Semana Santa

Slammed my thumb in the car door, got bitten in the nose by a Chihuahua, sat in the backseat of a car with seven other people, visited a campo, saw the DR’s biggest cathedral, witnessed the dominant political party take over a beach, watched as floating candles marched down the street, and finally saw an embrace of African heredity – this was my weekend.

Today was the final day of Semana Santa, the week during which the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is remembered and celebrated. For the younger generations, it’s an excuse to party.  Friday morning we left early to visit the campo where my don and dona have their roots. Everybody seemed to be part of the family in some way or another. I think we changed locations three times. We started out in what I can only assume was a yard or someone’s house, though I’m not sure the house was one building. I think the rooms were independent of each other, each room a separate building. While there, my don went in search of a horse for me to ride after hearing that I liked them. The horse he brought back was in the best shape I’ve seen a horse in a long time, with metal chains for reigns and blanket saddle with no stirrups. Each child got a little vuelta around the area and then they sent me off – though I didn’t go very far.

After, I thought a very large group how to play Uno – my suggestion for anyone who tries to do this in the future is to pretend that a rule of the game is that when you use a wild card, you have to call out a color you already have. Everyone played colors, no one matched numbers unless it was drawn to their attention, some drew cards until they got a wild, even if they had a handful of what they needed. Everyone ended up holding twenty of the same color, everyone had to keep drawing, and the game never ended. Thank god for the call of the river.

This river was a lot nicer than the others in El Seybo. It was clear and blue and warm. A three year old, one of my dona’s grandchildren, attached herself to me for the duration of our session at the river, so I didn’t actually swim, but she was the cutest thing and I was happy to be her buoy. After the river, we paid a visit to my don’s sister and I watched as everyone but the children poured from a rather large bottle of rum. We returned to the pueblo after dark, exhausted but happy.

The next morning, my dona’s daughter-in-law asked to take me back to Higuey with her and her family. Of course I agreed and when dona said yes, I piled in the back seat of their wonderfully air-conditioned car with the three-year-old on my lap and her two older siblings beside me. The central attraction of Higuey is the cathedral built in the seventies in a very modern style. They are very proud of their cathedral and it was the first stop we made once in the town. Their apartment is small but very clean and nicely kept. They have two TVs, a computer, a laptop, and they both have cell phones. She explained to me that they both work in informatica with degrees from the university in the area. She lived with her aunt as a child because her mother could not afford to send her to school.

After a short stint in their apartment and a visit to her grandparents’ home, we departed for the beach, El Macao, on the far eastern coast somewhat near Punta Cana. The water again amazed me, but what was even more impressive was the sea of purple hats and T-shirts that swarmed the beach and the purple flyers that littered the ground. If I haven’t already mentioned it, this is campaign time. And by campaign, I mean the few months before the election where the thousand plus people running splash their faces on as many billboards on flyers as they possibly can. The party in office now sports the color purple. Another is white, and I’m not sure what the others are. All I do know is that there isn’t really a distinction between liberal and conservative. There isn’t really a distinction at all. Your party is decided  by whatever member of your family happens to be running for office in that particular party. And there’s someone in every family running. Anyway, adults and children alike paraded down the beach in a stream of purple, supporting not the policies or even the promises of a candidate but simply his giant face, whitened by some editing program, looking down on the crowd.

Little Carla, the three year old who didn’t want to go too far out into the river, had no problem at all wondering into the breakers after some time on my hip. We had fun, I took sort of a nap amidst the thundering music played by giant speakers in the back of an SUV, and when we got ready to leave I was definitely ready. We got in the car and headed out, but stopped at a colmado a short way away. I thought they were refilling their water gallons, but as it turned out, her brother had bought a large beer, and her husband, the driver, had every intention of drinking on the drive home. I think she thought it was funny how concerned I was about it, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t like it too much when he had to give up his drink, but when I said I was uncomfortable, she understood, to my great relief. I’m still pretty sure he wasn’t completely sober. I really did like this family, they were so sweat to me, but I couldn’t believe that these were two educated people with their three children in the backseat of a car during the most notorious week of the year for drunk drivers. And that’s the DR.

I got home safely, though. I’d almost forgotten the joys of guagua transportation, bounding along on squeaky metal seats, men hopping on and off the bus to sell junk. Morena, one of my dona’s daugthters, and Jasmine, her sister-in-law, picked me up from the bus stop and walked me home. They were concerned about me walking by myself in the dark. Overall, from start to finish, I thought those two days were lovely, a true display of both the positives and negatives of being part of a Dominican family.

To wrap up the weekend, my host brother took me to a small gathering at what I later learned was the house of a voodoo practicing family, though the Christian influence was prolific. I watched men singing and playing the drums and people dancing. We didn’t stay very long, but it was great to see that there are Dominicans who embrace their African heritage.

And here I am in bed, hoping the dogs stop barking long enough for me to fall asleep and that I don’t dream about the presentation I have to give in Spanish on Tuesday.