10 Days, Infinite Gifts

It feels like it was months ago that I stepped off the plane, winding my way through the scaffolding of the Puerto Plata Airport to the loud welcome of the three-piece merengue band (who maintains a full-time gig there, greeting the island’s newest arrivals). I can only assume that it feels that way because of the many experiences I’ve had already that have captivated me, demanding my full attention and causing me to engage all of my senses. Most of these nights I’ve slipped off to sleep so peacefully, thankful for the beautiful exhaustion that comes from days filled with learning about this place, these people, and how to become part of this world.

Thus if it weren’t for casually glancing up at the calendar every few days, or the reminders of my more organized teammates, I may not have realized that it’s only been a little over a week since I landed. It’s been a little over a week since I was welcomed into the Makarios family by a host of big smiles and warm hugs (literally warm hugs - they’d been waiting an hour for me outside the airport because my flight was delayed). A little over a week since I devoured my first Dominican meal. A little over a week since I met my first Dominican spider. A little over a week since my big move to my new home.

Life here is tangible, colorful, and full, and the experiences I’ve had in my short time here I have felt and tasted and heard and seen so deeply. I should say too that while expounding upon the way I’m taking in my new life I certainly don’t mean to discount the rich and meaningful experiences I’ve been blessed to have before I got here. It’s just that, even in a matter of ten days, I’m seeing the fruit of intentionally placing myself in an environment in which certain privileges, comforts, and distractions have been removed. That fruit comes in two forms: helping me to become more aware of the unmet needs of fellow human beings, and helping me to learn to appreciate the gifts our Father has given us all to enjoy, available to me, you, and everyone here – gifts that by monetary standards are inexpensive or even free, that in reality are worth all the money in the world.

The most important gift that we’re showered with here: God making Himself available to us and making His presence known here on this island and through interaction with its inhabitants. My team, including Americans Chris and Erika Snapp who are finishing up a two-year term as host couple, who are having to say their goodbyes while getting us situated, the Menold family, who will be the host family for this next two years, and the Miles family, who will serve for the next two years as Principal and Assistant Principal, the Upton family, here for another year as our school doctor and facilities manager, my three fellow “solteras” (single females), and permanent leadership staff Sharla and Chuck, can testify to God’s presence here in the D.R. and are an incredible inspiration through their submission to His call to live here in community. We have spent much time already here on the roof of the Makarios house (where we’re all living for the first month; it’s the house that was built to host short-term groups, and from where I’m writing to you now!) worshipping together and talking about how to best live out the gospel here. Our Dominican and Haitian team members demonstrate incredible, steadfast, unabashed faith. They were so very excited to meet us and to tell us they had been praying for and eagerly awaiting our arrival. We have attended two services at the local church in Montellano called “Templo Biblico” and were greeted with such sincerity, and a reverence that points our entire existence here back to God’s will. I was eager to tell Pastor Amaury how much I enjoyed the first service while we were talking outside afterward and he simply shook my hand, closed his eyes, smiled, and said “Dios es fiel. Dios es fiel.” (God is faithful.) That pretty much sums it up, Amaury.

Another glorious gift we’ve been given here that Dominicans execute so beautifully is the gift of community. Our team members and new friends have stretched out across cultural and emotional borders to reach out and welcome us with open arms and it’s made for the start of fostering great relationships. We already feel remarkably comfortable around one another and they are very proud of our connection and very intentional about friendship. Locals that we’ve interacted with display such hospitality. No matter the time, no matter what they were busy doing before you came walking by, if they see you passing on the street they bring out their best chairs and insist you come sit and talk for a while. They’ll offer you the very food they were eating or to serve you the best of whatever they have. It’s humbling, and certainly a practice I would like to continue in the U.S. In relationships with Americans on the team, it has been so easy build community as well – girls’ time, family time, everyone time, chatting, running, studying together, praying together, going into town, grocery shopping, killing large and dangerous insects, and much, much, more. It brings such joy to our interactions to know our hearts are aligned for our purpose.

The gift of sustenance is certainly valued and quite important, and we’ve been well taken care of here. (Dad, re-read the following statement three times: I AM OK!!! J ) Dominican food is a beautiful thing and I’ve already adopted quite a taste for it. I even have my own favorite restaurant in town, “Anjuyli’s”, where I can get my new favorite dish every day of the week: pollo guisado, white rice and beans, a sliced avocado from the fruit stand across the street, and jugo natural. Balín is my burger guy, and today I made friends with Fefa, who sells tostados. She wrapped it up to go for me so I could jump on a moto on the way to a village for a meeting. One more piece of excellent news regarding food: for 20 pesos a day (around 50 cents) I can eat what Odilsia, our Haitian school cook, makes for lunch, so there will always be an option to have a hot meal at school. For my friends that have had the pleasure of frequenting Dominican Joe’s, you can vouch for the fuss that’s made over dark Dominican coffee. For those who haven’t tried it, the four most important words in this entire lengthy blog: Get. Dominican. Coffee. NOW. I’m throwing this out in love. I want what’s best for you.

It’s obviously hot, with a more direct heat than I was expecting, being much closer to the equator than I’ve ever been. The humidity honestly levels the playing field a bit with regards to sweating, which is pretty comforting. I was always a “sweater” in the states but these days, I can look to the left and right of me, and one of my teammates is sure to be sweating it out with me. We encourage one another to drink water, find the shade and the breeze, and congregate here on the roof as soon as the sun goes down.

Transportation deserves its own post. It’s a gift to be able to find ways to get from place to place here, with other little gifts in the form of hilarity squeezed in to every public transportation experience we’ve had so far. I’ve enjoyed finding the comedy in all of them, and striking up conversations with strangers since we’re siting so close to one another. Our options are: 1) motoconchos (little motorcycles or scooters), driven around by a somewhat structured cohort of professionals, that you simply hop on the back of. This is, by far, my favorite. I’ve loved being in the open air and feeling the breeze from the ride when it’s hot. 2) public cars, or “carritos”, which normally seat three in the front, and four in the back, including the driver. It’s common practice for someone to scoot all the way forward in the back seat so that three others can physically fit in with them. The Haitian woman I met yesterday had a pitcher of hot soup she was excited to tell me about and trying not to spill as she scooted up to make room for us. 3) Large vans, or “gua guas” that “comfortably” hold 15, but this weekend to and from the beach exceptions were made and we were 20. Recounting the stories in my head that we’ve already lived that would take much more detail to tell has helped me to make an executive decision: one public transport post a week. It’s too much funniness not to share. I’ll do my best to have a photo to accompany it, so you can get in on the action.

We’ve also been blessed with the gift of shelter and the opportunity to stay in the beautiful Makarios house while we’re getting situated this month and looking for apartments. Our school is located in Montellano, a suburb of Puerto Plata, and the Makarios house is in a neighborhood just outside of Montellano called Los Ciruelos. We have running water, comfortable, a huge kitchen and large tables to eat communally with one another. It’s a completely normal occurrence to lose city power here for a few hours in the day, so several places have inverters or generators, which allows us to do what’s necessary until the power comes back on. It’s made for such a refreshing appreciate on mornings when we wake up and have power, internet, and city water – we know it’s going to be a great day. Despite those petty inconveniences of sometimes having to go without, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the peace of sleeping with the windows open and feeling the Caribbean breeze lull me off to dreamland, to the tune of soft bachata music coming from the home of a distant neighbor.

The most demonstrative gift that I’ve been so lucky to receive and that I still can’t fathom getting to partake in for the next two years, has been interaction with the children here. Speaking to Arturo who I met in the street leaving Balin’s burger grill about how excited we are that he’s coming back to school, watching Son do backflips down dirty streets of his Haitian village, and hugging Regina for the tenth time in the five minutes since we met before she left with her mother, confirm that I’m absolutely supposed to be right here, doing exactly this. Aside from running into students in town that my team has introduced me to, we have made visits to two villages, Haitian “bateyes”, from which the poorest of our students come. We have sat and talked with their families who brought out broken chairs so we could sit and rest and kissed us on the cheek to thank us, played their favorite games of hitting whatever is found to be thrown with sticks and wheeling tires around, and just hugged and looked them in the eye, assuring them that it’s going to be a wonderful school year. I have plans to return to the villages next week and I see it being a place I can frequently be found outside of school. Such joy, such hospitality, such richness walking through a shantytown where the streets really do have no name. My students don’t have shoes (Makarios provides shoes for them to wear to school), and I can close my eyes and see their little bare feet scurrying to keep up as we went from house to house, making sure parents knew what day classes are starting. I know that not every part of this job will be easy and that it’s not supposed to be, but visiting these villages and meeting almost half of my new students brings me so much excitement when thinking about this year and the potential that I know they already have.

Looking back over my last post I can testify to the fact that I’m still living and will continue to live in paradox during my time here. But I think the idea will be to let these amazing gifts carry me through the lows, the “yuck ducks”. These and so many, many more gifts have been poured on us already in ten days and I know there are more to come. Thank you all so very much for keeping us in your prayers and thinking about us. I miss you all “muchísimo” and please know that I’m thinking of and praying for you here from across the sea.

I’ll check in soon to update you all on the progress of preparing our school and classrooms for the first day, which is September 20^th! I love you all!

Lovestruck Sarah