La Grua
One day after our arrival we set out on a hour and a half drive to a haitian batey in La Grua. La Grua is a small village of Dominicans and Haitians, they are separated by a single intersection, and the comparison of living standards is shocking. A batey is where haitian sugarcane workers lived when the sugarcane business was still as active. After American companies pulled out of the sugarcane industry, and started using sugar from corn, all these people were put out of work.
That day we were mixing cement to make the floor of a brand new community center, the center would be used by Dominicans and Haitians, so that they could meet together and discuss how to solve community issues. The community center is on the Dominican side, while one group started working, another went across the road for a tour of the batey.
We had talked before about what the batey would be like, and prepared ourselves for what we would see. As we walked through the batey Avery and I kicked a soccer ball back and forth, eventually giving it up to a few boys running along side us. The houses were small, smaller than my bedroom, and they were close together. Everyone was outside, standing in their doorways talking, watching their children play. We went inside one woman’s house, she lives there with her five children. I couldn’t help but feel like I was intruding. Majority of the space was taken up by the bed, upon which a baby was sleeping. “La niña” she said to me and Bella, smiling, when we noticed the sleeping baby.
We continued through the batey, stopping to say “buen dia” to the people we passed. We walked to the village’s main water source, a slow moving river lined with trash. The batey is just downstream from a factory, a factory than pollutes the water and creates parasites in the village’s drinking water. Cameron told us that the parasites cause rounded out bellies, and as he was saying this it became clear that a little boy who had been walking with us had a parasite.
The standards and regulations these people have to live with are repulsive; they aren’t allowed to plant food, they aren’t aloud to fix their houses, they have no rights, and the children that are born in bateys have no citizenship, no nationality. The biggest thing I took away from this visit was my new understanding of how grateful we should all be that we live in a country where citizenship is a right, not a privilege.
That day we were mixing cement to make the floor of a brand new community center, the center would be used by Dominicans and Haitians, so that they could meet together and discuss how to solve community issues. The community center is on the Dominican side, while one group started working, another went across the road for a tour of the batey.
We had talked before about what the batey would be like, and prepared ourselves for what we would see. As we walked through the batey Avery and I kicked a soccer ball back and forth, eventually giving it up to a few boys running along side us. The houses were small, smaller than my bedroom, and they were close together. Everyone was outside, standing in their doorways talking, watching their children play. We went inside one woman’s house, she lives there with her five children. I couldn’t help but feel like I was intruding. Majority of the space was taken up by the bed, upon which a baby was sleeping. “La niña” she said to me and Bella, smiling, when we noticed the sleeping baby.
We continued through the batey, stopping to say “buen dia” to the people we passed. We walked to the village’s main water source, a slow moving river lined with trash. The batey is just downstream from a factory, a factory than pollutes the water and creates parasites in the village’s drinking water. Cameron told us that the parasites cause rounded out bellies, and as he was saying this it became clear that a little boy who had been walking with us had a parasite.
The standards and regulations these people have to live with are repulsive; they aren’t allowed to plant food, they aren’t aloud to fix their houses, they have no rights, and the children that are born in bateys have no citizenship, no nationality. The biggest thing I took away from this visit was my new understanding of how grateful we should all be that we live in a country where citizenship is a right, not a privilege.
Brisón
After a day of snorkeling and hanging out on the beach, we all piled into the vans for a two hour drive to Brisón, a mountain village. The point of our three mile hike was to put ourselves in the shoes of those who live on this mountain, the ones who walk up and down the mountain almost everyday. The school for the village is near the bottom and it has no bathroom, so the children who live at the top have to walk all the way up to their house at least three times a week. Some have to walk all the way up just to go to the bathroom during school. Before the current president Danilo Medina’s election, school funding was a lousy 2%, under the Medina administration funding has been raised to 10%.
On the way up we met a sixty-nine year old man, he walks up the mountain three times a week. He told us about how he had just won a lawsuit regarding the land his family owned, they didn’t have the right paperwork to sell it. Now that they’ve won, he’s gonna move, and he’ll never have to walk up three miles of steady inclines again.
After walking up and eating, we walked part way down to where a garden had been started for this community to use. For the people who live at the top, it becomes unbearable to have to walk down three miles, then back up just for food. So 7 elements started a garden for them to use instead, and we spent fifteen minutes planting seeds, and Trinity got attacked by fire ants.
On the way up we met a sixty-nine year old man, he walks up the mountain three times a week. He told us about how he had just won a lawsuit regarding the land his family owned, they didn’t have the right paperwork to sell it. Now that they’ve won, he’s gonna move, and he’ll never have to walk up three miles of steady inclines again.
After walking up and eating, we walked part way down to where a garden had been started for this community to use. For the people who live at the top, it becomes unbearable to have to walk down three miles, then back up just for food. So 7 elements started a garden for them to use instead, and we spent fifteen minutes planting seeds, and Trinity got attacked by fire ants.
Polanco
On Thursday we split into two groups, my group went to Polanco to continue building a bottle house for Maria and her three children. The way a bottle house is built is by first making a wooden frame, the recycled bottles act as an insulation for the house, it’s cheap and is environmentally sustainable. After the bottles are stuffed between the walls, chicken wire is stapled over them to keep them in place. The cement is put over the chicken wire by hand, to create the walls for the house. Helping to build the bottle house was probably the day I was the most motivated by the work we were doing. Everyone was doing different things, mixing cement, digging a latrine, making stairs, bottle stuffing, or actually making the walls. I was working with another girl, mixing cement and putting it on the walls.
We started by making the cement, we are used to having cement mixed by a machine, but in this village (and in the majority of the DR) there are no high tech machines like that, so everything has to be done by hand. You start with a pile of sand, you mix the sand, cement, and lots of water to create the cement. In order to get the right consistency you need to mix the cement quickly, and a lot. We did have shovels, but I think the Raul, the local handyman who was helping us enjoyed showing off how quickly he could mix.
After the cement was mixed we shoveled it into a bucket, then came the hardest part (and the most embarrassing), carrying the cement up to the house. It was only a small hill, but man, cement is really heavy. I’ll never forget, struggling to get up the hill with this bucket, my arms straining, then the man helping us, Raul, taking my bucket with one hand and carrying it the rest of the way. I was embarrassed, but mainly grateful.
Then came my favorite part: sticking my gloved hand into the bucket of cement and smearing it over the chicken wire, watching as the walls began to fill up and the bottles disappeared. In the Batey we were mixing cement non-stop, and I think that was why we lost motivation and didn’t feel that sense of joy I felt at the bottle house. I was giving someone a wall to their home, there’s no way to describe how enlightened I felt as a person. With the help of my parter Mieke, we finished an entire wall for Maria.
That day was filled with laughs from Jeffrey, a six year old boy who lived down the road. He stayed with us all day, showing us his school, his home, his life. We went to Polanco at the end of the week so my Spanish was better. I was able to understand and talk to Jeffrey; he usually had to say something twice for me to understand him, and it took me awhile to put together a response, but we worked it out.
The greatest joy of the day however, was meeting Maria and seeing how excited she was about the home she was getting. She is a single mother with three kids, and she lived in a home made from scrap metal before 7 elements began building her home. It was also incredible to see the community camaraderie, and compare it to the the relationships we have with our own neighbors. While most only exchange friendly smiles in passing, Maria’s neighbors are helping to build her house for free. I live in a neighborhood where I know my neighbors, and we all help each other when someone needs it, but I know that most people hardly know their neighbors. It was interesting to me, that while we have a stronger economy and see ourselves as more well off than people like Maria, Raul, and Jeffrey, they are the ones with a much stronger community.
We started by making the cement, we are used to having cement mixed by a machine, but in this village (and in the majority of the DR) there are no high tech machines like that, so everything has to be done by hand. You start with a pile of sand, you mix the sand, cement, and lots of water to create the cement. In order to get the right consistency you need to mix the cement quickly, and a lot. We did have shovels, but I think the Raul, the local handyman who was helping us enjoyed showing off how quickly he could mix.
After the cement was mixed we shoveled it into a bucket, then came the hardest part (and the most embarrassing), carrying the cement up to the house. It was only a small hill, but man, cement is really heavy. I’ll never forget, struggling to get up the hill with this bucket, my arms straining, then the man helping us, Raul, taking my bucket with one hand and carrying it the rest of the way. I was embarrassed, but mainly grateful.
Then came my favorite part: sticking my gloved hand into the bucket of cement and smearing it over the chicken wire, watching as the walls began to fill up and the bottles disappeared. In the Batey we were mixing cement non-stop, and I think that was why we lost motivation and didn’t feel that sense of joy I felt at the bottle house. I was giving someone a wall to their home, there’s no way to describe how enlightened I felt as a person. With the help of my parter Mieke, we finished an entire wall for Maria.
That day was filled with laughs from Jeffrey, a six year old boy who lived down the road. He stayed with us all day, showing us his school, his home, his life. We went to Polanco at the end of the week so my Spanish was better. I was able to understand and talk to Jeffrey; he usually had to say something twice for me to understand him, and it took me awhile to put together a response, but we worked it out.
The greatest joy of the day however, was meeting Maria and seeing how excited she was about the home she was getting. She is a single mother with three kids, and she lived in a home made from scrap metal before 7 elements began building her home. It was also incredible to see the community camaraderie, and compare it to the the relationships we have with our own neighbors. While most only exchange friendly smiles in passing, Maria’s neighbors are helping to build her house for free. I live in a neighborhood where I know my neighbors, and we all help each other when someone needs it, but I know that most people hardly know their neighbors. It was interesting to me, that while we have a stronger economy and see ourselves as more well off than people like Maria, Raul, and Jeffrey, they are the ones with a much stronger community.
Cano Dulce
This was our last day of service, we left at 8:30 AM and drove fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of Polanco (where we were the day before). Here we took a tour of the village, and visited Jony (pronounced Johnny). Jony makes his living as a bee farmer, he collects the honey and sells it locally, but one of his main sources of income is selling to teenage tourists looking for presents for their parents.
Before I talk about Jony’s bees and what service we did, I want to describe the expectations of wealth in these small villages. For a long time, the usual roof covering was palms; the palms were really resourceful because they were durable, they weren’t easily damaged by rainstorms and other natural disasters. However, people began to use sheets of metal and tin for roofing, because it looks wealthier. Even though the tin roofs were worse from a constructional standpoint; they rust, fall off, and just cause more damage than there needs to be. But that doesn’t matter, because now people have the mindset of palms meaning you are poor and nobody wants to be targeted as poor when they can be seen as wealthy. We have the same issues in America, but they are not nearly as significant. We have products, smartphones, laptops, and every year companies put out new ones, and every year everyone needs the latest model, even when their old ones work just as fine. I found that interesting.
On to the bees and service!
We split into different groups, some people were building vertical gardens, some were building bee boxes, and some were painting the finished boxes and vertical gardens. I was lucky enough to go with Rifah, Giorgio (mentor) and Jony. Jony gave Rifah a hat with a net, me a long-sleeved shirt and metal plate, and Giorgio a smoker. We walked out to the boxes and Jony showed us how the smoke alarms the bees, and makes them scurry to protect the queen. After they move, Jony opened the box and cut out chunks of fresh honey for us to eat. It was surreal, and so freaking good. As we went from box to box a pile of honey chunks grew on my plate, I’ll admit I was a little disappointed when Jony took it from me and let everyone else who was working have some. I could’ve spent all day out there.
Before I talk about Jony’s bees and what service we did, I want to describe the expectations of wealth in these small villages. For a long time, the usual roof covering was palms; the palms were really resourceful because they were durable, they weren’t easily damaged by rainstorms and other natural disasters. However, people began to use sheets of metal and tin for roofing, because it looks wealthier. Even though the tin roofs were worse from a constructional standpoint; they rust, fall off, and just cause more damage than there needs to be. But that doesn’t matter, because now people have the mindset of palms meaning you are poor and nobody wants to be targeted as poor when they can be seen as wealthy. We have the same issues in America, but they are not nearly as significant. We have products, smartphones, laptops, and every year companies put out new ones, and every year everyone needs the latest model, even when their old ones work just as fine. I found that interesting.
On to the bees and service!
We split into different groups, some people were building vertical gardens, some were building bee boxes, and some were painting the finished boxes and vertical gardens. I was lucky enough to go with Rifah, Giorgio (mentor) and Jony. Jony gave Rifah a hat with a net, me a long-sleeved shirt and metal plate, and Giorgio a smoker. We walked out to the boxes and Jony showed us how the smoke alarms the bees, and makes them scurry to protect the queen. After they move, Jony opened the box and cut out chunks of fresh honey for us to eat. It was surreal, and so freaking good. As we went from box to box a pile of honey chunks grew on my plate, I’ll admit I was a little disappointed when Jony took it from me and let everyone else who was working have some. I could’ve spent all day out there.