In which Tim visits a school...

My girlfriend, Kim, is thinking about extending her Peace Corps service. She found a website about a small school run by an American group that offers classes to poor Haitian students who the government refuses to educate (Haitians get a really bum deal in this country. They come to the DR looking for opportunity and a generally better life, but they end up getting treated like second class citizens. They do all the dirty low paying jobs that no one else wants, and they deal with all kinds of discrimination. They don't receive services from the government, and they are often made to live in slum/ghettoes that are called "bateys". It is a very sad situation.).

The school that Kim discovered claimed to be located in a sub neigborhood of Barahona (big city near me) that I always thought to be pretty wealthy. Sure enough, as we zipped through town on our motorcycle taxis I was looking at massive, pillared houses that put my mountain hovel to shame. But then we turned off the main road, and the picture changed drastically.

We found ourselves bumping along roads that clearly hadn't seen any kind of maintenance for the last ten years. All dirt and rocks. The houses were packed together like sardines, and seemed to be made of whatever was laying around. Some dwellings were cement, but others were nothing more than piles of zinc or sticks that might fall down with the next stiff breeze. There were kids everywhere in the streets, and a lot of teenagers hanging around looking bored. These are the marks of an underprivileged community here. The kids don't go to school, and the young people have no work opportunities.

The streets wound this way and that, and we wandered in circles for a while before figuring out where we were going. Eventually we found the school building, which was bigger than the website made it seem, but empty. We tracked down a care taker, and later one of the teachers, who told us that the school is currently closed due to lack of funding. They hope to re-open in the fall.

They've been operating for about five years, bringing education to those who probably would not have it otherwise. They started in a backyard shack, but the deluge of students meant they had to expand. They now have over a hundred students sitting at home, waiting to go back to school. It is a sad story, but hopefully things will get better, and hopefully Kim can play a part. If anyone is interested in learning more, or possibly contributing to help get this school on it's feet again, their website is here.

In which Tim talks about change...

I have been in the Dominican Republic for 14 months. In a few weeks I will celebrate an entire year of service in my community. Anniversaries like this bring about reflection. I remain fundamentally the same person I was a year ago, but some things have changed. Here is a list of observations, written in a hurry with no particular pattern or end in mind.

-I am more patient. Meetings starting hours late, and pointless hikes over hill and dale have taught me that life does not always work out according to my agenda. I have come to realize that that's okay. I can be flexible, and the sun will continue to rise if certain goals and deadlines are not met.

-I am skinnier by twenty pounds. Hiking and eating healthy country food are pretty good for the belly, it turns out. The occasional stomach problems have contributed as well...

-I am thinking like a farmer. My day starts by looking at the sky and figuring out what the weather will be like. The annual calendar is determined not by months and dates, but by whatever we are planting or harvesting. Quite a change from the microsoft outlook controlled life of professional America.

-My idealism has matured. I remain strong in the belief that addressing issues of poverty and injustice is a moral imperative. I understand now, though, that solving these problems is neither simple nor fast.

-I know how to use a machete and ride a horse.

-My hair is longer.

-I have learned to get by with very, very little electricity. I use my cell phone and iPod daily (which I charge whenever I am in town), and my battery operated head lamp to get around at night. That's all the juice I consume. I really don't feel that I am living a lower quality of life, either. I wonder if such low levels of consumption are possible in the States. Anyone care to try?


There are many ways I have not changed at all. I still love a good hamburger, MSU basketball, the movies, good books, and long conversations. Still the same Tim, just a little modified.

If you would like to investigate the changes for yourself, I am currently planning a tour of America that will take place this summer. Tour dates are as follows:

June 10-14: Grand Rapids, MI.
June 14-18: Madison, WI.
June 18-24: Select locations in New England.
June 24-28: Nashville, TN.
June 29-July 1: Washington, DC.

Contact my booking agents if you are interested in hosting a showing. PCV's don't make a lot of cash, so I will happily sing for my supper.

In which Tim goes to the doctor(s) and muses about health care...

Peace Corps is obviously a part of the US Government, which has its ups and downs. The negative aspects have to do with bureaucracy and silly rules that are very inflexible. For example, right now we are not allowed to open any of our mail inside the office, because someone might be sending us anthrax. Why anyone would try to anthrax a Peace Corps volunteer is beyond me, but uncle Sam knows best.



Yes, there are downs, but there are lots and lots of ups. Like how we get to use the embassy pool and restaurant when we are in the capital. Very nice. But the best thing of all is the health care we get as volunteers. It is free, and covers everything. We have two doctors in the office who we can talk to whenever we come in, and call at any hour of the day or night. They have an entire closet full of drugs to give us, and if they don't have what we need they send out for it.



I have been in country for a year now, which means I have go through a routine medical exam to make sure I am still fit to serve my country. I got to go see a doctor for a full check up, and a dentist for cleaning and cavity check. All of my parts are in good working order, and despite the countless cups of sugar saturated coffee I've had over the last year, I have not a single cavity.



The government pays for us to see the best of the best private doctors. All the waiting rooms I sat in were airconditioned, with marble floors and expensive paintings on the wall. The other people waiting were wearing designer jeans and talking on iPhones. Rich people. And I was there with them. It reminded me that despite the fact that I live in a small house without electricity, I am still one of the privileged in this country. I have access to resources that my neighbors could never even dream about.



A few weeks ago a team of doctors came to my community to do general check ups. The crowd formed hours before the doctors even arrived. People hiked miles and miles out of the hills to see them, some carrying their sick family members. There were regular non-serious illnesses, like colds and aching backs. But there were also cuts that had not been cleaned, and become infected to the point that the limb might be lost. There were little kids with serious parasites. I saw a few people who complained of vision problems, and the doctors told them that they were in the early stages of blindness.



The team stayed until after dark. Fortunately they were able to see just about everyone who came. But we don't know when they will come back. There is no hospital. Most of these people cannot afford to travel to the city, let alone pay for treatment. They are illiterate, and have never been taught anything as simple as how to clean out a wound, or make sure the drinking water is clean.



We complain about lack of health care in America, and there are certainly real problems that need to be addressed (I don't know what I will do when I'm no longer under the government's umbrella!). But before we wallow in too much self pity for having to pay what we do for pills or surgeries, remember that at least we have stores that sell the pills. And we have doctors who know how to help us. It would do us some good to remember those who lack what we have been given.



I recommend the book Mountains Beyond Mountains. It is about a doctor who's been doing public health work in Haiti for a long time. Fascinating and convicting stuff.