Dirty Dajabon

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Not ten minutes outside of Santo Domingo and you’re already catching glimpses of the infamous beauty of this country. Mountains in the distance and lush green hills dotted with palm trees in the fore ground. All of it increasing in diversity and complexity until you reach the Cibao Valley - banana trees lining the road and rice fields seemingly extending to the mountains. Then as you turn toward the northwest, the landscape grows rockier, dustier, and despite the climb in altitude, hotter. Palm trees give way to pine trees, and town after town covered in orange dust: the border approaches.

About three times a week, all along the border, Haitians flood into the country to pawn off the used clothes and cheap perfumes they receive from U.S. and international aid agencies for items they actually need - food and water. It’s a mad scrambling back-and-forth, wheelbarrows full of clothes coming in, then returning with as many platanos as will fit, four people pushing a vehicle made for oxen, a dozen 6x6 cartons of egg stacked one atop the other, taller than the woman who’s carrying all of it on her head - from morning until the Dominican soldiers get tired of dealing with smelly Haitians in the burning sun. All of it a rough shoving of bodies throughout a 25 square block market. It’s like a trip out of the hemisphere, complete with a white UN tank resting across the dying river that divides both countries.

People in the D.R. have their hardships like the majority of the human population, but most are not forced to struggle every waking minute just to live into the next day. On the contrary, there’s plenty of leisure regardless of income: dominos, baseball, rum, just sitting around, chatting about the size of mangos. But on market days in Dajabon, you’re surrounded by a different group of humans - by sets of deadened eyes that never see joy in place of survival, by mouths that never smile and bodies that never rest.

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Photos

Dajabon Market
On the bridge that goes over the river. You can see Dominican soldiers harassing a man on the right.

El Rio Masacre
So known for the day it ran red with Haitian blood when Dominicans with machetes "restored the republic." No there's plenty of black people here, so how did they know who to kill? They'd knock on a house with one bunch of parsley and ask the resident to say the name of that herb, "perejil." If you pronounced it like a French-based speaker, the other hand had a machete waiting for you and your family.

Comments

[MOM]

My darling little boy. I enjoy all your messages and interesting pictures. You make me laugh so much, specially with the "Pablito" story and picture. Hope you are feeling well and you have been able to eat something other than chicken. Love you and be safe P.S. Your sister won the Championship today for the Region. Next weekend we go to Pensacola to compete for State.

[C Brumfield]

keep writing
You make your former English teacher proud! You sense of imagery, the details, it is a though I can see and feel what you are experiencing. Stay healthy and safe, but most importantly - keep writing!