So this past week has been
a little more down that up you could say. There have been a couple unexpected
deaths of family members of NPH kids and employees and a couple friends on site
with some serious health problems. As Pili put it, one of the really tough
things about living in the DR awhile is that you get really attached to people
and you really come to understand how things work. Unfortunately, that means a
ridiculously horrible health system that is accessible to only those who can
pay which isn’t many. So people get sick and then sicker without getting in to see
the doctor and are forced to self-diagnose at best. On the one hand, many
Dominicans seem to have developed homemade remedies (the ideas for healing my
burn ranged from putting coals on it to putting gasoline on it to boiling a
coconut and putting that oil on it) but on the other hand, there are just some
things that can’t be treated without ACTUAL medical care. And the difficult
thing about coming from a place with a topnotch healthcare system (hello, I
live an hour away from the Mayo Clinic and both of my sisters will be going to
college for an eternity because they’re going into health professions) is that
I know a lot of these deaths are unnecessary and entirely preventable.
Anyways, on Saturday
morning, it was Santa Ana’s turn to go to the beach with the group of visitors
from Boston. We took off bright and early around 8:00am and were having a great
time. Around 11:00am, Anita stepped on a sea urchin and ended up with 5 spikes
stuck inside her big toe. Thank goodness there was a doctor in the group and we
began a mini-operation on the beach as Anita gripped my hand for dear life
while crying her eyes out. Four spikes in (or rather out), someone from our
group comes running across the beach with a phone call for me. As it turned
out, the grandmother of one of the girls in my house had passed away…DANG! So
between my tia and myself, we immediately got her out of the water, got the
other girls distracted, and broke the news to her. Within minutes, her and I
were hustling off the beach to make the half hour trip back to NPH, which felt
much much longer this time…
The reason we needed to
get back quickly was because when it comes to death everything here in the DR
happens fast (which is odd considering that just about nothing else happens
quickly here). When someone dies their body is immediately taken to the funeral
home where there is a viewing for a few hours. There aren’t any flowers or
gifts or donations, you just show up if you know the person. Your presence is
what counts, not anything material. The funeral, procession to the cemetery,
and actual burial sometimes happen the same day or the next day at the latest…there’s
certainly no preservation process or refrigeration or anything along those
lines to keep the body intact for longer. A very cultural aspect of this
process that I experienced firsthand is that it’s the norm to be quite upset and
emotionally expressive with this type of thing. I’m not talking just crying,
like sobbing and wailing and falling over and throwing yourself on other
people. This seems to happen throughout all parts of the process but most
especially once at the cemetery. And this goes for men and women alike although
I would definitely say the women partake more.
Anyways, after getting
showered and dressed at rapid-fire speed, by shortly after 12:30pm, my girl, her
siblings and I found ourselves at the local funeral parlor. It was quite an
interesting setup: a big room full of rows of chairs like some sort of waiting
room with 3 small rooms coming off of it. Each small room had a casket inside
propped up on two piano benches and the walls were lined with chairs with
probably enough room to seat 10 or 15 people at the most. With three different
wakes happening at once, the place ended up being PACKED. We started off by
entering the small room where the grandmother’s body was located and giving our
condolences to the family members there (I had to ask Nelly what the
appropriate condolence is…apparently it is “Te acompaño en el sentimiento”) We
spent the rest of the afternoon going in and out of the room, talking to family
members and just observing all of the people we were surrounded by. Being in
the room was pretty intense emotionally, so it was nice to be able to go back
and forth. Another side note: Dominican caskets have a little window at top
where the head is that is covered in glass…so the caskets are always closed…no
worries about what the dead person is wearing (again, very little focus on the
material). It seemed a little creepy to me, but it’s just another way of doing
things I suppose.
At 5:00pm, the actual
funeral commenced which pretty much just consisted of a couple prayers and
songs being sung around the casket. Next was the procession across town to the
cemetery. We all piled onto the rented bus as the hearse slowly led the way for
the few cars and many many motos. San Pedro has one big cemetery that I’ve
visited a few times at this point. Nearly all of the graves are above ground…in
fact, very few are below ground. However, this day, we proceeded to the very
back corner of the cemetery where a big hole was dug. Two men jumped into it
and lowered down the casket after we all said a prayer or two. This is when the
real wailing was happening. Then a few guys pick up the shovels and started
putting the dirt and rocks over the casket right then and there. Five minutes
later it was completely covered and the people who hadn’t previously fainted or
fallen over and been taken aside (which were most of them) starting slowly
shuffling out…
And that was it. From the
moment we heard the news at the beach to the moment we returned to NPH after
the burial, about seven hours had gone by. That evening there was a big middle
school dance (essentially) on site for the visitors and older kids, and things
instantly returned to ‘normal’.
Overall, it was quite an
interesting experience for me not only from the cultural lens but most
importantly from the relationship end. After nearly 16 months with my girls and
these kids here, to be included in on something so personal and emotional felt
good. In a twisted way, it was an affirmation that all this hard work really
does serve a greater purpose. The oldest sibling even came up and timidly
thanked me the following day for being with him and his family throughout it
all, something I definitely didn’t expect to happen. The whole experience also
got me thinking: when you have such limited family, how much MORE does a
grandparent mean to you? Finally, I feel even more connected to these kids,
which I can’t help but realize means that it’s going to be that much harder to
say goodbye in a couple months…
Here’s a few photos from some of the better moments of the week:
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| Girl's night with STRIPES!! (Technically, this photo is from 2 weeks ago before Milena left!) |
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| After seeing the screensaver of me with another girl from the house on my computer, Belkis wanted a photo of just the two of us for me to put up! |
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| Happy Birthday Guillermo! |
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| My girls after mass all wearing the clothes that Milena left them! |
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| Chantal...the latest addition to Santa Ana. She's about my age and from Haiti and will be living here for the next few months to learn Spanish! |
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| And...we officially inaugurated a cyber cafe complete with 15 computers for the kids! |
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| Nelly with little Jesus, the newest addition to our NPH family. He's five years old and just got here last week! |
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| Randi!! What a cutie :) You'd be hard pressed to find a happier little boy... |
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| First graders (pictured here: Jaydy and Clarita) and tenth graders were invited to the inauguration! |
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| Yolanda and Estrella trying out the new technology! |
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| My most devoted English student, Crisayda! |
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