Keni
pixel skylines
$LAYYYTER
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Not today Justin
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
KIROKAZE
styofa doing anything
Love Begins
noise dept.
NASA
Misplaced Lens Cap
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Mike Driver
art blog(derogatory)
Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
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@mollykidddd
"I was taught that the world had a lot of problems; that I could struggle and change them; that intellectual and material gifts brought the privilege and responsibility of sharing with others less fortunate; and that service is the rent each of us pay for a living…the very purpose of life, and not something you do in your spare time or after you have reached your personal goals."
Marian Wright Edelman President and Founder of US-based Children’s Defense Fund
Huérfanos de padres vivos
Week one done with the kiddos.
Yesterday we did more house visits. After meeting all the kids on Tuesday and Wednesday, I knew that I hadn’t seen the worst of the homes based on the appearance and attitudes of the kids. This one family has three kids that come to the comedor: 5 year old Pedro (he’s the one that doesn’t know how to eat, really), and two of his sisters who are probably 8 and 10, though I didn’t know they were girls at first. They always show up really late and miss the activities, not arriving until it’s about time to eat lunch. When they leave, they are the ones who take the left overs home. They’re always dirty and their behavior is off, sort of slow. It’s not like they have something wrong with them, but it’s as if they haven’t had many experiences or even conversations with adults or role models.
So we went to a few different houses yesterday, and one was theirs. There are 7 children, and the mom comes and goes as she pleases. Their house consists of one room, which has two twin sized mattresses with no blankets or sheets, completely covered in dirty, filthy clothes and trash, with barely any walking space between them. A baby, probably one and a half years old, was in that room, just sticking her head out of the window. All the kids were behind the house, and the oldest girl was cooking beans in a pot. The pot sat on a cinder block, and one piece of wood burned beneath it to heat the pot. The water she was using was the run off from the side of the road. There was a sort of closed off square behind the house which I supposed was the out house, the whole place reeked. There was garbage absolutely everywhere. The nuns were very mad, and they were scolding the older children. I guess they had come somewhat recently and done a big clean up, and now it was worse than before. I felt really bad for them, they were just hanging their heads as the nuns scolded them. The nuns kept taking me and pointing to different parts and saying “do you see this?” and I could tell that the older girls were ashamed and embarrassed. I’ve sort of become the new fun person who all the kids want to impress, and now I had seen what there life was like at home. Monja Abigail shook their finger at them, and told them they better clean up all the trash in the next few days. Nothing like a Nun’s tough love. Pedro was there the whole time, off in the corner holding a rock to his ear pretending to talk on the phone.
After the house visits, the nuns invited me to lunch at the convent! Not going to lie, I was pretty honored. I met the Mother Superior, and we sat in the foyer for a bit (Monja Abigail, Monja Nicole, Mother Superior, and myself), and talked about the houses we visited and the comportment of the children. That was when the Mother Superior coined the term “huérfanos de padres vivos” - orphans of living parents. What a sad concept. It was a fun little afternoon, the nuns are all in such high spirits - even the one who only had one eye who kept looking at me, winking, and giggling during lunch haha. I couldn’t stop laughing. Lunch was delicious, and Monja Nicole finally asked me what my religion was. I was honest with her and told her that I wasn’t very religious. She was nice about it, but I noticed that yesterday and today she’s been saying “god bless you” as I leave for the day.
Today I woke up a little late, and was scrambling from concho to concho to get their in time. Luckily I figured out a different concho route that picks me up near my neighborhood, so I don’t have to walk the 20/25 minutes through PUCMM, so it saves me a lot of time. I got there on time, and the nuns were late! It was about 20 minutes of me by myself with all the kids! There were about 25 of them today. They are crazy, let me tell you.
While Monja Abigail did crafts with the older kids, Monja Nicole and I took all the little kids for their weekly hygiene. They sat in line while I went through and clipped all of their fingernails, then gave their hands and fingernails a good scrub with a soapy brush. When that was done, Monja Nicole and I sat by the the water spout in the back and took them one by one, cleaning out their ears and then shampooing their heads. They would all refuse the q-tip at first and then once I started they would just lay their head in my lap, loving it. BOY were there a lot of colors coming out of those q-tips! You could tell they were all happy to get nice and clean.
After three days with the kids, I’ve noticed it’s quite the challenge to get them to focus and do what I ask. It’s funny, in movies and TV shows they always show the troubled kids at school and they’re like, Here, draw a picture of life at home, Johnny! and then Johnny draws a family under a cloudy sky with no Dad and the teacher is like, Oh no, Johnny’s Dad left them, that’s why he’s behaving this way! But in reality, the real troubled kids lack the concentration skills to put the crayon on the paper once it’s handed to them. Or in the movies when they give food to a hungry kid and he scarfs it down quickly, but what I've noticed, when you hand a plate of food to a child who isn’t fed often, he doesn’t know what to do with it, or how to get it in his mouth. Once lunch is served, there’s a lot of trying to get them to finish their plates. If they finish, they get a cookie. A lot of the kids pocket the cookies to take home to their moms or to their other siblings who don’t come to the Comedor.
I’ve been coming home extremely tired, forgetting if I’ve already paid the concho driver when I get out, etc. I end up having lunch at home and taking a pretty long siesta, which I was never able to take before due to my class schedule.
Lots of pictures from this week and last weekend to post.
Molly
Cáritas - Comedor Infantíl
And so begins my entries on my service internship.
My work will be at a “dining hall” for children in a less fortunate neighborhood, through a program called Cáritas which is sponsored through the catholic church. Cáritas also runs pharmacies and other social services. Mine is called Comedor Infantíl/children’s dining hall. It is essentially a place open from 10-1 every day, where kids ages 3-12 come, and we do a little bit of organized activity, and serve them lunch. My location is run by two nuns, Abigail (a bit more reserved, indigenous looking woman from Mexico), and Nicole (the whitest Dominican I’ve ever seen, from Santo Domingo - she has a larger frame and she is extremely playful with the children).
It was a bit of a shock, working with nuns. If I haven’t evaded to it already in this blog, probably my biggest shock in coming here to this country has been how much christianity has been put in front of me. It’s made me ask a lot of questions about my beliefs, though no matter what my answers to those questions may be, I know I’m not at all close to catholicism. I like these two woman though. They show me a lot of respect and love already: an affectionate hand on my back while coloring with the kids, quick to answer any questions, and lots of patience for what I don’t understand. They have not asked me any questions about my religion, and apart from prayers at the start of the day and before lunch, their is not much christianity pressed upon the children. They are not rigid like I expected nuns to be - they join in on the games, and hold the young ones upside down by the ankles (quite the site to see, as they’re wearing their habits).
Yesterday was my first day, and when I got there I found out the Comedor was closed for the day, because every Monday and Thursday this month the nuns are doing house visits to the homes of the children. So, I accompanied the sisters (they’re called monjas … think: female monk) to about 6 houses yesterday before meeting any of the children. This was very interesting, because otherwise I would have no business in houses, streets, or neighborhoods such as these. We would go and ask them how many people lived there, who worked at the house, where the dad was, etc., so that the nuns could document what home life is like for each of the kids (though I think they have a pretty good idea anyway).
Zero of the homes that we went to had a father present. Many of the woman didn’t know who the fathers were. Some of them claimed that their boyfriends helped a lot and that they cared for the children very much. Some of the mothers were not home, as they were out “working”, if you know what I’m saying, so we would talk to the neighbor or who ever was around. Two of the kids really struck a chord with me, Jorge & Emmanuel, 4 & 3 respectively. Their mom was not home so we talked to the woman who lived across the alley from them who knew the situation better. She explained that the mom didn’t know who either of the fathers were, and that the mom was hardly ever home. Jorge gave me a big hug and asked for a sip from my water bottle, so I gave him the last sip without hesitation. Emmanuel sat on my lap for the entirety of our conversation. He’s 3, but a tiny 3, and he has a long blonde pony tail which is extremely rare. Everywhere I go in this country people call out “rubia!” (blonde!), and for a lot of people in less advanced neighborhoods, blonde hair is something they’ve only seen on billboards or in pictures. The girls at the Comedor are constantly touching my head, almost in wonder. I think nobody will cut his blonde hair because it is so well cherished.
Today at the Comedor, Jorge and Emmanuel both gave me a big hug when they walked in. Jorge has a big bald spot and when I asked about it sister Nicole said it was from a fungus and now hair doesn’t grow there. Later she was applying a cream to Emmanuel’s back and called me over to show that there was a fungus or a ringworm or a bacteria, or something growing under his skin. She goes, oh yeah, I was meaning to say, don’t share your water bottle with them - it could be harmful to your health. She asked me to walk them home at the end of the day (everyone lives within a few minutes from the school). I carried Emmanuel and held Jorge’s hand - everyone was saying that Emmanuel looked like my son. There was no one at home to receive them, except for the same neighbor so I left them there. Day two and I already had this intense urge to bring them back home to the states with me.
There were only about 15 kids today - there are less in the summer, but the monja said today there was a particularly low attendance. The children are divided into two groups - the chicititos, the 3, 4, 5 year olds, and the grandes, 6-12. When I got there early this morning, there was just the cook (who is strictly the cook and doesn’t interact with the children), and a really small boy sitting down by himself. I tried talking to him all I could get out of him was his name and three fingers held up when I asked his age. I asked the cook how I could be of help and she said I could sweep. I grabbed the broom and dust pan and when I started sweeping the boy ran over and took the dust pan, holding it and following me around the room as I swept, without saying a word. So cute. All of the big kids had a job - one girl helped the cook, one boy cleared all the dishes, and three of the big girls did the dishes. One boy was particularly dirty and sort of slow behaving, and I noticed that Sister Nicole sent him home with the left overs. One of the boys was making an absolute mess and the sister looked at me and was like yeah, he actually doesn’t know how to eat. I started watching him and realized that she was right, it was absolute chaos. If he’s ever sat down and had a meal at home, it was evident that no one had ever watched him or taught him how to put a fork in his mouth.
To get to this neighborhood, I have to walk through the PUCMM (the University I was attending), which takes about 20 minutes, then take 2 conchos with a little walking in between, but the last concho brings me right to the Comedor. All in all, it takes 45 minutes at the least, and could be more depending on the conchos - if it takes me a few minutes to catch one, or if they make a lot of stops. It’s nice though, because I feel like I’m more a part of the city than I was when I was just walking to school every day.
So as you can see, my first impressions include lots of positives feelings and lots of sad ones. I know this work is going to be challenging, but the children are really happy, and I think it will be important to focus on that. I’ve already started brain storming certain activities I can do with them. It’s not strictly expected of me, but the nuns don’t have an academic curriculum so I’m sure they get tired of making up activities. My expectations are to facilitate positive conversation about morals, academics, priorities, and futures, and of course to help with activities and keep them well behaved.
I know this was a long post, but I hope you enjoyed hearing about my new internship.
:-)
-La Rubia
Cáritas - Comedor Infantíl
And so begins my entries on my service internship.
My work will be at a "dining hall" for children in a less fortunate neighborhood, through a program called Cáritas which is sponsored through the catholic church. Cáritas also runs pharmacies and other social services. Mine is called Comedor Infantíl/children's dining hall. It is essentially a place open from 10-1 every day, where kids ages 3-12 come, and we do a little bit of organized activity, and serve them lunch. My location is run by two nuns, Abigail (a bit more reserved, indigenous looking woman from Mexico), and Nicole (the whitest Dominican I've ever seen, from Santo Domingo - she has a larger frame and she is extremely playful with the children).
It was a bit of a shock, working with nuns. If I haven't evaded to it already in this blog, probably my biggest shock in coming here to this country has been how much christianity has been put in front of me. It's made me ask a lot of questions about my beliefs, though no matter what my answers to those questions may be, I know I'm not at all close to catholicism. I like these two woman though. They show me a lot of respect and love already: an affectionate hand on my back while coloring with the kids, quick to answer any questions, and lots of patience for what I don't understand. They have not asked me any questions about my religion, and apart from prayers at the start of the day and before lunch, their is not much christianity pressed upon the children. They are not rigid like I expected nuns to be - they join in on the games, and hold the young ones upside down by the ankles (quite the site to see, as they're wearing their habits).
Yesterday was my first day, and when I got there I found out the Comedor was closed for the day, because every Monday and Thursday this month the nuns are doing house visits to the homes of the children. So, I accompanied the sisters (they're called monjas ... think: female monk) to about 6 houses yesterday before meeting any of the children. This was very interesting, because otherwise I would have no business in houses, streets, or neighborhoods such as these. We would go and ask them how many people lived there, who worked at the house, where the dad was, etc., so that the nuns could document what home life is like for each of the kids (though I think they have a pretty good idea anyway).
Zero of the homes that we went to had a father present. Many of the woman didn't know who the fathers were. Some of them claimed that their boyfriends helped a lot and that they cared for the children very much. Some of the mothers were not home, as they were out "working", if you know what I'm saying, so we would talk to the neighbor or who ever was around. Two of the kids really struck a chord with me, Jorge & Emmanuel, 4 & 3 respectively. Their mom was not home so we talked to the woman who lived across the alley from them who knew the situation better. She explained that the mom didn't know who either of the fathers were, and that the mom was hardly ever home. Jorge gave me a big hug and asked for a sip from my water bottle, so I gave him the last sip without hesitation. Emmanuel sat on my lap for the entirety of our conversation. He's 3, but a tiny 3, and he has a long blonde pony tail which is extremely rare. Everywhere I go in this country people call out "rubia!" (blonde!), and for a lot of people in less advanced neighborhoods, blonde hair is something they've only seen on billboards or in pictures. The girls at the Comedor are constantly touching my head, almost in wonder. I think nobody will cut his blonde hair because it is so well cherished.
Today at the Comedor, Jorge and Emmanuel both gave me a big hug when they walked in. Jorge has a big bald spot and when I asked about it sister Nicole said it was from a fungus and now hair doesn't grow there. Later she was applying a cream to Emmanuel's back and called me over to show that there was a fungus or a ringworm or a bacteria, or something growing under his skin. She goes, oh yeah, I was meaning to say, don't share your water bottle with them - it could be harmful to your health. She asked me to walk them home at the end of the day (everyone lives within a few minutes from the school). I carried Emmanuel and held Jorge's hand - everyone was saying that Emmanuel looked like my son. There was no one at home to receive them, except for the same neighbor so I left them there. Day two and I already had this intense urge to bring them back home to the states with me.
There were only about 15 kids today - there are less in the summer, but the monja said today there was a particularly low attendance. The children are divided into two groups - the chicititos, the 3, 4, 5 year olds, and the grandes, 6-12. When I got there early this morning, there was just the cook (who is strictly the cook and doesn't interact with the children), and a really small boy sitting down by himself. I tried talking to him all I could get out of him was his name and three fingers held up when I asked his age. I asked the cook how I could be of help and she said I could sweep. I grabbed the broom and dust pan and when I started sweeping the boy ran over and took the dust pan, holding it and following me around the room as I swept, without saying a word. So cute. All of the big kids had a job - one girl helped the cook, one boy cleared all the dishes, and three of the big girls did the dishes. One boy was particularly dirty and sort of slow behaving, and I noticed that Sister Nicole sent him home with the left overs. One of the boys was making an absolute mess and the sister looked at me and was like yeah, he actually doesn't know how to eat. I started watching him and realized that she was right, it was absolute chaos. If he's ever sat down and had a meal at home, it was evident that no one had ever watched him or taught him how to put a fork in his mouth.
To get to this neighborhood, I have to walk through the PUCMM (the University I was attending), which takes about 20 minutes, then take 2 conchos with a little walking in between, but the last concho brings me right to the Comedor. All in all, it takes 45 minutes at the least, and could be more depending on the conchos - if it takes me a few minutes to catch one, or if they make a lot of stops. It's nice though, because I feel like I'm more a part of the city than I was when I was just walking to school every day.
So as you can see, my first impressions include lots of positives feelings and lots of sad ones. I know this work is going to be challenging, but the children are really happy, and I think it will be important to focus on that. I've already started brain storming certain activities I can do with them. It's not strictly expected of me, but the nuns don't have an academic curriculum so I'm sure they get tired of making up activities. My expectations are to facilitate positive conversation about morals, academics, priorities, and futures, and of course to help with activities and keep them well behaved.
I know this was a long post, but I hope you enjoyed hearing about my new internship.
:-)
-La Rubia
Procrastination
My last class ended today! (Thursday, July 10)
Now, my final paper for my hispanic lit class is due tomorrow, So I'm trying to get it done by this evening, so that I can be alllll done with school work.
For my culture class, we all had to do some sort of cultural/creative presentation. Really laid back. Anna and I decided to make Habichuelas con Dulce, which is a sweet dessert made out of red beans! It's popular in the Dominican Republic (actually, it's only found here), and it speaks to the culture because some of the ingredients come from the Spanish Europeans, some from the African slaves, and some from the Taino natives.... So it represents the three cultural identities of the country.
It's pretty simple, and it was really good! Red beans boiled with cinnamon, puréed and then strained. Meanwhile, you boil sweet potato with coconut milk, condensated milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar and a bit of salt. Then you add the beans and continue to boil for about an hour, adding milk, sugar, and salt to taste. As I said previously, I didn't really eat beans before, but this was delicious! You serve it with "galletitas de leche" (milk cookies) which are basically small nilla wafers, and raisins for garnish.
The nutmeg and cinnamon made it taste like Christmas (as one of my classmates was quick to point out), so I look forward to making it in the fall and winter when I'm back home. We shared the treat with our class and presented a little bit about the history of Habichuelas con Dulce and the process of making it.
So excited for classes to end, but I've got roughly 10 pages of literary analysis to write (en español, claro)! No definite plans for the weekend yet, but you can be sure that I will be found on the beach!
^Habichuelas con Dulce
Pretty sweet panorama Anna took from up on the fire tower at the peak of Loma Mogote, the smallish mountain we hiked.
Niños y Cigarros
Today was a great day.
We went to a children's school in a more dangerous and poor corner of the city, where we repainted the school's interior. It was a dull grey, and we came with buckets of yellow. They taught us a couple song and dances, and then we got down to business - taping down newspaper to the floors and scraping the walls. There were about 12 kids in the whole school, probably 8 boys and 4 girls, around ages 8-13. We all had so much fun, the boys were climbing up all the walls to paint the highest corners. There was a way that you could climb around the outside of the building, onto the roof, and then through the inside to access some of the higher parts of the walls, and I was quick to follow the boys up there. They made me so nervous though, swinging around like little monkeys!
None of them spoke English, so it was fun to hear little kids' Dominican slang. Ive found that here, often times one's English speaking capability is directly related to your income and education. There was literally a prison yard on the other side of the wall of the yard of the school house. When I climbed on the roof, the inmates were outside and could see my friend Corey and I up there so you can only imagine the obscenities they were calling to us. They basically shared this wall with the prison.
One of the girls was 13, and she took turns latching onto a few of us girls throughout the morning. I mean literally, holding our arms and asking us questions, with a sad look on her face, and when we would respond to her questions she'd just look at us with a blank, sad expression. She said she was finishing school here in August, and I asked her if she would be going to continuing school elsewhere after. She said she didn't know.
While I was up near the ceiling with a few of the boys, the school (basically one big room) was almost completely painted, and I said look at your classroom now! One boy put his brush down and said "mira... se cambió" (look... it changed). They all looked around at their new room for several minutes, sun pouring through the metal barred windows, shining bright in it's new yellow.
At the end, we swept, and even mopped and scrubbed off all the paint stains on the floor. The place really looked awesome. While we were waiting for things to wrap up, I brought three of the kids outside to the side yard which was just filthy with trash. We took a big trash bag out there and picked up all the trash, even all the little straw wrappers and everything between the blades of grass. It felt good leaving the school in a better state than it was before.
When I was saying goodbye to the ones I had spent most time with, they looked at me and asked if I would be coming back on Monday. I told them I had to go to my school on Monday. They didn't cry and I'm not gonna overdramatize this or anything, but it certainly was a bit sad. They were just such happy kids, and they made me so happy this morning.
In the afternoon, we went to La Aurora cigar factory, the oldest and finest cigar factory in the Dominican Republic, where 80% of the country's cigars are made. It was an awesome experience! I was expecting a boring walk around a factory, but it was much more than that. We got a full lesson on how they make the really nice ones, and at the beginning he gave us fresh rolled cigars, whoever wanted one could have their own - and they were pretty big! He taught us how to hold them properly and how you're really supposed to hold them with you're teeth when you're not drawing it in. I always had a hard time drawing without inhaling as you're supposed to, but I got it down, and he kept telling me I smoked the cigar like a boss (I can hear my mom now... is that something you should be flattered by?!).
We asked how he would compare their cigars to Cuban cigars. He explained that both types are going to vary quite a bit, but in general, the cuban cigars are a bit stronger, but they take less care in aging them. He explained that the tobacco they use takes 5 months to grow, two months to dry, and a minimum of 5 years to age. The men who roll the fine ones by hand have to train for 9 months, and the ones who we saw who were apparently the best have been rolling for 40+ years. They use a bit of tree sap on the final leaf which seals the cigar in order to give it the proper amount of humidity to make it stretch and to make it stick. It was so neat watching. We also went to the different rooms where they machine roll the lesser quality cigars, and also where they take the leaves and classify them.
Our tour guide was wicked funny. While lighting his cigar he goes: "I don't smoke, actually. I just like to enjoy a nice cigar when I have the right opportunity. Luckily, I get a nice opportunity every day at work!"(as he puts the cigar to his lips). We got there around 3 which is when most of them get off, so there were so many people walking around and fraternizing with a cigar at their lips.
A few of the good friends I've made here are leaving this weekend, so a bunch of us are going out to celebrate tonight. This week was pretty standard, though school work has been getting a little heavy since they are only five week courses and we've only two weeks left. Also, it's been SO hot. Even the locals are saying it, so that's when you know it's real. I'll survive though.
LOTS of pictures to follow when I get the chance!!
Cheers,
Molly
Ethan and Pompilio. My host parents have older children and many of them live in the US. Lucky me, they are watching one of their grandchildren for an entire month, which just began. He is 20 months old and he is crazy and adorable. This is him playing with Pompilio, their “gatito” (kitten). Both of these little guys were a very pleasant surprise.
Another shot from the courtyard, which shows an open/barred wall which leads to the more casual dining room and living room. These rooms are completely open to the patio and cannot be closed off to the elements - they’re like a fully furnished, more indoors-feeling patio. Just lovely.
Just some shots from the sitting areas and dining room at my house. I have a feeling these rooms don’t get used often. There is another dining room and another living room that are more casual and which we have used. My host family also has a maid, which is going to take some getting used to. So far, everything from dinner to a glass of water has been brought to me by her on a silver platter.
Sitting in the shade in the courtyard at my home stay. It is lovely here.
I arrived at my home stay last night around 9:30. I met many of the people in my program on the flight, as many of us were on the same one. While waiting in the gate we sniffed each other out. That wasn’t hard: single-travelers sporting backpacks with nervous-excited expressions, and most notably,...
In the courtyard at my home stay. It is so lovely here.
In the shaded part of the courtyard in the middle of the house.
My ode to nature
