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?)

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!

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.

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

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

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

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