tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44907240718930216912024-03-19T04:47:05.448-07:00Dale Pa' AllaA Dominican Republic Peace Corps journalCharlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.comBlogger186125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-24551148375950675182013-03-08T10:48:00.000-08:002013-09-14T02:13:42.933-07:00MACLA Medical Mission Part 5I had never seen a cleft palate before. It looked like someone had taken a knife, cut down the middle of his uvula, and continued another half-inch into the soft tissue attaching it to the roof of his mouth. The surgery is basically the opposite of the finger separation. The outermost layer of tissue along the cleft is removed and then the two sides are sewn together. I watched as Matt deftly hooked a tiny needle through the pink tissue and tied a suture that looked like fishing line. My job was to cut the needle from the suture and cut off the excess line while using a little suction device to clear the area of saliva and blood so he could see what he was doing. Before we were done there must have been about a dozen sutures.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana, Ashley, Norma</td></tr>
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When the surgery was finished, the Dominican doctor assisting the surgery began reversing the general anesthetic. Little by little, the patient came awake and finally began to gag on his breathing tube, a normal reaction. Unlike some of the others, he didn’t jerk much when we lifted him from the operating table to the gurney that would take him to recovery. Later we got this one patient, a teenaged girl who would have been flailing and kicking while she came out of anesthesia if we didn’t have me, a nurse, the surgeon and a couple of orderlies holding her down. I’m told this is just what happens with some patients. Wow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alyson, Dana, Jose, Norma, Dustin, Ashley, me, Paul</td></tr>
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The last day was short. It was just a morning for patients from earlier in the week to come get their dressings changed and get medication and advice. At the end of the day, when the surgeons, doctors, nurses, and therapists began to trickle out, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of heartache at the realization that it was over and though I could keep in touch, we would never be assembled like this again. Over the course of the week I had really come to like these visitors from the US and however little the time we’d spent together, I’ll be damned if it didn’t hurt to see them go.
Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-21136003107067564492013-03-05T10:42:00.000-08:002013-09-14T02:34:16.896-07:00MACLA Medical Mission Part 4<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PCV's from left to right: Dana, Jose, Paul, Ashley, Norma, Dustin</td></tr>
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After another day in pre-op, it was finally my turn to put on foot, hair, and mouth covers and go back to the area where the doctors were actually operating. The first surgery I sat in on was of a little girl with two fingers that had grown together who was having them surgically separated. I piece of skin was removed from her belly and sewn to the sides of the fingers that had grown fused together.<br />
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During the procedure, Dominican staff and Americans exchanged conversation through me about the technical minutia surrounding things like LMA’s versus breathing tubes, oxygen saturation in the blood, and so on. I was glad that medicine names are usually easily understood in both languages and that most anatomical words share the same Latin or Greek root in both English and Spanish.<br />
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I continued to translate throughout the morning until finally Matt, a surgeon in his sixth year of residency in Chicago told me he was going to let me assist in an actual surgery! Encouraged by the fortitude I had shown thus far, I decided to face a long-standing fear I have of blood and gore and join him in the operating room. After thoroughly sterilizing my hands and forearms and donning latex gloves and a paper gown, I took my place facing Matt, standing over an anesthetized man in his 20s or 30s with a cleft palate.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dana, Matt, me</td></tr>
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Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-67369643593996820422013-03-01T10:34:00.000-08:002013-09-14T02:30:50.153-07:00MACLA Medical Mission Part 3On the first day of surgeries, I was assigned to pre-op. This was a room with six beds where people came to be seen by Katrina, the resident physician, as well as Del, the anesthesiologist, and whichever surgeon was expected to do their operation. Katrina speaks decent Spanish and really only needed sporadic help with the occasional difficult question. I mostly helped translate questions from Del such as, “Have you been ill this week or last week?”, and, “Do you have allergies to any medicines?”<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jose, Dana, and Alyson in pro-op</td></tr>
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The whole time, another volunteer, usually Norma Ochoa or Alyson Davidson, maintained an elaborate chart that contained the status of every surgery planned for the day and corresponded via walkie-talkie with Del’s wife, Patricia in the Operating Room (OR). Whenever a patient went to surgery, we brought in another one from the waiting area in the hall. Periodically I was sent to the storehouse on the roof for supplies or on some other errand. With all that was going on, the day went by remarkably quickly.<br />
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The next day I was assigned to post-op and recovery. This was a little more of a dramatic position since some of the patients, especially the younger ones, weren’t happy campers coming out of surgery. My understanding is that it can be a little off-putting to come out of general anesthesia, even if you’re not too young understand why you’ve got some body part all wrapped up in gauze. Luckily, almost everyone we helped was numbed in the part of their body where they were operated on, so the pain was at a minimum. For the most part I just helped the physical therapist communicate with patients who were getting splints and braces for the limbs and digits the surgeons had worked on. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peace Corps volunteers and MACLA volunteers in the lobby of the hotel</td></tr>
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I was paired to Jose that day. He stayed back in the recovery room most of the time, since he hopes to go into medicine and this was more relevant to his interests. I got to spend some time in recovery too. It’s where patients go once they begin breathing for themselves but haven’t fully come out of anesthesia. Some people in this stages jerk around and have spasms as part of the process. I was glad that Jose wanted to be the one to hold down this room.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-82884595339729225372013-02-26T06:00:00.000-08:002013-09-14T02:24:42.350-07:00MACLA Medical Mission Part 2The first day of the MACLA mission was a short one. We each picked out two sets of scrubs (to which I whimsically referred for the duration of the week as, “fancy doctor outfits”) and spent some time to getting to know the medical team and the facilities. The portion of the hospital we were to occupy consisted of five operating tables in three different rooms as well as a recovery room with four beds and two additional rooms containing eleven beds where patients were prepared for surgery and seen by doctors and physical therapist when they finished.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fellow volunteers Alyson and Dustin</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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After our orientation, a group of MACLA people informed us that they were heading to Juan Dolio, a public beach on the south coast about half an hour east of the capital. Having never been before, I seized the opportunity, and soon found myself eating lunch there with a group that included a handful of other volunteers along with Katrina, a resident at Research Medical Center in Kansas City, Danielle, a fourth-year medical student, and Kevin, a GIS specialist whose dad founded and runs MACLA.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Volunteers Dana and Jose with medical student Danielle</td></tr>
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Despite the restaurant’s awful food and trademark Dominican service (we couldn’t get anyone to even acknowledge us once we’d been served), it was nice to be at the beach and get to know each other. I hadn’t had much opportunity to hang out with volunteers who have gotten here since I arrived in the country. I was also excited to learn more about our visitors from MACLA. While we ate, a group of about ten more of them arrived and went straight to the beach.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Occupational therapist Eileen with volunteer Ashley</td></tr>
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The rest of the afternoon we spent lounging on the beach and dipping in the sea. Unbelievably, we were hassled over and over for bringing our own rum and coke and even forced to dump out some ice that somebody went and bought at the nearest convenient store about 20-minute walk away. I tried to imagine the same scenario playing out amongst Dominicans at any other beach without resulting in fisticuffs. It was impossible. I resolved to never again visit that particular beach.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-52087841165800883582013-02-22T10:00:00.000-08:002013-09-14T02:16:54.295-07:00MACLA Medical Mission Part 1I arrived in the capital not quite knowing what to expect. For almost two years I had been hearing on and off from other volunteers about their experiences assisting medical teams that come to the Dominican Republic, but there is only so much you can learn without seeing for yourself. The mission I was volunteering (MACLA; Medical Aid for Children of Latin America) for is one of the most coveted by volunteers. For a week, I would get to stay at a hotel in the capital and spend my days at a hospital translating for patients, surgeons, doctors, and anesthesiologists before and after the many surgeries that would take place.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Volunteers Dana, Jose, Ashley, and Matt hold yours truly</td></tr>
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My first stop in Santo Domingo, as usual, was the Peace Corps office in Gazcue. Having decided that I would conclude my Peace Corps service in July, I am acutely aware of the stockpile of possessions I’ve acquired over the past 23 months and, determined to be prepared when the time comes to vacate my apartment, I have begun discarding worthless items and hauling with me boxes of things to give away to other volunteers.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Patricia, Del, Me, and Katrina</td></tr>
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The Peace Corps office was especially busy that day. PCV’s from all over the country had descended upon the capital for one of the semi-annual three-day stretches of planning and coordinating of national initiatives known as CORPS Forum. My jaunt into the volunteer lounge delivered more than its usual burst of social anxiety as well as excitement and happiness at being briefly reunited with friends I so rarely get to see.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arrive before dawn in the courtyard at Hospital Bellini</td></tr>
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After jettisoning my payload of hand-me-downs and running a couple of errands, I called a cab to the hotel and was on my way. I was the first to my hotel and welcomed my first hot shower in months, along with a luxurious rest on a bed not filled with air.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-38228772355785723402013-02-07T06:00:00.000-08:002013-02-07T06:00:08.589-08:00The Rocky Coast Part 2I decided to walk up the coast in the direction of the sugar factory, inspecting the drop-off all along the way for signs of a promising handhold. I saw a few spots that looked alright, but they tended to be covered in crabs. Finally, I could see in the distance the dividing wall that delineates the boundary of the sugar factory and the gated community that surrounds it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andrew jumps into a <i>charco</i> (natural pool) in Punta Cana during his visit last summer</td></tr>
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As I approached the wall I cold see some figures coming toward the ocean along it. Before long there were about a dozen Dominican teenagers, poking around a certain spot along the rocks and making talk of jumping in. I didn't know what to think, since some of them sounded apprehensive. But right about the time I began to conclude that they were all going to chicken out, one of them stripped to his boxer and turned a somersault from the highest point into the brine.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing Dominoes with <i>Clínica</i> staff at a party the med students threw at the guest house</td></tr>
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I watched with a bit of trepidation as he made his way back toward the rocks and, to my surprise, DISAPPEARED INTO THEM at the water's edge only to reappear a moment later inside a sinkhole a few feet back from the sea. After watching a couple of other come ashore by more conventional means, I decided to give it a try. The water could not have felt better. The kids were so stoked to see the gringo doing it too. I think they were used to seeing foreigners who were too afraid to get off their tour buses, let alone hang out with them at the swimming spot.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-85171030324655317302013-02-04T06:00:00.000-08:002013-11-24T03:11:26.361-08:00The Rocky Coast Part 1There's this neighborhood down by the ocean called La Caleta that I explored on my first visit to La Romana, when I tried to bushwhack my way through the thick brush down to the sea. That time, I ended up getting stung by wasps, so I turned back early, but I discovered a path and had been wanting to explore it ever since.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4pdlcEp3PTA/UQhIalhKghI/AAAAAAAACH4/W2i3JuE3Hko/s1600-h/P1100434%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="P1100434" border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-G_Zm1XOjUIg/UQhIbByBPcI/AAAAAAAACIA/wbljZRyHqCA/P1100434_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="379" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="P1100434" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crowded counter and sink in the tiny kitchen of my new apartment in La Romana</td></tr>
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I was resolute, but not entirely optimistic about my prospects when I went a second time today, since I didn't know how many people knew about the trail or even whether it made it all the way to the coast, but my hope was to get a nice little stretch of ocean all to myself. Well, it turned out that was just the case. Apparently, if it's not a beach here, nobody hangs out there.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uwjq4zEAgyQ/UQhIcLFogKI/AAAAAAAACII/1n0KjUHCW00/s1600-h/PA010259%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PA010259" border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RBjkEzZQMNQ/UQhIdTBqzWI/AAAAAAAACIQ/3XA5sCwCPQE/PA010259_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="379" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="PA010259" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of <i>Sagrada Corazón de Jesus</i> cathedral from the balcony I where I used to live in Moca</td></tr>
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The whole rocky coastline, from what I could tell, was made up of fossilized coral and went out maybe 50 feet from the brush and trees before abruptly dropping about 10 feet into the churning water below. I had just walked for about 40 minutes and the thought of a nice dip sounded divine, but there didn't appear to be a safe spot where I would have good prospects of climbing back out.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-66140447139873784042013-01-31T10:00:00.000-08:002013-01-31T10:00:04.961-08:00From Moca to La Romana Part 3During the course of my youth group, Rafael invited his boss, Jose Bencosme, to observe. It turns out, Jose is the kind of public servant who gets things done. He oversees the Indotel computer labs of an area encompassing five provinces and was eager to put me to work training his employees to multiply my efforts throughout the greater Moca area. When I finished up with my students at the high school, he was ready and waiting for me with more than 30 adult students, all in charge of computer labs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="350" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msa=0&msid=202126138667316882043.0004caf0c6126e3eb1381&ie=UTF8&t=m&ll=19.438104,-70.492401&spn=0.453254,0.583649&z=10&output=embed" width="425"></iframe><br />
<small>View <a href="https://maps.google.com/maps/ms?msa=0&msid=202126138667316882043.0004caf0c6126e3eb1381&ie=UTF8&t=m&ll=19.438104,-70.492401&spn=0.453254,0.583649&z=10&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">Encargados Reach</a> in a larger map</small></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Each point represent a computer lab where one or two my students worked</td></tr>
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For 8 weeks, I taught a morning group of about 12 and an evening group of about 20 for four hours each every Saturday. Some came from as far away as Gaspar Hernandez on the north coast and Sabana Iglesia in the country’s interior. During the week I keep hours at the lab to provide technical support there and help people who came in to use the computers. I also ended up running around to various labs run by my students and helping them reformat hard drives and troubleshoot problems. It was a very busy time for me. I would typically visit a lab for three or four whole days, talking my student through the various steps of Windows installation, system cloning, and so on. After all was said and done I must have done this at least 10 labs.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-it3LGlGhT34/UPrEK3nRtJI/AAAAAAAACHc/A_svRDjoPF8/s1600-h/P7190051%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="P7190051" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bfJIt4d7ESo/UPrELwBTDoI/AAAAAAAACHk/vodEhmZEJKw/P7190051_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border: 0px; display: inline;" title="P7190051" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My buddy Max Podemski came to visit. Seen here in the<br />
Monumento a los Héroes de la Restauración in Santiago</td></tr>
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By the time Summer was coming to a close, I had taught an entire other group of 20 people at a public lab above the post office while simultaneously overhauling its 20 computers. The requests for one-on-one lab help were still rolling in and Jose Bencosme was bugging me to let him plan me a class in nearby Salcedo.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-71195516938404609582013-01-28T10:00:00.000-08:002013-01-28T10:00:03.434-08:00From Moca to La Romana Part 2While things were falling apart with the scouts a and coming together at the library, I spent a lot of time networking with other volunteers and developing a secondary project to track Peace Corps volunteer history online. During spring 2012, a former volunteer named Derrick Lewis caught wind of me while describing his workplace’s data management needs to Nate Lohman, a friend of mine living near Punta Cana. I spoke with Derrick on the phone and it was clear that we were both very excited at the prospect of me going to La Romana to volunteer at <a href="http://www.clinicadefamilia.org.do/" target="_blank">Clinica de Familia La Romana</a>. In my exasperation at my repeated lack of success in Moca, I told him I would move to La Romana, given the opportunity.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--EpreO31SDE/UPnvRFVWxvI/AAAAAAAACHE/2SelTLk3xrI/s1600-h/finca_crop%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="finca_crop" border="0" height="508" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-22v_q5ZYt1M/UPnvSsNWugI/AAAAAAAACHM/jl5cNzOkgvU/finca_crop_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="finca_crop" width="504" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I pose with the family of one of my students in her father's <i>finca</i></td></tr>
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With the La Romana project far from certain, I proceeded in Moca as if I would be there until the end of my service. Together with Rafael, I planned and led a ten-week WordPress course for a group of adults at the library. One of my students, Yoryi Carvajal, was a teacher at the local high school. With his help, I formed a group of teenagers and led them in <i>Encargados del Futuro</i> a curriculum developed by Peace Corps volunteers in the DR the year before I arrived.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-16649109172408155882013-01-24T10:00:00.000-08:002013-01-24T10:00:10.228-08:00From Moca to La Romana Part 1When last I submitted an update from Moca, things were on the mend with the Scouts. I explained to Pablo that I would possibly get moved to another city and that I wanted to take measures so that something was retained of my efforts to update and maintain the computers at the scout lab. He called a meeting of the <i>caminantes</i> (the older scouts), and made a schedule for each of them to come for a couple of hour-long training sessions during the next two weeks in how to manage the lab.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-vr6SFDi_6Bo/UPnlPPXUWyI/AAAAAAAACGc/c3WsHD_ySmQ/s1600-h/joel_charlie_cropped%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="joel_charlie_cropped" border="0" height="327" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-A6vB52YyQDw/UPnlQLOQEjI/AAAAAAAACGk/SDp76BLeWFc/joel_charlie_cropped_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="joel_charlie_cropped" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Joel, a member of the youth group I formed at the library</td></tr>
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This campaign went well for a few days until, as usual, the scouts discovered they were only being held accountable to me and quit showing up. Since this was what I had come to expect, I simply stopped going to the scout lab and invested the balance of my time in the growing list of tech support requests being made by Indotel students.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-o1fcYYkZGzA/UPnlRtzN2GI/AAAAAAAACGs/pAbqVzvwpkw/s1600-h/P8070212%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="P8070212" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-FBnnoKhWfBo/UPnlTMLQSMI/AAAAAAAACG0/OAC-MWWsHls/P8070212_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="P8070212" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An example of a home in the Moca neighborhood where I was originally placed</td></tr>
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Indotel is the <i>Instituto Dominicano de las Telecomunicaciones</i>, a Dominican Institution, I <a href="http://pcvcharlie.blogspot.com/2011/03/volunteer-visit-part-1.html" target="_blank">first encountered on my volunteer visit</a> almost two years ago when I was less than a month into my Peace Corps training. Indotel sets up computer labs all over the country, and as fate would have it, I met a very motivated administrator named Rafael who was running Indotel lab in the Moca municipal library.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-64442121895904098552013-01-21T06:00:00.000-08:002013-01-21T06:00:05.716-08:00Hello 2013It's been at least two months since I wrecked shop in Moca (surely, a whole other post unto itself) and moved on to bigger (and better?) things in La Romana. This time two weeks ago, I was I fresh off the plane in the apartment of the generous Brian and Kristy Humpheys. At the last minute, Mom planned me a trip home for the holidays.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gRl2708Sp5A/UPnSDeCjqiI/AAAAAAAACF0/piITZWvGm0s/s1600-h/P8070161%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="P8070161" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lDI1RUioFRU/UPnSFBRtk8I/AAAAAAAACF8/11c1xFRjKDQ/P8070161_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="P8070161" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The house I moved to in downtown Moca. My room is behind the upstairs window on the right.</td></tr>
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My visit to Portland was a whirlwind of emotions. I think it's safe to say that it altered the course of my Peace Corps service. Before going home, I was all set to take an extra year to finish the project I began last November. Now I'm not so sure. It looks more like I'll be asking Peace Corps for an extra couple of months beyond my scheduled Close of Service (COS).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ipi2PYIIzRo/UPnSGhlU2MI/AAAAAAAACGE/ooZ8G-y3HtM/s1600-h/P7300156%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="P7300156" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Abc_FIaR4RU/UPnSHvIR-nI/AAAAAAAACGM/sXZu5a9wXPY/P7300156_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-color: -moz-use-text-color; border-style: none; border-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="P7300156" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inside of my room in Moca. If I wanted to cool off, all it did was open the door and the windows.</td></tr>
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It goes without saying that for almost a year, I neglected you, fair readers. Part of the reason for this has been the effort required to take and prepare photos for each of my posts. Well, I tell you now, I managed to return from the United States without the cable I was using to charge my camera's battery. Thus, I will be forced to make do with what images can be found on its memory card until such time as the cable can be replaced. Keep an eye out for new posts detailing recent developments. <br />
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<br />Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-62292581958291873992012-08-19T13:12:00.000-07:002014-09-06T02:20:50.431-07:00Charlie’s Last Few Months: The Cliff's Notes Edition<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNQUj0pjp_f7rET83_i4kQv2KHjkcjZhyphenhyphenPkfCdJGORrTiBFI96ECli13-7xpBzg7otc8sixNA_a5Dkj14E4mcq5fqpR9exC0mCsi8YZVTwjnLEtZ0KnVMfIdyRmN-OdZcZfUh5h3f0aQ/s1600/CONVAR265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNQUj0pjp_f7rET83_i4kQv2KHjkcjZhyphenhyphenPkfCdJGORrTiBFI96ECli13-7xpBzg7otc8sixNA_a5Dkj14E4mcq5fqpR9exC0mCsi8YZVTwjnLEtZ0KnVMfIdyRmN-OdZcZfUh5h3f0aQ/s320/CONVAR265.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I present the Peace Corps DR history map to attendees at the 50th Anniversary conference</td></tr>
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A lot has changed since my last blog post. Here’s a brief outline of developments since Spring:<br />
<ul>
<li>Problems persisted with my property managers failing to pay the power bill toward which I so faithfully furnished my share every month.</li>
<li>There was an electrical fire late at night, during which I had the good fortune to be awake and able to exit the building before it flooded with smoke.</li>
<li>My relationship with the Scouts gradually fell apart.</li>
<li>I began to foster a budding relationship with the public library in Moca’s town center.</li>
<li>In the month that followed the fire, I began canvassing for a new apartment, eventually discovering a charming family whose Mocan matriarch now rents me a room four blocks from the library.</li>
<li>I finally managed to form a group of about seven youths after visiting about six classrooms, each contain more than 30 high school students.</li>
<li>Observing my efforts with the youth group, my coworker at the library notified his regional supervisor. Together the three of us planned and promoted a six-week course for more than 30 computer lab supervisors from all around the Moca area, some of whom come from as far as an hour away every Saturday to participate in my workshops. It is presently in week 4.</li>
<li>Faced with the threat of its computer lab being reclaimed by the country’s public computer lab authority, the Scouts have renewed their commitment with me, forming a two month schedule of trainings for certain members of the scout group.</li>
</ul>
MEANWHILE…<br />
<ul>
<li>Nate, a fellow Peace Corps volunteer was networking with potential hosts for his med school residency when he discovered that La Clínica de Familia in La Romana could use an IT specialist to help them with their patient records system.</li>
<li>Having been introduced to me during my visit to Punta Cana last Christmas, Nate put me in touch with personnel from the clinic who have since had me out for a tour and interview and petitioned Peace Corp to solicit my service. I am tentatively scheduled to begin there in mid-September.</li>
</ul>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBx2DJRsSwQh0Y_tycXQ1Ze-4b1XVaSrY_EXWHzFpZBy8KMzs6-XFl98O3HO6bHscc_c_MJ1QMHZYfbOM0SO4-AVuwPHv-9a2KhqDNAuP_mkSZs-g9hQSTn7cbR21wy7vAZkvIXE3R7cI/s1600/moca_encargados.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBx2DJRsSwQh0Y_tycXQ1Ze-4b1XVaSrY_EXWHzFpZBy8KMzs6-XFl98O3HO6bHscc_c_MJ1QMHZYfbOM0SO4-AVuwPHv-9a2KhqDNAuP_mkSZs-g9hQSTn7cbR21wy7vAZkvIXE3R7cI/s320/moca_encargados.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my latest round of students, computer lab attendants from all over the Moca area.</td></tr>
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Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-33923508566294210892012-03-11T14:51:00.000-07:002012-03-12T10:18:55.000-07:00Water On My Floor Again<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">As I entered my second straight hour of evacuating water from my apartment building's floors, my thoughts wandered to the <a href="http://guatemalacharlie.wordpress.com/2008/07/01/business-as-usual/">last time</a> I had used a broom to literally <a href="http://guatemalacharlie.wordpress.com/2008/06/22/a-rude-awakening/">sweep a large amount of water out of a place where I was living</a> in the developing world. I was alerted to the situation sometime around three in the morning when I was awakened by my neighbor to find a quarter-inch of water on my bedroom floor. It turned out the corner unit had some kind of problem with its plumbing that resulted in a steady flow of water onto the floor from a pipe that should have been filling its toilet's tank. The result was ankle-deep water in that apartment that spilled out in such volume that it filled the hallway floors and the floors of nearly every apartment on the second floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">To try and mop up all this water or sop it up with towels would have been a waste of time. Instead, the best approach was to physically move it out the door, down the hall, and down the stairs where it could exit the building's side door. A side effect of this effort was the redepositing of an unknown amount of the water in some of the locked, unoccupied units along the way. The process also had the additional effect of dispatching a number of large spiders from hiding which had legs the length of an adult human pinky finger and which moved alarmingly quickly. Imagine my surprise to find that one such spider was deposited on my shoulder upon opening my front door that morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I had been sweeping in earnest for some time when Estefany and Cristina finally awoke and wandered over to gawk at my predicament and describe to each other my response in a tone that seemed to contain mild amusement and surprise. I wondered crossly what other course of action they'd imagined I'd take. No sooner had I shown them the water's source, though, than they had formed with me a broom conveyor belt to bale out the most heavily-affected apartment. By the time we had finished, my back ran with sweat and hair and beard were soaked. Another neighbor had disconnected the offending apartment's water. I was thoroughly exhausted and it was barely morning. The mopping of my floor and throwing away of ruined things could commence, but first I needed to bathe and take a long nap.</span></div>
<br />Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-58418884426019069062012-02-26T10:00:00.000-08:002012-02-26T10:00:05.006-08:00The Lights Are Out Again, Part 2<br />
The <i>luz </i>(pronounced "loose", it means "light" and is used to refer to electricity) has been going out selectively in certain apartments since I got here. The first time the whole building went out, mine stayed out until long after everyone else's had returned. I went so long without complaining too loudly that Pablo finally took pity on me and hired an electrician. Unfortunately, after getting it repaired in my first apartment, I moved to another where the same came to pass after the next altercation with the luz.<br />
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After again having it repaired, this time at my own expense, it was revealed that an overhaul of the entire building's wiring is badly needed. Strange little inconsistencies emerged in the process of having my ceiling fan moved. For example, when my ceiling light, which had never work since I moved in, was connected to the same line as my fan, suddenly my wall outlets no longer worked and neither did the light in the bathroom.<br />
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Each time the power is disconnected for lack of payment, our luz is connected to the school across the street (whose finances are comingled with our building's), and rationed such that we only consume electricity between 7pm and 7am. Presumably, a month of this is all it takes to pay of the debt we've incurred (including whatever penalty may be applied), because without fail, the end of the billing cycle brings back 24-hour luz. But as soon as the time runs out to pay the following month's bill, we are again returned to the 7-to-7 routine. For my own part, I would love to move, but there just doesn't seem to be anything else in my price range this close to town that has a kitchen. <i>Pensiones </i>(one-room apartments with shared bathrooms and no kitchens) appear to start around $4,000 pesos a month, but with my income, I simply can't afford to eat out every meal. So for now, I wait. And light candles when it gets dark.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-4512350221140383822012-02-24T10:00:00.000-08:002013-01-18T15:24:58.327-08:00The Lights Are Out Again, Part 1<br />
The landlady's proxy, Rosa, has announced that she will not return the security deposits of tenants who leave while still owing their share of the month's electrical bill, which this month is 14,000 pesos. So far, three tenants upstairs have moved out. Last month's solution to the electricity problem was to divide what I hope is an average of past monthly bills between all the building's remaining tenants, in shares respective to their usage, and have the resultant amount be a fixed monthly payment. Nevertheless, for the third time since I moved in, the electricity has been cut off due to lack of payment.<br />
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There remains the matter of the guy that blew up in my face over the electricity situation back in October. Pablo has assured me on several occasions, without prompting, that he has evicted the Marlboro Man who used to live next door to me when I lived in the other apartment. But I continue to spy his motorcycle, clad in orange vinyl and complete with prints of bikini models, in the shared entryway of the building. From what I gather, he has developed an American appetite for electrical amenities that include cable television, refrigeration, and air conditioning.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-29607584830787751572012-02-22T10:00:00.000-08:002015-03-10T19:46:11.813-07:00Chateando, Not Chateando<br />
"<i>Estás chateando</i>," remarks Hiralda, "You're chatting". It's not a question. The Dominican Republic is a country where acknowledging what someone is doing is a way of greeting them. Where I come from, Hiralda's abrupt entrance might be considered an intrusion; she simply walked into my apartment unannounced and sat down. It is just one of a series of interuptions while I try in vain to perform a database task related to a project that has emerged as an important part of my service.<br />
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A working, single mother in her middle years, Hiralda has little time to devote to leisure and is probably only vaguely familiar with the concept of internet chat. But I've learned from experience that it is pointless to try and explain that I almost never enable chat on any of the websites I visit as I consider it a waste of time and a potential harmer of relationships. Like most Dominican people I've met since I arrived eleven and an half months ago, she simply considers that <i>chateo </i>is what the internet is for. To suggest otherwise would be like trying to tell her that a TV isn't for watching movies, news, and soap operas.<br />
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This lack of mutual understanding is typical of most everyday interactions I have with people in my community. Despite my ongoing efforts in support of Peace Corps' second goal, I find that attempts to enlighten people concerning my lifestyle and views as an American are met with responses that reflect popular beliefs and opinions imported via American movies and television. However clear and contradictory my responses to statements like Hiralda's, it seems the people around me find ways to interpret what I say in ways that reinforce their respective worldviews.<br />
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A natural reaction to this phenomenon is to become frustrated and feel disgust toward people and in my weaker moments, I have been known to give in to such feelings. But when I appeal to myself with higher reasoning, I am reminded that there is no rule requiring that anyone around me should even so much as acknowledge me, let alone treat me nicely, and yet I have been met with practically nothing besides warm welcome. Surely, this sincere goodwill does not warrant my contempt.<br />
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When I ponder my reaction, I am reminded of the antics of controversial comedian Sasha Baren Cohen in the guise of his character Ali G, a member of England's so-called "chav" sub-culture who conducts interviews of high-profile figures in the idiom of a hopelessly confused, yet genuinely friendly television host. Despite the hilarity of Cohen's interview subjects as they struggle to be understood through his character's absurd lack of comprehension, there is a lesson to be learned about embracing one's fellow man in spite of his faults.<br />
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A particularly poignant example of the Ali G phenomenon can be found in comparing how he is recieved, respectively, by Andy Rooney and by Boutros Boutros-Ghali. When watching Ali G interact with Andy Rooney, it quickly becomes obvious that Rooney's self-importance and lack of worldliness will not allow him to overcome Ali's flaws. Boutros-Ghali, on the other hand, maintains a poise and friendliness that endure's his interviewer's confusion and provides for a reasonably successful interaction.<br />
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It was in this spirit of warmth and appreciation that I responded Hiralda's statement with a cheery, "Yes, well, sort of".Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-23355327943886864652012-02-20T16:13:00.003-08:002012-02-20T16:14:35.023-08:00One YearIt's been a while since my last update. There are a number of reasons for this, not the least of which being a certain fatigue I felt after posting 169 times beginning eight months before my Peace Corps service and leading up to just before my first Christmas in country. Christmas and New Years were such long and unusual experiences that I simply became overwhelmed at how behind I was once they were over.<br />
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While it appears that after nearly two years my blogging stamina finally ran out, I am not even finished with my first year in Moca. And having 13,000 views on my blog tells me that I really ought to keep this thing going. So, with my 28th birthday almost here, and less than two weeks from the one-year anniversary of first stepping sweaty and bewildered onto Dominican soil I am renewing my commitment to writing it all down and sharing it with you.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-28809199788851267482011-12-06T10:00:00.000-08:002011-12-06T10:00:00.588-08:00Internet Addict?Since I began lending out my computer, almost everyone has proven quite considerate and careful about the frequency and duration of time they spend using it. However, it turns out that Cristina, who moved in with her mom and sister last week after a disagreement with her boyfriend, knows no constraint when it comes to using my computer to get on Facebook. She doesn’t work, and if I let her, she’ll literally spend the entire evening glued to the screen, chatting, updating her profile, and commenting on wall posts. I thought, eventually, she’d get it all out of her system and arrive at a place where she wasn’t asking to borrow my computer in every spare moment. But it’s becoming clear that this probably isn’t going to happen. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vdojmz9pgJs/TtTo1bzq_wI/AAAAAAAAAp4/mO3tWcoPioc/PB2742013.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB274201" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YkALBGzkiSg/TtTo2a-ZiYI/AAAAAAAAAqA/-v78NMpjnoM/PB274201_thumb1.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cristina's toddler son, Yerlin</td></tr>
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At first, I would let her use it for hours because, frankly, I wanted her to like me. But it has gradually become evident that she lacks the maturity to self-regulate and so I will probably end up having to play a parenting role with regard to boundaries and internet use. I don’t blame her. While the internet has existed for more of her life than mine, she hasn’t had the access some of her peers have until way late. Since she doesn’t have a job, there’s nothing else to occupy her. It’s a very similar scenario to what happens when some of us arrive at college and suddenly have unlimited access to internet, games, hanging out with friends, etc. I hope she can find a healthy balance without me intervening too heavily.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-83057040248387387352011-12-04T10:00:00.000-08:002012-01-17T19:09:24.454-08:00Electricity: On Every Night, Off in the MorningFor about a month now, the electricity in the building where I live has gone away during the day and returned at night. During the first two weeks, it just so happened that my apartment’s wiring was damaged so I was without <i>luz</i> even when there was <i>luz</i> to be had. Finally, one night Pablo called an electrician who came at 8:00 in the evening and fiddled with the chaotic mess of wires in the breaker box down the hall until my lights came on. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-t6zuuf0e_ek/TswBGbkqqII/AAAAAAAAApI/CgDJrcKrfrk/PA243803%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PA243803" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VQpbGIGsJG8/TswBG_OHmKI/AAAAAAAAApQ/7AhFyxlJy54/PA243803_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my roof, facing Southwest</td></tr>
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Since then, more details have emerged about the situation and what’s causing it. There is only one meter for the whole building and supposedly, the building’s electrical bill is usually between 4,000 and 5,000 pesos a month. Pablo tells me, though, that last month we inexplicably received a bill for more than 25,000 pesos. When I asked why he doesn’t take it up with the power company he told me he tried but they want 10,000 pesos just to come take a look. It sounds fishy to me, but I suppose in the DR anything is possible. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LgKnOd4K94w/TswBHSObBTI/AAAAAAAAApY/7M633ag1Y3s/PA203778%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PA203778" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ft65T7UxnU4/TswBIeQCFAI/AAAAAAAAApg/IwHndWGwkok/PA203778_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of this crud came out of a batch of beans before I cooked it</td></tr>
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So why the on-again-off-again electricity? Well, it turns out Pablo has burned off a portion of the insulation on the wire leading from the distribution line to the school across the street. Every night before work he uses a length of PVC pipe to reach up to the exposed wire and connect to it another wire that supplies our building. Every morning when he wakes up, he disconnects it. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Jk_CMYmq60s/TswBI8w-vfI/AAAAAAAAApo/aIGCR2UqkVw/PB073903%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB073903" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gftozeK9BZA/TswBJRiWvTI/AAAAAAAAApw/lbz2RglXtB4/PB073903_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The breaker box in the hall where I live</td></tr>
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The school is actually in charge of our building and ought to be doing something about our situation, but when I offered to take the matter up with them, Pablo was adamant that it be kept a secret. Lucky for him, the season has changed, and it’s no longer unbearable to be in my apartment without the fan on. Otherwise, I would be more inclined to take matters into my own hands. But for now it’s just too entertaining for me to want to interfere.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-19227423527655132552011-12-02T10:00:00.000-08:002011-12-02T10:00:07.298-08:00The Day of the Strike Part 2The toddlers wandered in, followed by Cristina and Miguel. It was the first time I ever had Dominican guests since I moved here back in August. I was pleased with the humbleness of my lifestyle and the statement I suppose it made. Everybody was impressed by my air bed, though, which I somehow managed to haul back with me from Oregon after I went home for mom and Rich’s wedding. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-q5pZiuqql8g/Tsv_ihvOGbI/AAAAAAAAAoo/_bgQrA6NLzk/PB154060%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB154060" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EBImo_sGhNM/Tsv_jJK43XI/AAAAAAAAAow/uqmcITbSuDw/PB154060_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A random shot from inside my messy apartment</td></tr>
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Around four in the afternoon we finally dished up delicious macaroni in cream sauce with sardines and green olives along with <i>tostones</i>, smashed plantain slices fried in vegetable oil. Miguel showed up and after we had finished eating, we dished up a helping to take to Chuno. On the way to his house, we passed through an alley with three or four tables of people playing dominos and perhaps thirty more watching or just hanging out. I hadn’t seen a street so crowded since my time in the Los Angeles barrio of Santo Domingo during training. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xa9N0h-ubJw/Tsv_joEOLoI/AAAAAAAAAo4/uGsFT_jjoes/PB133983%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB133983" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x-QbypXXnug/Tsv_kNaq8ZI/AAAAAAAAApA/giF77julLYg/PB133983_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuno parties before his accident</td></tr>
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Chuno looked pretty bad. His upper lip was a swollen mess of stitches and dried blood and there was a seam where the skin of his face had been split down the middle. Luckily, he had broken no bones in his face or the rest of his body and his teeth were still intact. I did my best not to show my alarm at seeing him, and was careful not to dwell too much on the accident, asking instead whether he was sleeping alright and seeing if there was anything I could do to help. An English-language movie came on the TV and I gave him and Miguel the play-by-play in Spanish for about an hour. We went home when Chuno’s brother told us we hadn’t better be out late during the strike.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-89192584402500793872011-11-30T10:00:00.000-08:002011-11-30T10:00:00.510-08:00The Day of the Strike Part 1Monday was the day of the strike. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I had been told not to travel, and I thought it best to stay put in my apartment building for the day. After sleeping in, I dropped in on the girls to see what was happening. They were still playing with my computer since last night, but I was able to convince Estefany to play a round with me of Settlers of Catan. After that she kept wanting to play and eventually we drew the attention of her sisters, Yanirys and Cristina, who made brief attempts at learning the game but who were eventually peeled away to tend to the needs of their toddler boys. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-BNJh4LN6dKA/Tsv-MDESlmI/AAAAAAAAAoI/kPIsoS4laHY/PB123937%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB123937" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-S6s_fO6OFrM/Tsv-Mp2qJVI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/byBHpku0IYU/PB123937_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mecha's daughters. Left to right: Estefany, Cristina, Yanirys</td></tr>
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Sometime around one in the afternoon, I finally mentioned that I had no food to prepare and said if the grocery store was open I was going shopping. What I didn’t realize was that by explaining this to everyone I was making a grand offer. “Hooray,” they said, “Save us, Charlie!” I couldn’t very well renege. Besides, I was sure they would make something far better than whatever I could cook up. Estefany called Pablo who confirmed that the grocery store open even during the strike. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-mBL4hbgc-OI/Tsv-NAGaqRI/AAAAAAAAAoY/kPrgXXuz2NY/PB123952%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB123952" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LKpOIA5iXfo/Tsv-Nkbp7qI/AAAAAAAAAog/SfLbZ8af1UM/PB123952_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scene at <i>Milenio</i> on Saturday night</td></tr>
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Midday traffic was way below average, and every family-owned business I passed had its metal barrier drawn. Extra shotgun-toting security had been hired at the plaza. After I brought home the supplies, Estafany and Yanirys came over to my place to cook. Finding the conditions there unacceptable, they wasted no time cleaning and organizing the place at the same time as they put on some plantains and pasta.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-67585361665808173242011-11-28T12:52:00.000-08:002011-11-28T12:52:00.560-08:00Lazy SundayThe day after I went out dancing I was exhausted. The scouts were preparing for a big fundraiser and Aneudy invited me to come help prepare. After crawling out of bed and into some work clothes, I made my way to the <i>local</i> where Pablo, Katia, and about fifteen scouts were having a work party. I helped break up the dirt pile with mattock and shovel it into a wheelbarrow so it could be used to patch of up the field. The scouts were also constructing a zip line and Pablo asked that I take pictures. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-n_9QSDF7TqY/Tsv9VxIzweI/AAAAAAAAAn4/YMdAVSV5np8/PB134010%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB134010" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-p435YNQa7_c/Tsv9WnMv46I/AAAAAAAAAoA/CgL2GQVDpkA/PB134010_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scouts begin building a platform for a zipline for an upcoming fundraiser</td></tr>
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After a few hours I returned home and collapsed onto my bed. I was awakened after few hours of sleep by Line’s mom coming to borrow some sugar. I decided I had better run some errands rather than go back to sleep and spoil my night’s rest, but I didn’t make it past Mecha’s door. The girls were all dying to see my pictures from last night and put them on Facebook. In my apartment building, my computer has become a community resource. Whenever there’s electricity, there’s internet service and I become even more popular than I already am. I don’t mind sharing, though. It really is what people here do when they aren’t the kind to lock themselves up in a gated compound. And besides, I sometimes even get a free meal out it.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-39102084127937424132011-11-26T12:43:00.000-08:002011-11-26T12:43:00.459-08:00Moca Nightlife Part 2After a couple of beers we headed across the street to another place I’ve walked by a hundred times with curiosity. On the corner in front we merrily rejoined the others before heading inside. The place couldn’t have been more authentic and perfect. It was all on the second story; the first was parking. Three concentric terraces fanned outward from the bar, each a step down from the next with the outermost being an open balcony. On a small, dark dancefloor people danced to merengue, salsa, and electronic dance music. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-QxydOPwZSiA/Tsv8XkPskOI/AAAAAAAAAnY/3UdNTO2iDhs/PB123935%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB123935" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-R2imuIJOrfc/Tsv8YKdeLvI/AAAAAAAAAng/K7IhMLFWC5c/PB123935_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Estefany and her boyfriend, Mayobanex</td></tr>
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The girls were eager to see if the <i>gringo</i> was going to dance, and if they expected me to be shy, they were mistaken. Something about casting off my possessions for two years and taking a vow of poverty has made me even less inhibited than I may have been otherwise. If love is the international language, getting down must be a close cousin. At one point I remember I was taking a rest when Chuno got my attention like, “watch this”. He just gestured from the balcony to an attractive young girl who was practically at the bar and next thing I knew they were dancing salsa. Chuno moved her all over the floor and spun and turned like a pro.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RpMDQGRV0gg/Tsv8YslSaHI/AAAAAAAAAno/W-sN8VJoD1E/PB133985%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB133985" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hLzzAMTYIGo/Tsv8ZEXoDsI/AAAAAAAAAnw/iBJHpKnWpyk/PB133985_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuno salsas with Estafany</td></tr>
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Unfortunately, at the end of the night, events took a tragic turn. While driving back on his <i>pasola</i> (Vespa-style motor scooter) . Chuno drove into an uncovered manhole and fell face-first onto the gravel road. His face was covered in blood, and we worried that he may have a concussion. While a bunch of the group accompanied him to the hospital, I ended up back at the apartment building holding Cristina’s one-year-old and bouncing him up and down to stop his wailing. When the others returned, they assured me he hadn’t lost consciousness and that his memory appeared to be intact. His lip was split clear through.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-45554316025188107742011-11-24T12:37:00.000-08:002011-11-25T05:25:30.510-08:00Moca Nightlife Part 1This Monday there was a big labor strike. Peace Corps volunteers were prohibited from leaving their project sites and in Moca, people told me everything was going to basically shut down for the day. My neighbor, Mecha took advantage of the long weekend to have her other two daughters and twelve-year-old son come visit her and Estefany. Saturday evening I found them all in plastic chairs in the usual hang-out spot in the stairwell. Mecha handed me a drink that tasted like melon and rum and insisted that I drink more than a little. She suggested not-so-subtly that it would taste better with ice. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-lfBELBCdySk/Tsv6itIj1kI/AAAAAAAAAm4/Kse6EtPKz7c/PB123906%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB123906" border="0" height="379" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Zj_LZPWayXw/Tsv6jACZv_I/AAAAAAAAAnA/MzMntS2wfgQ/PB123906_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mecha and a joven from the group that went out dancing</td></tr>
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I had just had what I consider my most successful day since arriving in Moca and I was in a mood to celebrate. I went on an errand and returned with ice and a round of drinks, which were met with much enthusiasm. That evening, Mecha’s boyfriend, Chuno had promised to show me some of the spots on the strip along the <i>autopista</i> (highway) near where I live. It turns out Mecha’s daughters, Estafany, Yanirys, and Cristina were getting ready to party as well with their respective dates and a crew of about four others. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_wXZ-mFhiJQ/Tsv6jvM1b5I/AAAAAAAAAnI/r2h_4Fgqm2Q/PB123920%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PB123920" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-JQrRxSKCGl0/Tsv6kIxabUI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/psn1B9gF1mE/PB123920_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cristina lounges with her and Yaniris' toddler sons</td></tr>
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When I broke out my camera it about caused a riot. I instantly became a fashion photographer and after every shot I heard <i>pónmelo en Facebook</i> (“put it on Facebook for me”) and <i>etiquétame</i> (“tag me”). After much changing of clothes and taking of pictures, Chuno arrived and he and I took to the strip. The first stop was a very crowded bar called Milenio. I had seen the place during the day and wondered how well it was doing, but now I could see it wasn’t hurting for customers. The place was packed to the brim and quaking to the beat of the latest dembow hits.Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4490724071893021691.post-21395794801844430682011-11-22T11:32:00.001-08:002013-01-18T15:46:14.607-08:00Teaching At The LibraryEvery volunteer has what they call a “project partner” who is basically a Dominican all-star community member who helps them set up the activities of their service. Through visiting Heather in Juan Lopez and donating the <a href="http://pcvcharlie.blogspot.com/2011/10/free-geek-sarita-and-party-with-dad-and.html" target="_blank">Free Geek laptops</a>, I became acquainted with Heather’s project partner, Rafael. Rafael wasted no time arranging a class for me to teach at the library in Moca, and on Saturday we had our first class session. <br />
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The class consists of five adults (six if you count Rafael) of varying experience and skill level. Two of them are teachers—one in Juan Lopez, the other in Moca—who want to help me set up an <i>Encargados del Futuro</i> group. <i>Encargados del Futuro</i> is a youth group model that volunteers implement throughout the country. It helps prepare youths to become people in charge of community computer labs through participation in activities involving digital media and community service. <br />
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It was six exactly six months from the day I took the oath of service and became a Peace Corps volunteer and finally, I felt as though my service was beginning in a meaningful way.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-U5sxCS0IppA/Tsv40o_g2UI/AAAAAAAAAmo/aQkBWvgoOhc/PA253859%25255B3%25255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="PA253859" border="0" height="671" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GbguJ1LQOCc/Tsv41pq6sWI/AAAAAAAAAmw/CfYQZLxSAfA/PA253859_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: initial; border-top-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px;" width="504" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my window at night.</td></tr>
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Charlie Thompsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310822451946921972noreply@blogger.com0