Down from the mountaintop

Today is Sunday, and it was Thursday that I ascended to the summit of the Pico Duarte, and then went all the way down to the trailhead (i.e. over 2000 meters) in one day. After leaving the summit at approximately 6:30 or 7 a.m., Joel and I went back to La Compartición to reload the mules and then descend. By the time we left, it was already 10 a.m., and Joel was a bit anxious about making it all the way down the mountain before dark. (Plus we still had the hour and fifteen minute truck ride from the trailhead back to Jarabacoa.) So he was eager to have me ride the mule, since we would make much better time that way. I was less eager...Anyway, a better saddle and a bit more training and explanation about how to adjust my weight to counterbalance the motion of the mule gave me enough confidence to try one more time. I am happy to report that I didn't fall off again -- which was a good thing, because I was very, very sore.

I suppose that the descent is never as interesting as the ascent, and my descent was blessedly uneventful. We got back to the ranch by about 6 p.m., which Joel felt was pretty good time. By the time we arrived I had already decided that didn't want to stay another night at the ranch -- although the room was very comfortable and the location was gorgeous, two days in the wilderness left me craving civilization, so I took a tzxi to town and stayed in a hotel in Jarabacoa.

I spent most of the evening icing my leg, which by then was sporting a lump the size of an avocado. Friday I was able to sleep late -- check out time here is generally no earlier than 1 p.m., so I had a leisurely brunch -- important since I was still moving at a leisurely pace (OK, I was pitifully slow). I was back in Santiago by later afternoon.

Which brings me to what I really wanted to share -- this weekend. I have written in previous posts about the catechism program on Saturday mornings. It is the equivalent of our Sunday School program, which they would not be able to run on Sunday morning for a variety of reasons. About 35 children ranging in age from about 6 to about 15 were present, and Doña Adela was delighted to share the teaching load with me. I mentioned before that rote learning, repetition, and memorization are a large part of the curriculum. This is mostly because there are simply so few resources in the kind of poor community where Cristo Salvador is located. So using even the most basic resources make for a new and exciting class for the children.

Following Sunday's lesson on 'take up yourcross and follow' I had the children make cross necklaces with some supplies I had brought with me. Each necklace was assembled with a small wooden cross and six large plastic pony beads on a linen cord. The color of each bead corresponded to an element of the salvation story, i.e. gold for creation, black for sin, red for the shed blood of Christ...you get the idea. This project was wildly popular with the children. So was a coloring page I had printed out for them, as well as a maze, and a couple of simple word games. To use new crayons for coloring, to have in their hands a long and sharp pencil: these things that we and our youngsters take for granted. For the children of Cristo Salvador, these are luxuries.

So was the clothing I had brought with me from the Englishtown auction -- Dulcina, the wife of Fr. Hipólito matched the clothing by size with the children who were there. Most of the kids got something new -- brand new, never used before, not a hand-me down from an older sibling, cousin, or neighbor. Many got several items -- a blouse and pants, or a t-shirt and shorts. For them it was another luxury, and they were really excited.

But there was another luxury, and this is one that is scarce and costly even in our relatively (by Dominican standards) affluent culture. That luxury is attention. To sit beside a child, and offer him my undivided attention, some encouragement, and some academic help -- this was something that seems so ordinary to us. Yet to them it was clearly something very special. When so few of them come from intact nuclear families -- usually the father's whereabouts are unknown, so mother, or sometimes the gradmother, or the maternal aunt becomes the head of househod and the chief breadwinner of the family

The catechism program closes with lunch, and two Dominican specialities were on the menu: huevos con berenjena and moros y cristianos. Again, my language skills put me at a bit of a disadvantage. I knew that huevos were eggs, but what was berenjena? Not meat, I found out, and evidently not some kind of grain. It was, I was told a vegetable. But what vegetable, I wondered, turned scrambled eggs a rather unattractive shade of grey? I knew that I recognized the flavor, that it was something I had eaten before, but coulnd't think of the name of it. And, of course, the Spanish language explanations about what exacltly a berenjena looked like didn't help much. I finally found out that in English it is EGGPLANT, of all things! I could ask for the reciple if anybody back home wants to try recreating this dish in their own kitchen. moros y cristianos is a recreation of an ancient Spanish dish. It's made of seasoned rice mixed with a bit of black beans -- evidently reminded some frustrated or racially bigoted person to the days before 1492 in Spain, when dark skinned Moors (black beans) and light-skinned Christians (white rice), lived together in peace.

More later...