An Un-American Story

Yesterday I was stopped at a traffic light waiting for the light to change.  I noticed in my side mirror that a moto was approaching on my left.  And then I watched as a woman stepped out from behind my car, crossing the street through the stopped traffic, and got hit by the motorcycle.  I opened my door to go see if she was okay or if anyone needed my help--only to see a group of Dominican men already gathering and shouting at the driver of the moto.  One of them hit him on the side of the head, shouting what must have been the equivalent of, "What on earth were you doing?" The moto driver picked the woman up off of the street and they stood there in an embrace while the group around him all yelled and took care of the situation.  I later saw the driver drop the woman off on the other side of the street on his motorcycle, and I guess then it was over.

I just felt strongly that there couldn't have been a less American way of handling an accident.  I felt like I was watching a presentation on Dominican culture: "and here you'll observe through this minor accident something of the culture--chaos, warmth, expression of emotions (both negative and positive), protectiveness of women . . ."

Mini-orchids and Odd Complements

I wanted to post this picture of some orchids my uncle and cousin brought me from the mountains.  It took a year for them to bloom (probably because I didn't water them as faithfully as I should have), but now they are beautiful!

I also wanted to share a cultural observation.  In Spanish (at least here), everywhere you go people shower you with complements and "palabras de cariño" (expressions of affection).  "Hola, bella!"  (Hello, beautiful!)  "Hola, mi amor!"  (Hello, my love!)  "Que más, mi amor?"  (What else can I get you, my love?)  "Sí, mi corazon!"  (Yes, my heart!)  Algo más, mi reina?"  (Anything else, my queen?)  It is something that men and women will say to you at the grocery store, on the phone with the pharmacy or corner store, at church . . . nearly everywhere, with no trace of mockery or impropriety.

Well, recently a guard at the school started to practice his English on me.  And he would say things like, "Hello, you are very beautiful!"  And I realized once again that you just can't get away with translating everything directly from one language into another.  

Today I feel like I live in a third world country . . .

I realize, of course, that I always do live in a third world country, but honestly, I am so spoiled compared to almost everyone around me that I don't feel too deprived.  But tonight, with my kids armed with flashlights and with candles placed strategically around the house, in a completely quiet neighborhood, I feel like I live in a third world country.

Every Thursday the power goes out.  There are surprise days here and there, but we can set our clocks by the Thursday power outages.  They start by 8 or 9 o'clock and go until around 3.  We have an inverter, so when the power goes out we still have lights and can use fans.  But it does usually mean that we don't have water during the time that it's out because the water pump doesn't work.  We also can't use the washing machine, the toaster, the microwave, a hair-dryer, or anything else with a heating element.  And we get to think of our milk and groceries in the fridge all going bad.  We're gone most of the time the water's out and typically not too affected by it, but it does affect our maid (who comes on Thursdays) when she's trying to clean and do laundry and sometimes can't do much of either.

Today when we woke up, the power was already out.  We hadn't noticed overnight because the fans switched over automatically to our back-up power.  That was a concern only because it almost never happens (and because we can't shut off the air conditioner in our room when the power is out--when it comes back on, so does the air).  It was also a bummer because our maid usually gets the laundry in before the power goes out.  But when I called her from the school, she told me that at least there was water to clean.  We realized that the maintenance guys from the school must have hooked our water up to our inverter, so the power outage affected us less than usual.

But when it reached 5:00 and the power still wasn't on, we started to get a little uneasy--well, OK, I did.  An inverter only lasts for so long before it needs to get charged again.  We've never been on it for a full 24 hours, and I really don't want to play the How long can this thing last? game.  It went out sometime overnight, and it's now 9:00.  We're approaching our longest time on the inverter.  And on top of that, the water pump has been coming on all day long and using the inverter power.  So we started switching off everything in the house.  We have 2 fans on upstairs for the kids, because it's hot with no breeze, but we made them read with their wind-able IKEA flashlights (best invention ever) instead of their lamp and we turned off every other light and fan in the house.

I don't know what noises we usually hear, but it's a marked difference tonight.  It feels peaceful and weird: I hear crickets and notice every car that goes by, and I hear my neighbors talking quietly.  Occasionally, the street dogs go crazy when someone walks by.  But the later it gets, the less that happens.

Probably the power will come on by morning, I pray that it does, it always has before.  But the thing about living here is that nothing ever feels for sure.  And we need to save our power as much as possible so that we can have water and fans--and our house alarm.

Motorcycle Accident

In front of the kids' school today at pick-up time, a motorcyclist passed the line of cars waiting to enter the school.  I saw him pass my car and a moment later watched as he crashed his motorcycle right at the entrance of the school.  The horrible part of the accident was that he wasn't wearing a helmet and I saw him hit the ground without it.  People came running from their cars to him and someone rolled him onto his back and I think shouted to him to see if he was OK.

 I think apart from how upsetting it was to see the accident, what really struck me was how everyone got involved.  People here have not been scarred by lawsuits here like in the U.S.  There isn't a fear that someone trying to help would be sued.  This is also not a country where ambulances are much in use; people scoop up strangers in their cars and drive them to the hospital after an accident.  The emergency number doesn't reach anyone, from what I hear.  And I have seen ambulances, but there aren't many, and I wouldn't imagine many people here could afford to use one.

It was a relief to see him move after the accident, though it was really serious and he was still lying there when I left the school with my kids (the school nurse and doctor were both with him).  Many people are killed here in motorcycle and car accidents in part because driving is less regulated, and in part because most people don't wear seat belts or helmets.

It was an intense afternoon for the whole school.  All of the parents and students leaving had to pass by the scene.  It strikes me that children are less sheltered here from violence just as they are less sheltered from everything.

A Helping Foot

I'm realizing lately that there are things I've grown accustomed to that are too great to leave out of my blog.  One of them I remembered when I saw it again on my way home from dropping the boys off at school.  Lots of people here use motorcycles ("motos")  instead of cars, even large families pile onto single moto--they're just cheaper to own.  But many times people run out of gas before they get to a gas station.  And while I've seen the occasional moto being pushed down the road, what is way more common is to see him get a "push" from another moto.  The cyclist with the bike that's working holds out his foot and pushes the footrest of the bike that's not, and they clip along that way at traffic speed until, presumably, they reach a gas station.

Fleeing Pedestrian Sign

I love this depiction of the fleeing pedestrians.  It so captures the country for me.  "Look out!  Against all odds, there may be people taking their lives into their own hands to try to cross this street."  I've seen other signs like this while we were driving, but generally they are posted places where it's not safe to stop to get the picture.  Generally they are posted where it's not safe to cross if you are a pedestrian.  My uncle and cousin are visiting, so we took advantage of the great spot to get a family photo.

Fruit Guy

Today I saw the fruit guy again, and I really can't believe I haven't blogged about him yet, but this blog is past due.

One of my favorite examples of Dominican culture is the fruit vendor right at the intersection of a very busy and crazy highway right near my house.

Actually, interesting side note, the Dominican Republic is ranked the second-most dangerous country in the world for driving, which means that red lights are considered suggestions and you can have people passing you on your left as you are signaling and turning left--and red lights go out with the frequent power outages, and then it's somewhat of a free-for-all.

Anyway, the fruit guy is right on the corner of this highway that we take to get everywhere.  And for the last two years I have observed the same pattern repeated again and again.

He sets up a card table on a tiny "island" between where different lanes are turning onto and off of the highway and puts out his bananas, papayas, mangoes, and pineapples.  He keeps this same system going for a few weeks.  Then one day, he hangs up a tarp from the tree branches above to block the sun and rain from his stand.  A few weeks or months after that, he brings in a little wooden stand and sets it up next to the card table.  His display expands and grows until it stretches beyond the island into the road feeding onto the highway.

Then one day, AMET, the local traffic police, comes by and tells him to take down his stand.  (This is conjecture, but I'm pretty sure about this.  I've watched the pattern many times.)  It won't be the first time that AMET has seen him, but I'm thinking that either he's gone too far with his stand or that an important government official is going to drive by that day.  Anyway, they decide that it's no longer OK for him to have his stand there.  So he disappears for a few weeks, then starts back with the card table.

I've watched this again and again.  But after the last time they closed him down he never came back.  Month turned into month turned into month.  And the fruit guy stayed away.  I knew from the past pattern when to start looking for him, and was almost giving up on him.  It would be so unexpected if he actually gave more than a respectful "break" in his business and took the police seriously enough to close down altogether.

But today he was back!  And my understanding of Dominican culture is confirmed.