Each day, Ana and I would come back to Maribel Dulce's home from the clinic or our home visits and be greeted by the incredible smell of fried empanadas. In the DR, empanadas (a savory pastry pocket filled with meat and cheese) are typically consumed in the late afternoon and evening. Just two weeks ago, Maribel Dulce decided to step up to the task and open up what is the only empanada stand I've seen in El Llano. Every few days, she takes a huge bag of yuca flour, roasts it together with a special sauce, and sets out to knead the dough with the help of a couple of other men from the village. She then spends a day rolling out the dough into pastry sheets and making little pockets with the filling. The empanadas are then brought outside to be fried and eaten. They are quite good. Ana and I have had empanadas every day after basketball practice.
Up here in the mountains, life is slow. So slow, in fact, that one almost becomes hypersensitive to the little things that happen throughout the day. You start to become aware of the fact that the air feels and smells different right before it rains. You start to notice all the different personalities of the million-and-one roosters and hens that strut and scamper across the mountain roads, walking around as if they owned the place. And of course, you start to pick up on little idiosyncracies of people who actually live there.
It is interesting to me just to hear Maribel Dulce talk. I learned that she herself was a health "promatora" many years back, and I can definitely see the influence. She speaks slowly and deliberately, using her face and hands to gesture an inexplicable amount. To be fair, she is probably the perfect person to be hosting a couple of "gringas" for the week. But it almost makes me laugh to see her face crinkle at our sometimes glazed expressions when we don't understand her, or to see her eyes light up when we somehow are able to understand her thick Dominican Spanish at a first pass.
And then, there is Ramon. Just 25 years old, and it appears that he has lived enough for a person at least twice his age. Every time Ana and I ask a question, or try to give a piece of health advice or counseling, he responds with a lengthy anecdote or account of his personal experiences. When we tried to talk about the need for water purification, he told us he used to work at a water purification company and proceeded to quote us methods for purifying water via chorine and UV rays that he learned at his job. When we brought up the need for him to stop chewing tobacco, he told us that he used to work in a tobacco factory and that it was there when he discovered that "chewing tobacco made his toothache go away."
I asked Dina how she was able to put up with someone who knew so much and talked so much about everything. She simply smiled at me and said, "I like it. Sometimes it gets too quiet around here..."
And of course, it has been a delight to observe the subtle changes in Dina and Ramon's children over the past few days. On our first day we were there, they seemed scared of us, but raucous and unruly at the same time. As we kept up our visits, they became calmer and much more friendly. But the best part came after we bought them toys. I had learned, from watching my brother's kids, how toys could be a valuable part of a child's development (as well as life-saver for parents). And lo and behold, it worked. Both of the toddlers were very occupied with the toys we brought, leaving Dina more time to tend to the baby and to finish up her chores. Dina even told us she had a little time to read in the morning, which made her very happy. Here's a picture of Gilbert, her three-year old son, playing with blocks:
It is hard to belive that tomorrow will be our last day staying up here on the mountain. On the one hand, I am happy to be returning to Internet access (so I can finally load all of these posts), reliable electrical power, and less mosquitoes. But on the other hand, I know it's the little things up here that I will miss: the fact that people smile and say "hola" to you on the street, the roosters crowing at all hours of the day, and of course, the enticing scent of freshly-made empanadas after a long day of hiking.
No comments:
Post a Comment