A Nightmare Part 3

On Monday we present our mini-diagnostics. It will be one of only a few times when I've presented in Spanish and I've had scarcely four days to prepare. It's been only about 36 hours since I decided to Let Go Or Be Dragged. I began my reserach in a state of indecision and intimidation which I allowed to impede my progress. When my original presentation topic proved impractical, I tried to force it. Had this been college, I would have asked for an extension, but we only have five weeks for CBT and every day is carefully planned to take advantage of that time. Meanwhile, my youth group practicum, a four-week group project, was beginning in earnest.

Trash-strewn lots like this are a common sight in the DR. The sign reads,
"No Dumping, Please."

I could well have panicked had I not taken a step back and looked at how I could learn from this experience. Even to reach this stage of the assignment I was operating on a level far beyond any development work I've done in the past. I was conducting interviews with host country nationals and practicing speaches in Spanish. For the first time in my life, the time constraint was an asset instead of a barrier. And it was because I had decided to let go of my attachment to my original idea and let the process guide me. I imagine this lesson will be of vital importance when I am at last in my 2-year community. Indeed, it may be useful even beyond my time in the Peace Corps.

A Nightmare Part 2

At 1:30 am I walked out onto Daisy and Ronaldo's front patio. From there the sounds of El Seibo's strip of clubs could be heard blasting house and dembow into the night. On Friday nights, these establishments become a sort of city commons, flooding the sidewalks and islands of space created by cars parked on the Avenida, El Seibo's main drag. People even mill about in the median strip, sipping their beers and taking in the scene.

El Seibo's deserted post office


I was about to go inside when I was struck with a realization. I was staring up at the stars when it dawned on me that it was the first time I'd seem them since I arrived at the beginning of much. In Santo Domingo, the night sky had been rendered a nondescript mat of black by ambient light. In the week since I arrived at CBT, I have been too caught up in training to notice.

A Nightmare Part 1

I awoke at one in the morning from a recurring nightmare. In the nightmare, I am enrolled in college. I have signed up for only two classes, the main purpose being to remain a student and thus retain the benefits of campus life. However, I am several weeks into the term and I have yet to attend a single lecture. This is a dire situation and, try as I might, instead of making the most of the time I have left, I only panic more as I try to invent a way out. The stress mounts until stirs me awake.

US Marines Corps footsteps burn holes in the Dominican flag: I found
this gym in the "library" where we receive training.



Taking some deep breaths, I relax and remember that I have once again believed this dream and the pressure is once again off. I haven't slept well since my second night in the country. This is partly on account of bad dreams. At night I am stabbed, kidnapped, broken up with, disowned. Even on nights that I don't wake up in a sweat having endured some awful ordeal, I am awakened by some mysterious force at three or four in morning.