Other blog is for photos, you know the drill:) Clicky Clicky
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Story from the Bengal about my trip
In December of 2009, I decided to volunteer abroad with International Student Volunteers. Half a year later, in July of 2010, I found myself in the Dominican Republic at Rancho Campeche.
I kept a journal of my thoughts and impressions. This is part of it.
The ecological campground host about 150 volunteers a year from around the world. The group I was in had 20 volunteers. I was just one of those volunteers putting my grain of sand into the pile, as Xiomara Fortuna, founder of the camp, said. When she was little, she loved to camp, and that is one reason she made the ecological campsite.
The Dominican Republic is located on the same island in the Caribbean as Haiti and did have some damage from the devastating earthquake. The nation is very poor.
I was in the Dominican Republic to infect people with kindness. The people of El Limon, Los Francos and Duveaux have known little fairness in their life. The volunteer project we were working on had been in progress for two summers, and we were the last group to put in our efforts that season.
We were working on two separate projects: building a community center and teaching children about basic hygiene and English. As the last group, we felt the pressure to get the community center as close to done as possible and leave the children with an impression of kindness and a growing thirst for knowledge.
I went into this wanting to prove to myself that I could help people in any way, even without the correct skill set. I think many people think they can’t help because they don’t know how, but during this trip, I learned that all you have to do is raise your hand. Raise your hand and say, “I’ll help,” and someone will give you a shovel and teach you how to make cement by hand.
By the end of our two weeks, we had almost finished painting the community center, finished cementing the tiny store along with its paint almost done as well and dug a hole from two-feet to about five-feet. The last one sounds silly, but when that hole reaches nine-feet, it will be made into a bathroom that could last up to 20 years.
I feel the community center will make the community meet and face their problems. There was a hushed feeling as we walked through town every other day to the worksite.
It is the small moments during a volunteer trip like this that show you what an impact you are making. At the end of the first week, we took all the children to the beach to pick up trash as a way to teach them that the world isn’t one big garbage can. We each were assigned to watch one child, and that day I was assigned Francisco, an eight-year-old sweetheart that was a bit small for his age.
As we were playing in the water after the trash removal, a group of young men started singing a song about getting a visa from an American—that summer’s big hit. I’d become used to hearing the foreign words that I didn’t understand, but knew the meaning of and simply ignored them.
I looked down at Francisco just as he gave the men an ugly look of disgust. I took his hand we walked away together, leaving the men looking confused.
It seems like such a small moment that could mean nothing, but after spending time in this foreign place, I realize that it meant a lot. It meant that the ideals of an eight-year-old boy might be changing. That maybe when Francisco grows up he will have long ago realized that education gets you further than marrying an American. It meant that his mindset about women might be different than his father’s.
“We are here from around the world, but we sit here as though we are one big family,” said Fortuna.
One of the first nights we spent at the camp, Fortuna talked with us about why we were there. While she had just met us, her face told us she already loved us, and she realized it took a certain type of person to come so far just to help a stranger.
Fortuna is an amazing individual. It is people like her that I want to go around the world and find—simply to tell his or her story.
Fortuna is a person very in tune with her natural surrounding. She asked us not to kill tarantulas, no matter the size, because in the Dominican Republic, they are not poisonous. She emphasized that they will not bother you if you do not bother them.
We had a tarantula living in the women’s bathroom, and yes, it was a little nerve-racking.
My efforts in the Dominican Republic did not come without challenge. There were days when the language barrier between the children and myself caused frustration to the point of headaches. Construction days at the community center produced sore muscles that made it hard to sleep. But that was the beauty of it in the end—the pain that teaches you more about yourself than you ever thought possible.
I kept a journal of my thoughts and impressions. This is part of it.
The ecological campground host about 150 volunteers a year from around the world. The group I was in had 20 volunteers. I was just one of those volunteers putting my grain of sand into the pile, as Xiomara Fortuna, founder of the camp, said. When she was little, she loved to camp, and that is one reason she made the ecological campsite.
The Dominican Republic is located on the same island in the Caribbean as Haiti and did have some damage from the devastating earthquake. The nation is very poor.
I was in the Dominican Republic to infect people with kindness. The people of El Limon, Los Francos and Duveaux have known little fairness in their life. The volunteer project we were working on had been in progress for two summers, and we were the last group to put in our efforts that season.
We were working on two separate projects: building a community center and teaching children about basic hygiene and English. As the last group, we felt the pressure to get the community center as close to done as possible and leave the children with an impression of kindness and a growing thirst for knowledge.
I went into this wanting to prove to myself that I could help people in any way, even without the correct skill set. I think many people think they can’t help because they don’t know how, but during this trip, I learned that all you have to do is raise your hand. Raise your hand and say, “I’ll help,” and someone will give you a shovel and teach you how to make cement by hand.
By the end of our two weeks, we had almost finished painting the community center, finished cementing the tiny store along with its paint almost done as well and dug a hole from two-feet to about five-feet. The last one sounds silly, but when that hole reaches nine-feet, it will be made into a bathroom that could last up to 20 years.
I feel the community center will make the community meet and face their problems. There was a hushed feeling as we walked through town every other day to the worksite.
It is the small moments during a volunteer trip like this that show you what an impact you are making. At the end of the first week, we took all the children to the beach to pick up trash as a way to teach them that the world isn’t one big garbage can. We each were assigned to watch one child, and that day I was assigned Francisco, an eight-year-old sweetheart that was a bit small for his age.
As we were playing in the water after the trash removal, a group of young men started singing a song about getting a visa from an American—that summer’s big hit. I’d become used to hearing the foreign words that I didn’t understand, but knew the meaning of and simply ignored them.
I looked down at Francisco just as he gave the men an ugly look of disgust. I took his hand we walked away together, leaving the men looking confused.
It seems like such a small moment that could mean nothing, but after spending time in this foreign place, I realize that it meant a lot. It meant that the ideals of an eight-year-old boy might be changing. That maybe when Francisco grows up he will have long ago realized that education gets you further than marrying an American. It meant that his mindset about women might be different than his father’s.
“We are here from around the world, but we sit here as though we are one big family,” said Fortuna.
One of the first nights we spent at the camp, Fortuna talked with us about why we were there. While she had just met us, her face told us she already loved us, and she realized it took a certain type of person to come so far just to help a stranger.
Fortuna is an amazing individual. It is people like her that I want to go around the world and find—simply to tell his or her story.
Fortuna is a person very in tune with her natural surrounding. She asked us not to kill tarantulas, no matter the size, because in the Dominican Republic, they are not poisonous. She emphasized that they will not bother you if you do not bother them.
We had a tarantula living in the women’s bathroom, and yes, it was a little nerve-racking.
My efforts in the Dominican Republic did not come without challenge. There were days when the language barrier between the children and myself caused frustration to the point of headaches. Construction days at the community center produced sore muscles that made it hard to sleep. But that was the beauty of it in the end—the pain that teaches you more about yourself than you ever thought possible.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Advanced reporting.
I'm taking it this year. My first assignment is to write a story about my experiences in the DR. In conclusion, you WILL see SOMETHING on Friday:) I feel so lazy for not getting this stuff up already. But I have 18 credits, as of tonight, and 3, yes count them, 3 jobs. But I'll make it, because I think, secretly, I get some sort of sick high off of being stressed.
Don't think--just do,
Elaine
Don't think--just do,
Elaine
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