Juxtaposed

As you walk the two kilometer “main street” of the town of Cabarete, a bit of sensory overload sets in.

“Enterprise Rent-a-Car”, “Learn to Kite Board!” “Happy Hour: 2 X 1 from 5-7”; the billboards and signs scream out, lining both sides of the street, one seemingly on top of the next, attempting to entice the myriad of toursists to relax with a swedish massage, shop to their hearts content or drink tropical rum drinks at their bar in comfy chairs on soft sand, palm trees swaying in the breeze, blue skies, the slow, comforting lap of Carribean Ocean waves lapping the shore. Here you have landed in “paradaise.” Or what the corporations would like to package as paradaise for the weary, wayward traveller.

The irony of course of globalization and capitilism is not on the main street of Cabarete, nor is it in the happy hour prices on the pristine Carribean coast, but rather just one or two kilometers down the road. Just one left turn off the main, paved road down into “El Callejón” or “the alley” where not a trace of this so called “paradaise” exists. Paradaise lost or never found for these locals of Cabarete.

Pick up trucks, motos, cars, bikes and pedestriansts all jostle impatiently for a spot on the unpaved, deeply rutted dirt road that leads in the dominicans’ barrio, past the locals’ residences, work places and churches. Small children run barefoot with ease over the rocky surface of the street, women carry large bundles on their heads, their strong necks holding them up. The road that leads out of the tourist section of town and down to the local neighborhood schools. This is where the corporate globalization has gone very very wrong.

As the most popular destination in the Carribean, hundreds of thousands of visitors descend on the shores of these pristine beaches every year, bringing with them their excess cash and desire to indulge themselves to their hearts’ content for their week to ten-day vacations. Yet, this influx of tourism, here in the Kite Surfing capital of the world, (or in the other tourist destinations in the D.R.) does not mean new books for the children, consistent, clean running water or electricty for the local community. It does not mean Domincan owned businesses or increased revenue or higher literacy rates for the citizens of El Callejon. It is the contrast of “the haves” and “the have nots” in the most obvious of places, and yet this is the Domincan Republic most tourists never see.

The DREAM Project school, La Colonia Nueva, where Jen C volunteers is one such school. The students dressed in their blue shirts and tan bottoms are starved for a book to read, for a classroom with enough chairs, for the bare necessities of paper and pencils. They come to school for a mere 3-4 hours a day to allow the school to be used twice, for two different groups of students. Maximizing their space in this way, more students can be “educated.” The lines have long since faded from the paper they use to copy from the board. Nothing hangs on the walls odfd their classrooms.
At recess time, students press their noses and fingers between the slts of the library’s closed window, staring eagerly at the meager supply of books inside. “Dáme un libro, por favor.” One student whines, his bright black eyes pleading for anything resembling a book. But the library remains closed for organization and clean up three weeks into the school year, the DREAM volunteers attempting to make sense of the 200 some books strewn on the shelves.

“Those books are old anyway,” a third grader scoffs shaking her head bitterly. I shrug, but before I can answer, she has my hand and is dragging me toward a group of boys and girls standing in a circle. “Don’t you have any new ones teacher?”

Sadly, I don’t. I shake my head, “Not with me sweetie.”

She sighs heavily and then shrugs. “Oh well. At least they’re books. Come on teacher! Let’s go play Chonchon.” Eager faced children encompass me in their circle, ready to teach me a domincan game. “Chin Chin. Chon Chon.” They chant their voices joining together to make one.

Two communities. Two Realities. Juxtaposed.

Together, yet worlds apart.

If you would like to make a monetary donation to the DREAM project, go to http://www.dominicandream.org/donate-and-join/monetarydonations.html and click on the “donate now” button.

If you have Spanish language materials or school supplies to donate and are in San Franciso, contact Jen Collet at jencollett20@yahoo.com. She will be in the Bay Area the week of September 25th accepting donations.

Otherwise you can mail books, posters, poetry or other school supplies to:
The DREAM Project
Plaza de Patio
Cabarete, Puerto Plata
Domincan Republic

Just be aware, that the mail is spotty at best. To talk to someone in the DREAM project office, call 809-571-0497.