Snips and Snails

Prior to my time here in the Dominican I really had not spent extended periods of time with kids. Sure, I’d helped out at VBS for years and years and I also ran Literature League (book clubs for elementary students), but I had never had the day-to-day interactions that I think are crucial to know and truly be comfortable with a person; yes, even children. Thus, while I always claimed to like children, that assertion was fairly speculative. Additionally, some of the few interactions I have had with children in the past have not been particularly favorable. The kids I have babysat were never quite fond of me. But I’m sorry, I’m not going to let you cannot carry your live rabbit around by the neck and I’m pretty sure your mom doesn’t actually let you jump on the bed while eating an ice cream cone. Once, I actually found one victim of my babysitting terror (I swear I’m not as bad as Calvin’s Rosalyn) crouching in the corner of his room, trying to avoid me at all costs and unwilling to leave. Thus, while I was hopeful for my future interactions and friendships with kids, I was also sorely dubious.

As I mention previously in the blog, there are dozens and dozens of children in the neighborhoods. During my first two weeks I saw kids come and go from the house and walk through the neighborhoods but they all kind of blurred together. I really did not know who was family, who was literally just passing through the barrio, and who was a neighbor kid (not mutually exclusive from family). By the third week I’d figured out the relationships between the main children.

Ok, Wendy lives with us, and she’s semi-adopted. Her real family lives two streets over and is extremely poor…the mother is not mentally stable and the father simply cannot adequately provide for the six children (and one in the oven). Wendy and her siblings share no blood relationship with the Almanzar family (my host family). Additionally, Rebecca’s family has semi-semi-adopted the other children in Wendy’s family. The back divide of our house is a chain-linked fence and there are a few logs on the other side. The Pedros regularly come and sit here to pass the time with us. However, Wendy’s siblings also hang out in the logged area because when they do, Yolanda (or Yola, as my host mother is frequently called) feeds them. I think of them as fence children, which works on both a literal and symbolic level.

Another central child is Welington (not misspelled). This lanky nine-year-old boy is absolutely charming and he’s stolen my heart. Yolanda’s sister Divina lives four houses over and Welington is her son. Frequently, Welington hangs with the fence kids and represents one of the reasons I think it’s so important to spend a bit of time in a place before making hard and fast evaluations and conclusions. During my first two weeks, I had grouped Welington (then nameless to me) with the other fencies. But his reality is distinctly different from theirs. While his family is poor, they are stable. Both his parents work, Welington attends school and receives good marks, he is well-fed, and well-loved. In contrast, Wendy’s siblings only eat regularly because of Yola and none of them have attended school; the oldest is eleven and cannot read. Since this is a Caribbean Island, it is hot, hot, hot. Even in California it is not uncommon for little kids to run around partially or fully naked during the summer to combat the heat. Since this occurs here too it can be difficult to distinguish kids who go barefoot because they want to and those who do not have shoes, or kids who do not have a shirt to wear and children who just prefer nakedness. Living here has provided me the opportunity to learn the nuance between levels of poverty and just poorness.

The two other central children in my life are Isael and Chucho. These two brothers are the grandsons of Yola and Gregario (host dad) and they live with their dad (Isael…yep lots of double names here) further up the street. While I am not completely clear on what the situation is with their mother, my understanding is that she bounces in and out at her own leisure and it’s been several months since her last visit. Isael is a tiny six-year-old and Chucho is a roly-poly eight-year-old.

During my time here, I’ve not only realized that I really like kids, but I’ve discovered how much I love little boys. As they earnestly work to be valiant--they are a perfect mix of tough and sweet. While walking home from work last week, I passed Isael’s house/worksite, spotted the kids (Welington, Chucho, and Isael), and decided to stop for a chat. They instantly greeted me with a united and loud salutation of “Anne” and then proceeded to gallantly shout orders to one another to fetch some fruit on my behalf. Climbing atop the roof, Isael picked some guayabas (a fruit that resembles a fig) and tossed them down to the other boys who then sorted them out and made sure I could enjoy one that was madura (ripe) rather than dura (not quite ripe).

Other than helping Chucho and Welington with random little favors, Isael is distinctly not interested in me at all, which makes me kind of happy because I like to watch him just do his own thing. He’s 100% boy and regularly strikes muscle poses, which strikes a smile upon my face because he’s so very tiny.

Sitting in the back of the truck on the way back from church three weeks ago, I decided to pass time by counting by 5’s, 3’s, etc with Welington. I really wasn’t trying to be a manipulative teacher and was pretty tired, so I wasn’t paying much attention. We were just counting. When we arrived back at the house, I cozied down in my nook on the porch with my water bottle and book and was about to zone out when Chucho came up to me. He literally took my hand and asked me if we could practice what I’d been practicing with Welington. First of all, up to that point in time we had never even hugged…so this little physical gesture was completely out of character. Secondly, I’m a complete sucker for teaching requests and this query totally won me over.

Since then, we’ve had many math competitions that Welington and Chucho initiate and I lead…yet again, Isael has zero desire to partake in such games. It’s interesting because I’m really quite tough on them. If they miss an answer or are slow to respond, I let them know and dock them points our kick them out of that round, which leaves them completely unphased. Wanting to do more, Chucho and Welington bring me cuadernos (notebooks) and I write out various multiplication, division, addition, and subtraction problems, helping them to learn little tricks to figure out a problem they do not immediately know the answer to and also helping make the connections between the different math functions. We have found, however, that while working with paper and pencil rather than simply doing verbal exercises, it is better if I work one-on-one because they get jealous of divided attention and have started mini-battles for attention, which made me say “forget it” to the lesson and leave.

While Chucho and Welington claim to love math, which I don’t doubt is partially true, I think they probably have ulterior motives. For example, last weekend I went with a group to a baseball game on Sunday (a later blog post for sure). While little Isael came along, Chucho stayed back so he could attend church. I asked dad Isael why one stayed and the other left, and he just responded that one likes church and the other doesn’t. First of all, that is a very common response and philosophy here: basically, you do what you want to do. However, yesterday, I found out there’s a fifteen-year-old girl at the church who Chucho’s taken a liking to (flirt to convert?)!

I’m not saying I’m abusing my feminine wiles, but it definitely holds some weight and if I think I’m ok with being doted on in the form of math lessons and yummy fruit. I’m fully aware it’s at least a tad Machiavellian!