I caught up to him on Isaiah’s porch, intending to just quickly pop my head in the doorway to say hello to whoever happened to see me and then pop back out to hide around the corner. Isaiah came running outside and found me hiding around the corner. Right away he said what I was trying to avoid, although it wasn’t as powerful coming from a 6-year-old. “What are you doing out in “el sereno” with the baby!?”

Shortly after giving birth to our son in 2009, I learned about something that I had never heard of before in my life in the U.S. or the Dominican Republic. As soon as I tried to walk outside after dusk with my newborn, I was told to get back in the house and met with warnings of “el sereno” in Spanish and “seren an” in Haitian Creole. It is apparently a dangerous something in the air or sky that comes with nightfall that newborn babies and women who have recently given birth should not go out in. They also should not go outside, not even for a minute, if the sky is cloudy at any time of the day.

What will happen if they do? The baby will become sick and his or her yellow poop will turn very dark or green. Even the doctor won’t know how to get rid of it. And the mother will also become sick with one of the main symptoms being a headache. If mother and baby should need to go outside they should be sure to move quickly and to bundle up with socks, hats, long sleeves, the whole works… in August… in the Caribbean.

Now, I tested this a bit in 2009, disobeying and going outside after nightfall. The apartment we lived in at that time was in a pretty scarcely populated area. Therefore, I could get away with it without too much nagging. I am not sure if it was a placebo effect or not, but I do think I observed some of the symptoms after spending time in “el sereno” one evening. The symptoms included my son having darker poop, although it went away quickly.

On Sept. 10th, 2011 I gave birth to our second child, a baby girl. We now live in an area with many neighbors nearby. Our apartment that we live in is also hotter and smaller than the last one. So I have found it impossible to stay inside to avoid “el sereno” and the nagging neighbors that will criticize me for being outside in it and taking the baby out.

At our fifteen-day check-up I asked the pediatrician what “el sereno” was. He said that it waas nothing. Just don’t take the baby outside if it’s raining or cold. I then began responding to my neighbors with this response the doctor gave when they said, “What are you doing out in “el sereno” with the baby? That sereno will harm both you and the baby!”

When I tell them what the doctor said, they just sort of look at me and go on their way. Or sometimes I respond by asking, “What is ‘el sereno’?” No one has really given me a good answer yet. They say, it’s something in the sky or just don’t respond at all. Sometimes after I contest them in some way they look up into the sky as though they are looking to see how severe “el sereno” is at the moment and whether it is light enough to allow me to stay outside.

People often make comments about the weather, the air and their dangerous effects. I have always been confused, coming from a place that has at least a 100 degree Fahrenheit temperature difference throughout the course of the year as opposed to the perhaps 50 degree difference here. I have been told, not by scientific or medical experts, that things are not the same here and that air pressures and temperatures change very quickly, which is what is dangerous. I am not sure if there is any truth to this or not.

I will consider most claims and thoughts, even if I don’t understand them, but I oppose being ordered around with little proof of the danger of something. I often want to reply by reminding people that my daughter was born perfectly healthy despite daily comments that she would be hurt or killed because I carried around my son so much late into pregnancy. People repeatedly removed his knee from where it rested on the top of my stomach and argued that it would squish her head. I replied that the ultrasounds had shown that her head had been down for weeks. I’m not sure if anyone is starting to give me a little liberty to make my own such decisions after seeing that she was born without any harm. I also argue that fresh air is healthy for a baby as opposed to being shut up in a small and hot apartment all of the time. Nonetheless, I search for the best way to communicate without upsetting anyone.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

The frequency of high blood pressure, specifically among women, is a little easier to understand. Many women living in extreme poverty seem top have little else to take pleasure in other than preparing, eating, and sharing food. They often cook with lots of oil and salt. Exercise is not really a part of their culture but they more so think to conserve energy and stay out of the sun. They see the hard toll that is taken on the bodies of construction workers and associate exercise with excess, back-breaking labor.

Project Esperanza boys pose with their soda at the end of season soccer party. December 2011.

As far as the prevalence of diabetes, I have observed that I have a heightened desire to drink soda while living in this country, and other expats have shared the same observations. I think it has something to do with the heat, sweating, and the consequential loss of sodium, although I am not sure. Most people living in extreme poverty purchase food at a small neighborhood grocery store called a colmado. As far as sweet products are concerned, colmados always sell juices, sodas, and varieties of candy.

Colmados are less likely to sell fresh fruits, possibly because they are perishable and if they don’t sell quickly, the store will lose money. I would say that the presence of fresh fruits for sale in colmados is directly related to the level of poverty of the neighborhood with the poorest neighborhoods being the least likely to sell fresh fruits.

I personally find that fresh fruits and natural fruit juices satisfy the same desire as soda but more fruit or juice is needed to do so. Washing, peeling, and cutting fruit is a lot less convenient than drinking a soda, especially when running water is only available one day a week, as is the case in our community. Access to a refrigerator also makes a big difference in this situation. I have not done any research yet to read any potential theories behind the prevalence of diabetes among the lower class here, but am just sharing my personal observations through living in the same or comparable situations.

Finally, many times people who don’t have money to buy meat or other foods that would normally accompany rice get used to preparing heaping servings of white rice to satisfy their hunger. White rice can be mixed with a little pasta or with beans if money is available. I assume that this 100% carbohydrate meal (in the absence of beans) could contribute to diabetes as well because of all of the simple sugars that carbs are composed of. I know of many Haitians who, for their lunch during a day of work, buy a packet of powdered juice, ice, and a few pieces of white bread. Wheat bread can be found in bakeries and supermarkets but you hardly ever find it in colmados. This quick and simple meal doesn’t require the time, energy, effort, or money that bending over a charcoal stove for hours does, but likely causes one’s health to deteriorate over the long run.

With the high amount of men who come to the Dominican Republic in search of work without wives, mothers, or anyone to cook for them during their search or work days, the challenges and threats to their lives are anything but few.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

Among Haitian women, I have learned that they have learned and been trained to somehow remove feelings of jealousy when their husbands start second and third families with other women. I have seen several situations where the woman is criticized for expressing feelings of jealousy, rather than the man being criticized for adultery. What I felt when witnessing this for the first time was perhaps the most upside down and confused I had ever felt… as though human nature was being completely skewed.

I conclude that if men are taught or influenced or allowed to seek more than one wife and women are taught to remove feelings and actions of jealousy then love is removed from the family structure, trust is non-existent, and the family is completely unstable. With families being one of the most basic building blocks of society, society as a whole, therefore, lacks stability. Perhaps this is one factor behind the instability of Haitian society although I do not mean to say that all Haitians practice this. From Dominican society I have experienced and witnessed more sexual harassment whereas from Haitian society I have witnessed more gender inequality.

The Chinese have a great point with the yin yang symbol, representing interconnected and interdependent polar opposites in the natural world, including male and female. Machismo really creates a lack of balance where men, in an attempt to be masculine, go overboard to the point that they actually do weak and childish things: abandoning responsibilities, lacking self-control, acting victimized when they themselves are abusive, and more. Women, then, are forced to fill in the man’s role if they are to hold things together. It is really quite a mess.

I conclude that the reason this practice continues when it has negatively affected society throughout history is due to the fear of those involved. Sons are afraid to stand up against the practice and may end up practicing it as well when they have already lived through its destruction themselves. Wives are afraid to address the situation head on, open their hearts, and let their jealousy and bravery run wild to protect their families and marriage despite the criticisms of others. Men who live such lifestyles must be afraid of appearing weak or inadequate to just one wife and family, causing them to seek multiple. Neighbors and extended family are afraid to go against the grain and continually stand up against this practice. However, I do believe that there is a simple, yet simultaneously difficult and complicated solution that is declared in 1 John 4:18.

“There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.”

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

In the U.S. we have American football and professional wrestling to quench people’s thirst for confict and violence. Here in the Dominican Republic the common equivalent activities are cock fighting and beta fish fighting. On any given day I can find six neighbor boys gathered in the shared backyard with several little jars of beta fish, one containing two that they have put together to fight and are stirring the water to agitate. On the streets, many bistanders get a huge kick out of fights that break out between people. People flock, laugh, stare, and don’t even try to hide their enjoyment. A few weeks ago there was a woman in a rage up the street throwing rocks. I didn’t see it but overheard a flock of motorcycle taxis talking about it, then took off one by one to observe, then returned back to their taxi posts with commentary. About a week later there was a man along the same street chucking cinder blocks out of his house, smashing them onto the street. I did see this from a distance. In both these cases, I don’t know what was the cause of the emotional outbursts.

Just recently, my husband, son, and I were coming back from an eventful morning ourselves in our vehicle when we were blocked by a fight on the street that passed in front of our apartment. This street is lined on one side with a perhaps ten foot drop off into a creek. There are no barriers or guardrails lining the sidewalk or street and ridiculously unstable looking little bridges are found all along the creek to allow people to pass to houses on the other side of the creek. There were two Haitian women grabbing onto each other’s heads and hair moving from one of the rickety bridges into the street. A large crowd surrounded. We stopped in front and I believe my husband Jireste and I had similar thoughts. We looked to see if the crowd was breaking up the fight or not. We soon realized that they were not making much effort to do so so Jireste jumped out of the car and pulled the more aggressive of the women off of the other, giving the other time to run away. Jireste probably weighs about 140 pounds but both of these women were a bit hefty and solid …probably at least 160 or 170 pounds each. And she put up a fight for him to pull them apart. He held onto her in an attempt to keep the fight separated but several bistanders told him to let her go so she did. As soon as she was free, the woman started in the direction of the other and another woman cornered Jireste, asking him why he had split them up. He passed her and got back in the car. As he did so, an elderly man with many teeth missing and a huge grin on his face told Jireste that when people are fighting, don’t split them up, as he excitedly made his way down the street to follow the action.

We passed through the rest of the crowd quickly as we were in a vehicle and they were on foot, and made it in front of the hunter. The hunted was standing on a street corner watching and then quickly getting on her way as she saw the hunter come running full speed, now with a stick in her hand. Jireste jumped out of the parked car and ran to meet the hunter, which he did. As he grabbed her she dramatically fell to the ground and laid in the street. He took the stick out of her hand and threw it into the grass. A few of the fastest of the crowd gathered around her as she laid there in defeat. Jireste got back in the car and started down a different back street. We could see behind us that the hunter had gotten back up, grabbed a glass bottle, and was again on her way. We quickly arrived at a small group of houses where Jireste asked if the hunted had arrived but she had not. She had gone to hide somewhere else apparently. So we backtracked to the main road. When we passed the hunter, Jireste let her know that the other was not home and that she could give up. She looked straight ahead, determined, clenching the bottle in her hand. A large crowd of at least fifty people followed her gleefully, mostly adults. At this point we just drove through the crowd and got a kick out of observing the individuals taking part in this mayhem.

It has always been a rule in our home and the program for Haitian boys here that when people fight, we are not to enjoy and encourage but always to separate or encourage the two to stop fighting. I used to specifically get on one boy who used to laugh and clap every time there was a fight and he took my nagging to mind and truly did change. I now have seen him separate any number of fights, never again engaging in one himself. He has become quite the peacemaker.

It is especially important for expats to take on the peacemaker role when visiting developing countries such as the Dominican Republic and Haiti. We can do this by either encouraging peace when the opportunity is right, by stepping in when the time is right, or by keeping quiet and stepping out when the time is right. Unfortunately, I’ve witnessed here and heard the account of the opposite on a many occasions. There are various tourist excursions who lead tourists through local communities on horseback, four wheelers, horse drawn carriages, go-karts, and even monster trucks.

Sometimes tourists taking part on these excursions wish to give candy or money to the impoverished community members. However, this is often trickier than one may assume. Sometimes people throw items out in a way that causes locals to fight over them. To make matters worse, sometimes excursion guides or participants videotape the fight that has broken out due to the sensitive situation. Many Haitians in Puerto Prince after the earthquake testified to American soldiers doing similar things when distributing donated food supplies. I don’t believe that this is a peacemaking attitude but more so a conflict creating attitude. Mistakes can be made out of ignorance but with sensitivity and thoughtfulness, we can visit such countries with a clearer message of peace.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

When beginning one of the grassroots schools Project Esperanza runs that educates Haitian immigrant children, the director of the school kept explaining that he wanted to start a school for the Haitian kids that walk the streets because “Education is what brings one from an animal life to a civilized life.” Many times when someone does something destructive or embarrassing, others who do not behave in such ways say that person has not undergone formation. I think that explanation really does make sense. There is something that hasn’t been developed or formed in the person through education and discipline.

A broken bottle such as this is often used as a weapon in preparation for a fight.

We have seen drastic improvements in such behavior among individuals we work with but it definitely does not happen overnight. Any habit takes time to change and these habits are no different. I remember when we first began our program for Haitian street kids in 2006 and we introduced the game musical chairs. I first explained the game, but it really caught on when we played. The students realized the concept of the missing chair and the person getting out each round, and became very excited and involved. The group of us volunteers pondered afterward, realizing that if these boys had not been in school, Boy Scouts, an organized sports team, or any real organized activity, they would have had a different type of development compared to ours.

I remember shortly after we opened the boys’ home, discovered many behavior problems, and addressed the issue by creating house principles. Trying to get everyone to sit and listen as we went over the principles was impossible. So we locked the house up after a soccer game and prepared lunch inside. We didn’t open the doors to serve lunch until after the principles had been reviewed. It took a few hours because there were frequent rebellions.

This was how things started. I know that this would never happen again to this extent because we have a strong group of changed young men who set a different example. But it took a long time, a lot of patience, and lots of repetitive attempts, dialogue, and correction to reach this point. It also took undergoing a lot of criticism. There are Dominicans who have no patience for such undisciplined Haitians and oppose the efforts (not that all Dominicans are disciplined by any means, but I believe their problems more generally lie in corruption nowadays rather than unruly behavior). Then there are foreign volunteers and visitors as well as local observers who want to blame the leadership for this behavior. As co-founder and director of Project Esperanza, this ultimately leads to me. Comments are made such as,

“Don’t let them do that.”

“You should tell them x,y,z.”

“You should have rules.”

or

“Do something!”

To this I say, “Not everything is under one’s control. Some things take time, patience, and lots of repetition. Progress is relative and it’s important for people to understand where something began to realize the successes that have been achieved. Money spent on repairing broken material items or purchasing products sold by street vendors is of less value than the development of human beings. People have to be loved before or at least while they are being firmly disciplined or they will have harbored anger, mistrust, and no real change will occur. So let’s be a part of the solution and not the problem. Have faith, patience, and love. This will change all things.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

My husband, son, and I took two trips (in our vehicle as we live in the Dominican Republic) to Haiti in 2010. You can read more about them in the post A Tribute to Those We’ve Lost.

Viola’s disappearance

After the second trip, I found out that my dog had disappeared. I got Viola as an 11 week old puppy on a volunteer spay and neuter trip in Viola, Tennessee right at the end of my freshman year at Virginia Tech in 2004.

She slept in my bed, sat on my lap in the car, and was a very trusty, obedient, and loyal little dog… a 20-something pound black-with-brown-trim, short-haired, perhaps Miniature Daschund and some other breeds mix.

She never went far from home. She had come to the Dominican Republic with me twice and I moved down with her in 2008. She had lived in the boys’ home in its various locations throughout 2007 and 2008 and faced all of the mayhem there with me.

When we went on our first trip to Haiti for 16 days, she stayed right by our apartment in a wooded community and neighbors gave her food I had left for her.

This second trip just lasted a week. When we returned, neighbors said that they had not seen her after the first day we left. One neighbor had searched all around for her without any sign. I then searched all around for her and placed an ad in a newspaper.

I also confronted a man who had taken a semi-stray (there were people who cared for this dog and were upset) and gifted her to someone else, assuming that he had taken Viola in the same way. He denied doing so.

I knew, though, that someone had taken her, as people do that here at times. However, on top of the losses of the boys who had passed away, I felt so persecuted and discouraged.

Viola’s return

Months later, a boy that has been involved in our program since 2006 came back from spending time in Haiti and asked where Viola was. I was sad to tell him at first and ignored the topic, but then eventually told him what had happened.

Some time passed, and he came over joyfully one day, telling me he had found Viola.

He explained the part of town where she was and said we would plan a way to take her back.

Others thought this boy was lying because he often does tell random lies or makes mistakes, but I had hope. We drove by the place one time and didn’t see her. We then spoke to a man who lived nearby about it and he began keeping an eye out for her.

A few days before Christmas he said that there was a man in that apartment building with a little black dog and described her. My husband now grew hopeful as well as the description did sound like her. On Christmas night, we went and tried again.

We pulled into the apartment building complex. We saw some people sitting under the car port. I asked if we should talk to them and was told no.

We just looked around. We then started pulling back out and I got discouraged. “What good did this do?” I asked.

Viola in her new pink collar after her return.

She danced and hesitated around the car, going from one side to the other.

“Where is she?!” I kept asking.

“There she is!” my husband exclaimed.

I looked and although it was dark and she was a bit far, there was definitely Viola standing in a little field, looking at us. I called to her and she came running. We threw the doors open. “Get in the car! Come on Viola!” She danced and hesitated around the car, going from one side to the other.

I handed him our 16 month old son (people don’t use car seats here), jumped out, grabbed her, and got back in the car.

We then took off and rearranged as we got back out on the road. I spent the rest of the 5 minute ride home rejoicing!

After 8 months away, Viola is home! The thieves or those that got Viola from the thieves took good care of her. She’s very well fed.

So the moral of this Christmas surprise is, no matter what your situation, don’t give up esperanza. And we know that Esperanza Means Hope.

For one thing, it was warm. Secondly, there are no coniferous trees on the island, so there are no natural Christmas trees. Some people, mainly Dominicans, do get artificial trees and decorate them. Some string lights, but it is very few compared to what you see in the U.S. There is also no mall here with a Santa Claus and I have not actually seen any chimneys. The biggest change in Puerto Plata during the holidays are palm leaf huts that pop up in the streets where people sell mainly apples, oranges, and bundles of hanging grapes.

When talking about Christmas, everyone refers to December 24th, not the 25th. Leading up to the date last year, I thought that Christmas was just celebrated on the 24th. It turns out that Christmas Eve is a put-on-new-clothes and party big kind of day, but the following day is spent with loved ones, eating a big meal. With roasted pigs on large sticks sold all around town, this eating and family time goes on until New Year’s Day, at least for Haitians that is.

I recently shared the story of Santa Claus with five young men in our program for Haitian boys who have come to the Dominican Republic in “search of life” and end up in pretty tough situations shining shoes or street vending. One of the boys mentioned “Tonton Noel” in reference to a decoration on a nearby house, which means “Uncle Noel” in Haitian Creole. This is how Santa Claus is referred to. I began talking about Tonton Noel and as it grew quiet, I realized they didn’t know anything about him.

Wanted: Santa Claus. Photo via Flickr user kevindooley (Creative Commons)

I told them how he looks and dresses. I explained that he carries a big red sack full of gifts and visits every house in the world in one night. I told them about reindeer, although they’ve never seen deer before. At one point, the youngest member of the group interrupted to talk about another matter. He was quickly hushed. “Don’t you see she’s talking?” someone said in an agitated way. I was amused as I realized that they were into this.

The chimney explanation was a little difficult as I had to describe what it was, along with a fireplace. When I finished saying that Santa Claus enters the house, one boy commented that he would beat him up if he found that guy in his house. I reminded him that he was bringing presents and informed them that they should not beat him up, but rather, leave out milk and cookies instead. They laughed.

It makes sense, though, that he would react with thoughts of beating Santa Claus up. I have often been told by the boys about people in Haiti who turn into a creature called a “galpot,” which jumps or flies across rooftops and eats babies. (My husband’s grandmother was accused of being a galpot, which of course, was strongly denied.) Many Haitians are also distrusting. This causes them to be cautious when it comes to eating other people’s food, not knowing whether or not the giver is trustworthy, something harmful was added, or the food is being given with negative intentions. With this cultural knowledge, it makes sense that Santa Claus landing on rooftops — entering homes and offering gifts — would appear suspicious.

One young man asked where Santa Claus got the gifts from. I was able to tie the story into things they had learned in geography and explained the North Pole. I didn’t know the word for elf in Creole or if there even is one, but luckily we all knew the word in Spanish from reading and watching The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I then realized I had forgotten to tell about stockings and the concept of “naughty and nice.” Everyone, myself included, laughed when I said those who misbehaved received a lump of coal in their “sock,”  as charcoal is what the boys and many Haitians use to cook on a daily basis. I thought about how growing up, I associated the lump of coal with summer cookouts on a grill, but now I associate it with everyday cooking on a small aluminum stove called a “recho.”

Lastly, I realized that the concept of punishing the naughty and rewarding the nice, which our program has introduced and tried to reinforce, was actually a somewhat foreign concept to the boys.  It seems as though the boys are used to a system where the strongest, hardest, trickiest, and most forceful find rewards, but genuine good behavior often just leaves one more susceptible to abuse and being taken advantage of.

But after reviewing the story, we all seemed a bit in awe and comfort at the idea of Good Old St. Nick.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.

Most were here without family and some were living in abusive situations. Many had never learned to read or write, but had survival and math skills from dealing with money. This census led us to begin a program to serve these boys. Within a year we were running a day program, residential program, school, and soccer team. These remain central to our work, although we continually partner with and support other initiatives in the Haitian community, as well as have developed more programs.

Anol and I, August 2007

Leading up to 2010, I was thankful that we had not lost any boys. We had encountered some sickness, a good bit of violence, and other negative practices, but nothing had gotten too serious. However, I regret to report that we lost two boys in 2010, along with a third special recipient of our services.

Anol was a joyful part of our program ever since we conducted the street census. He was silly, hard-working, and loyal. But he was very small and frail. After becoming sick in 2008, he found out he was diabetic. We helped him out with diet and insulin. However, as he was not a member of our residential program, there was a limit to the amount we could monitor his diet. He seemed to receive advice from various sources and had trouble knowing what to do but he did his best, as did we given limited resources. For Christmas of 2009, he went to visit his family in Haiti. When he returned in January he would enter into our residential program. Ironically, he passed away at his mother’s house on the same day as the Port-au-Prince earthquake, although his family lives in the north and encountered no earthquake damage. I was in disbelief. We traveled to his mother’s house and found out that the news was true. Rest in peace Anol. You’ve left a hole that no other can fill and we miss you.

Etyenn at soccer practice, July 2008

Etyenn began participating in our soccer team during the summer of 2008, right when he first came to the country. As the season ended and school began, he was not included in the residential program but my husband and I often ran into him while he was shining shoes. One day I ran into him on the street, and he was talking very strangely, fearing for his life and repeating that he didn’t do anything. At this point, I brought him to stay at the boys’ home. He soon fell deep into a mental illness that left him unable to speak, feed himself, or control bodily functions. He had a miraculous recovery for a few months, but regressed after returning to his father’s house in Haiti. We saw him after visiting Anol’s mother. We found him outside of his house (where no one was home) frail, naked, unable to walk, and talking nonsense. We began caring for him and encouraging neighbors to do the same. It was days before we saw a family member. We returned to the Dominican Republic but went back two months later to find he had already passed away. Rest in peace Etyenn.

Our third loss is someone I have written about twice in my other posts, “Our Smallest Patient” and “A Hard Life Creates Hard Hearts.” Baby Adlen passed away this past weekend at four months of age from diarrhea and a fever. His mother, trying to prevent his death, went to search for someone who could loan her transportation money to take him to the hospital. When she returned, he had passed away. He was buried that day. Rest in peace Baby Adlen.

These losses have taken a hard toll on me. Idealism and realism seem to battle inside of me. Voices of those who have criticized my idealism with “realist” protests echo in my mind. However, I realize that we humans are the ones who create reality. There may be limits and everything does not happen overnight, but we do have a bigger role here than perhaps we realize. If we bring some active idealism to the parts of the world that have it the hardest, the reality will become more ideal there. But it’s a fight. I’ve learned that I have to continue to work to change reality and not let the reality change me.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza. For more about her experiences, check out her blog.

Woman from Muñoz Women's Group holding a bracelet she made.

Here in the Dominican Republic, God is referred to in public conversation in a much different manner. He is more referred to as an undoubted authority. When making future plans, one always finishes with the phrase, “If God wants.” This is true whether one is speaking Spanish, (“Si Dios quiere”), or Haitian Creole, (“Si Bondye vle”). I used to forget to finish my future plans with this phrase and was corrected often early on. After stating what I would do tomorrow or simply saying that I would see someone tomorrow I would get corrected with, “No. It’s ” ‘Tomorrow if God wants.’ ”

The reason behind these different cultural attitudes toward God as portrayed by speech about God in daily public conversations is undoubtedly due to the different living conditions of the two countries. Compared to the U.S., everything here is slower, less convenient, and just more difficult. One relies much less on financial security or systematized security by the armed forces or the government. After realizing the seemingly vulnerable and unprotected situation in which you live, you are left to either live a stressful and fearful life or to recognize God’s presence.

Most, if not all, religions I have encountered on this island fall into either some form of Christianity or witchcraft and Satanic worship: two extremes. There is much to be said about the differences between these two extremes but when it comes to daily public conversations, details as to points of argument between religions and denominations are not a factor. The assumed common knowledge is this: God is good. He is in control. Recognize his authority. Go with God. Vaya con Dios. Ale avek Bondye.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza. For more about her experiences, check out her blog. For more on God’s presence in Latin America, check out “Working on Working with Dios,“  “Two Questions I Don’t Like to Answer,” “Loaded Questions on Wheels: Politics and God,“  “Volunteering at a Religious Organization When You’re Not Religious,” and “Drug Trafficking and Fear.”

A statue of Christopher Columbus in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic.

Growing up in the U.S., I got used to talking about race or describing someone by their skin color in a careful manner, afraid to offend someone or say something wrong.

This inhibition has been eradicated after spending over two years in the Dominican Republic where a person’s skin color is used as a descriptive adjective as freely, if not more freely, than their shirt color. In both Spanish and Haitian Creole people are constantly referred to as black, brown, red, or white with, in Spanish, several words for varying shades of brown. This blog gives a quick look at the history of the island and as a result of the history, its current racial and cultural composition.

The Dominican Republic shares the island of Hispañola with Haiti in the Dominican Republic. It occupies the eastern two thirds of the country where Haiti occupies the western third. Christopher Columbus landed on the island during his first voyage in 1492 as all students here know. The land was inhabited by native Taino “Indians” who were quickly killed off as the Spanish settled. Later the French took over the western third which became Haiti. Both sides took part in the slave trade enslaving West Africans to work on sugar plantations, etc. Haiti’s slavery ended in a revolution and genocide of white people in the country, making it the first black republic and the first country overthrown and led by former slaves. On the Dominican side, slavery never was quite as dominant and brutal and apparently eventually phased out.

Therefore, Haitians often appear to be straight from West Africa whereas Dominicans seem to have an array of varying percentages of Spanish and African influence. Race and social class are definitely linked as the whiter citizens are normally members of the higher social class. However, times are changing and although racism still lingers, it seems to be less of an issue as it was earlier in history. Well before the recent earthquake that brought significant damage to Haiti’s capital Port-au-Prince, Haitians were crossing the border in “search of life” in the Dominican Republic. Both countries are considered developing nations but the economy in the Dominican Republic is quite a bit more active than the slow economy in Haiti.

Caitlin McHale is currently living in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic as the co-founder and executive director of Project Esperanza.For more about her experiences, check out her blog.