Regarding local politics...

A friend of mine is running to be mayor of the big town in my area. My sources tell me that he might have a shot. We are still in primary season, so the individual parties are working on picking the candidates they will back in the coming year. Painted signs and bright colored posters have sprouted along side the highway like dandelions during the last month. This seems to be the main way of carrying out political dialog around here. A sign will say something like "Vote for Juan! He is YOUR Mayor!!" There is not much talk about issues.

I was getting a ride on the back of my friend the candidate's motorcycle last week, and he asked if I wanted to go with him to an important event for his campaign. He said they were putting up their first road sign (incidentally, this is the same guy with whom I killed chickens a few blog entries back). I said sure. We zipped up the highway, and stopped where a crowd of men were waiting by a pick up truck. They cheered when the candidate came into sight.

They started digging a whole in the pavement with a pick axe, to mount the sign. I asked the digger if they had had to ask the city for permission to post a their sign board there. He gave me a funny look, as if to ask why on earth they would need permission. I should know better by now. Why would a country where the post office is almost never opened have laws about what to put by the roadside?

Every drop of the axe was accompanied by a cheer. We got the sign up, to more cheering. The candidate gave an impromptu speech, which got a cheer. Someone pulled out a two liter bottle of orange soda and a bunch of glasses. That really got a cheer. Ten minutes after it started the event was over, and my curiosity was piqued as to how these local elections work.

That afternoon I asked my neighbor who he would be voting for. He said something to the effect of "I will be voting for candidate A. He's a real (expletive), but I have to vote for him." I asked why he would choose to vote for someone to whom he had assigned the colorful term that I have omitted. "Because he gave me money once. So I HAVE to vote for him." Turns out this a pretty common occurrence. Candidates for public office will go around to poor families, giving them cash handouts. The family then feels obligated to vote for the guy, whether or not he agrees with him on any issues or think he's a qualified leader.

It's one more way that the poor are stuck. Poverty is not just about not having much money in your pocket. It is about all of your choices being limited. In this case, the political power of rural farmers is limited by the fact that they are made dependent on political machines to help pay the bills. Their lack of education doesn't help them engage in the process either.

It is a very political time in America, with the health care debate getting very hot. Everyone has their opinions. Many of us like to accuse the other side of the worst sort of lying, corruption and unpleasantness. Before we get too hot and bothered, we should reflect on how fortunate we are to be part of a system that supports dialog and allows for civil disagreement. There are places where politics really IS exclusively about lying and corruption. So let's be nice to each other.

In which Tim goes to work...

Most of my days are spent in the pleasant pursuit of leisure. I get up around 9 AM, cook a nice breakfast, read for a bit, make some phone calls, swim in the river, eat a tasty lunch, munch on some fruit, and maybe spend some time writing. I do occasionally work, but in recent months I have been between projects, without much to occupy my time. My project partner and I have been working for a while to get funding that will allow us to build some improved wood burning cook stoves, but we have been playing the waiting game for a while.

That all changed on Friday. A motorcyclist arrived at my house bearing a note written in all capital letters. It said: "TIMO. COME TO TOWN IMMEDIATELY. WE HAVE TO BUY MATERIALS FOR STOVES!" This was the first I had heard about buying materials (I thought we were still waiting for approval), but I got on the motorcycle, and went to town.

I found my project partner waiting for me in a state of panic. He told me that we had received approval, but that the project expired TODAY, so TODAY was the very last day that we could buy materials for our stoves. Tomorrow the money would be gone. He was pretty worked up about it.

So, we pulled out a piece of paper and did some calculations. We had about $3000 to buy materials, and figured we could build about fifty stoves with that. We ordered the materials we needed, payed the man, and were all set. Not quite.

The money may be spent, but now we have the job of choosing the fifty families and building the darn things. It will not be easy. Every one wants a stove, so picking the fifty people that will get them could become very political. Also, a lot of these houses are at the end of tiny little mountain paths, not very close to the highway. We will have to figure out ways to haul the 41 cinder blocks, half meter of sand, and two sacks of cement that are necessary for the construction.

In conclusion, my leisure time will be significantly less for the next few months. I am glad of this. I am ready to spend some time working hard. But hopefully I will finish soon enough to get a bit of beach time before I finish. Only eight months to go!

Regarding just another afternoon...

Things happen differently around here than they do back home. Take the example of a late afternoon a few weeks ago. I was sitting on my porch, thinking about what to cook for dinner. A friend of mine pulled up to the house on a motorcycle, and asked if I would be interested in traveling waaaaay up the mountain to a community I'd never visited to meet a group of American volunteers who were there for the week. I told him sure, and asked when we would be going (figuring it would be tomorrow). He said "right now."



So I went and threw an extra tshirt, a sweatshirt, a blanket, pocket knife, and flashlight into a bag and hopped on the motorcycle. I called the peace corps and my girlfriend, to let them know where I was disappearing to, then off we went.



About half a mile up the road my friend turned back to me and asked if the chickens were still there. I wasn't sure what chickens he meant, but I quickly figured out why there was a cardboard box hanging off the back bumper. I peaked inside and reported that yes, there were three live chickens in the box. He brought the bike to a quick stop, telling me that there were supposed to be four. We had lost one.



I got off, and waited by the road for him to go back and find our lost friend. He returned after about fifteen minutes with the chicken, and a sack to stow them in (since the cardboard was at the point of falling apart). It is also important to mention that night is starting to fall, and we have another hour to go on this motorcycle trip.

We took to the road again, with the chickens tightly bound in the sack. Just as we were getting to the steepest part of the road, the chickens decided they were not going to take any more. They started squawking and flapping violently, almost dislodging the sack from the back of the motorcycle. My friend stopped the bike, swore a couple times, and wondered out loud how on earth we were going to to finish the journey with these chickens. I suggested, part jokingly, that I did have my pocket knife with me, and that we could use it to shut the chickens up permanently. He said that was as good an idea as he could think of.

So there, on the side of the road in the middle of the woods, we quickly slaughtered four chickens with a pocket knife and shoved them back in their sack. Now all we had to worry about was blood dripping, which is actually a much less annoying problem than flapping and squawking. We figured the chickens only had a couple hours of life left anyway before they hit the frying pan, so what´s the big deal?

We had to travel the last several miles in the dark, which was a shame given how neat the view is up there. We arrived at the camp, and I gave this group of Americans the surprise of their life. They had been on this mountain top for three days, building a school. Only one out of the twelve spoke Spanish. I think the last thing they expected to see emerging from the darkened wood was a tall white man in an MSU tshirt, speaking with a Dominican accent, all splattered with chicken blood. But all told, I had a very pleasant visit with them.

In which Tim begins to clean...

I am supposed to be an environment volunteer, which means that the focus of my projects is supposed to be on protecting the little piece of the planet that I've been assigned to. For better or worse I have gotten myself into the middle of helping with lots of grand and complicated projects, some of which are environmental in nature, and some of which aren't. Sometimes, though, I find it refreshing to do something very basic with my community that helps them think about earth stewardship.

Last week we decided to do a trash clean up. I live in a small neigborhood of about thirty houses, and we have no public trash removal system. Some people carry their garbage down to the city. Some people burn it. But an awful lot of people just dump their trash into the woods, or on the street. My friends and I are trying to do something about this. I acquired a few hundred big black bags, and went around inviting people to join me on the next Monday at 9 AM to do some cleaning.

9 AM came and went. The only people who showed up were a group of about eight kids between the ages of 4 and 11. I was disappointed at the lack of strong arms (a little kid can't very well lift up a bag completely full of garbage) but forward we went. The nine of us worked for about three hours, and filled somewhere in the neigborhood of twenty five bags. It was a big success.

Now the kids are going around the neigborhood asking the adults why they don't care enough about the community to help pick up trash. I have had some adults promise to join me next time we do a pick up! It is exciting, and I am hoping we can make a weekly thing out of it. Maybe we can even install some barrels and work out a permanent removal system. That would be awesome. But in the mean time, my friends and I will be scooping trash every Monday. Feel free to come join in!

in which Tim rambles incoherently...

Life is slow right now. I realize that my blog hasn't been up to it's usual high standard of frequent updates, but quite honestly, there hasn't been much to report. I have been doing a lot of waiting for some potentially big projects to be ready to go. But they are not ready yet, so we continue waiting.

I've been doing a lot of reading. My last entry should inform you as to what my literary diet has consisted of. There have also been a lot of kids books folded in there, as one of my main project activitities seems to have become reading out loud.

The rainy season is upon us, which means the river is once again high, and every storm means I might be stuck in my community for a few days. I crossed the other day for the first time since it has become muddy this year. Muddy = more dangerous because one cannot see how deep the water is where one is about to step. It is always an excercise in faith. I suppose life would be easier if I had faith that were strong enough to allow me to walk on water, but I am not there yet.

I have also been catching up on listening to podcasts. While I was in the State's i downloaded the last several months worth of many of my favorite NPR radio shows. Afternoons in the country side are much less boring when I have my friends from "wait, wait don't tell me," "Car Talk," "This American Life," and a few others. It is almost like I have an NPR station out in the Dominican jungle. Alas, I do not. Maybe that could be a project idea. Do you think public radio would give me a grant to start an NPR franchise down here? I guess they wouldn't get much listenership.

Anyway, before I next leave my countryside, I will think of something witty and amusing to write about. Thanks for reading.

MORE books...

It has been a while since I posted what I've been reading. And I've been reading a lot. As usual, you will find a brief review after the title.

Life with Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse
Wodehouse is the greatest master of the english language that I have ever encountered. His stories about bumbling Bertie Wooster and his man-servant Jeeves are such fun. J and W have become two of my best literary friends.

The Feast of the Goat by Mario Vargas Llosa
Historical fiction, describing the events leading up to the assassination of Dominican dictator Trujillo. A good choice for history buffs.

Promises to Keep by Joe Biden
Biden is a good story teller and he's lived an interesting life. Not a long or challenging read. I recommend it.

Holes by Louis Sachar
A kid's story that I read in an afternoon. Not bad at all.

The Redsox Reader by Dan Riley
An anthology of writing from the entire history of the Redsox franchise. Stephen King, John Updike, Doris Kearns-Goodwin and many more famous fans make appearances. A required book for every true fan's library. I recommend it specifically to my New England relatives who I know to be readers.

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
The fictionalized story of Dina, daughter of Jacob. It is interesting to see some of the favorite Bible stories from the perspectives of the women involved. The writer took some liberties with scripture, but it is still an interesting read.

When you are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris
If you like "this American life" on NPR, check out this book.

Dress your family in cordury and denim by David Sedaris
ditto to the last one.

The Shack by William P. Young
Not sure what the big deal is. I found it neither life changing, nor particularly troublesome. It is an interesting take on the trinity and what it means to have a relationship with God. I found it encouraging.

Wicked by Gregory Maguire
The inspiration for the famous musical. It was weird. It is a political drama set in the land of Oz where I think the wicked witch is supposed to be a Marxist. Weird.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling
An old favorite. I re-read it to examine how a book like this is put together.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Still the best one in the series.

The Farming of the Bones by Edwin Danticat
A heart breaking account of the genocide committed against Haitians here in 1937. I cried, but I am glad I read it. We can't forget pieces of history like this.

Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder
The story of Dr. Paul Farmer's fascinating career spent curing disease all over the world. In the same category as "three cups of tea", but a MUCH MUCH better book.

The Defining Moment by Jonathan Alter
The story of FDR's first 100 days in office, and how he battled the great depression. Particularly relevant at our point in history.

Dune by Frank Herbert
Apparently a staple of the sci-fi/fantasy fan's book shelf. Not bad, but a little nerdy. It's like a medieval epic set in space. I thought it was a rip off of starwars, but then I realized it came out a decade BEFORE starwars did. I guess George Lucas is the plagiarist...

War without bloodshed by Eleanor Clift
Profiles of Washington players in the mid nineties. The drama centers on the Clinton health care battles. The writer shows you what the fight looks like from the perspective of a senator, house rep, lobbyist, pollster, etc. Interesting, and a bit depressing.

Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons

A graphic novel. FANTASTIC. I mean really good. Sort of a different, darker spin on the super hero mythology.

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

One of the best bits of fiction I´ve read since moving here. It is about life in a travelling circus during the great depression. Great characters, story, romance. Read it. Whoever you are.

Executive Orders by Tom Clancy

You know that feeling you have after you´ve just eaten a whole bag of doritos? That was how I felt after finishing this. It was kind of fun to do, but dang.

Brisingr by Daniel Paolini
Just one thing to say about this fantasy story: if this guy can get published, I can get published. I hope.

Liberty by Garrison Keillor
A novel about everyone's favorite town in Minnesota, Lake Wobegon. Good fun. I love Keillor.

Regarding small ironies...

I have found that in living outside of America, I have gained a little bit of outside perspective that causes me to notice things I might not have before. Some things appear funnier, sadder, or more confusing than they would have before. I saw something in the airport the other day that was a little funny, and a little sad.

I was waiting on a lay over in Washington DC, and wandering around the terminal a little bit. I couldn't believe how much food was available there! Burgers, burritos, pizza, sandwiches, icecream and all sorts of other greasy calorie filled products were available for my consumption.

Then I walked around around a corner, and noticed something on the wall next to the fire extinguisher. It was a small door, with a sign on it that read "Defibrilator." Apparently they have defibrilators available in American airports now! This is comforting, because when I have a heart attack from all the terrible food I just ate, I won't have to go very far to find help. This thing was literally on the wall RIGHT NEXT TO the burger stand. I thought it was funny.