When it boils down to it, there are twenty very specific
reasons that my time in the Dominican Republic was so fulfilling and
meaningful. It boils down to the struggling, energetic, soul-searching teenage
girls of Casa Santa Ana, whom I now consider my younger sisters. I left behind
two younger sisters when leaving Minnesota in January 2012 and now, a year and
a half later, I have added to those 20 even younger ones. In balancing the many
different hats that volunteers wear, I always considered my number one priority
to be my house of girls followed by my job in the sponsorship office followed
by the numerous other responsibilities that no job title can even begin to
describe.
When I reflect on the past year and a half, I remember many
special moments mixed in with some very difficult ones. Some specific memories
stick out: the two special needs girls in my house running up to greet me every
time they saw me even if it had been just minutes since we last saw each other,
an older boy giving a heartfelt thank you after a difficult day spent together at
his grandmother’s funeral, a girl breaking down crying in my arms when her
unreliable mother once again failed to show up on Visitor’s Day, and even one
of the troublemakers in the house always remembering to fill my water cup at
lunch before I could do it myself. I have some very fond memories of evenings
spent in Casa Santa Ana dancing to the latest dembow song, listening to the
girls’ silly love poems and jokes, attempting to restore order in the bedrooms
and helping to sort the never-ending amount of laundry. These are the tasks that
came to define my daily life and who I have been this past year and a half. Through
these twenty girls, the mundane became meaningful.
I have changed so very much. I have adjusted not only to a
new culture, but also to a new way of life. A life where electricity isn’t a
constant, motorcycles and guaguas are
the modes of public transportation, material items are never the focus and
people don’t complain about having to wait or being uncomfortable. A life where
people have babies very young, parents don’t stay together, and dads don’t
always stick around. A life where
everyone believes in God despite the overwhelming daily hardships and isn’t
afraid to share their faith in public whether it be on buses, street signs or
storefronts.
Not only have I adjusted, I’ve learned and had my limits
tested. I’ve learned how to have as much attitude as a Dominican girl, how to
say no, how to discipline, how to show compassion, how to control what I say,
how to wait and wait and wait, how to not complain about inconveniences, how to
add si Dios quiere to every sentence
I say and actually mean it, how to break the barriers cast by skin colors and
money and be on the same human level as people who on the outside look so
different from me but on the inside are the same. I’ve learned the importance
of respect and how it really is something to be earned. I’ve learned how to
live in the moment instead of always looking towards the future. I’ve learned
what it’s like to live in male-dominated society as a woman, what it’s like to
never fit in and what it’s like to be misunderstood by many of the people I’ve
grown up with. I’ve learned the importance of a listening ear, the importance
of being selfless and the difficulty of staying true to your values in
high-stress situations. I’ve also learned more practical things like how to eat
sugar cane, how to ride a motorcycle in a skirt, how to squeeze out a mop, how
to negotiate the price of something on the street, and how to speak Spanish
using Dominican street terms.
As we’ve each grown and learned and changed and matured, the
twenty girls of Santa Ana and myself have all been there for each other. If I
had to pick the most important lesson of all that the girls have taught me,
it’s this: it’s never about what a
person has, it’s always about who a
person has. It’s about being there physically and mentally and truly caring
through the thick and thin. When it boils down to it, those energetic,
trouble-making, beautiful girls have taught me a million more things than I
could have ever taught them. I will never be the same.
