Early this afternoon me and three medical students were returning to my little, mountain pueblo in the Dominican Republic from our trip to a rural region of Haiti. I leaned back in the car and asked them what they thought about what we had just seen.
One of them said that returning here made him feel both angry and guilty because of the extreme poverty and hopelessness he saw in Haiti.
I made it a point to say, "You do realize that we are in a poor part of a 3rd world country <b>right now</b>, right?"
It's important to keep some perspective.
We took a health survey of houses near my pueblo yesterday.
One of the houses was about 2 kilometers from the nearest road. We
had to hike to get there. It was a one room house with 12 people living
in it. One of the kids had obvious signs of malnutricion (for instance,
his hair had begun to lose color).
There was no kitchen or bathroom (or even a latrine). No electricity
or running water. And worst of all, no floor in the house. Only dirt.
Almost everyone there had been born and raised in that house. Most of
whom were less than 12 years old. Their normal diets didn't include
fruits, vegetables, or meat, just rice and yucca.
And yet this wasn't unusual. We visit several more houses that day
without floors, bathrooms or running water. Where the adults in the
house couldn't even remember the names of all the people living there,
much less their ages. Where no one had incomes of any kind.
And still you need to put this into perspective. Because even this
situation looked relatively wealthy compared to what we just saw in
Haiti.
In Haiti, kids spent much of their time waiting alongside the dirt
road for a car to come by to beg from. One woman offered to sell her
baby to us as we drove by. Malnutricion is the rule, not the exception.
Even the landscape was depressing. It was dry and without shade from
the tropical sun. Most of the trees had been cut down, and it seemed
like its been months since the last rain. It's amazing how much things
can change in just a couple kilometers.
None of the houses had floors, electricity, running water, or much of anything other than a zinc roof.
I know its going to take me several days to get over this visit
emotionally (it did last time too). So I totally understand why the
medical student said what he did.
When I call my family in The States I try to explain what I saw,
but I know that there is no way that they could ever understand.
During my last visit to The States in November I had several instances of reverse culture-shock.
One example is how everyone is so damn scared of everything in
America. The TV tells them to be afraid of something, and, guess what?
They are! Everyone is afraid of losing what little they have.
In my community there is none of that fear. You see, the worst has
already happened. You don't have anything to lose, so why be afraid of
losing stuff now? It's a very liberating feeling, actually.
Another example is how people in America get all uptight over stupid shit that isn't important.
So the f*ck what if someone cut you off in traffic? So the f*ck what
if you couldn't buy some stupid piece of sh*t that you don't really
need? So the f*ck what if your favorite sports team lost? So the f*ck
what if your favorite politician got made a fool of?
Does any of that really f*cking matter?
Please allow me to give you a free clue: I see more smiles here in my poor pueblo than The States.
People are nicer here than in The States.
People are more willing to share what little they have here than in The States.
The reason is because once you scrape away all the bullsh*t and get down to what really matters, you discover that stuff just gets in the way of happiness.
What really matters is people. Your friends. Your loved-ones. Your family. Everything else is just a distraction.
It sounds like a cliche, but it is more true than many people realize.
Maybe I'm a little bit emotional right now (probably am), and my
english is probably piss-poor because I've been speaking spanish all
week, but I think most Americans could use a reality check.
I should emphasize: don't be afraid of reality.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Christmas without gifts
I can still remember my brother waking me up one early Christmas morning when I was only 5 years old.
We snuck downstairs as quietly as we could and opened up our presents.
It was the last American Christmas I ever celebrated.
After we opened our presents our parents explained to us that this would be the last time. That the entire concept of Christmas was being corrupted by mindless consumerism so they were opting out.
Of course I didn't understand. I was only 5 years old, after all. But I never made a big deal of it in the following years. Exchanging presents for Christmas never became a habit in my life.
My parents weren't hippies or even idealists. They were simple working class folk that saw something that appeared sick and decided to avoid it.
It helped that both my birthday and my brother's were right around Christmas anyway.
It also helped that my grandparents on my mother's side were Jehovah Witnesses, and so didn't believe in celebrating Christmas (although I never understood the reasoning for that).
In the years that followed I always felt a little isolated and weird for opting out of Christmas. I tell friends that I don't want them to buy me presents because it would make me feel guilty for not getting them something.
Then, when I turned 30, I met a friend who was raised Eastern Orthodox. She told me that in her church people didn't give presents for Christmas, because Christmas was all about the birth of Christ and nothing else.
They give presents on "Little Christmas", the 12th day of Christmas, January 6, when the 3 Wise Men showed up with gifts.
It made a lot more sense to me than giving presents on Christmas Day. It seems much more in the true spirit of the season.
Nevertheless, I still don't celebrate Christmas. You see, I'm not a Christian either. I like the idea of a Gawd. I like what Jesus had to say. I just don't believe the Bible is the word of Gawd.
<b>The vast majority of the world</b>
Two years ago I joined the Peace Corps. They sent me to a small pueblo in the Dominican Republic, within walking distance of Haiti. I am almost finished with my service now.
People here are very religious.
Christmas is a very big deal here. The entire country goes on vacation for the second half of December. Almost every night there is much drinking, eating, and dancing.
What there isn't here is a tradition of gift giving.
Not for birthdays. Not for anniversaries. Not for Christmas.
You see, the vast majority of the world is very poor. So the mindless consumerism of giving and getting gifts because of what the calendar says is not an option. The money simply isn't there to spend.
This is the reality for 4 billion or so people in the world. The American-style Christmas is the exception to the rule. I've learned that I'm not the weirdo after all. You are.
That's not to say these aren't very giving people. A very poor society is based upon sharing. You are simply expected to share whatever you have with your family and neighbors. Doing otherwise is not even considered an option.
And the beautiful thing I've discovered is that the poorer the people are, the more eager they are to share what little they have.
For instance, I could show up unannounced at any casa in my pueblo around the middle of the day and they would insist on feeding me. It would be an insult to turn them down. It doesn't matter if they had no electricity, running water, or even a floor. Whatever little food they had would be shared.
That's why I've gotten into the habit of always having some fresh fruit with me if I plan on visiting anyone.
<b>Concerning regalos and juguetes</b>
Camela
This is Camela, my dominican neighbor. She's 7 years old.
I used to watch her play with this worn-out soccer ball that was missing large patches of leather.
I got the great idea of buying her a brand-new, good-quality, soccer ball the next time I went to Santo Domingo. I pictured in my mind how she would be excited when she got it, show it to her friends, and play with it all the time.
What happened instead was a look of confusion on her face. It was obvious that she had never been given a brand-new anything before in her life. She didn't know what to do with it or how to react. Why was I giving her this?
The new soccer ball vanished into her casa and I haven't seen it since. She has, however, continued to play with her worn-out ball.
So what do kids do about toys if their parents and relatives aren't spending themselves deeply into debt for Christmas, like in America?
Neighbors
These are a couple of my neighborhood kids that were playing out in front of my house one day.
Toys
These are common toys in my pueblo. They are made from old oil cartons. They put wires through them, and then put plastic bottle caps on the ends for wheels. They fill it up with rocks for weight, and then attach a string to the front so that they can drag it through the streets.
In other words, instead of using their imagination on Chinese-made plastic toys that their parents spent hundreds of dollars for, they use their imaginations to actually make the toys.
What a concept!
Plastic bottle caps are widely used with the kids in my pueblo.
For instance, everyone knows Dominicans love baseball. But what do you do if you can't afford a baseball and a baseball bat?
Then you use a tree branch for a bat and a plastic bottle cap for the ball.
Plastic bottle caps won't fly very far, but you can put a wicked spin on them, and are darn near impossible to hit with a tree branch.
How about those kids who are more artistically incline?
Guitar
This is a guitar that another neighborhood kid made out of a 2X4, an old can, a plastic bottle, and 3 wires. I tried it. It works.
I've also seen kids here make go-carts (not the kind you see on TV, but simple and unsafe ones) and hacky-sacks.
So while you are putting hundreds of dollars onto your credit cards this holiday season to buy the kids in your life toys that they will get bored with inside of a month, consider what billions of kids that don't celebrate American-style holidays do every day.
We snuck downstairs as quietly as we could and opened up our presents.
It was the last American Christmas I ever celebrated.
After we opened our presents our parents explained to us that this would be the last time. That the entire concept of Christmas was being corrupted by mindless consumerism so they were opting out.
Of course I didn't understand. I was only 5 years old, after all. But I never made a big deal of it in the following years. Exchanging presents for Christmas never became a habit in my life.
My parents weren't hippies or even idealists. They were simple working class folk that saw something that appeared sick and decided to avoid it.
It helped that both my birthday and my brother's were right around Christmas anyway.
It also helped that my grandparents on my mother's side were Jehovah Witnesses, and so didn't believe in celebrating Christmas (although I never understood the reasoning for that).
In the years that followed I always felt a little isolated and weird for opting out of Christmas. I tell friends that I don't want them to buy me presents because it would make me feel guilty for not getting them something.
Then, when I turned 30, I met a friend who was raised Eastern Orthodox. She told me that in her church people didn't give presents for Christmas, because Christmas was all about the birth of Christ and nothing else.
They give presents on "Little Christmas", the 12th day of Christmas, January 6, when the 3 Wise Men showed up with gifts.
It made a lot more sense to me than giving presents on Christmas Day. It seems much more in the true spirit of the season.
Nevertheless, I still don't celebrate Christmas. You see, I'm not a Christian either. I like the idea of a Gawd. I like what Jesus had to say. I just don't believe the Bible is the word of Gawd.
<b>The vast majority of the world</b>
Two years ago I joined the Peace Corps. They sent me to a small pueblo in the Dominican Republic, within walking distance of Haiti. I am almost finished with my service now.
People here are very religious.
Christmas is a very big deal here. The entire country goes on vacation for the second half of December. Almost every night there is much drinking, eating, and dancing.
What there isn't here is a tradition of gift giving.
Not for birthdays. Not for anniversaries. Not for Christmas.
You see, the vast majority of the world is very poor. So the mindless consumerism of giving and getting gifts because of what the calendar says is not an option. The money simply isn't there to spend.
This is the reality for 4 billion or so people in the world. The American-style Christmas is the exception to the rule. I've learned that I'm not the weirdo after all. You are.
That's not to say these aren't very giving people. A very poor society is based upon sharing. You are simply expected to share whatever you have with your family and neighbors. Doing otherwise is not even considered an option.
And the beautiful thing I've discovered is that the poorer the people are, the more eager they are to share what little they have.
For instance, I could show up unannounced at any casa in my pueblo around the middle of the day and they would insist on feeding me. It would be an insult to turn them down. It doesn't matter if they had no electricity, running water, or even a floor. Whatever little food they had would be shared.
That's why I've gotten into the habit of always having some fresh fruit with me if I plan on visiting anyone.
<b>Concerning regalos and juguetes</b>
Camela
This is Camela, my dominican neighbor. She's 7 years old.
I used to watch her play with this worn-out soccer ball that was missing large patches of leather.
I got the great idea of buying her a brand-new, good-quality, soccer ball the next time I went to Santo Domingo. I pictured in my mind how she would be excited when she got it, show it to her friends, and play with it all the time.
What happened instead was a look of confusion on her face. It was obvious that she had never been given a brand-new anything before in her life. She didn't know what to do with it or how to react. Why was I giving her this?
The new soccer ball vanished into her casa and I haven't seen it since. She has, however, continued to play with her worn-out ball.
So what do kids do about toys if their parents and relatives aren't spending themselves deeply into debt for Christmas, like in America?
Neighbors
These are a couple of my neighborhood kids that were playing out in front of my house one day.
Toys
These are common toys in my pueblo. They are made from old oil cartons. They put wires through them, and then put plastic bottle caps on the ends for wheels. They fill it up with rocks for weight, and then attach a string to the front so that they can drag it through the streets.
In other words, instead of using their imagination on Chinese-made plastic toys that their parents spent hundreds of dollars for, they use their imaginations to actually make the toys.
What a concept!
Plastic bottle caps are widely used with the kids in my pueblo.
For instance, everyone knows Dominicans love baseball. But what do you do if you can't afford a baseball and a baseball bat?
Then you use a tree branch for a bat and a plastic bottle cap for the ball.
Plastic bottle caps won't fly very far, but you can put a wicked spin on them, and are darn near impossible to hit with a tree branch.
How about those kids who are more artistically incline?
Guitar
This is a guitar that another neighborhood kid made out of a 2X4, an old can, a plastic bottle, and 3 wires. I tried it. It works.
I've also seen kids here make go-carts (not the kind you see on TV, but simple and unsafe ones) and hacky-sacks.
So while you are putting hundreds of dollars onto your credit cards this holiday season to buy the kids in your life toys that they will get bored with inside of a month, consider what billions of kids that don't celebrate American-style holidays do every day.
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