Lightless Evenings

When the lights go out at night, I understand that that’s a bad thing. We have daily blackouts because not enough people “paga para luz” pay for electricity, which doesn’t mean they haven’t illegally accessed it (spider web networks of wires branch out from each power source). Thus, the power companies cannot afford to service all areas 24/7. However, it’s a catch-22 because who wants to pay for unstable electricity? While many houses have inversores (generators) they often don’t last long enough and are not powerful enough to serve as complete substitutes.

I know that when the lights leave, it’s a reflection of a lack of stability, that it reduces safety of communities, it diminishes the amount of time that people can work or study, and that once fresh food spoils. However, I selfishly really like it. I love the evenings when Rebecca and I eat our “romantic, candlelit dinners” and enjoy long conversations ranging in depth from trite jokes to philosophical ponderings. Last Tuesday evening, I spent an hour outside with aunts and cousins playing hot hands, making small talk, and counting satellites and lightning bugs. During the electricity-free evenings Nata and Ali (Nathaniel and Allen who two of Rebecca’s brothers who live with us) sing (or rather croon) and play guitar and drums, which are makeshifted together from the plastic sugar tubs that Yolanda (host mother) keeps in the kitchen. The drums make different sounds each night depending upon how much sugar is in the tubs. These evenings have a peaceful happiness about them and they’re filled with noises of bugs and bromas (teasing/jokes—not a perfect Spanish word unfortunately…it reminds me of sweeping).

While the Dominicanos pass this time with various little activities, there is a subtle annoyance with which they do so. That is, they would prefer there to be stable electricity. This differing reaction is one of the many things that distinguishes me from the locals. I’m not a permanent resident, so I see charm and fun opportunity in the blackout. Ultimately, this is my summer vacation and during summer I like to have those days where you’re not productive with things beyond reading, playing cards, and general goofing around. I know that in two short months I’ll be back into the never-ending craziness that is school and so I soak up every lightless evening. However, this is not the case for people who live here. That end does not exist.

Similarly, though I live amidst poverty, I will never be impoverished whilst I live here...or ever in my life most likely. I still have my same educational background, I have planned so I have plenty of funds to finance my time here (and back home), and in the case of an emergency I have contacts, friends, and family who will make sure that I both feel and am safe. This reasonable sense of security is one that distinguishes me from some of our associates and my neighbors. For me, fear and an inability to properly manage shocks are both key markers of poverty. Similarly, I have talked with several associates who recognize that they don’t have very much to their names, but they simultaneously recognize that their lives are stable—they consider themselves poor but not impoverished.