Las Hermanas Mirabal

This past weekend I had the honor of visiting the museum near Santiago that was the home of the Mirabal sisters before they were assassinated by the Trujillo government in 1960. I wouldn't be able to do their stories justice (in part because the whole thing was in Spanish) so to learn more you can look here or here.

I don't use the word "honor" lightly. The excursion was set up by the Embassy and along with 15 or so community members, I spent a long bus ride and a late lunch with Patria Mirabal's daughter, Noris (photo right). She was 15 when her mother and aunts were first imprisoned, and 16 when they were assassinated. The poor woman was hoarse from talking all day, sharing her memories of a typical (but somehow much more fascinating because it was so typical) childhood and the history of the Mirabal sisters. She has such a warm personality and a positive outlook on life.

The museum is located two hours outside of Santo Domingo and was the women's home for only a few months before they were killed. Their previous home was seized and the wood was used to build a local Trujillo supporter's home* and they moved into the now-museum when their husbands were jailed. The small house is filled with clothing, pictures, and mementos of the sisters and family and while it was probably only a 20 minute tour, it felt like I had experienced a lifetime with the sisters. I really liked the fact that it focused on the routine aspects of their very unusual lifestyle.

The most memorable part of the day was the 30 minutes I spent with four other Americans and Dede Mirabal, the surviving sister. She is 85 years old and the most vibrant person I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She sat in a plastic lawn chair while tourists hovered nearby, only occasionally striking up the courage to ask her to autograph a copy of the sisters' (fictionalized) story. But we're Americans and have no shame, and we plopped down next to her, monopolizing her attention for a good half-hour until someone, tired of the American regime, made a move for our positions.

This is one of the places I hope to visit more than once. The bus trip was not very fun, and I would have liked to explore the town around the Mirabal's house. Since their death, the town has created murals (like the one Noris is posing in front of) throughout the town dedicated to the Mirabal sisters and the ideals they exemplified. So start doing your homework now and no cheating by watching the movie.

*Noris said that after Trujillo's assassination, townspeople destroyed the house of the man who took the wood from the Mirabal's seized house.

Doppleganger Meets with Obama

Doesn't this sort of look like MH?

Revenge on the Airlines

Can someone write me a song about American Airlines? This one is awesome!

Bolivian News

Check this out. Are you surprised?

Rama the Cama

Armando: Llamas seem to be everywhere around Bolivia. Are they related to camels?
- Llama Llover

Dear Llama Llover:
The short answer is, yes, they are very closely related. According to Wikipedia, llama and vicuña are the two species of true camels. For more information on camels, llamas, and vicuñas, visit www.howstuffworks.com.

But while we’re on the subject, have you heard of Rama, the first camel-llama crossbred animal? A community member sent me this article originally published by Metro newspaper in London. Rama is the product of breeding a llama and a camel and had been the only creature of this kind since her birth in 1995. But now, thanks to better breeding techniques, there are three more camas roaming the Arabian desert. Camas are humpless and have the long fluffy coat of a llama. Their ears are half-way in length between camels and llamas, but they have the
strong, desert-ready legs of a camel. Strangest of all, camas have partially cloven feet – a compromise between the foot pad of the camels and cloven feet of the llamas.

And while we're on the subject... the breeding process was no easy feat. Only two of the females would conceive. Dr. Lulu Skidmore from Dubai's Camel Reproduction Centre also discovered it was impossible for a male llama to impregnate a female camel. “Only a llama mum and camel dad seems to work,” she said. “We had two conceptions with camel mum and llama dad but neither went to term.” But as further camas were born, the team discovered they had produced the animal they were aiming for.

Why breed camas? Camas behave well in a pack, and are strong but smaller and easier to handle than a camel. It is too early to tell what the life expectancy of the camas will be, but the team is confident they will reach a ripe old age.

Oh Jesus!

My brother claims not to believe in dinosaurs or fossils. Maybe he should contribute to this site. I especially like the article about how schools have gone down the... uhm, tubes... because there isn't any prayer in school. Oh, and I skipped high school physics and apparently the unit on how Creation is scientifically possible.

Ask Armando

A couple of people have recently emailed me and said, "So you got a job?" Perhaps I haven't been keeping you as up-to-date as I thought I was. So to prove that I am actually kind of busy and to share a little bit with you about Bolivia, I thought I would post my "Ask Armando" column that I write for the weekly Embassy newsletter (that I also edit). Here's my first column:

Editor’s Note: One of the best things about living overseas, in my
opinion, is discovering the unique characteristics of the host
country—the ones that Lonely Planet doesn’t prepare you for.
Whether it’s the constant need for “change management” (everyone
knows that a taxi driver won’t change 20Bs for a 12B ride), or the
confusion that arises when your household staff unpacks your HHE
and discovers your collection of spoon rests, life here is a constant
memoir in the making. While we try to figure out how to adapt to the
collision of cultures, a few questions are bound to arise. As a new
feature in the Kipus, I’d like to explore these questions. You can send
your inquiries to me at ***** and they will be
reviewed, researched, and answered by our resident cultural expert
Armando. Here’s our first entry:

Dear Armando:
I have heard several explanations as to the origin of the name Kipus
including that it is a flower native to Bolivia. What’s the real story?
- Always Wanted to Know

Dear Wanted to Know:
Not only is that a great question, but I’ve always wondered about that,
too! According to my “research” (a few minutes on Wikipedia) the
term kipus is derived from the Inca method of record keeping. A
quipu, or kipu as it is called in Quechua, was made out of colored
thread and knotted in a particular way to represent values of ten. In
this way the Inca Empire could keep account of everything from
population to taxes. I am simplifying this, obviously, but for more
information you can visit Wikipedia or even my sixth grade social
studies book. But to appear sophisticated and well-read, check out the
John Noble Wilford article published in the New York Times on
August 12, 2003, titled String, and Knot, Theory of Inca Writing.

Auf wiedersehen

You know how I feel about foul-language, but I also appreciate this blog celebrating one of the greatest events of the twenty-first century... the end of an era...

Palin's Prank Call

Please Vote !

This is MH's new favorite YouTube video.

CNN: Craptastic News Network

What I love about this article is that they are sooooo objective and that it is oh-so-clear that "the ambassador" that Evo kicked out and "the ambassador" that said he was a narcotrafficer (he's not?) aren't the same individuals.

Chavez...

that crazy character...

All's Quiet...

at least on the Southern Front. Nothing to report so I'll write more when I arrive Stateside. Can't wait to have Italian bread and jalapeno ranch salad dressing. Normally I wouldn't have them together but it sounds awfully good right now.

Beyond Stupid

I'll be home sometime in the next few days. I can't post details yet, so you'll have to wait for my book to be published on the incompetence of the U.S. government. I'm thinking of calling it An Idiot's Guide to Organization: How To Use The Term Loosely and Create As Much Havoc As Possible. Here are some more books that might help out our friends in DC. My personal favorite is ADD-Friendly Ways to Organize Your Life.

Synchronizing watches is about the most complex task these folks can do.

Death By Chocolate... Literally!

We thought we'd be in danger from anonymous Bolivians. Little did we know that it was our cook trying to kill us. MH headed in to work at the crack of dawn because the Embassy was locking the doors early in anticipation of a large group of pro-Evo protesters. We also heard that there might be protesters down in the suburbs, so school was canceled (The Boy stayed home anyway because he had a fever), and it was strongly recommended that we stay in our homes. There were two protests not far from here. There was a group protesting outside of a restaurant not far from our house, but the group headed toward the Embassy was dispersed a few blocks away. I am confused why Evo would pay them to protest and then have his officers stop them a few blocks away. What does he do that doesn't surprise me? (I thought someone said that he bites the head off a bat everyday, but with my poor Spanish they could have said that he plays a bit of baseball.) By mid-afternoon everything had quieted down and for the first time in a week MH was home on time. Yeah! The kids have missed him a lot. To celebrate our cook made a chocolate cake and I even donated some store-bought frosting from our consumable shipment. This is where the story goes bad. We were supposed to be celebrating the fact that today wasn't a rough day, but instead I think we'll postpone our celebration and see if we make it through the night. For some reason the cake tasted like toilet bowl cleaner. We can't figure out what she could possibly have put in it because there is only so much food and chemicals in our kitchen. The bad news is... we have to keep eating it. Other than that, things are quiet here for now. Tomorrow is rumored to be an interesting day, so we'll keep you posted. After all, that's what this blog is for.

Still good

Besides a slight cold going around the house, we're still good, but preparing for a rough week of protests and food shortages. We will let you know when things change. In the meantime, I heard this funny joke today. It might be funnier in Spanish.

When a German found out that his wife was having an affair he rushed home, surprised the couple, and beat up her lover.

When a Saudi found out that his wife was having an affair, he rushed home, surprised the couple, and beat up his wife.

When a Bolivian found out that his wife was having an affair, he rushed home, surprised the couple, and then went out to find an American to beat up.

In The News

From the number of emails I am getting by the hour, it looks like the press is finally picking up the Bolivia story. Just to reassure you again, we're doing fine. No flights out, yet, but the State Department approved family members' departures. Apparently the city is running low on meat and maybe gas (hard to tell rumor from fact), but the market had chicken wings yesterday. What a brilliant way to get the Ambassador back to the States!

We're Fine.

So you've probably seen some stuff about Bolivia in the news... and I am not talking about the World Cup stuff... just wanted to let you know that we are fine. We're safe. We're just watching to see how things pan out. We're sad to witness this division, however. From what I can tell, you aren't getting a lot of "good" news back there on the situation. Here are a couple of articles that I think are fair and a third article with a great quote from Chavez. He's always good for a laugh...

Reuters

International Herald Tribune/NYT

Chavez Article

And just for kicks... here's a picture of the Four Stooges as I like to call them...
Handal, Chavez, Castro and Morales. What a lovely bunch.

You've heard of the "bastardiaztion of English?" Well, it is MY fault. I am volunteering as an EFL teacher (English as a Foreign Language) to adults in the Embassy community. At first I was supposed to have about 6 students (chauffeurs and mechanics). On my first day I had over 20 students in three different levels. Usually with EFL classes attendance drops over time. After a couple of weeks, I now have 27 students. I am teaching on my own, but in September I should have two other volunteers helping me out. I have three levels and they each have classes twice a week for an hour. Let me tell you a little about my classes.

Conversational English: One student asked me what I thought of this class. I told him that I don't have any problem understanding what they are saying but we'll work on pronunciation, prepositions, and confidence. We talk about everything from how to bargain to why Americans buy so much and why people here don't use seat belts (there aren't any highways??!). Next week we're going to talk about pirates.

Beginners: I was supposed to have 4 students and on my first day 11 showed up. I was so shocked and when I said, "Eleven students!" or actually "Once estudiantes!" 6 of them got up to leave! I assured them that I would teach everyone (even though I wasn't prepared that day). They don't speak a lick of English so in my best (bad) Spanish I asked, "Como se dice 'Hola' en Ingles?" The response? Hola. So we're starting at the beginning. They are so thirsty to learn and I have to work super hard to keep up with them. By the end of class we had made some headway, though. They all learned how to say "See you later!"

Intermediates: I have about 10 of these students who work in offices, drive cars, and fix cars. They speak enough English so that we can joke around, but there are often misunderstandings and confusion. For example, I told them that we won't have class on Sept. 1 because it is a holiday, but we will have class on Sept. 3 despite the fact that it is a holiday for me... my birthday. They said we shouldn't have class on my birthday, and I said that it would be a present for me to have class (because I like teaching so much...). Then there was this rapid exchange in Spanish that I didn't really understand, but I got the gist of it. I explained in English and Spanish that they didn't have to get me any gifts... class was my gift. Can you imagine what they were thinking? Sheesh, she's barely taught us anything and she wants gifts?

My favorite confusing moment occurred when I got very excited about a dry-erase board. I don't have a lot of supplies for my classes, so I lugged in my own dry erase board. When I got to my second class, one of the students showed me that there was a board in the room behind the flip-chart we were whipping through. I was so excited that I exclaimed, "Awesome Possum." There was dead silence in the room and for a moment I thought I used a phrase that sounded insulting in Spanish (like saying "Peach" in Turkey). Then the most advanced student, with pencil in hand, said, "I am sorry. Could you write this. Awesome..." They were so excited. I explained that I didn't think many Americans used this phrase, but I use it when something is really great. They didn't know what an opossum was so we called MH and had him look it up in his Spanish/English dictionary. Later in class when one team won our question game a student shouted out "Awesome Possum."

I am wiped out at the end of each day, but for hours after class I am kind of high. It is so much fun to see them excited about learning and it is kind of cool that I am meeting more people than MH. But I apologize to you, native English speakers, for teaching not only my children but a whole group of unwitting people to speak like me.

Poor Lenny Kravitz

If only Lenny Kravitz had spent some time here. Instead of singing about race relations in America, he could have had a peppy hit about near-death cab experiences. I could have even starred in the video.

What is it with these cab drivers? We have a taxi "casa" (as I call it) a few doors down from our house. Most of the day I can walk down there and find a bunch of cabbies standing around watching one guy get his shoes shined. I've been taking cabs more often because I have to go into LP to teach my English classes, and the commute has given me the opportunity to become somewhat of an expert on the various types of taxi drivers. Here are my favorites.

The Entrepreneur: He wears dress pants and a button-down shirt. He often receives phone calls while driving and signals his other taxi-buddies with a toot of the horn. The entrepreneur is the only one who has seat belts readily available to passengers in the front and the back seats.

Christmas-and-Easter driver: This driver isn't particularly religious. He has the obligatory cross hanging from his rear-view mirror, but unlike the Doomsday-is-around-the-next-corner- and-I'll-get-you-there-in-a-jiffy driver, he doesn't cross himself at every treacherous turn and he only pauses (instead of stopping, crossing himself, kissing his hand, and saying Amen for making it out of the city) at the shrine at the bottom of the hill on the way to the suburbs.

Our taxi casa on a slow day.
The orange wall is our house.

Arthur: Remember that movie about that crazy drunken British guy, Arthur, played by Dudley Moore? My most recent cab driver didn't look like him (as far as I could tell. I only saw the back of his head), but he certainly drove like a drunkard. I got a little nervous when he didn't cross himself or pause at the shrine. He blew right through it like a bat outta hell. Ironically, a bat out of hell should cross himself for being such a lucky guy... Anyway, there was a lot of mid-day traffic because people go home for lunch for two-hours. Apparently, Arthur wanted to get home, too. He decided to go up and over the curb not realizing he was driving an old 4-door Toyota. Instead of going up and over we kind of went straight into the curb. For days I had achy joints and a headache.

Country Mouse: I swear, there is a whole army of taxi drivers who have just moved to LP. On more than one occasion I have had a taxi driver ask another one for directions to my destination (I'm not much help considering I barely know my derecha from my izquierda). Believe me, everyone knows where I am going by just looking at me. It is like being in DC and telling a cab driver you'd like to see Pennsylvania Avenue and having the cabbie say, "Hey lady, could you be a little more specific?"

The Culturally Sensitive driver: This driver is not unique to SA. We encountered them across Turkey and a couple in Madagascar. In other countries they play Hotel California as loud as possible, but here the Culturally Sensitive driver plays a wide-variety of boy-band music a la Backstreet Boys and 98 Degrees.

Despite these intricacies, they all seem to have one thing in common: They all fall into the category of Sorry-I-don't-have-any-change-Gringo.