Granny Leaves Us and Leaves a Gift

I had forgotten just how hot it can be here. We were getting on to late summer, and the humidity kicked in like a warm, steam bath. The sun blazes from 8am to late afternoon, and really the only thing to do is to stay out of it.

It was a Sunday just like this when my mom called to tell me that my beloved Granny was very sick in the hospital. This was no surprise

Since my grandfather passed 9 months before, in November 2011, Granny had been suffering from a series of serious health problems. First, a stroke that nearly killed her. A fall, then another fall. Upon moving out of her house of nearly 30 years and into assisted living (her "nest" as she called it), she had yet another fall in the bathroom, stranding her for several hours and breaking her hip in the process. She next developed congenital heart disease. Finally, she ended up with a slow-to-be-discovered ruptured intestine. That episode put her through a couple of horrific hours before she underwent intensive surgery that the doctors did not think she would survive.

She did survive, but it was clear to all that Granny was failing. This was confirmed to me by Granny herself when I came home for a visit in April - she said, "Alicia, I don't have much time left." I walked away from her the last day knowing that I would not see her again in this life.

Yet there was a finality in my mother's voice that afternoon that I hadn't heard before, even after so many months of hearing bad news over the phone.

I've always been overly sentimental, so I surprised myself at how well I took this news from her. Upon hearing from my mother on Sunday that Granny's heart disease was worsening and that her kidneys had begun to fail, we knew it was time. This was devastating, especially because I wasn't able to return to the US to be with her in those final days.  But Granny in her way made it bearable by giving us a glimpse of what she had to look forward to.

Here is what happened in the last few days of  her life.

Sunday, July 22. She entered the hospital, and my mother called to tell me that she was not doing well. They were making her as comfortable as possible. She said she expected that this was the end. She was barely conscious and her system was failing.

Monday, July 23. She rallied, as it's called, and talked the whole day through! She called out to her mother and father in conversation with them, then apparently to my grandfather, as she responded to the air and to no family member in the room, "I love you too, dear." "Dear" is what she and my grandfather called eachother.
She said thank you to my family for all they had done, and told me she loved me on the phone and was ready to go.

Tuesday, July 24. She worsened again.

Wednesday, July 25, the day she died. She once again rallied, but this was as she again saw the other side, apparently.
She told the family members assembled at her bedside that someone was making a bouquet of flowers for her.
She asked my mother to "make sure my hair is brushed and looks pretty. They are having a dancing party for me tonight."
Finally, she said to them "I can walk again! I couldn't when I came here but I can walk again."
She repeatedly asked for my parents' dog, Quigley, who was at home at the time. She thought maybe he could hear her calling for him. My mother went home and brought Quigley, and around 11:45 am, she passed away with her family and Quigley in the room.

Granny was always was happy to be alive. She went on to the afterlife with that same cheerfulness and spirit of excitement. When it's my time, I am pretty sure she will be waiting for me on the other end with a beautiful smile on her face.

A Short Trip Home

I wrote most of this when I got back from the US in April and just finished it up today.
 
I feel like a stranger all over again, after only one week away. Dominicans look at me like I am a gringa, fresh off the plane, which technically I am. Exhaust from cars and motos actually chokes me, and I am angered by the people who butt in front of me at any and every customer service line and by the lady who steals platanos in the lunchline at work. However, I also did feel like I was excited to come back, like I have two homes now. I am not entirely sure if that's true, but I was happy as we flew along the coastline coming into the Puerto Plata airport.

Memories of my trip home are ever-present right now. The trip was short but better than I imagined it could be. I spent every day with my parents and my grandmother, and nearly every other day with my sister, Kim, and my niece and nephew, Karri and Dalton. I saw several good friends, although not everyone I would have liked to have seen, but a good showing for only having 5 full days in Staunton. I ate a LOT of delicious American food (missing only the taco truck, papusas, and Chinese food - I had Mexican twice and pizza twice, plus some of my Dad's cooking, so I cannot complain).  I was really blessed because the people I love went out of their way to spend time with me. We had only one or two tense moments when my sister and I snapped at each other for something silly, which we always do. :)

It's often revealing to talk to my strong, silent Dad one on one, and this time was no different. He shared with me a way in which he has changed over the years. (I won't share this very personal, self-aware observation.) We've had a challenging relationship over the years, no doubt partially because we are alike in many ways; so I cherish these little moments of connection we have.



Really, the trip was wonderful and well-worth every busy moment of it. I have now had some time to reflect on it more fully. Aside from intellectual observations about the American political and cultural situation, the only sentiment that comes to me when I really think about home is exactly how much I miss my family and how important they are to me. It makes my eyes water every single time.

"Vida Verdad" Photo Exhibition

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO
THE 'VIDA VERDAD' PHOTOGRAPHIC EXHIBITION IN
PUERTA PLATA AND MUÑOZ

Be1Vision and Project Esperanza are proud to present the first ever photographic exhibition of photos taken by Batey community members and displayed in Puerta Plata and Munoz!

On Dec 10th, we will have the show opening at 2:00pm until 7pm at the Puerta Plata (12 de Julio, #38) location.

On Dec 13th at 10:00am until 2:00pm we will have the show in our Munoz location (in the La Grua batey in the community of Muñoz, 3 miles to the east of the city of Puerto Plata. Muñoz is located across the main highway from the resort complex Playa Dorada).

We would love to see you at either of our shows! If you can't make it, please consider buying a print from the online gallery, which will be available shortly and after the show. We will send you an email with a direct link. Please call us if you have questions about directions and we will be happy to help facilitate your travels!
Also, please pass this message on to any friends who may be interested. We are always looking to build our community here.

About Be1Vision: Be1 Vision |
Be1 Vision was created by photographer, Krystle Marcellus, to offer a range of communities a medium to tell their stories. The photography program is taught in a journalistic style. A ‘baptism by fire approach’ is used, letting students try on their own and then are guided through critiques of their photos, helping them to make a better aesthetic and tell their stories in a more complete way.

Be1 Vision operates with the help of donations of cameras and funds. They publish a blog at Be1 Vision | and are also showing printed work at various locations. Currently Be1 Vision is working on a 2-month project in Muñoz, Puerto Plata with the Haitian community.

“I like photography a lot because its very important, when I am shooting pictures I feel good…” –Student from Muñoz, Puerto Plata

About Project Esperanza: www
Project Esperanza is a non-profit organization that began as and remains a Virginia Tech student organization, but is also now a registered non-profit organization in both the United States and the Dominican Republic. Project Esperanza serves to connect the Blacksburg, Virginia community and the Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic community through service. Our programs are designed to work toward breaking the cycle of poverty present among the lower social classes in these two communities, as well as toward breaking the cycle of apathy present among the upper classes. The majority of our programs serve the Haitian population of Puerto Plata in the areas of education, social aid, and community development.

With Love,
The Project Esperanza Team & Be1Vision
809-261-5537

Caitlin McHale
Director, Project Esperanza
Virginia Tech Alumna
www
tel: 809-970-7257
cell: 809-361-8193

The Fear of Drowning

We all strive to be happy. So that we may be happy, we set goals and set out to reach them, feeling a sense of accomplishment and self-satisfaction upon arrival. I did just that, following a long-time dream to speak Spanish by packing up and moving to the Dominican Republic.  To my amazement, I have found a sort of grounded satisfaction that I wonder if I would ever have been able to recognize had I not come. I understand happiness to be a different animal now, consisting of living a full life - full of food, friends, dancing, sun and water, yoga, reading, and anything else that enriches me (but without the American preoccupation with being an interesting, well-rounded person).

This remodeled understanding of happiness has somehow given me room to fully experience an element of life I always wanted to avoid: intense emotion. Back home, I felt like a failure each time I had a massive attack of emotion or insecurity. Everyone around me generally seemed to be on top of things, including their emotions and depression, while I could sink in an instant. Occasionally, depression and insecurity would affect my work, my familial and friend relationships, and did repeatedly prevent me from seeking out a relationship with a man who was my equal.

I came to this country to follow a dream and instead, I've been led, have been opened against all my attempts to maintain my status quo. I have lost my grandfather, have opened my heart to love, and the other day, I could have drowned in the ocean.

My friend Rebecca and I went to the beach, Playa Dorada, where the waves seemed more frequent and frothy than usual. She was on vacation and wanted to take me snorkeling to see fish by the coral before leaving. I had wanted to go, but had never had the time or a serious inclination. The water was beautiful: bright blue-green water with overcast skies. The wind made the air cooler than any time I had been there before, and I shivered when we stepped out into the water.

I had never snorkeled before so Rebecca gave me the quick and dirty explanation on how to breathe through the mask. Though not rocket science, it is not as easy as one might imagine. Add to this the fact that I had spent the previous night out late with friends. I was dehydrated and tired. Add to that fact the fact that my grandfather had died one week before, and I watched the funeral from my bedroom by Skype. Add to that fact the fact that two days before he died, I started falling in love - with an equal in a sea of unequals - in the midst of a decade of feeling like I would never love anyone the way I did my first. One came along which could well be mas profundo. Breathing normally has been difficult since then, as I explored heart opening in a time of muted sorrow, as I to strive to live where I felt suddenly exposed and afraid. We swam out a little bit; my breathing shuddered through the mask. I struggled to inhale fresh air. More than once, I felt the urge to hyperventilate but stopped just short, gaining control as I got used to the unintuitive way of tube breathing.

As we started to explore the rocks where the fish would be, I stayed only on the surface. Going under to see the fishies, as it was suggested, then coming up to spew water out of the tube like an animal with a blowhole seemed out of the question given my breathing troubles. I was able to see about 3 bright blue fish before I realized how much trouble I was having swimming. The waves pulled me backwards as I tried to stand on rocks below the surface. I fought back to gain my balance but each time the water pulled harder and knocked me out towards sea. Without knowing it, we had swum into a current that was very strong and very fast. Before I could understand what was going on, I looked up to see that we were over fifty meters from shore. We had actually been in the water snorkeling for about 5 minutes and had certainly not been swimming any fifty meters.

At that moment, I wanted to get out, to get back to shore. I started to swim in that direction, but I was caught. I turned over on my back, which is a better position for my scare-dy swimming self. I'm from the mountains; not the sea! I know nothing about its danger except to know that it can be dangerous. I thought how utterly unprepared I was, farther from shore than I liked to be, with a strong current trying to pull me father, and no lifeguards anywhere in sight. On my back, in my safe position, I struggled not to be swept farther. It didn't take more than thirty seconds of swimming without advancing any closer to shore for me to be tired.

It took only one second longer to realize that this is how people drown. This was how people become tired, lose control over their mind, freak out, and go down. It was a lucky break that the current took me back to the rocks, and I met Rebecca there for a rest. Once we were stable, we looked around and could clearly see the current running quickly out to sea. I thought for sure that we'd have a hard time getting back to shore, given my failed attempt. However Rebecca said, "No, we'll just swim back slowly together and we'll be alright." Were it not for her calm, I might have really panicked. I was halfway there, thinking that the impending afternoon tide would sweep us off the coral and into the Atlantic.

Following Rebecca's lead, we headed towards shore slowly. Through the goggles, I could see her swimming beside me. We left the current without any problems, and were back on the shore safely within minutes. As we emerged and walked along the beach in silence, I felt like I had nearly died. Nothing happened, really. I didn't go under, I didn't breathe in any water, and I technically didn't even start to drown. But I knew I had been close to panicking out there. All of the sentimientos building inside of me had nearly taken over my mind and body, and I had been in danger. The power of positive thinking is indeed powerful, but in a case like this, there was nothing to do but feel the weight of fear and insecurity pressing on my chest. I could not pretend to Rebecca that this had been fun.

The power of this event is evident. Sorrow, fear, hope, and love are all around me; yet, instead of feeling weighed down by the immensity of these emotions, I just feel viva.

Here's an interview I did recently with Lorna Selley about my experience working abroad.

http://literatiwriting.wordpress.com/2011/11/26/cupcakes-and-yoga-in-the-tropics-inspiration-for-quitting-the-9-5/

Recipe: Almuerzo Dominicano Tipico

One of the greatest joys of living in the Dominican Republic is the food. There is no shortage of fresh fruit and vegetables, though, admittedly, the variety of local vegetables is somewhat limited. However, if you're like me, and don't mind eating good, fresh, but similar food on a regular basis, you might like the way we eat here. Here is one of my favorite meals, one that we eat at least a couple of times a week. It's what I am eating now, as a matter of fact.

Ensalada de Repollo
This salad will go quickly, so be sure to make a lot. It will stay overnight in the refrigerator, so don't be afraid to make plenty.

Ingredients
1/4 - 1/2 head white cabbage
1/4 - 1/2 red onion
1/2 cubanela or other pepper
1 small garden tomato
1 garlic clove
several stems of cilantro
10 basil leaves
juice of half a lime
1/4 olive oil
1 tbsp sesame seeds
salt and pepper to taste

How to:
1. Remove the outer leaves of the cabbage. Directly from the head of the cabbage, slice as thin as possible. Wash the cabbage and let drain. Put cabbage in a large salad bowl.
2. Dice small the red onion, cubanela pepper, tomato, and garlic clove. Add to large salad bowl.
3. Chop small the cilantro and basil. Add to large salad bowl.
4. Juice the lemon into the salad bowl.  Add olive oil, salt, pepper, and sesame seeds. Mix together and let stand for a few minutes before eating.


Once the salad is done, chop up an avocado (called an aguacate here). Add one small clove of chopped garlic, salt, pepper, lime juice, and a little bit of olive oil. Slice any good bread you like and put the avocados on it. This makes a most excellent lunch meal, and is packed full of vitamins and fiber. I feel like Superwoman when I eat this meal. Hope you enjoy.

Additionally, for dinner, sometimes we prepare all of the above but add fried plantains (the mature or green kind) for additional sustenance. Buen provecho!

I was cursed and I think I've been cursed

I waited for a taxi, a golden chariot of the "Ruta Muñoz," which usually comes sans bumper or with cracked windshield, seats four people in the back and two in the front passenger seat. That 30 peso ride of fright delivers hundreds of people to and from the countryside each week - if not safely, well then, at least delivered. I waited in palm tree lined, sun-bleached Parque Central plaza where locals meet and foreigners wander looking lost. I am not perdida anymore; still, with my bright pink t-shirt on (a so "not me" clothing article but one purchased here out of necessity), light cream linen shorts (of the sort that Dominican women do not wear), not to mention my height, and blasphemous wearing of rubber flip-flops in public, I felt obvious that day. Un-homogoneous in a land of homogeneity.

Walking towards me on the sidewalk where I stood, I noticed a woman who, like me, was unlike the rest. Her curly gray hair was pulled high on top of her head into a pretty bun. She wore a long, black gypsy dress with white, embroidered flowers at the bottom. She was older but, as is common here, age is impossible to tell. Her skin was shiny brown and flawless, despite the full gray head of hair.

The sidewalk is narrow where I waited, so as she approached, I looked her into her grey eyes and smiled. She stopped dead in front of me and stared back hard. Immediately, I sensed danger and looked away, up the road to where the taxi would eventually come into view. The woman stood in front of me scowling into my eyes, seeing I suppose if I would turn my attention back to her. One man passed and looked from her to me, obviously startled by her behavior. A lady in a slow passing taxi said said to be careful, "Mi amor." Unfazed, the woman moved to my side all the while focused on my face and now muttering under her breath. I thought of possible options: look at her again and try to speak, ask for help, escape. I did nothing of these things. I searched the crest of the hill for the taxi. The little car would take me from this place of panic and embarrassment, burning in my cheeks...to no avail, the taxi wasn't coming. The mutterings became audible now as she came closer and growled in my face, "Tu eres una maldita traicionera." "You are a cursed betrayer," she said, with the sentiment meaning something more like "You are a goddamned, cursed sinner." She turned to argue her case to a man sitting nearby, who moved away with no effort to intervene. Adrenaline was hot in my face and throat but I stood motionless, focused only on where the taxi was to appear.

Panic crested in my chest yet I had the thought that I shouldn't move one inch. "Oh, so you're not gonna look at me, heh?" she said as the demon rose in her and made her raise two clenched fists just a foot from my face, which I could see only in periphery. In that same moment, I spotted the sweet letters, "Ruta Muñoz," on the white, black and brown sign atop a familiar looking Toyota Corolla. I took off towards the carrito, hoping that she wouldn't strike me from behind as I passed her. I rushed clumsily into the front seat, and, upon seeing that she was right on my heels at the taxi door, fought the urge to tell the chauffeur to book it. We pulled away as she mumbled a curse and burst into a fit of crazy laughter. When I say crazy, I do mean crazy.