Love Dominican Style

I do not think I have much articulation today but want to stay with the Dominicans , they are getting a bad rap all the way around these days. Right now it is being publicized as, well, almost an ethnic cleansing as they attempt to rid their country of illegal immigrants, after giving a period of time to submit paperwork to qualify people to remain here, to work, live, whatever. It is too politically charged and my ability to completely understand the language gives rise to misinterpretation. I left off in April(no clue where May went) talking about relationships here, and I have some recent insights, after doing some personal research. Yes, I know, this is not about me, but it kind of is....(I have gone outside of my comfort zone , dipped my foot, well, maybe just a toe or two so far, into Dominican water.) Flattery will get you anywhere with me, if I think there is a shred of genuine feeling behind it, so when I was asked to be someones novia(girlfriend) I considered the pros and cons of a Dominican relationship. Never even thought about this for me. And I live in a rural farm-based area, so there is not much higher education(or much lower to be honest) not much money , income or industry.But there is family, morals and a load of common sense. And that inexplicable sweetness I find in almost everyone. That seed of ...something good and trusting. I saw that in my future novio(boyfriend) and decided to find out why a Dominican would want a white person as a novia, other than the Bank of Gringo, which was not prevalent in this case. Age is a big issue for me, but not for Dominicans. So my first question was why, and the answer I got back , in totally honesty , made me bite a hole in my lip. Pelo. Hair. Dominicans don't like afro/ "brillo" hair. so having the right kind of hair is a plus, but then there is the glaring age thing. my guy says we have to have a baby, just one is ok. Another hole in my lip. I remind him of my age, he says thats ok, just one baby. I tell him I not longer have the parts for this, regardless. I get the "that does not compute" look, I am dealing with someone who is happy to help me with my embarrassing Spanglish, but he has no desire to learn English, or communicate with me that way. I mention his diabetes and he gives me another "does not compute" look. He has a blue diabetic bracelet on. He does not know what it says, its in English. No curiosity, just likes the color. Does not have diabetes, which is good for his next baby mama novia. But he puts his arm on mine and says (in Spanish)"Kiss?" Not buy me a new phone, cook me some food, just a kiss. . Just the basics. Nothing more. And don't forget about the baby. Three is usually the magic number here, so I feel he was trying to understand and be considerate. And I can stay with him and his abuela(grandmother), or he will sleep here, no problem. But no difference either. Nice. So while I don't feel as flattered as I initially did, I also don't feel potentially taken advantage of. And when he came over to talk, he brought a friend, like he did not trust me! Ha! A chaperon must be present first go around. I am not sure dancing with a young Dominican is what I want, or need, but , aside from my lack of parenting ability, it is not the worst thing I have encountered. Certainly more open and honest than internet dating!!!

Wives, girlfriends, relationships

I am constantly amazed at people's lack of thought before they open their mouths. I am in the moment but I am cognizant of those around me. Hello, do you know whose house you are in? I suppose it could be an innate quality that gives my fellow man the right to criticize across cultures. It makes one feel superior to be above another sect....and it is rampant among the ex-pats to dis Dominicans...(not to mention the snobbery of the Euro-trash that are critical of everything and everyone that is not their own.) It is hard to remember I am writing about where I live, not the cast of evil characters that inhabit this sweet island! After hearing another tirade of the lack of culture and morals here I began to examine the relationships I have watched change here. It is commonplace for men to have a wife, and one or more girlfriends or novias. This is a known and accepted way of life here, to both men and women. It does not have a socio-economic scale. Rich, poor, handsome, not so handsome, dark-skinned, light, most men have more than one woman in their lives. It is of a discreet nature also. There is a wife, a house, sometimes children, and then there is a girlfriend, sometimes a house, most times children....and they never seem to run into each other. There are no public displays, there are no cat fights. I did see two cat fights here, over Dominican men, both involved ex-pat women! Most wives know who the baby-mammas are, where they live, and sometimes in smaller communities they are cousins, or distant relatives....that is just a geographical thing in these instances, not incest.I have been at social gatherings where the other women's children are included and welcomed by the wives. While this was discussed as amoral, tawdry and just plain wrong from an American perspective, I started thinking about the divorce rate in the US, the primary reasons for the divorce rate(sex, money...) and how many strong relationships I have encountered here in the DR. Dominicans may be more honest about life, about men and women, sex, and how to get along better. Men can keep to their classic behavioral traits(sorry, I cannot put it more bluntly), and women can have lives that do not revolve around jealousy, envy, and self-esteem issues because they cannot keep to what has become an unrealistic expectation of a 'good' relationship. This is coming from a culture that according to many is lacking in education, civility, ability to reason. Well, I am not challenging their innate capacity for not doing alot of things well, like driving for instance, or running a government, but they have a cultural intelligence that makes me jealous sometimes with the ease they navigate difficult emotional issues. I no longer pass judgement , but look to these men and women with respect: they have figured how to be civilized and happy. I cannot turn it around and take on their ways, but I admire it. I give pause when I hear derogatory remarks about Dominicans, and wonder why you would chose to live here if you cannot accept the given lifestyle of the people.

Knowing and Thinking

I have been exposed to negative comments about Dominicans recently, some well justified, some casual statements to ventilate . Human nature seems to thrive on a caste system where there is an inferior section that receives the blame for the social ills and undesirable behaviors. We expats are quick to pass judgement. It started me thinking about the way Dominicans approach a given situation and it is about the difference between thinking and knowing. Dominicans know a great deal, they instinctly know how to provide for their families, make a meal from 50 pesos, how to obtain the 50 pesos, how to swing a machete, where to go to find whatever they need. They know what plants to make a tea from, where to find a nest of eggs, how to fix most anything... They may not think about tomorrow, or to save for tomorrow, or what tomorrow may bring. This is a blessing, what so many of us strive for here, to not think, worry, or plan ahead. It frees you to be in the moment, a particular goal of mine. My allegory is a sweet reminder of the simplicity here. When I had cows, I was amazed at their capacity to follow a routine. They knew where to go, for feed, milking, grazing, and when to go, they knew who threw rocks to herd them, who was a gentle milker, when they could be with their offspring...and there was on cow in particular that was different, Mantequila. She was unusually friendly, loved to be pet and rubbed, and had a penchant for tasty things. Like other peoples gardens, papaya trees, passionfruit vines, avocados....things not normally found in the pastures where the herd grazed. She was always getting out, always finding a way through the barbed wire while her mates were content with what they knew, She was always thinking. She often was alone in her trecks, usually caught in the act of denuding a tree or garden. Short of tying her to a fencepost, she could not be trusted to remain in a given enclosure. She was sold because she could think. It was a sad day for me. I do not intend to equate a cows capacity to a Dominicans. It is more a simplified way of living, with more happiness and less stress.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions: Welcome to the Fishbowl

I have settled into a new community, and for the past 6 months have readjusted to this tiny pueblo, and while finding my place here, have had to finish sorting through my own baggage. There are afew small bags left, but they are carefully packed and by the door. I try not to trip over them. I have found sweet acceptance here, new people, renewed old aquaintences, strengthened some, loosened others. It is all shifting sand, so close to the water.I find myself of course surrounded by mostly gringos and expats, and being fresh meat, a new interest to some with the need to fix and have a place for everything. Being someone who never cared for fitting in, it has been a strange dance. Welcome to the Fishbowl, having managed to cause afew feeding frenzies.... Being single is still something I have not aligned myself to. And I stick out here, to both the Gringos, and Dominicans. Wives eye me warily and dominicans , even more than gringos, think it is just plain wrong, want to fix this 'problem' right away. There have been several friendly gentlemen and old codgers who have presented themselves as potential suitors, from farmers to fishermen to the local married taxi driver. My choices are less limited than I complain of! And the big eyes of the Fishbowl are upon me, my house is watched and guests duly noted. The holiday season , with dinners, parties, and visiting family made it quite a page turner here on the hill. It's more than a small town atmosphere here: it may be the prominence of temerity and audacity, among the flotsam and jetsom of the human remains that fuels the bigger fish. I have painted myself as the Beta and maybe I should try sticking to my New Years Resolutions better, here on Day #4 of 2015. #1: Be in the Moment, #2: Keep the fish on a Need to Know basis... So swim here I must, and ignore the well-intended and not so well intended, and as I pass a tasty bit, I may partake for the moment is all I have. The tomorrows in the Fishbowl are of my own making.

Adrift

A little thing. Feel silly. Let the line out a bit too much, too fast. Got too far from shore. Exposed. Not safe to have these feelings so far from home. Hear waves lapping, soft, washing away. Can't touch the bottom. Not safe. Ringing in my ears, filled with sound. Words I do not know. My heart is racing. Can't hear over the waves. Suddenly queasy, short of breath. Heart attack or passion. Or feeling foolish for letting out too much line.

Afdip

Those who know me, know afdip, and that it can be anywhere you are. But it is particular to here, and it has become mine, a gift from someone who does not need it anymore. I spent the past month or so making two very different trips stateside. I had not left here for over two years, and owed friends many thanks, had some reconnections and chance meetings that made each day special in terms of personal fulfillment. There was unnecessary anxiety on my part as far as traveling alone, but there is a palpable fear that is transmitted over the wire, and I had to keep my distance from the amounts of fear I sensed from the daily lives I interacted with.I felt such overabundance, everything heightened for maximum impact. There weren't just cars, there were alot of big cars, there weren't stores and restaurants and lights and sounds and intrusive advertisements, they were all prolific king-sized versions of what I remembered. It reminded me of the struggle being worth it, to live simply here. And it is a struggle, but mostly internal for me as I face my many pleasures lessened without a partner. I went no where unfamiliar during my trips, the San Juan Islands, Seattle, and upstate South Carolina. All familiar territory, but many new and old friends came to me and it was wonderful. I do have to keep repeating that regrets are simply things I have not done yet. A good friend made an observation in commenting on our friendship after not seeing each other for over 40 years. When someone you knew when you were thirteen still recognizes you , and loves you, it is sweet, and for the two of us unusual. I have had friends for many years, but not that long with such closeness. It made me see how hard it is to make a real connection now, at this one point in time. Yes, people change but we are still that teenager, that child, we carry the bits with us. I do not allow them out much, only for air in the darkest nights. Yet if you know me, I guess you will see them, in the specks of my green eyes, the expression on my face after a happy thought. I was given some photos during a visit with an old soul, and I could not recognize the person. I know there is a part of her in me, but pushed quite far back. I am opening that window and letting in some light. Now, I read profiles of men, and know this is not a real person: that the complex layers could be hidden forever in trying to know someone. And my profile becomes a written answer. I have had instances where I tried to read between the lines, but the real text remained so hidden...I think this is a sudden and sad shift in American society, and is technologically supported to where it cannot be reversed. I am not sure I will give in to this, especially considering where I live. Its funny, when you meet a Dominican, there is very clear eye contact, and usually a total lack of respect for personal space with a kiss , or two, for each cheek, and some sort of touching, a hug, handshake, or hand bump. There is the cynical part that is worthy of protection, white people can be seen as two armed cash machines, but for the most part there is such a genuine openness in meeting, even with the most overt language barrier, there is an acceptance not seen elsewhere. And during that moment there is eye contact, there is no taking in a defect, a blemish, a roll over the waistband, or any infirmity that would normally initiate a judgement as in the states. Maybe that is the draw coming here, you are accepted for who you are, and there are no questions asked, because they see in, they actually look beyond the labels and imperfections. There is a confidence, a certain pride, without the 'common' knowledge they rarely have an 'acceptable' level of education , social skills, or level of fear and distrust. It is inspiring, and I consider many Dominicans people I can truly count on, even the most casual of acquaintances. I have noticed a number of expats who reinvent themselves on arrival, and while they may stick to their stories, there is a lack of overall success in these lives integrating, they remain on the outside of the real people. They are often easier to spot, the dye bag has exploded in their hands. People are just people was one of my posts, but this is more about a culture of acceptance and willingness to put yourself out there. It is rare to see openly expressed: I have recently had the opportunity to see into some eyes and know this is the way I want to live, and these people will play an important role in my life.

Back in (and on) the land of the living

Well, it took me a little time to get over that last post. Details are available but not necessary to understand this blog has evolved into being off Magpie, but still cruising on land in the Dominican Republic and my experiences here. So, not being damaged from that last experience, I am finding that it allowed me to open up more, instead of less. I have reconnected with people in my past, from as far back as 1972, to high school, nursing school, personal and professional aquaintences, and even my ex-husband, so in my best PollyAnna voice, I find myself saying that something good comes from everything, all things happen for a reason. The rose colored glasses are on and I am moving forward. Or maybe just getting older and nostalgic. Not necessarily mature. And still reaching out, hoping that there is intelligent life here on Earth... I am in yet another different landscape here, in a country so full of micro-climates and very non-Caribbean terrain.It is drier here, but the gardens are still amazing, the mountains still abrupt in their ascent, the plains still African inspired. I overlook a hillside that reminds me of Andalusia , and a valley I am constantly disappointed not to see giraffs loping across. I went for a long involved run yesterday that put me by an abandoned shack on a hillside overlooking a drying riverbed, cattle, and I took the cattle's path down to the dirt road, thinking how fortunate I am to be here, to see each object as I pass, each plant, cow, butterfly, raucous bird. Each fencepost and rusty wire. I am touched at how they have a sence of importance in this snapshot. As I pass onto the dusty road a boy on a bicycle passes me, as if he has never seen a white woman jogging by, he goes to wake up his grandfather sleeping on a bench in the kiosk. Dominicans are sleeping, eating, passing time in the shade as I plod by. They wave, I am offerred a ride, 'Bola?' with grins. I comment on thier cool decorated porches, more grins and stares. I climb over a gate to avoid the extra half mile of dusty road and go up the hill towards my house. It is hot, sunny and beautiful, a strong breeze kicking up from the East... I pass more important parts of the snapshot,posterized as if by a drop of acid, a handmade rock turret, complete with rounded hobbit door, long abandoned to guard the hillside of horses. They stare at me, unmoving, ready to bolt, should I give to their direction. A bundle of sticks tied together, dropped by another passerby, the ubiquitous plastic drink bottle to remind me of the present . ...and I am in love with the mix, the saddness, and the joy, the tightening leg muscles and pouring sweat. Next time I promise not to bring a camera to spoil what I feel and downsize it to a different snapshot of this rural wild place.