In which Tim reveals his location...

I have beheld the location where I will be spending the next two years of my life, and it is good.

But before I get into the description, there's a funny little bit of irony. My close friends and family back home will remember that during the months before I came here I had a special way of describing my upcoming Peace Corps service. Instead of prefacing statements with "When I am in the Dominican Republic..." or "When I am in the Peace Corps..." I started saying "When I live in the jungle...". This turn of phrase was usually in jest. I did NOT actually expect to be living in the jungle. But it turns out that either I have a gift of prophecy, or God has a sense of humor, because Tim REALLY is moving to the jungle.

My site is in a small forested valley with a river running down the middle of it. To get to my village you have drive down dirt roads, and straight through the river. It's not possible to get there without a good motorcycle, or a pretty powerful four wheel drive truck. Then you go up some rough, rocky track and you are at my front door. I live in a cement brick house in the middle of a cluster of houses that I believe were built by habitat for humanity. The houses are cement-gray, and the inside of my bedroom looks a bit like a prison cell, but the walls are solid and the roof keeps the rain out so I am happy. And the boringness of the house is more than made up for by the view and the sounds. The surrounding slopes are covered in more kinds of trees than I know the names for, and there are birds everywhere. At night I hear the crickets singing and river flowing. It's a very beautiful place.

I haven't yet figured out exactly what work I will be doing. It will probably have something to do with helping coffee farmers to figure out cheap and environmentally friendly ways to improve their productivity. There is a lot of soil erosion, and problems associated with the more and more frequent hurricanes that like to batter this part of the country. The people are very poor. Most of the houses I see are little more than wooden shacks with tin sheets for roofs. I've been told that a lot of the adults are illiterate. Many are Haitian refugees, so they don't speak the Spanish that they would need to really do well here. Of course, even if they did speak good Spanish they would still have to deal with the massive discrimination this society has against Haitians.

So here I am. I live in a cement house in the jungle, and I am trying to help desperately poor people help themselves and the earth. It's a big job, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a little bit overwhelmed. This fun little trip in the Caribbean just became serious. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers, and I will try to keep the stories coming!

P.S. Security regulations prohibit me from revealing my exact location on the blog. If you want the GPS coordinates, feel free to email me and ask.