Race

A blog post by Adam. I woke up a week ago Sunday to the unfortunate verdict in the Trayvon Martin murder case. Given all I had read over the previous three weeks, I wasn't surprised. In fact I would have been shocked if the jury had found George Zimmerman guilty. Still, I was disappointed. Reflecting on racism in the US made me think about race in the Dominican Republic.

Much like in the US, race isn't a very popular discussion topic here. It has come up on a few rare occasions. For example, one of Melissa's teachers in Santo Domingo denied that racism existed in the DR. And then there was the time our socialist host brother talked about the racist policies of Trujillo, claiming that Trujillo would have killed our host father had he been in the wrong place at the wrong time simply because our host father is too Black. Our host father politely disagreed with his son's assertions. Sometime later, at the Museum of the Dominican Man, our tour guide and Melissa's professor talked about how they both had really "bad" kinky hair. We tried to disagree but they said we couldn't understand because we had "good" hair. Since this last interaction more than a month ago, I've had very discussions about race with Dominicans.

So, strange as it may seem, I've learned most of what I know about race in the DR from a book written by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. of Harvard. The book is interesting although it seems to be based on a trip to the DR that was at most one week long (how much can you really learn about such a complex topic in such a sort time?) Among the book's most fascinating claims is that the majority of Dominicans define their race as Indio (Indian), despite the fact that within 100 years of Columbus' arrival to Hispaniola, there were no Indigenous people alive on the island. By American standards most people here today would be Black, but according to book, nobody wants to define themselves as Black (that's a term reserved for Haitians), so instead people identify as Indio.

I asked someone at the clinic about this, and he said he himself identified as white. He acknowledged that in the US he would clearly be African American, but because he had pale skin he was white in the DR. When asked about the term "Indio," he said it didn't actually mean "Indian" but was just a descriptive word for brown skin. He followed this up by saying that racism didn't exist in the DR, and that what might first seem to be racism was really just classism. Dominicans don't like Haitians not because they're Black, but because they're poor and from Haiti.  I wasn't convinced....

On my first day at the clinic where I'm volunteering, a man stopped me in the waiting room and asked if I would talk to him about his illness. I informed him that I wasn't a doctor and couldn't help him. I tried to convince him that the clinic's doctors were experts in their field and could provide excellent care. He said he didn't trust Dominican doctors, but realizing he was getting nowhere with me, decided to go ahead and wait for a Dominican doctor. Did he stop to talk to me because my clothes screamed successful physician or because I was white? If you've seen my wardrobe, you should be able to answer this question without thinking.

Then a few days ago, Melissa and I went to a see the local basketball team play - the Cañeros del Este. Last year they were Dominican champions. This year they are in last place. Still, we wanted to show our support, and so we bought the cheapest tickets they had - $2.50 per ticket. The arena was pretty empty, and we arrived early, so we wandered a bit and inquired about buying some Cañeros T-shirts. We were directed upstairs where we found nothing for sale. A few minutes later the man we first asked about the T-shirts told us to return downstairs. When we arrived downstairs we were handed two free shirts and directed to the VIP section of the stands, one row up from the court. It may have been the best $2.50 value of my entire life.

Adam poses with VIP swag from a recent Cañeros game.

With a nearly empty stadium, the upgrade to courtside seats made sense, but why give us free T-shirts? What made us VIPs? Could it be that we're white? 

I know the person I had spoken to at the clinic would say I received special treatment because I was American, but would I have received the same treatment if I was African-American? Would the patient in the clinic have approached me if I was Black? To both of these questions I think the answer is no - sadly both in the DR and the US.

Welcome to Guaymate

A blog post by Melissa. I'm officially into my second week with 180 Degrees (http://180grados.info/en/our-work/) in Guaymate. I take a "guagua" or small bus for 45 minutes out of La Romana each day to get to the 180 Degrees office. The environment in Guaymate is absolutely stunning. There are acres upon acres of canefields with a backdrop of rolling hills, lush greenery and tropical fruit trees. The air here is cooler and fresher than La Romana.

Photo from 180 Degrees facebook site.

But if you scratch just a little bit beyond its beautiful surface, Guaymate has a darker side. The children born in the bateys to Haitian parents identify themselves as Dominicans, although they are not recognized by the government or by other Dominicans as such. As Adam had described in his blog about the protest in Santo Domingo, having the proper documentation in the DR is a big deal. Without documents, youth (ages 30 and younger) of Haitian parents are unable to go to high school or university. This makes it very difficult to get out of the intergenerational cycle of working in the canefields.

I have been out in the bateys for most of my time and staff are introducing me to the locals. I really stand out, since white folks rarely visit this part of the DR. One infant was frightened of me because he hadn't seen a white person before. The cane workers, live in their communities provided by the sugar plantation as long as they are working in the fields. They are paid enough money to buy some, but not all of their food. They are indentured servants. Yet, the residents tell me that the conditions in the bateys are better than the living conditions in Haiti.

In each batey, the population ranges anywhere from a couple hundred to 800 people, depending on whether they are cutting cane or not. They access water from 2-3 taps that are centrally located in the community. The community members bring buckets of this water into their homes for all their needs since there is no plumbing. The water is not safe to drink and they must somehow treat the water (boil, filter or treat with chlorine) or buy bottled water. All of these options are expensive and since families usually cannot afford it, they drink contaminated water and diarrhea, dehydration and malnutrition are common.



Here a young woman fills up water containers for her family from this batey's tap. Photo from 180 Degrees staff. 

When I was talking with one of the staff at 180 Degrees he said that he thought if the owner of the plantation was aware of the living conditions, he would help them immediately. Unfortunately, I think the owners of the plantations are well aware of the living conditions and benefit greatly from their cheap source of labor. A "good" cane worker can cut two tons of cane in one day. Cane workers are paid $2.25 (American dollars) per ton they cut. The next harvest will be in November.


Men harvest cane by hand with machetes and load the cane into mule wagons. Men work as long as they are physically able. This is a picture of a man from the 180 Degrees website. He is over 60 years old. The resiliency of human beings is unbelievable at times. Many cane workers have lost toes and fingers from years of working with a machete.

A wedding and a root canal

A blog post by Melissa. Last week we were in LA for Seth and Ngoc's wedding (Seth=Adam's cousin). The Halperns had a strong presence in the wedding festivities. At the rehearsal dinner, five people from Adam's family gave toasts out of nine toasts (in case you're wondering there are five people in Adam's family). Then we were the only ones who signed up to entertain the bride and groom. We read them limericks. What happened? Did we scare everyone away? The wedding was beautiful, atop a hill in Malibu overlooking the Pacific. Seth and Ngoc did it their own way, incorporating spiritual beliefs from several different religions and personal vows. It all played out beautifully.

The wedding was a great chance to catch up with Adam's family and meet member's from Beth's side of the family. The day after Seth's wedding, Beth's cousin Bernie took us for a hike with a view of downtown LA, then he and his wife Sandy had us over for bagels and lox, which you might be surprised to find out there is not a lot of in the DR. It was DELICIOUS.

The next day, Adam and I left for Seattle and had time for dinner with his Aunt Margaret and Uncle Sid that evening. We know that their days are limited and we were happy that we both got to spend more time with them. Ron and Lois hosted us at their place and stayed up late talking with us to catch up. The next morning, I had my long awaited root canal, which was painful but also a relief after a two month long toothache. The dentist commented that he, too, had been in the DR at a resort playing golf. The whole conversation at the dentist's office was a bit surreal. The price of my procedure was several times what a sugar cane worker makes annually in the DR.

I was in Seattle less than 24 hours and right after the root canal, Adam and I headed south. He went to Olympia, while I drove on to Oregon to see my side of the family. I was even able to get in a "water kids" class with my niece.

Emma was ready for her dips when she put on her goggles.

After brief visits with family,we were back in LA, boarding the plane to The DR. I thought about all the places we have seen in such a short time. We started our journey on April 13th. Ten flights later we have been to Germany, Israel, the Palestinian Territories, Jordan, the Dominican Republic, the US then back to the DR. People seem to want the same basic things, like peace, safety, good health and a community where they can thrive. Our ability to achieve these things is mainly (with exceptions, of course) on where we are born and who our parents are. Does that mean that people in this world with safety, peace and a community have an obligation to raise up others around them up? And if not, why not? I don't really have any answers to this, but since it's impossible to help everyone, I think about people I have helped and people I have not. How did I make distinctions about who was deserving and undeserving of my support? All social workers wrestle with these questions day in and day out, but there are no logical answers. Adam and I have met many people who inspired us and made us ask questions of ourselves and how we want to live our lives. During our journey, life was made so much simpler just by having easy access to clean water, and this is simply not a reality for the Bedouin we met, and for so many people in the Dominican Republic.

As we move on to the next phase of this trip, which is to volunteer work for the next 8 months, I will take people's stories with me. With any hope, I will learn from them.