Locura

It's 53 days until I COS and my Peace Corps service is officially over! That being said, my life is about to get as hectic as it has ever been. I'll be doing more host family trainings and overnight stays and trying to get all of my paperwork in order before I leave. This is pretty much what my next month looks like:

9/23: Visit Los Montones and stay over night
9/24: Visit La Ceiba and stay over night
9/25: travel home
9/26-28: Wash clothes and chill
9/29: Travel to Santo Domingo
9/30: Have meetings with PC administration in Santo Domingo and go bowling for my birthday!
10/1: Have meetings with PC administration in Santo Domingo
10/2: Visit El Carmen and stay over night
10/3: Travel back to Santo Domingo for a Somos Mujeres meeting the visit Los Guineos and stay over
night
10/4: Travel home
10/5-6: Wash clothes and chill
10/7: Visit Palmarito and stay over night
10/8: Visit El Aguacate and stay over night
10/9: Visit Punta Larga and stay over night
10/10: Travel home
10/11-13: Wash clothes and chill
10/14: Visit Loma de la Gallina and stay over night
10/15: Visit Alto de los Pegueros and stay over night
10/16: Travel to Santo Domingo to do my final medical exam
10/17: Go to the dentist in Santo Domingo and travel home
10/18:...breathe?

Some time during all of that I'm going to have to make time to fill out the next set of visa papers (which we still haven't received yet), get Kelvin's exams done, and actually go to the appointment. This month is definitely going to kick my ass!

I guess it's fitting because for the past few weeks this is what I've basically been doing:

4th of July cake

Tomorrow some great friends are coming up to celebrate the 4th of July and we're all going to the beach. I thought it would be fun to try out a recipe idea I saw on pinterest.com to celebrate the holiday. I didn't exactly turn out the way I had hoped (by that I mean EPIC FAIL).

This is what the cake is supposed to look like

This is how my cake came out.

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Sign from God

I've been struggling for a while now with making a decision about the future. We decided a while ago that eventually we would be going to the US and we've been preparing by getting all of the papers and documents ready for the visa application and Kelvin's been taking an English class. The difficult part for me has been deciding on timing. I have been stressing about when would be a good time to leave: should I leave Peace Corps early, should I wait until my official end date, when should I start seriously applying for jobs, when should we start the visa. So many questions and I felt like I no inner or outer direction.

Last night I got some direction of biblical proportions. I'm dead asleep around midnight and I'm rudely awaken by my dogs jumping on top of me in the bed. My dogs never get in the bed and I was like, "what the hell is going on." I step out of bed to turn on the lights and I step down into ANKLE DEEP WATER. It was pouring rain outside, but there was a loud rushing sound coming from inside my house. I walk into the bathroom and there is a waterfall of rushing water/mud coming from the bathroom window right into the shower. There was so much water and mud that the drain couldn't handle it and all of the water was filling up the entire house. To top it all off, the biggest centipede I've ever seen was on the wall looking for a dry spot out of the rain. Centipedes here can literally kill and I was afraid to even go into the bathroom because they are so fast and slithery.

Kelvin wasn't here, but he called his cousin to come and get me because I was so freaked out and everything was just covered in water. I could not deal. He came and got me and took me (on a motorcycle in the pouring rain) to Kelvin's aunt's house where I finally got back to sleep. I came home this morning at about 7:30. Thankfully the water had mostly drained out, but this is what was left:

Mud everywhere! I cleaned for 5 hours. I cleaned until my hands were raw. I cleaned until my cistern ran out of water and then i refilled it and started cleaning again. My mop used to be white.

Is that even a color?!

Despite all of the cleaning I took a moment for reflection. I was reminded of a 16th century poem by puritan Anne Bradstreet, "On The Burning of My House." Anne Bradstreet's house is burning down, she's actually watching it happen and she is thanking God for reminding her where her true home and life's true treasures reside. I read this poem in high school I think, but the power of it has always stuck somewhere in the back of my mind: to be thankful not just for the good things in life, but the bad as well. Mid-cleaning spree I sat down and thanked God for sending me a sign, for showing me the way. His basic message? "Get the hell outta dodge!" Of course I would have preferred that the sign not give me blisters on my hands, but no one ever said life was easy.

I realize now that what wanted here in the DR and with Peace Corps both personally and professionally has come to a close. I'm content with what I have achieved in my time here and Kelvin and I are ready to take the next step in our life together. It's going to be hard work, it's going to be emotionally grueling, it's going to be stressful, but just like my adjustment here it's also going to be fun, exciting, and a great learning experience for us both. Thank you God for flooding my house...but please don't do it again!

Ode to Coco

Today is Sunday i.e. laundry day which means a full day of buckling down, carrying buckets of water, and walking up and down the stairs to the room about 100 times. But as a reward I always buy myself pica pollo (fried chicken and plaitain chips) afterward. The sooner I finish, the sooner I get my chicken. Here's a couple of picture of the baby a.k.a. Coco. She's only 4 months old and is almost the size of Lula!

Las Hermanas Mirabal

It's been a while since I posted something so I wanted to share some pictures of a little trip that Kelvin and I were able to take with a fellow PC Volunteer and about 40 screaming girls from her community. We spent the day at the museum of the Mirabal sisters in Salcedo, DR.

The four Mirabal sisters were political dissidents during the era of Trujillo, dictator of the Dominican Republic. The sisters along with their husbands were very active in the underground movement against Trujillo and his extremely oppressive regime. On November, 25, 1960, the three older sisters, Minerva, Patria, and Maria Teresa were visiting their husbands in prison and were intercepted by Trujillo's secret police, murdered and their car was then pushed over a ledge in an attempt to cover up their assassination. The death of the Mirabal sisters was like the last straw for the Dominican people and the beginning of the end for Trujillo. The UN General Assembly declared the day of their death as the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.

The youngest sister, Dede, didn't accompany her sisters on that fateful day and as a result survived to tell her sisters' story. We had the opportunity to meet her and talk with her when we were in Salcedo. She's still such a lively, caring, and funny woman to this day and I was personally honored to meet her. Many Dominicans know the name Mirabal, but don't know the extent of their contribution or impact on the Dominican Republic. The trip was an opportunity to educated the girls on the history and importance of these women.

On another note, the landscaping at the museum, which was the home where the sisters lived for ten months with their mother before their death, is absolutely gorgeous. I told Kelvin to prepare himself because I want my yard to look exactly like that...lotus flowers and all. He laughed and said he would do his best.

Kelvin and I with Dede Mirabal

The Mirabal sisters referred to themselves as "The Butterflies" within the underground movement and they have been their symbol ever since

 Check out the lotus flower!

So pretty!

Giving some loving/training to my future gardener.

Trabajo y Testigos de Jehovah

I've been a busy little bee the past few weeks and it's only going to get worse in the coming month. We have a new group of Peace Corps Trainees in country and that means I'm starting on the extremely uncomfortable process of visiting potential host families. "Why so uncomfortable?" you my ask. My objective is to go in to houses of complete strangers, judge whether the houses meet minimum standards of safety (most do not), instruct poor people to improve their house, decide who has the best house in the community, and then stay the night there. During that completely relaxing and fun overnight I have to train families on cleanliness, water and food safety, and then I get to tell them how much the volunteers will be paying them monthly to live there. Then I leave and never see these people ever again. And if that's not descriptive enough I got scabies during the last round of these visits.

On top of organizing these host family visits I'm also finishing up the editing of the Somos Mujeres income generation manual. I'm so excited that we are almost at the final stages before printing. I've been working on the Somos Mujeres initiative since I came to PCDR and I've been leading the project since June of last year and it's so cool to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I'll end today on a funny/creepy note. I'm pretty sure I'm being stalked by Jehovah's Witnesses. My neighborhood in Samana is very quiet and tranquilo which is why I chose it. It is also full of evangelical Christians. There are a lot, A LOT of Jehovah's Witnesses in Samana (weird right?) and they love coming to my neighborhood to witness to the church-y people here. Dominicans mostly think that their beliefs are a little strange, but are nothing if not polite so they always listen to the hours long conversation that inevitably ensues. I honestly don't have the time to listen to nonsense. I have less time to listen to the nonsense of people who believe that on 144,000 people are EVER going to heaven.

Well, I must be on some list somewhere because I'm pretty sure I'm now being stalked by theJWs. Today two men came to the house and I sent Kelvin to deal with them. They have now become almost a bi-weekly occurrence and it makes me violently angry whenever I see white people in their Sunday best walking down my street.  These people asked for me by name. BY NAME! My neighbors don't even know my name. I've stopped being polite, it's all out war between me and the JWs. I'm trying to find this graphic in Spanish: