(Warning: This post is very long. Sorry).
As I write this I am sitting in a pile of muddy clothes in the apartment where I’m staying in Santo Domingo. I have spent the last week in a tiny mountain town on the outskirts of Constanza, DR, participating in a sendero (hiking trail) workshop. I mean, I can split rocks and chart maps and whatnot now – I'm really excited about it! Thus, undone laundry and my first plunge into the blogosphere.
Quick explanation of why I’m here:
I am currently doing a three-month internship with DSTA (Dominican Sustainable Tourism Alliance), a USAID funded project in the Dominican Republic. The goal of the organization is to create community development through ecoturism microenterprises, providing an environmentally sustainable alternative to the all-inclusive resort model. I will be working with a few of these projects in a town called Jarabacoa, located in the central mountain region.
As I was saying, hiking trails. And by hiking trails I mean trails as an instrument of community development and social wellbeing. My assignment here has changed from just writing success stories and collecting data to helping with providing capacity training for the projects where I’ll be working. In my first week in the capital I’ve been getting trained in product development, making market assessments, calculating costs, conducting community marketing workshops – definitely not the subject matter of my liberal arts education.
So, that’s how I ended up splitting rocks with big hammers up in the mountains of Constanza, La Suiza del Caribe (the Swiss Alps of the Caribbean). This is seriously one of the top ten most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. Picture deep valleys with colorful ranchitos (tin shacks) tucked into the base of the hills and quilt-work farming all along the ridges. They probably grow every vegetable I’ve ever heard of here. I joined a group of fifteen Dominicans working on DSTA projects around the island. The course was structured around helping the local ecoturism project create a trail to this enormous waterfall in their town. As a college student and foreigner I have been wary of the idea of coming in to a community with something to “teach” a group of people who know a lot more about what they are dealing with than I do. But receiving actual training with a bunch of Dominicans (and taught by Salvadorans) made me feel like a comfortable part of the process – an extra hand in an endeavor that needs a lot of support.
Course material: Mapping with rudimentary instruments like compasses and inclinometers (no GPSs in the campo), environmental protocols, trail-building theory, etc. The group was a mix of youth and adults, all very passionate about the topic. Here I am standing with 20-year-olds who weren’t able to attend high school all the way through, but can tell me the name of all the different types of ferns in the area: impressive. On one of my favorite days we hiked to the top of the waterfall to chart a path for the trail. Hiking is a generous term, the footing options were pretty slim. But when we got the top the view was incredible. One of the guides from Puerto Plata (northern beach town) shouted, “este es mi país!!” (THIS is my country!). Another person sighed, “coño como amo a mi pueblo.” That was amazing. Because that is the point of these ecoturism projects. More and more I am starting to believe in the philosophy of ecoturism, especially in the DR. On average an ecoturist will leave $200 in the country in comparison to the mere $10 that actually stays in the country with the all-inclusive resort model. Plus, most of the DSTA programs are directed towards the Dominican tourist, at least in the early stages (reaching an international audience is of course a long-term goal). Dominicans seem to LOVE to take vacations. On weekends sleepy mountain towns like Constanza fill up with families on motorcycles (the main mode of transportation basically everywhere). So to be helping small community projects that make Dominicans say, “wow, my country is beautiful” is a great thing. Because seriously, this place is gorgeous.
The tallest waterfall in the Caribbean - Cascada Aguas Blancas
Hanging out at the top of the waterfall
The town where the workshop took place was called El Convento, and is home to the stunning waterfall Aguas Blancas. The town has about 300 people and is much poorer than Constanza and, of course, the capital. For the site assessment (run-down of the environmental, social and logistical elements of the project) I teamed up with a few youth from the community and learned a lot about the issues with agricultural production in the area. Agriculture is the sustenance of the community, but it is certainly not a sustainable practice. They explained to me that the patches of fields I had been admiring earlier are actually the result of very aggressive agriculture practices – farming on inclines that are too steep leads to excessive deforestation, and a lack of concern for irrigation drainage that has lead to erosion on the only road that leads to the town. This making for a bumpy ride that was fun for me but certainly tedious if you depend on it, and blocks kids from getting to school in Constanza when it floods. In addition, the farmers use a lot of pesticides that get in to the waterfall and river that the community depends on for cooking/washing/etc. Despite the fact that the town has little to offer its youth, these were very enthusiastic and motivated kids.
Compass and inclinometer training
The Haitian population in the DR. A very difficult topic to take in. This came up with the community members during the site assessment, and one of the Salvadoran instructors and I had a conversation about it as we were both struggling to grasp it. My Salvadoran friend put it well when he said, “It hurts my soul. I see how the Haitian is treated in the community and I think, that is my brother! Somos de la misma piel (we are of the same skin).” Certainly the presence of a Haitian population is necessary for the agricultural production of the region/country, working the fields at very low wages. But the segregation is strong. Because the Haitians work the fields and do not necessarily feel welcome in the community, they often live higher in the mountains near the farms and the river. They are accused of being violent and unsanitary, putting their bathroom waste and trash in the river (even though the community lower in the valley does this as well - trash collection only happens every 15 days). I’m pretty sure the main reason for the tension is that Dominicans feel local jobs are undercut by Haitian workers, who are willing to work for less that a living wage. In general, the community seemed to think that just the image of a Haitian population would give the visitor a negative impression of the area. I asked them about integrating the Haitian into the community, that maybe their isolation perpetuates both their poverty and the concerns of the community. The response was something along the lines of, “they don’t live like us.”
(Truthfully this is not an issue that is new since the earthquake last year. I’m told that the tension with Haiti goes all the way back to when the Haitian empire ruled over the DR – Dominicans have historically been resentful of their subjugation to a country they feel is less civilized. This sentiment is best captured in the nation-wide genocide of the Haitian population in 1937 under the dictatorship of Trujillo.)
As a foreigner it’s hard to bring up the topic without giving off the appearance of being more-moral-than-thou, especially coming from the US where we have our own harmful perceptions and policies towards immigrants. But it’s clear that the reality of Haiti is very complicated and there is very little education about it. My heart goes out to Haiti. Even here, where they come to escape suffering at home, there is little reprieve.
And yet El Convento is a beautiful community to come in to, even for just one week. At the end of the workshop we had a bonfire in the main road of the community and everyone came out of their houses to join. The guys played bachata and merengue on the guitar into the night, while the rest of the family danced and sang and drank homemade ginger/lemongrass tea. At one point I got dragged into the community make-shift salon, and I now have the most flashy nail-job on earth (ghetto pink with shooting stars – didn’t bring any nail polish remover with me so it’s staying on for a while).
Bonfire and music for the whole community
Part of what made the group so fun was the different nationalities in the mix. Once as we were driving I mentioned to the instructors that I had been in El Salvador for the celebration of the anniversary of the Jesuit martyrs. We started talking about the Jesuits and the UCA as well as the war and some of their experiences. Everyone went quiet for a few minutes and then Lucia (the consultant from Guatemala) turned to the Salvadorans and said, “that was a very rough war for your people, no? At least for us the war didn’t come into the city.” When I realized what was happening my mind was blown a little. Here are two people from countries stricken by terrible wars that they are old enough to remember, sharing notes. And the Dominicans in the car with their own history. All this as we drove through the mountains where the rebellion against the Trujillo dictatorship started. Maybe I’ve taken in too much liberation theology but, Ay Dios santo.
I will hopefully be going out to my site this week. I will be working in a town called Jarabacoa, also in the central mountain region. There are four projects there – two communities with cabins for people to stay in, one art gallery for local artists and a group that is trying to promote a local waterfall as a hiking excursion. There’s so much to work on and I’m excited to get started! For right now I am back in Santo Domingo, where I spent my first week or so at the DSTA office. I really enjoy the people at work – youthful, competent and energetic, even if the dynamics of the organization are complicated (ask me about that later). The capital is compact, colorful, and full of noise – blaring bachata music, motoconchos (like a taxi but on a motorcycle), guys selling avocados on the street. Just take navigating the transportation scene itself: I probably wouldn’t get to work on time ever if it weren’t for benevolent old ladies that help me shove my way in to the over-packed carros publicos (basically a public taxi, 7 people minimum). On my first weekend here I caught one of the last baseball games of the season. It was an intensely Dominican scene! Reminded me of the games we would got to in Venezuela, with the noise parades around the stadium before it started. It’s an exciting place to be, but I’m looking forward to a slower pace of life in the mountains.
One last thing: BEACHES. This weekend Maura and I went out to the peninsula of Pedernales near the border of Haiti, and explored the coast just south of Barahona. All I can say is, GO THERE. Most beautiful blues I have ever seen in my life.
OK, I’m done now. Thanks for hanging in there! Besos y abrazos to all of you.
The crew!
