The following Saturday I had more of an understanding of what to expect and was excited to meet all the kids. We began the day making masks with the little boys and girls. Although my Spanish is non-existent and I did struggle to understand the kids, they were patient and were able to get their message across to me. After lunch I sat in on an English lesson and overheard a respect talk with the older kids. With extra time left, Joan and Melissa set up a bowling game in the park to play with the kids and the other volunteers. When the day came to an end I was told we were driving Domingo, a former attendee of the club and now an employee of the club, to his house in Aquas Negras. I was warned on the car ride there that he lives in one of the worst barrios in Puerto Plata. I wasn’t too concerned as I had studied poverty in high school, and thought I had an idea of what I was going into. Little did I know, nothing could prepare me for the situation ahead. Getting out of the truck, stepping into mud I realized I was in the path leading up to his home. Entering his house with the other volunteers we were each greeted by his mom and urged to sit down and visit with her. As Spanish conversation was going on around me I couldn’t help but tune out and try to make sense of where I was. The floor was hardly cement and the gaps where the walls and roof met looked like it could let one of many rain storms. The bedrooms were separated by hanging sheets, as I peeked into one I saw stacked mattresses and I remembered hearing about the rats living in their mattresses. I was overcome with guilt and fear for how many people live in this state; not just in the Dominican but in the world. I found myself choking back tears trying to keep it together for the remainder of the visit, worried of offending our host. We made our way out of the house and continued to the newly ‘cleaned up’ beach. To me a beach is a beach: water, sand and people. That changed when I visited this beach. It was explained to me that they had just recently cleaned it up but I had a hard time understanding that when everywhere I looked there was garbage and broken glass and rotten food and waste and torn clothing and hunks of rubble. Kids walking in bare feet passing through the garbage acted like it were nothing at all, because to them it’s all they know. Again I felt guilty and found myself getting overwhelmed with sadness.
Going into this volunteering opportunity I thought I knew where I was headed and thought I was aware of the poverty existing in this country but I now know nothing compares to seeing it first hand to make you realize the harsh reality that gets fluffed up. The 20 minute visit to Aquas Negras has had more impact on me than any study or report or lecture I have ever participated in regarding poverty. As hard as it was for me to see and wrap my head around, I wouldn’t trade it for the world because it gave me so much more perspective that I thought I already had. This entire volunteering experience has truly opened my eyes. Although this was just one of my 14 days, it was in the back of my head my entire time with Dove and will continue to be with me for the rest of my life.
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