to draw but they were phrased so funny. For instance, I picked “Nice Colors” and “Very Important”. How do you draw that?! My favorites were “Disco With Friends”, “Five Pictures” and “Brother likes Corn Flakes”. One of the guys in my group was this elderly Rastafarian man who wore a big floppy knit hat and had a beard down to his chest. He sang a mean and VERY passionate “No Woman No Cry” during Karaoke. Where is the camera when you need it? Language is a beautiful thing. I loved watching them, so eager to converse and ask me funny questions like “What is your favorite snack?” and seeing how hard they were working to decipher my answers, smiling when things clicked. Some of their phrasing made me laugh (I love when Haitians say “How ya be?” for “How are you?” because it’s a direct translation) and they got a kick out of my quirks with Spanish, too. I think the most amazing thing I saw was how people with many differences can connect with barely any language at all.

PS. My little sister Hannah deserves a shout out. I've been/will be out of the country during her recent growing up milestones this year and am sad that I missed another two this past week! She turned 18 AND rocked a lead in Footloose this past weekend- something I wouldn't have the guts or talent to do in a million years. Proud big sister over here.

Week 9- Project Esperanza

With one of the classes

Post Cornrows 

Roof Top View of Munoz 

We left early in the morning for our six-hour trip to Puerto Plata, which is in the northern part of the island. We got there after lunchtime and went directly to the Project Esperanza headquarters, which also houses current volunteers and a fair trade art shop. Kaitlyn, the co-founder of Project Esperanza (and a fellow Hokie!) gave us a briefing about the census surveys we would be giving the next three days. We met Allusena, an 18 month old who was abandoned by her mother with her nine year old sister, Sandra. Both she and Sandra were found extremely malnourished, Allusena near death with pneumonia. She was recently released from a two month hospital stay, but is still a very sick, fragile, and bony little girl- she looks like a new born. When you hold her you can feel how hard she is rasping, her little body has to work so hard to breath. She also has a cleft foot and they do not know if she will walk since her muscle development has been so stunted by illness and malnutrition. I am not a huge fan of babies, but I was totally enamored by her. After dinner, we headed to Batey Munoz for the first time. Before Punta Cana became developed, Puerto Plata was the hotspot tourist destination. There are still many resorts in the area, and Munoz is tucked away in their midst. It is a non-working batey, meaning that the sugar company that owned it left, also leaving 568 households worth of unemployed, undocumented Haitians. One of the most disturbing things I saw during our time there was the go kart and horse back riding excursions through Munoz. Tourists basically pay to go look at the batey and are given candy to throw at the children. At least one group comes through a day, and without fail, the children flood the streets, begging for money and fighting over the thrown candy. The tourists wave and take pictures and the guides take videos that you can buy at the end of the tour. It was like watching an animal safari. I asked Noni, one of my favorite Abuela’s what she thought of it. She said “I do not throw food on the ground for a dog. These children are treated lower than dogs.” When we arrived the first night, many of the children begged us for money and sweets because that is the only image of white people they have. Despite the begging, we received a warm welcome from the community members full of music, dancing, and socializing. I spent most of the night talking to Junior, Roger, and Enelbi, three of the older guys from the Boys Home. They, along with most of the other boys, crossed the border as children and have grown up on the streets. When they were accepted into the Boys Home, they signed a contract saying that he would go to night school. However, many of these guys have been living on the streets for too long that they cannot follow through or adapt to that level of commitment and end up skipping classes and dropping out. Junior has embraced the opportunity and wants to become fluent in Spanish and English so that he can return to Haiti one day and better his home country- Haitians have so much national pride. He also loves Basketball and was so hyped about the concept of March Madness.
Monday and Tuesday were survey days. We arrived in Munoz early each morning and got started right away, as each group of three needed to survey roughly forty houses per day. Project Esperanza needs to know what the critical issues are in the community before the make any development plans so we were there to highlight them by asking literally every question imaginable. How many people live in your house (which are mostly crumbling one room shacks)? How many of those people sleep on the floor? Do you have clean water? What is your weekly income (when there is work)? Do you have a stove, toilet, power, garden, refrigerator, documentation- the list went on and on. We only have two fluent Spanish speakers out of the nine of us and somehow I was deemed the third most fluent. So I got to lead my group’s surveys. At first I was really nervous, but I got the hang of it eventually. It was good for me to be forced into really communicating with these families, analyzing their living conditions and taking in their way of life. Jimmy, my Creole translator for the non-Spanish speaking families was very helpful and patient with me and cleared up any mistakes I made- and there were plenty of them! Munoz is basically a shantytown of huts stacked on top of each other- the surveys are supposed to be private but there is no privacy and we drew attention wherever we went, followed by an entourage of little kids waiting to play with us. I would be in a woman’s house asking “How many meals do you and your family eat a day” and a neighbor would poke her head in and holler “Look how fat she is! How many meals you think she’s eating?” By the end of my questions there would be a whole flock of ladies jokingly answering for each other. Luckily I had a faithful companion with me. I met Ebo, a two year old boy who was abandoned by his mother, a teenage sex worker. Apparently she only fed him powdered fruit juice instead of formula or milk so he was found extremely malnourished. His teeth are only just now coming in because of this, and like Allusena, he is very small for his age. He took a liking to me and I carried him around everywhere. He was the lowest maintenance toddler. He never cried- my arms would get so tired from carrying him so I would occasionally set him down. But then his eyes would start watering as he'd look up at me, holding back tears. How could you say no to that? So my arms got a work out and Ebo became my personal assistant (attached at the hip), holding my packet of Census questions for me during the interviews. Noni made us fried cookies, fresh bread, homemade peanut butter, and squeezed orange juice for us for lunches. The best. I also got my hair braided by Adena, one of the teenage girls. She did a wonderful job and I now can check getting cornrows off my bucket list. Jimmy said I looked like a white Alicia Keys, I thought I looked ridiculous. My group finished surveys early Tuesday afternoon so Tricia, Cat and I got to go teach in the schools! It was different because Kaitlyn had to translate everything we said in Creole, but we managed to discuss Dental Hygiene and the kids enjoyed their coloring activity and receiving Disney Princess and Cars toothbrushes and toothpaste. They could not have been more excited- passing out the little prizes was chaos. I know one word in Creole very well from that experience- “SHEETA!” (SIT DOWN!) Sadly, the schools are on the edge of being closed due to lack of funding.
I’m 3 for 3- it would not have been a proper field trip if I didn’t get sick! Wednesday morning everyone left for Los Haitises National Park for the 27 waterfall hike. I had been looking forward to this all semester long- you hike up a mountain and then climb back down by jumping off a series of 27 waterfalls! But food poisoning swindled me again! Oh well, I felt good enough to go back to Munoz with the group when they returned that afternoon and give a different class a lesson on dental hygiene. Before dinner, we toured CEPROSH, a non-profit HIV/AIDS clinic and discussed how to respond to the extremely high AIDS and sex tourism rates in the DR as well as the social stigmas associated with the disease. It was a very sad but eye opening tour and they are doing some great work. That night, the Boys Home hosted a rap concert for us. They have a group called Hip Hop family- rap in Creole sounds awesome and they were all incredible dancers!
Thursday we presented our findings to the community. We decided that clean water is the greatest need for the community, as clean water would solve many other issues. They have no sewage system so it drains through the streets, making people sick and contaminating food and water. It was very hard to say goodbye since each of us had grown attached to certain kids during our short five days there. We left for Santo Domingo, where we toured the Batey Relief Alliance headquarters. They are an NGO of beautiful people providing free medical care, nutrition campaign, HIV/AIDS awareness, and so much more to Bateys around the country. We then toured a public hospital, which was much nicer and emptier than anything I expected. However, it was recently renovated and they made it clear that this kind of facility was state of the art in the country. I am so surprised at how into this health care stuff I’ve gotten- I never thought I’d be interested in this field but this class has shown me I am, big time. Who knows where that will take me? This week was probably the best, most transformational one yet- I learned, saw, and loved so much and felt God's presence more than ever in the community. The inspiring, beautiful people I met in Munoz reignited my feeling that God put us on this earth to serve- we are blessed to be a blessing to one another. I will take this weekend to reflect and digest the happiness and sadness of this experience at the Fundacion before we leave on our weeklong Arts and Culture field trip on Sunday morning. It’s the last class of the semester. Where did time go?? 


Find out more or donate to Project Esperanza here: http://esperanzameanshope.org/