Sunday, March 20, 2011

New Post

Well gang, it's been a while since I put anything up. I apologize for leaving that depressing, but accurate, message up for so long. I have been swamped in schoolwork and family for the past few weeks, so doing this has not been first and foremost on my mind.

So, what's happened since then? A lot.

I was able to return to the campo with my dad and brother. This time was much better. Unfortunately, the public transport was not running that day, so we had to take two taxis there, which costs a whole lot more than expected. It was so familiar, yet so different. I was out of my depression/confusion spiral, and I felt like I was able to see and experience more. My family was so happy to see me and to meet my family. At times, it was a bit strained because neither of them speak a lick of Spanish and mine's not fantastic, but I was able to act as a decent translator. We only had an afternoon there, but showing them around and letting them see the place where I had lived and struggled for 10 days was incredible.

The next week, my mom and sister rolled into Santiago as well. It was great to see them as well, but during these two weeks was probably the worst time for them to show up. I was in the midst of writing my 15-page paper for EDP and also taking a MultiCultural Psychology class from 6:30-9:30 every night. Thankfully, I was able to show both sets of travelers my service site at the Cien Fuegos School.

How are those kids, you ask? Crazy as always, but that's nothing new. The past few weeks have been especially frustrating because it seems like the kids have given up learning. Before, there was some spark, some interest, in schoolwork. Lately, however, all of them seem distracted and their fights seem more vindictive. I don't know whether I'm just noticing more now or something has changed. Anyways, it has made it more difficult to keep a smile on and show them that I love them despite almost everything they do. It is hard to stay mad at these kids though. When they consistently converge upon me, hugging me and shouting my name, begging me not to leave, fighting to hold my hand, it's hard to hold a grudge.

Also, if you want a fun image, the kids have found out they can grab onto my shirt now. While I'm walking around during recess, I have about 4 of them holding on to the back of my t-shirt, 4 more clinging to my arms, and the rest with their hands stuck in the pockets of my jeans. I've started playing this game with them lately. It's similar to tag, but I think I'm just "it" the whole time. I can't really understand when they explain the rules, but they swarm around me, touching me, shouting "lito," and then running off. So I run around after them, trying to tag as many as I can, but it's like chasing a school of fish: you have to pick one out and go for it or you get lost in the sea of moving bodies. Also, did I forget to mention that, while this is going on, the rest of the kids try to drag me down by grabbing me and my shirt? They flock around me to the point that I can hardly walk and then start jumping on my back. Honestly, it's like a scene from a horror movie: I'm surrounded by flailing limbs and struggling to maintain my balance before collapsing under their combined weight.

This past weekend, we went to the border town of Dajabon. I can't say much about that now, mainly because it was too much to process. I was standing in the Dominican Republic and looking at Haiti, separated by the narrow Massacre River. As we arrived, they opened the gates on the bridge, allowing thousands of Haitians to stream over into the marketplace that is open only on Mondays and Fridays. Many of them looked happy to have the opportunity to make money, but everyone's face was tinged with a note of weariness. Orphans circulated, carrying loads back and forth across the bridge to make enough money to eat. Men wheeled large carts and shouldered too-heavy canvass bags while women carried crates and clothing on their heads. We stood there for about 15 minutes, and the flow showed no signs of stopping. I could see thousands more milling around on the other side of the river, some bathing in it, waiting for the opportunity to come over. We also drove along the International Highway: on the left side of the road was the DR, on the right was Haiti. Haiti had so much less greenery, a product of the massive deforestation; however, this leaves the people there with little arable land. The houses were packed tightly together, sharing walls to reduce the amount of wood needed for construction. Little kids ran alongside our bus, shouting, whether for money or for us to take them, I know not. It was like a bad dream, and, like the worst ones, I could do nothing about it.

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