When you land in the Dominican Republic you get a tourist card for 30 days. Ours expired a couple weeks ago, and with it expired our excuse to begin conversations in English. Our Spanish is still a hot mess, but the burden is now on us to communicate, not others. Our option to only travel by taxi expired with our tourist card. It’s nice to travel by taxi, you don’t get lost. Now we get lost. Our right to give a pass on the beans and rice for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich has expired. Beans and rice sustain the people of the DR, they now sustain us. Sure, we are still The Gringos (Americans), but when you live in the DR for more than a tourist card, you get the opportunity to become “someone’s” gringos. And it’s pretty glorious....
We are Juan’s gringos. He brings us our fruits and veggies, right to our door. In Spain, there were small fruit and veggie shops all over the neighborhoods. When we moved to Santiago, I couldn’t find them anywhere and wasn’t sure how we could get our hands on the local piñas. Until one day we heard a loud booming microphone “WOW WOW QUE PLÁTANOS! SANDÍAS! CEBOLLA!...” I was suddenly floating in a glorious fruit salad of papaya and guava.
We are the Metodista Libre (Free Methodist) Gringos. It’s right up the road and it’s the church with a historical connection to Greenville. When you are the only North Americans sitting in the pews the old ladies make sure you know that you have become their gringos. Sure we don’t understand all of the service, but God is there, the girls have friends, and I get a hands on “Dios te bendiga” (blessing) at least 34 times each Sunday before I leave that door.
I’m Fifa’s Gringa. Before I left Greenville I asked my friend Ruth Huston (who has done this sabbatical thing south of the border more than anyone else I know) if I would meet a friend. “You will meet the most wonderful friends this year Lisa” she had said. Fifa taught me how to make tostones, she doesn’t let me get lazy with my Spanish, and I called her when I needed a doctor, even before I called a doctor. It’s good to have a friend who is willing to keep looking for you when you are lost!
I am Cento’s Gringa. This precious school is a couple km from our house and has 40 students with significant disabilities who attend every day. They let me come and work with their kiddos with autism who are non-verbal. I’m setting up communication systems for those kids, with only material I can find in the local shops, so they can be sustainable. To be honest, I know they thought I was loco as I came in with my homemade PECs cards and worked with the kids who frankly have no interest in working (yet!). But I kept coming, and I kept smiling as I frantically flipped through my translator, and I listened to their needs instead of telling them their needs. To be fair, that is mostly because I ‘no hablo español bueno’, but I also know that if I want to be their Gringa, instead of just a pushy-know-it-all Gringa, I first needed to listen. And last week I saw it happen, that shift in their eyes when you are no longer seen as a suspicious outsider, but as a welcomed member. Not quite one of them, but certainly their Gringa.
We are Gato’s gringos. Our first week in the house Jake and I woke suddenly at 2am to terrifying screams from a young child. We bolted out of bed sure that a kid had wandered into the small ally between our house and the neighbors, right outside our bedroom window. It was a cat. A cat that despite leaving him no food and not letting him in the house, has claimed us as his gringos. He looks fairly healthy, so we think he belongs to someone else, but every night around 2am, we belong to him.
This is what happens when your tourist card expires: we belong to Gato, we belong to the people, and the institutions of the country we have landed in- they do not belong to us. We are no longer tourists able to make demands and claims, because this land is already claimed. In a way, belonging means we are at the mercy of those here, if the mail system wants to take a month to deliver a package- they will take their month (no matter how many times you show up at the office). However, it also means we get an opportunity to daily feel their mercy. And the people of the DR give out that mercy freely, sharing their hospitality and letting us know that in fact even as foreigners in a foreign land, we belong.
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