Who would like to face off again in a game of middle school b-ball? I want to remain young through my 40s so I can always think about these situations and then actually live them out. What a joy to be part of the world of imagination. I feel privileged and free to dream of such opportunities. The world really is an amazing place to discover through your own thoughts. It is me imagining a world where there is no electricity that got me here to rural Dominican Republic. However, living with those who are impoverished sometimes makes me feel a little guilty for having lived so many years of my life in a relatively wealthy atmosphere, or as my grandfather exclaims `` Living high on the hog!`` One day I´m bathing on a concrete floor with a chilly bucket of rain water, while the next day I find myself at a resort under a pressurized shower head with hot water massaging my back. What makes one situation better than the other… well I guess it´s all perspective. Comfort can sometimes be what you are most used to. Have I become accustomed to cold showers enough to where I think they are comfortable because they simply clean my dirty body? My recent trip to a resort (also know as Peace Corps evacuation plan upon news of Hurricane Tomas´ potential arrival to the island) had me exposed to the wonders of hot water again. And I`m not sure if I necessarily needed that hot water to put me happy. For just the fact that I could clean myself in a private bathroom with running water was enough to exclaim ``Luxury!`` My lifestyle has certainly been of relaxation in terms of what it means to work for what you get. I mean my host family feeds me hot meals twice a day, I nap usually for 1 hour after lunch, and when the yawn appears a more often I tend to take an extended rest.
Then I think about a weekend like this past one, a three day conference at a center called ``Vacation La Romana.`` We played baseball, basketball, volleyball, frisbee, tag in the pool, ate pork chops, and danced, all the while colaborating with young Dominicans about the importance of protecting our environment. They say it was my job to attend the conference with my two brilliant host sisters, Lisanna and Lizbet, but I say it was yet another weekend vacation. Peace Corps here in the Dominican Republic offers so many opportunities to each and every of its 200 volunteers to get involved with high quality programs. Programs that make your job feel fun and always new. I know there is something to be said for being close at home in your site for consecutive months at a time without leaving, but I have certainly enjoyed witnessing the personal growth and pure curiosity of my youth group members as we get to travel around the country. They get to share their lives with other youth from far away who are equally excited about sharing their lives. As youth we inspire each other to not use plastic bags, organize creek clean ups, and speak directly about the kind of environment we want to grow up in.
So my life is moving about from one conference to another. Sometimes I think I´m a trips counselor at some long extended summer camp in the Caribbean. I guess you have to enjoy what you do… so I´ve made a job out of being a kid again. This weekend brings movie watching to town. The movie is ``Maria full of Grace.`` You should check it out if you haven’t seen it.
Think about what really makes you comfortable, then orient your life around that.
Signing out from a whole lot of mind boggling, poverty-freeing paradise.
Jared
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Summer Camp in October
There are some moments when you play with kids that just feel so pure. This past weekend was shared with one of my best friends, Dan Golub, and 19 Dominican muchachos. I was brought back to memories of summer camp in Michigan and Bowen Island, Canada. Singing on the bus, tag in the river, climbing hills so that we could unite on the top and have a meaningful discussion. We talked about HIV/AIDS; why mother Earth is so precious and unique; and how to build a sleek paper air plane. I think my favorite activity of the weekend was seeing the 11-14 year muchachos build boats from cardboard and duct tape and then test them to see if they could ride down the river with a munchacho on board. What ensued was ultimate hilarity. In fact, the two boats that won the competition appeared to be the most poorly put together. It just happened that the muchachos that captained them weighed less than the amount of rice and beans I eat in one day, so they made a successful passage without their cardboard masterpiece sinking.
So without a doubt I have found a niche here in Peace Corps Dominican Republic and that is introducing creative and curious Dominicans to other creative and curious Dominicans… not such a difficult task if you´re working with creative and curious crowds. On average of about once a month I´m on the road to some ``distant destination`` on the island to enjoy a long weekend of summer camp style play and experiential education. Everything we try to teach is hands on. We learn about the history of slavery on Hispanola (the island of Haiti and the DR) or try to tackle topics of machismo or why this society consistently litters their trash across the beautiful green land. I find that Dominican kids, especially boys ages 12-18, desire adventure and learning through a mechanism I call ``getting dirty.`` What is taught in school rarely interests them or the teachers do nothing more than lecture straight out of a text book and then assign kids to copy definitions until they can no longer grip their pencil. No wonder reading comprehension and being able to analyze a story is often difficult for most muchachos. Almost none of the muchachos 15 and under in my barrio can read aloud ``Curious George`` front to back in less than 45 minutes. So they become drop outs in pursuit of a job to support their family or a chance to create their own daily schedule of adventure. I think they are well intentioned, just have not been fed enough good plates of DISCIPLINE. If nothing else than the demand of daily ON-TIME attendance to school in a clean blue collared shirt and kaki pants uniform, the muchachos at the very least are developing a routine… and good routine is something that a life in poverty can lack.
So I try to take the kids who are studying and consistently attending school on these long weekend excursions. We play like its summer camp, but put into practice the fundamentals of disciplined living; like using ``Please & Thank You`` or washing your own dish after eating good food, or writing a note to someone saying you care about them, or learning to be completely silent for 15 straight seconds to reflect upon the good that has happened to you that day. Ever so slowly I am learning how to be straight up with kids when they need a little 1-2 punch. In this last conference titled ``Soy Ingeniero`` (I´m an Engineer) 14 zear olds Christopher, Jackson, and Kelvin from my community of ojo de Agua decided they needed to be singing at the top of their lungs at 2:30 in the morning while the farmers of Roblegal and the rest of the PC volunteers tried to sleep in out tents. I have to remember what it means to be 13. If the Dominican Republic summer camp lifestyle is teaching me anything, it is how to be a responsible father. It shall certainly be a joy and a piece of work when I someday have a wild teenage kid of my own.
Signing out after a day of rest and recuperation.
Play something today. It´ll make you youthful.
Jared
So without a doubt I have found a niche here in Peace Corps Dominican Republic and that is introducing creative and curious Dominicans to other creative and curious Dominicans… not such a difficult task if you´re working with creative and curious crowds. On average of about once a month I´m on the road to some ``distant destination`` on the island to enjoy a long weekend of summer camp style play and experiential education. Everything we try to teach is hands on. We learn about the history of slavery on Hispanola (the island of Haiti and the DR) or try to tackle topics of machismo or why this society consistently litters their trash across the beautiful green land. I find that Dominican kids, especially boys ages 12-18, desire adventure and learning through a mechanism I call ``getting dirty.`` What is taught in school rarely interests them or the teachers do nothing more than lecture straight out of a text book and then assign kids to copy definitions until they can no longer grip their pencil. No wonder reading comprehension and being able to analyze a story is often difficult for most muchachos. Almost none of the muchachos 15 and under in my barrio can read aloud ``Curious George`` front to back in less than 45 minutes. So they become drop outs in pursuit of a job to support their family or a chance to create their own daily schedule of adventure. I think they are well intentioned, just have not been fed enough good plates of DISCIPLINE. If nothing else than the demand of daily ON-TIME attendance to school in a clean blue collared shirt and kaki pants uniform, the muchachos at the very least are developing a routine… and good routine is something that a life in poverty can lack.
So I try to take the kids who are studying and consistently attending school on these long weekend excursions. We play like its summer camp, but put into practice the fundamentals of disciplined living; like using ``Please & Thank You`` or washing your own dish after eating good food, or writing a note to someone saying you care about them, or learning to be completely silent for 15 straight seconds to reflect upon the good that has happened to you that day. Ever so slowly I am learning how to be straight up with kids when they need a little 1-2 punch. In this last conference titled ``Soy Ingeniero`` (I´m an Engineer) 14 zear olds Christopher, Jackson, and Kelvin from my community of ojo de Agua decided they needed to be singing at the top of their lungs at 2:30 in the morning while the farmers of Roblegal and the rest of the PC volunteers tried to sleep in out tents. I have to remember what it means to be 13. If the Dominican Republic summer camp lifestyle is teaching me anything, it is how to be a responsible father. It shall certainly be a joy and a piece of work when I someday have a wild teenage kid of my own.
Signing out after a day of rest and recuperation.
Play something today. It´ll make you youthful.
Jared
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Art Class & Getting Dirty
The chance to be taught by someone who knows a lot about what they are teaching has me hooked on a local drawing class in the ¨Casa de Arte.¨ I feel so privileged to be in a town where affordable opportunities present themselves to youth. Heading into the third week of art classes I’ve nothing more than fill the back side of 5 sheets of photo copy paper with vertical and diagonal lines. Big deal ehh…A Picaso in the making… yeah!? But Professor Torres says you have to practice and “dominate” the fundamentals from which every image will be formed. The course is actually titled ¨Pintura¨ but it looks like we may not stroke a bush on some canvas until the second semester of class beginning in January. There’s no rush. Why should there be? Art is and expression of patience and patience I think is what helps allow the world to be happy.
Anyways I get to experience the feeling of being an international student like my good college friends, Rhaad of Bangladesh and Alcia of Jamaica and Ruben of Spain. It easy to feel like you have become the spectacle of the classroom, or the lost student asking questions whose answers were clearly addressed just 30 seconds before you bravely raised your hand. At least one of my best fiends in the community, Christopher, a 14 year old artist I the making, joins me for class. As an adolescent he’s totally over the whole back to fundamentals thing of patiently filling sheets of paper with straight lines, but I think it’s a great lesson in discipline for him…something I think he could use an extra dose of.
Anyways, learning how to draw will not come in one semester, nor without the practice of patience, but I’m loving the experience and the chance to share it with a young Dominican friend. On other fronts I’ve noticed my hands a little more worn as of late. Nothing to compare to the farming hands of my late grandfather John Wesley Oubre Senior, but I do know that at least I’m starting to develop some tougher calluses. A new tree nursery site has been created back of my house with the help of 2 earnest men, Jose Antonio and Pedro, and some loving kids. We are a small crew of 5-8, but a well juiced machine, especially when the Donas are aside us offering fresh squeezed lemonade or bread and coffee. The coolest thing about the nursery is that the trees are germinated from the very seeds that I have the kids in the neighborhood collect. They get to see the life cycle of a delicious tropical fruit from its sweet consumption to its seeding back into the earth where growth almost intantly happens with the strong Caribbean sun and rain. Right now we have an abundance of mango and avocado saplings just hoping we can branch out to chinola, guyaba, lechosa, and lemoncillo (all really great tropical fruits).
It´s totally a learning experience (fly by the seat of my pants), but I love just getting my hands dirty. I was talking with spry 70 year old Tonita today and we agreed that even here on the edge of the rural campo in one of the most productive agricultural regions of the Dominican Republic, there are few kids who find great interest in agriculture. For me it’s an exciting new adventure, for them it’s more work than they desire in a 21st century fused with technological advances that seem to make small scale gardens and trees nurseries a thing of the past. We work together to find a happy medium. We’re still waiting for that first tree to be ready to jump from its potted plant stage into the soil on the hillside of Ojo de Agua. I’ll keep you updated on the progress.
Dive into something new because there’s always something important to learn from trying.
Peace,
Jared
Anyways I get to experience the feeling of being an international student like my good college friends, Rhaad of Bangladesh and Alcia of Jamaica and Ruben of Spain. It easy to feel like you have become the spectacle of the classroom, or the lost student asking questions whose answers were clearly addressed just 30 seconds before you bravely raised your hand. At least one of my best fiends in the community, Christopher, a 14 year old artist I the making, joins me for class. As an adolescent he’s totally over the whole back to fundamentals thing of patiently filling sheets of paper with straight lines, but I think it’s a great lesson in discipline for him…something I think he could use an extra dose of.
Anyways, learning how to draw will not come in one semester, nor without the practice of patience, but I’m loving the experience and the chance to share it with a young Dominican friend. On other fronts I’ve noticed my hands a little more worn as of late. Nothing to compare to the farming hands of my late grandfather John Wesley Oubre Senior, but I do know that at least I’m starting to develop some tougher calluses. A new tree nursery site has been created back of my house with the help of 2 earnest men, Jose Antonio and Pedro, and some loving kids. We are a small crew of 5-8, but a well juiced machine, especially when the Donas are aside us offering fresh squeezed lemonade or bread and coffee. The coolest thing about the nursery is that the trees are germinated from the very seeds that I have the kids in the neighborhood collect. They get to see the life cycle of a delicious tropical fruit from its sweet consumption to its seeding back into the earth where growth almost intantly happens with the strong Caribbean sun and rain. Right now we have an abundance of mango and avocado saplings just hoping we can branch out to chinola, guyaba, lechosa, and lemoncillo (all really great tropical fruits).
It´s totally a learning experience (fly by the seat of my pants), but I love just getting my hands dirty. I was talking with spry 70 year old Tonita today and we agreed that even here on the edge of the rural campo in one of the most productive agricultural regions of the Dominican Republic, there are few kids who find great interest in agriculture. For me it’s an exciting new adventure, for them it’s more work than they desire in a 21st century fused with technological advances that seem to make small scale gardens and trees nurseries a thing of the past. We work together to find a happy medium. We’re still waiting for that first tree to be ready to jump from its potted plant stage into the soil on the hillside of Ojo de Agua. I’ll keep you updated on the progress.
Dive into something new because there’s always something important to learn from trying.
Peace,
Jared
Friday, August 27, 2010
Soccer & Nico
It was a last minute decision, but God was with me as I scrambled looking for youth in my community who could pass on school for 3 days to attend a conference on DIVERSITY. Yes, I guess it’s good sign that most parents did not want their kids absent 2 weeks into classes, and yes, the big ¨D¨ word DIVERSITY, arises all around the world.
Now that the conference has passed I can honestly say that without a healthy serving of fun and team building exercises learning would be as dull and bland as over-cooked cabbage. I am always looking to see how kids learn outside their community, outside of their comfort zones, interacting with ¨strangers.¨ I am still developing a sense of trust with those who have ever never left the fringes of this town, San Jose de Las Matas, and I am still very much a foreigner when I try to describe the world outside the island of the Dominican Republic and Haiti. I cannot talk with university level vocabulary, so I connect games to ideas and draw messages and lessons from there. A deck of cards can go a long way as well as any random ball. It´s called KID Oubre trying to be PROF Oubre.
In the mountains of Jarabacoa it was the soccer ball that brought forth a million smiles. Never have I found Dominican boys to be so enthusiastic about playing the worlds sport of futbol. Six thirty every morning was the knock on my door, 6:35 we were on the beautiful field taking wacks at the ball. We played straight for one hour and twenty five minutes before 8AM breakfast, stopping the game only to drop the kids for ¨dame 10 lagartillas¨ (give me 10 push-ups), if they touched the ball with their hands. Prayer before breakfast was said sweating, fresh off the field. I told myself I was back at summer camp… actually, that was my goal!
So another highlight included becoming closer with Nico, a good friend I met playing soccer in Batey Libertad. He’s Haitian-Dominican and receives a fair amount of discrimination from the National Police when traveling to and from his community. He quickly became a role model at the conference with his speed and flash on the soccer field as well as when her took the floor in front of some 45 Dominican youth to share some very real stories about growing up in the DR as a dark skinned boy. Racial discrimination is pretty blatant here in the DR despite the fact that almost everyone is mulato and has some sort of African blood in them. I mean no too long ago this island of Hispaniola was a destination for most slaves heading to the New World. Anyways, at 21 years of age Nico is well educated, understands why he should continue pursuing his passion of soccer, and at the same time study to realize his dream of being a qualified elementary school teacher. If there is one youth I’ve worked with whose story I find incredibly intriguing, it is this young mans. He´s been hauled by the Dominican authorities to the border of Haiti and the DR with his local soccer team of Haitian decent, only to be left there to sleep on the floor of the bus station. The Police said they did not ¨believe¨ their Dominican birth certificates and ID cards to be “real.”
The story of immigration is incredibly interesting here in the DR. It is the only open border in the world, allowing Dominicans and Haitians to walk freely across the border exchanging clothes, jewelry, corn, sugar, beans, goats… you name it. And amid all this exchange there is an unacceptable racial inequality that loudly exposes itself. I want to understand how we can tackle this issue as a Dominican and Haitian Community. Nico was born in the Dominican Republic. He is Dominican. But most Dominicans do not treat him with respect because he looks Haitian. Why is that? I want to understand racism in 2010 in the DR.
Meanwhile I play soccer with Dominican and Haitians and it brings us together!
Go play the sport you grew up playing. It might just be more refreshing than eating watermelon.
Peace,
Jared
Now that the conference has passed I can honestly say that without a healthy serving of fun and team building exercises learning would be as dull and bland as over-cooked cabbage. I am always looking to see how kids learn outside their community, outside of their comfort zones, interacting with ¨strangers.¨ I am still developing a sense of trust with those who have ever never left the fringes of this town, San Jose de Las Matas, and I am still very much a foreigner when I try to describe the world outside the island of the Dominican Republic and Haiti. I cannot talk with university level vocabulary, so I connect games to ideas and draw messages and lessons from there. A deck of cards can go a long way as well as any random ball. It´s called KID Oubre trying to be PROF Oubre.
In the mountains of Jarabacoa it was the soccer ball that brought forth a million smiles. Never have I found Dominican boys to be so enthusiastic about playing the worlds sport of futbol. Six thirty every morning was the knock on my door, 6:35 we were on the beautiful field taking wacks at the ball. We played straight for one hour and twenty five minutes before 8AM breakfast, stopping the game only to drop the kids for ¨dame 10 lagartillas¨ (give me 10 push-ups), if they touched the ball with their hands. Prayer before breakfast was said sweating, fresh off the field. I told myself I was back at summer camp… actually, that was my goal!
So another highlight included becoming closer with Nico, a good friend I met playing soccer in Batey Libertad. He’s Haitian-Dominican and receives a fair amount of discrimination from the National Police when traveling to and from his community. He quickly became a role model at the conference with his speed and flash on the soccer field as well as when her took the floor in front of some 45 Dominican youth to share some very real stories about growing up in the DR as a dark skinned boy. Racial discrimination is pretty blatant here in the DR despite the fact that almost everyone is mulato and has some sort of African blood in them. I mean no too long ago this island of Hispaniola was a destination for most slaves heading to the New World. Anyways, at 21 years of age Nico is well educated, understands why he should continue pursuing his passion of soccer, and at the same time study to realize his dream of being a qualified elementary school teacher. If there is one youth I’ve worked with whose story I find incredibly intriguing, it is this young mans. He´s been hauled by the Dominican authorities to the border of Haiti and the DR with his local soccer team of Haitian decent, only to be left there to sleep on the floor of the bus station. The Police said they did not ¨believe¨ their Dominican birth certificates and ID cards to be “real.”
The story of immigration is incredibly interesting here in the DR. It is the only open border in the world, allowing Dominicans and Haitians to walk freely across the border exchanging clothes, jewelry, corn, sugar, beans, goats… you name it. And amid all this exchange there is an unacceptable racial inequality that loudly exposes itself. I want to understand how we can tackle this issue as a Dominican and Haitian Community. Nico was born in the Dominican Republic. He is Dominican. But most Dominicans do not treat him with respect because he looks Haitian. Why is that? I want to understand racism in 2010 in the DR.
Meanwhile I play soccer with Dominican and Haitians and it brings us together!
Go play the sport you grew up playing. It might just be more refreshing than eating watermelon.
Peace,
Jared
Monday, August 9, 2010
Precious Summer
The moments of 2010 have passed with such velocity that I don't imagine it will be too long until we have reached the year 3010. Some Peace Corps volunteers are counting down the months until their service is over, while others are looking to file for an extension. I find myself in neither situation. I am thinking much about the moment. The present summer has consumed my thought, especially with the fun in planning a summer camp called "Organizando mi Comunidad." It's healthy to have these Sunday's as a bit of down time. Here in the Dominican Republic a long extended siesta after lunch visits from family members on the weekend have been some of my most memorable moments. The barrio fills up with kids dressed in bright Caribbean colors and food enough to cure a famine. I try to stay close to home, not work, and enjoy the fact that "I am because you are." (conscientious words of Mexican poet Octavio Paz). We are connected as one force of humanity. A Dominicans desire to be in the presence of each other is a powerful reminder of how we can share the stories of our own lives as a form of basic entertainment.
So two weeks ago I spent preparing for the construction of a vivero (tree nursery). Seventeen Peace Corps Volunteers from the environmental sector came to visit my site to help construct a community tree nursery. The muchachos in my youth group, "Defensores del Medioambiente," (Defensors of the Environment) are most interested in planting fruit trees. They show interest in living the life of the campesino, while at the same time washing their converse squeaky clean, gelling their hair back, wiping off the stunner shades, and heading into the center of town to stroll the park and posting up to find the best looking girl or guy.
It can be a difficult job to read their interests at times, but the focus remains on community projects. I feel blessed to have such freedom to develop compost bins and gardens without the pressures of strict time lines… nobody putting an order to the madness of community development. It's kinda like always Saturday here. You can rest if you want and someone will gladly accompany you, you can play all day long as if you were in an AYSO soccer tournament, or you can break out the pick and tend to the garden as if it were a hobby and not 10 hours of slave paying labor. I love the options, all though I do have to be straight with myself about when I am going to take my own time. I at least know that Saturdays I will dedicate to washing my clothes and cleaning my house... I involve the kids that come over to play because cleaning alone makes the day extra long... and I know that Sundays are peaceful with God and family.
It's summer time so take a moment to enjoy the sun.
With A Tropical Burst of Love,
Yarred
So two weeks ago I spent preparing for the construction of a vivero (tree nursery). Seventeen Peace Corps Volunteers from the environmental sector came to visit my site to help construct a community tree nursery. The muchachos in my youth group, "Defensores del Medioambiente," (Defensors of the Environment) are most interested in planting fruit trees. They show interest in living the life of the campesino, while at the same time washing their converse squeaky clean, gelling their hair back, wiping off the stunner shades, and heading into the center of town to stroll the park and posting up to find the best looking girl or guy.
It can be a difficult job to read their interests at times, but the focus remains on community projects. I feel blessed to have such freedom to develop compost bins and gardens without the pressures of strict time lines… nobody putting an order to the madness of community development. It's kinda like always Saturday here. You can rest if you want and someone will gladly accompany you, you can play all day long as if you were in an AYSO soccer tournament, or you can break out the pick and tend to the garden as if it were a hobby and not 10 hours of slave paying labor. I love the options, all though I do have to be straight with myself about when I am going to take my own time. I at least know that Saturdays I will dedicate to washing my clothes and cleaning my house... I involve the kids that come over to play because cleaning alone makes the day extra long... and I know that Sundays are peaceful with God and family.
It's summer time so take a moment to enjoy the sun.
With A Tropical Burst of Love,
Yarred
Monday, June 28, 2010
Pico Duarte Peace
There's a new kind of Peace I explored last week.
Caribbean tourism commercials present this island of Hispanola as a place of white sand beaches, sexy women, and you and your friends and family relaxed sipping of mango smoothies. Well, maybe that´s true for the foreigner´s 4 day stay at an expensive resort, but inland a new form of tourism is taking shape.
They call it summiting the Caribbean's tallest peak, (Pico Duarte, 10,000ft). I call it loosing yourself in a forest of serenity and spirituality.
Here´s Day 1´s journal entry:
I woke up to bathe in the steam. It felt refreshing again after last night´s skinny dip with Justin and and college buddy Dan. Mangos and hot chcolate were for breakfast at 7am. Life is tought when it's sweet. Last night's stay in the visitor center was enjoyable with the 6 of us wraped up in our sleeping bags on the white tiled floor. I was impressed with the facilities at this recently build visitor center and hope that more eco-tourists will be able to take advantage of them. The hike today was up and down ending at a nice caseta in las Garacuas. Plenty of climb and plenty of decending, however, perhaps most exciting was the furious rain storm after lunch that got the best us as even this very journal is soaked with water. The trail turned into a tomato juice stream and our shoes became sponges absorbing the rich, red colored water with each step. It's pretty clear to see how important plants and roots are to maintaining to soil intact and avoiding erosion.
I will never forget the lightening that struck overhead causing me to duck in fear of being struck. Fortunately we summited our final ridge of the day and the storm moved on echoing through the different river basins of Jose Armando Bermudez National Park. Mata Grande, our starting point for this 5 day terk, is still not far off. The rivers here are absolutely beautiful and clear. They are where the life of this country begins. I am thankful to the Golub family for inviting me on this trip. Tonight we are eating dominican style rice and beans courtesy of Tono and Jeraldo, our guides. I am sure I shall not be let down. I will dry out ferom the down pour and sleep well. 18 kilometers today, wet, well fed... we're just breaking in the hike!
Below is a photo unrelated to the hike, but nonetheless with college friend Dan Golub. We're enjoying some post race smiles with a really friendly Dominican runner named, Nelson Mandela (who knows the connection?)
Caribbean tourism commercials present this island of Hispanola as a place of white sand beaches, sexy women, and you and your friends and family relaxed sipping of mango smoothies. Well, maybe that´s true for the foreigner´s 4 day stay at an expensive resort, but inland a new form of tourism is taking shape.
They call it summiting the Caribbean's tallest peak, (Pico Duarte, 10,000ft). I call it loosing yourself in a forest of serenity and spirituality.
Here´s Day 1´s journal entry:
I woke up to bathe in the steam. It felt refreshing again after last night´s skinny dip with Justin and and college buddy Dan. Mangos and hot chcolate were for breakfast at 7am. Life is tought when it's sweet. Last night's stay in the visitor center was enjoyable with the 6 of us wraped up in our sleeping bags on the white tiled floor. I was impressed with the facilities at this recently build visitor center and hope that more eco-tourists will be able to take advantage of them. The hike today was up and down ending at a nice caseta in las Garacuas. Plenty of climb and plenty of decending, however, perhaps most exciting was the furious rain storm after lunch that got the best us as even this very journal is soaked with water. The trail turned into a tomato juice stream and our shoes became sponges absorbing the rich, red colored water with each step. It's pretty clear to see how important plants and roots are to maintaining to soil intact and avoiding erosion.
I will never forget the lightening that struck overhead causing me to duck in fear of being struck. Fortunately we summited our final ridge of the day and the storm moved on echoing through the different river basins of Jose Armando Bermudez National Park. Mata Grande, our starting point for this 5 day terk, is still not far off. The rivers here are absolutely beautiful and clear. They are where the life of this country begins. I am thankful to the Golub family for inviting me on this trip. Tonight we are eating dominican style rice and beans courtesy of Tono and Jeraldo, our guides. I am sure I shall not be let down. I will dry out ferom the down pour and sleep well. 18 kilometers today, wet, well fed... we're just breaking in the hike!
Below is a photo unrelated to the hike, but nonetheless with college friend Dan Golub. We're enjoying some post race smiles with a really friendly Dominican runner named, Nelson Mandela (who knows the connection?)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tag You're It
My Peace Corps experience in the Dominincan Republic has been nothing short of fun play ground activity, including TAG until the sun shines no more. They call me a Environamental Comunity Development Promoter, but really I create adventures with youth, running around with the wheel barrow picking up litter and transforming banana peals and cow manure into fresh compost for our backyard gardens. The big project for this summer is creating compost bins for neighbors to share in depositing their organic waste. With organic waste (leaves, mango peals, burnt rice...) we can create good soil and with good soil we can create gardens. We'll see how the experiment goes. However, before that a few kids in my barrio want to get colorful and paint a world map mural at their school. We'll see if we can keep the paint in the can.
So, what I´ve learned in all this play is that PATIENCE gets things done. When I attempt something alone I realize it is not sustainable because no one else in the small barrio of Ojo de Aguas is learning how to serve their community. It´s not about getting 10 packets of free vegetable seeds from the Department of Agriculture, nor is it about planting trees just because, but it´s about empowering others who haven´t been presented with such opportunities. I find the Peace Corps experience is most exhilarating when I am listening, Thus I realize I am often learning more about myself and my own habits than maybe imparting ideas upon my community. The other day I learned to sow recycled rice sacks together to create an impenatrable fence around our garden keeping the wandering chicken from eating the cilantro and lettuce. Choco and Josue also taught me that it is also possible to construct a sand lot style basketball hoop from rebar, bolts, and a tree alongside the road. It is so fun to see imagination come to life.
In the end I spend much of my day developing relationships and just trying to be a role model to many boys and young men who don´t have fathers, nor a vison of what they want to do when they grow up. So for now we play and I learn. One more year and we´ll be like actual brothers.
Take a visit to another country and listen to the peoples stories. You will learn so much about yourself.
Peace,
Jared Oubre
P.S. And added plus: Dan Golub (Williams ´08) is also here in the country with me serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I couldn´t be more lucky to have a great Williams' buddy, runner, and fun dude along on the journey. Next week we're headed to the top of the Caribbeans tallest mountain, Pico Duarte (10,000 ft), with Dan´s parents. God is good!
So, what I´ve learned in all this play is that PATIENCE gets things done. When I attempt something alone I realize it is not sustainable because no one else in the small barrio of Ojo de Aguas is learning how to serve their community. It´s not about getting 10 packets of free vegetable seeds from the Department of Agriculture, nor is it about planting trees just because, but it´s about empowering others who haven´t been presented with such opportunities. I find the Peace Corps experience is most exhilarating when I am listening, Thus I realize I am often learning more about myself and my own habits than maybe imparting ideas upon my community. The other day I learned to sow recycled rice sacks together to create an impenatrable fence around our garden keeping the wandering chicken from eating the cilantro and lettuce. Choco and Josue also taught me that it is also possible to construct a sand lot style basketball hoop from rebar, bolts, and a tree alongside the road. It is so fun to see imagination come to life.
In the end I spend much of my day developing relationships and just trying to be a role model to many boys and young men who don´t have fathers, nor a vison of what they want to do when they grow up. So for now we play and I learn. One more year and we´ll be like actual brothers.
Take a visit to another country and listen to the peoples stories. You will learn so much about yourself.
Peace,
Jared Oubre
P.S. And added plus: Dan Golub (Williams ´08) is also here in the country with me serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I couldn´t be more lucky to have a great Williams' buddy, runner, and fun dude along on the journey. Next week we're headed to the top of the Caribbeans tallest mountain, Pico Duarte (10,000 ft), with Dan´s parents. God is good!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Election Day is Here
Yesterday was Election day in the Dominica Republic and that means the days and months surrounding the is day have equalled organized chaos. Two parties the PLD (Partido Liberation Dominicana) and the PRD (Partido Reformista Dominicana) have displayed their colors, purple and white respectively, with fanatical pride. I know it was a big deal when we elected our first black president, but political campaigning here is ten times the explosion of pride and noise. Everyday for the past two months we´ve enjoyed parades, strikes in the street, flag waving, giant billboards of slick looking candidates staring at you every 15 feet along the highway, and catchy-annoying public announcements booming from a dozen speakers loaded onto the back of a small pick up truck passing infront of every house.
I was most recently in the capital enjoying a relaxing moment of pitch and catch (we were actually playing ¨Pickle¨ with a few kids, Arecito, Christian, and Esteven) when a propeller plane flew low over our neighbourhood showering the streets with shinny sheets of paper on which was plastered those slick pictures of Dominican politicians. No one could escape their gripping stares. Yoryi and Mariano are a vivid in my mind as the very words on this computer screne. The rain of paper was like New Years in New York, but instead we were being showed in election propaganda. I learned that the local mayoral and congressional races are of supreme importance because the Dominicans often get to see their leaders in person... something most presidential races could never offer and small pueblo or rural campesino family.
So a little background on the ¨democratic¨ voting system here: Right now across the country it seems to be two parties dominating the political campaigns, each paying bribes of up to 1000 pesos ($30) to the poor and uneducated if they will promise to vote for their party. Live chickens, salami roles, baseball caps, sandals, bright colored T-shirts, baseball caps again, electrical wire, free water, tired smiles, you name it, are given out by campaign promoters to help each party ¨buy¨ a vote. ¨Promises are made that they will never be follow through with,¨ says my host mom, ¨because anyone in power is going to find a way to siphon the pueblos $ into their pockets.¨ It is as if politics is a game that is played here, where those who are the most corrupt win the gamet. I can´t vote because I don´t have a cedula (Dominican ID card), but even if I illegally bought one, which apparently happens quite often during election time, I still not sure which candidate is promising something they can actually are commited to accomplishing. One can surely not fix all the social inequalities of a developing nation in one election term, so the perfectly crafted speeches of a utopian tomorrow often seem hallow. That is not to say that I do not believe there is great potential and resources her in the DR. It´s a country in which you can do almost anything you want and always be celebrating along with others doing the same.
One thing is for sure is that this country needs to find a way to develop its education system. They put no resources forward to support their students and teachers and thus they receive one of the lowest ranked education systems in Latin American. If there is one thing that I firmly believe is a sustainable path out of poverty, it is education. A pueblo educated is a pueblo that knows how to prioritize its needs. Right now the DR´s filled with many happy people, but I think it could be even more organized and realize its hopeful political agendas if it fought the tough fight of great schooling.
Celebrate your right to be an educated voter,
Paz Paz,
Jared
Here´s a group talented artists and the gringo painting a world map at the local high school.
I was most recently in the capital enjoying a relaxing moment of pitch and catch (we were actually playing ¨Pickle¨ with a few kids, Arecito, Christian, and Esteven) when a propeller plane flew low over our neighbourhood showering the streets with shinny sheets of paper on which was plastered those slick pictures of Dominican politicians. No one could escape their gripping stares. Yoryi and Mariano are a vivid in my mind as the very words on this computer screne. The rain of paper was like New Years in New York, but instead we were being showed in election propaganda. I learned that the local mayoral and congressional races are of supreme importance because the Dominicans often get to see their leaders in person... something most presidential races could never offer and small pueblo or rural campesino family.
So a little background on the ¨democratic¨ voting system here: Right now across the country it seems to be two parties dominating the political campaigns, each paying bribes of up to 1000 pesos ($30) to the poor and uneducated if they will promise to vote for their party. Live chickens, salami roles, baseball caps, sandals, bright colored T-shirts, baseball caps again, electrical wire, free water, tired smiles, you name it, are given out by campaign promoters to help each party ¨buy¨ a vote. ¨Promises are made that they will never be follow through with,¨ says my host mom, ¨because anyone in power is going to find a way to siphon the pueblos $ into their pockets.¨ It is as if politics is a game that is played here, where those who are the most corrupt win the gamet. I can´t vote because I don´t have a cedula (Dominican ID card), but even if I illegally bought one, which apparently happens quite often during election time, I still not sure which candidate is promising something they can actually are commited to accomplishing. One can surely not fix all the social inequalities of a developing nation in one election term, so the perfectly crafted speeches of a utopian tomorrow often seem hallow. That is not to say that I do not believe there is great potential and resources her in the DR. It´s a country in which you can do almost anything you want and always be celebrating along with others doing the same.
One thing is for sure is that this country needs to find a way to develop its education system. They put no resources forward to support their students and teachers and thus they receive one of the lowest ranked education systems in Latin American. If there is one thing that I firmly believe is a sustainable path out of poverty, it is education. A pueblo educated is a pueblo that knows how to prioritize its needs. Right now the DR´s filled with many happy people, but I think it could be even more organized and realize its hopeful political agendas if it fought the tough fight of great schooling.
Celebrate your right to be an educated voter,
Paz Paz,
Jared
Here´s a group talented artists and the gringo painting a world map at the local high school.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Youth Brigade Celebrates
My father´s birthday passed and I was so engrossed in the art of playing with Dominican kids that I forgot to call him from the island and wish him happy birthday. There are moments of extreme alegria (or happiness) in the Peace Corps experience and this past weekend was certainly one of them. Ask me to plan a youth camp that brings together 72 Dominincan teenagers from around the island, including those of Haitian decent, and I´d probably respond: ¨Who? What? Where? When? Why?¨ However, there are some things that are consistent in this world and one of them is that children will always want to play and learn together. Never have I felt so comfortable around Dominicans as I did in that room of 37 boys singing, sharing a sip of water, brushing our teeth, sleeping, waking up, and of course eating together. We were a brotherhood, 25 American Peace Corps Volunteers serving as fathers, mothers, counselors, and trustworthy friends to a captivated audience of vibrant youth. Perhaps the 3 day conference was more time than any of these kids had spent away from their homes and family, but I´m positive Arenayi will remember that first ever bike ride (without shoes and no breaks on the bike... the Dominican way) in the National Park Mirador Norte, and 16 year old Exeido will surely remember his fantastic presentation about the impact of humans on planet Earth´s natural environment.
I lay in my bed completely exhausted from this weekend of recreation and environemtal lessons from ¨Leave No Trace¨ to ¨Indigenous Taino Farming Methods.¨ I am here to reflect upon hom much I enjoyed this expereince. The swimming and singing the Boo-Ga-Loo were my favorites memories with those 15 years olds, followed by the talk about AIDS and self-esteem, the skits performed by animated volunteers, the pizza and home made tamarindo and wheat drink, and ohh yes, elbow tag. Sounds a lot like summer camp, yeah?!
Anyways, I realized nothing can be taken for granted when everthing is completely new to someone. The kids were filled with vigor and emotion about everything... maybe the kind of feeling you get when you ride your first roller coaster. These young dominicans certainly have a grand job in front of them to care for their environment, and clean that which has been contaminated, but they also have the spirit of firecrackers. Explosion of culture one might say. I´m glad to be back here with more of a feeling settled in than ever! This job is teaching and offering me so much. The kids are inspiring!
With the renewed heart of a kid, go out and play today.
Love,
Jared
I lay in my bed completely exhausted from this weekend of recreation and environemtal lessons from ¨Leave No Trace¨ to ¨Indigenous Taino Farming Methods.¨ I am here to reflect upon hom much I enjoyed this expereince. The swimming and singing the Boo-Ga-Loo were my favorites memories with those 15 years olds, followed by the talk about AIDS and self-esteem, the skits performed by animated volunteers, the pizza and home made tamarindo and wheat drink, and ohh yes, elbow tag. Sounds a lot like summer camp, yeah?!
Anyways, I realized nothing can be taken for granted when everthing is completely new to someone. The kids were filled with vigor and emotion about everything... maybe the kind of feeling you get when you ride your first roller coaster. These young dominicans certainly have a grand job in front of them to care for their environment, and clean that which has been contaminated, but they also have the spirit of firecrackers. Explosion of culture one might say. I´m glad to be back here with more of a feeling settled in than ever! This job is teaching and offering me so much. The kids are inspiring!
With the renewed heart of a kid, go out and play today.
Love,
Jared
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Color Brings Life
The breeze made for a refreshing week here in Ojo de Agua. It is tonight that I will celebrate 3 weeks in the country. My good friend and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Kevin, from small town Indiana, just came to visit me. My plate is full of project ideas as well as mounds of ¨habichuelas and arroz¨ (beans and rice). On Good Friday every kitchen and Dona in the Dominican Republic was busy stirring together their favorite sweet ingredients to ¨Habichuelas con Dulce.¨ Four mugs were delivered to my home within a couple of hours and my stomach was more than blessed. However, perhaps the most beautiful scene thus far in my return to Ojo de Agua was the faces of 500 plus Dominicans lit by candle light the night that we celebrated Jesus´s resurrection, or Easter Sunday. Their smooth skin gleaned inside the packed church, different shades of brown, light and dark (This is a country filled with mulattos, diverse in appearance but certainly all very much sharing the same loud and happy Dominican culture). Little girls sat on the laps of their fathers fresh in their new dresses and hair straighten and neatly pulled back. Grandpa and grandmas were tightly sandwiched alongside children and children in law, perhaps uncomfortable, but they didn´t have to stand along the walls. Everyone connected through the beautiful light of God, holding candles to celebrate the bright example Jesus gave the world. I felt part of something special, part of a spiritual moment.
And then the most classic of Latin American scenes… the congregation offered water as a blessing to Christ for having given his life to teach humanity the power of the healing Spirit. Together the 500 plus Dominicans and I raised water containers above our heads furnishing a shiny sea of plastic before the crucifix. One can only imagine the dozens of different brand names displayed on the sides of the recycled and reused plastic containers. Two liter Coke-Cola bottles, 20 oz. Dasani water bottles, Clorox, Cristol Corn Oil, and Apple Juice gallon jugs raised high above the church pews. Some even furnished old tupper-wear with water, while others had nicely pealed the plastic bands glued to the sides of the bottles allowing for a more cleaned up look at church. Everyone had water or perhaps a large framed painting of Mary, but for that moment we were again united, different colors, different brand names on out containers, and different amounts of water, but still united. It was a day to colorfully celebrate one of the most admired and humble persons to walk this earth. It was a Latin American day.
The colorful ideas and desire to invent always bring fresh perspective to each and every day here.
Go celebrate with something colorful and recycled today.
Peace,
Jared
And then the most classic of Latin American scenes… the congregation offered water as a blessing to Christ for having given his life to teach humanity the power of the healing Spirit. Together the 500 plus Dominicans and I raised water containers above our heads furnishing a shiny sea of plastic before the crucifix. One can only imagine the dozens of different brand names displayed on the sides of the recycled and reused plastic containers. Two liter Coke-Cola bottles, 20 oz. Dasani water bottles, Clorox, Cristol Corn Oil, and Apple Juice gallon jugs raised high above the church pews. Some even furnished old tupper-wear with water, while others had nicely pealed the plastic bands glued to the sides of the bottles allowing for a more cleaned up look at church. Everyone had water or perhaps a large framed painting of Mary, but for that moment we were again united, different colors, different brand names on out containers, and different amounts of water, but still united. It was a day to colorfully celebrate one of the most admired and humble persons to walk this earth. It was a Latin American day.
The colorful ideas and desire to invent always bring fresh perspective to each and every day here.
Go celebrate with something colorful and recycled today.
Peace,
Jared
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Brotha's Back
The humidity flushed over my new hair cut, the drums thumped loud, and the comforting sound of children singing greeted me as the airport doors slid open. People with signs and smiling faces jumped up and down as they saw their brother, or cousins, or parents arriving fresh off the plane. I scanned the energetic audience behind the large metal barricades and found Francisco, a Peace Corps driver, winking at me. I knew who he was and I knew I was returning home to the Dominincan Republic in good hands.
The atmosphere at the airport well descibres what this country is about. Celebration! Every moment is to be enjoyed together. Unity can certainly be found in family, and though my family is not here I feel as though the Dominicans have welcomed me a son. This morning I took off on a run in Santo Domingo's historic downtown... one of the oldest downtowns in the Americas dating back to when Christopher Columbus landed on the island (he call it Hispanola). On the streets I saw faces that I hadn't seen in 8 months, I saw the sun rising from the east over the blue Caribbean water, and I splashed my face into the sea "baptising" my own arrival to Peace Corps PART II. As my aunt used to recommend when traveling, "Get up early and see a city wake up and you'll get a good idea of where you are and who the people are." It was a beautiful experience and easy to get excited about waking up my first morning here. Now I've promised myself to keep it up for the remainder of my stay here in the DR. Jared's saying it right now for all you doubters... he's going to commit himself to the rural farmer motto: "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise." I've got plenty of examples in my community of Ojo de Aguas, so why not do it.
So the brother is healthy, he's back, and he's going to love the heck out of playing with Dominincan kids again. If you have any fun games to recommend that aren't too complex and don't require many resources let me know, I'd be interested.
Brotha's Back!
Get up early and take some time alone.
Peace de Santo Domingo,
Jared
The atmosphere at the airport well descibres what this country is about. Celebration! Every moment is to be enjoyed together. Unity can certainly be found in family, and though my family is not here I feel as though the Dominicans have welcomed me a son. This morning I took off on a run in Santo Domingo's historic downtown... one of the oldest downtowns in the Americas dating back to when Christopher Columbus landed on the island (he call it Hispanola). On the streets I saw faces that I hadn't seen in 8 months, I saw the sun rising from the east over the blue Caribbean water, and I splashed my face into the sea "baptising" my own arrival to Peace Corps PART II. As my aunt used to recommend when traveling, "Get up early and see a city wake up and you'll get a good idea of where you are and who the people are." It was a beautiful experience and easy to get excited about waking up my first morning here. Now I've promised myself to keep it up for the remainder of my stay here in the DR. Jared's saying it right now for all you doubters... he's going to commit himself to the rural farmer motto: "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise." I've got plenty of examples in my community of Ojo de Aguas, so why not do it.
So the brother is healthy, he's back, and he's going to love the heck out of playing with Dominincan kids again. If you have any fun games to recommend that aren't too complex and don't require many resources let me know, I'd be interested.
Brotha's Back!
Get up early and take some time alone.
Peace de Santo Domingo,
Jared
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Peace active in Olympics
Many of us saw the 2010 Olympic champions stand on those podiums and receive their medals: gold, silver, and bronze. The medals honored these athletes for their a level of commitment and determination that we all can admire. Certainly they make their parents, coaches, and country proud, but perhaps more importantly they make the world proud. There would be no Olympics without the thousands of competitors. There would be no Olympics if the competitors did not train and make sacrifices to be in the best shape of their life for these two weeks. And there would be no Olympics without the sportsmanship that transcends cultural and language differences. To see so many different nations represented on those podiums cheering each other on and listening to the many national anthems of the world was inspiring.
When I was young I had that dream of becoming an Olympic athlete. I thought maybe someday I would be sprinting like Jesse Owens around the track in Berlin or speed skating so fast like Dan Jansen that tears would stream from my eyes. Though my time has come and I am no where near those podiums, it makes me proud to see the young people of the world getting together to compete; to share the universal language of athletic competition. The vigor, defeat, victory, and pure emotion that sport demands. I think these athletes help us remember how very much we all share in common. Ice skaters in the small country of Slovakia trained for four years to compete against the hockey stars of Canada, and they lost. South Korean teenagers carried high hopes for their 19 year figure skating "Queen," Kim Yu-Na, and she set a world record score with her gold medal performance. And the country of Georgia remembered the courageous and fierce competitor in Nodar Kumaritashvili, who died hours before the Olympics started during a training run on the Skeleton slide.
So the world comes to relate to each other through these different stories. Perhaps at first when the games begin we are inclined to focus solely on the successes of our own country men (our "ambassadors"). However, as the competition progresses we begin to realize their would be no competitive spirit in the Olympics without all the different athletes from all over the world. It is here where the meaning of the Olympics expands beyond the gold, silver, and bronze. We realize that competiton forces everyone to best their own mark and thus produce a higher level of excellence. This excellence is the same energy that drives peace. My desire to succeed and your desire to succeed are mutual because we can not alone be pushed to greater levels of excellence... for we need our fellow competitors. In fact we need the best in the world.
So my personal dream to run along side the likes of Jesse Owens in an Olympic setting may not be fully realized, but my dream for peace is seen in events like the Olympics.
Find ways to make Peace active,
Jared
When I was young I had that dream of becoming an Olympic athlete. I thought maybe someday I would be sprinting like Jesse Owens around the track in Berlin or speed skating so fast like Dan Jansen that tears would stream from my eyes. Though my time has come and I am no where near those podiums, it makes me proud to see the young people of the world getting together to compete; to share the universal language of athletic competition. The vigor, defeat, victory, and pure emotion that sport demands. I think these athletes help us remember how very much we all share in common. Ice skaters in the small country of Slovakia trained for four years to compete against the hockey stars of Canada, and they lost. South Korean teenagers carried high hopes for their 19 year figure skating "Queen," Kim Yu-Na, and she set a world record score with her gold medal performance. And the country of Georgia remembered the courageous and fierce competitor in Nodar Kumaritashvili, who died hours before the Olympics started during a training run on the Skeleton slide.
So the world comes to relate to each other through these different stories. Perhaps at first when the games begin we are inclined to focus solely on the successes of our own country men (our "ambassadors"). However, as the competition progresses we begin to realize their would be no competitive spirit in the Olympics without all the different athletes from all over the world. It is here where the meaning of the Olympics expands beyond the gold, silver, and bronze. We realize that competiton forces everyone to best their own mark and thus produce a higher level of excellence. This excellence is the same energy that drives peace. My desire to succeed and your desire to succeed are mutual because we can not alone be pushed to greater levels of excellence... for we need our fellow competitors. In fact we need the best in the world.
So my personal dream to run along side the likes of Jesse Owens in an Olympic setting may not be fully realized, but my dream for peace is seen in events like the Olympics.
Find ways to make Peace active,
Jared
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Haiti on Our Minds
Last time I took a moment to write down some thoughts on this blog I was fresh off the job of jack hammering the plaster from a pool. It was then I was thinking about the work it might take to clean up a giant earthquake. How many days and volunteers it might take to make sense of the rubble and reconstruct civilization again. Here I am a month later and Haiti is in the middle of a relief and clean up effort I don't think any of us could ever imagine. Daily I pray for God to meet the needs of our Haitian brothers and sisters who are searching for a home, searching for their family, and desiring just one sip of fresh, clean water.
So what do we do as a world? How can we lovingly attend to this small island nation? First thing that comes to mind is to keep these brothers and sisters in our thoughts and prayers. They need our positive thinking and to be included in our dinner table prayers. We can bring up discussions with each other about the social inequalities that remain ever present in our world. The 7.0 quake that hit the poorest nation in the western hemisphere had a much greater affect than the 6.9 earthquake that hit San Francisco two decades ago. Why is this? Haiti does not have the infrastructure nor the building codes nor the resources of that of a wealthy city like San Francisco. There are so many layers to poverty that I have yet to understand, but nothing makes you think about it more than when it presents itself on the front cover of every newspaper in the world.
Living near many Haitians in the Dominincan Republic has opened my eyes to the resilience of these people. They are a strong people because they know how to come together and share whatever they have. I believe poverty can be extinguished by human kinds efforts to share all that they have including Love. Food, bottled water, and medical supplies may be waiting to be distributed on the runway at the airport in Port au Prince, but the supply of Love is never waiting. Love is in infinite abundance if we choose it to be. Our direct loving interactions with people most closely around us can ripple across the world and better the human race.
So I urge everyone to start loving more and think about how they can tap into this infinite supply of love where ever they live on the globe. It can help the people in Haiti.
DIVINE LOVE ALWAYS HAS MET AND ALWAYS WILL MEET EVERY HUMAN NEED. - Mary Baker Eddy
I Love you all,
Jared
So what do we do as a world? How can we lovingly attend to this small island nation? First thing that comes to mind is to keep these brothers and sisters in our thoughts and prayers. They need our positive thinking and to be included in our dinner table prayers. We can bring up discussions with each other about the social inequalities that remain ever present in our world. The 7.0 quake that hit the poorest nation in the western hemisphere had a much greater affect than the 6.9 earthquake that hit San Francisco two decades ago. Why is this? Haiti does not have the infrastructure nor the building codes nor the resources of that of a wealthy city like San Francisco. There are so many layers to poverty that I have yet to understand, but nothing makes you think about it more than when it presents itself on the front cover of every newspaper in the world.
Living near many Haitians in the Dominincan Republic has opened my eyes to the resilience of these people. They are a strong people because they know how to come together and share whatever they have. I believe poverty can be extinguished by human kinds efforts to share all that they have including Love. Food, bottled water, and medical supplies may be waiting to be distributed on the runway at the airport in Port au Prince, but the supply of Love is never waiting. Love is in infinite abundance if we choose it to be. Our direct loving interactions with people most closely around us can ripple across the world and better the human race.
So I urge everyone to start loving more and think about how they can tap into this infinite supply of love where ever they live on the globe. It can help the people in Haiti.
DIVINE LOVE ALWAYS HAS MET AND ALWAYS WILL MEET EVERY HUMAN NEED. - Mary Baker Eddy
I Love you all,
Jared
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