Jim and I talked a lot about the Holy Spirit and how God still speaks today, which is a bit controversial in the Churches of Christ. Ironically (or more like "appropriately"), as I read my journals back, I so confidently speak of the work of the Holy Spirit in me. There was no doubt in my mind as to whether God was speaking to me or working through me - I wasn't sitting and debating about it, but doing His work and living in His presence. I think it passes Curt DeBoer's test - is what I was doing in keeping with the scriptures? Was it in keeping with what we know of God's character? Who gets the glory? What I knew in my heart was supported by this line of questioning.
Once we disembarked, we were greeted by a band that played beautiful local music (for tips). Then, they stopped playing when we got in line for immigration and we were headed for the luggage claim, so I put on some Juan Luis Guerra on my cell phone for us to enjoy and keep our spirits up. We flew through immigration and customs – it was nothing at all! Upon leaving the airport and breathing the rich, humid air, I don’t know – I was suddenly so happy I felt like crying. I had finally arrived, in spite of everything.
We saw and greeted the other half of our group and got on a type of
truck (Daihatsu) with two benches and nothing more than a piece of plastic
above us. We met Jeff and Keely, the missionaries.
They have very strong,
charming Southern accents. They put our suitcases in a trailer that the
Daihatsu pulled. They offered us a cold drink, telling us it would be the last
one, that we would have to buy them after that. They explained a bunch of other
things that I don’t remember, I was just trying to absorb and understand what
was going on around me in this new country.
Hours went by it seemed until we got a flat tire on trailer. We didn’t
waste much time though; we left the trailer off the side of the road and loaded
all the luggage onto the Daihatsu, sitting on top of and/or stepping on it.
Onward we went. There were many trees, small towns and sometimes people and
animals. We sang “tengo gozo, gozo” and “en momentos así”. I didn’t know that
would be characteristic of our whole trip, that we never lost an opportunity to
sing and praise God, as much to lift our spirits and those around us as to give
glory to God. 
I saw mango trees – so cool! or rather “bacano”! There is obviously a lot of poverty, but one of the things that really stands out to me (different from Mexico- everything from mountains to desert to beach to forests) is the lushness of it all, and we never forgot that the ocean was not far from us. The missionaries and
interns at Manna are so young and kind and must speak a lot of Spanish, but
they don’t speak it with me (except Jarisa who is Dominican and Chad who is
“off” this week, so we didn’t see as much of him). The say – insist, actually –
that Dominican Spanish is not Spanish, that it is so different as to be
unintelligible, but up to now I understand the Dominicans I’ve met. Of course,
I’m sure the kids will be another story with all their slang and I’ll have to
interpret more, as is usually the case with teens.
Upon arriving to the Manna campus, there was a little time to unpack and
arrange our things. I was very excited to see there is a volleyball court and
we would play there every day. I liked how everyone just jumped in whenever,
everyone was always welcome even if it meant 8-10 people on a side!
Tomorrow we’ll see if I still understand the Spanish from around here
since it’s Community Day. We’re going to homes of local people (families of
kids who attend Manna Christian School) and later with kids at Manna Community
Center in Río San Juan for a program called Princesas y Pescadores (Princesses
and Fishermen).
It’s a bit rustic here (ok, a lot) but like camping. The showers are
military style – cold water and use as little as possible – a little to get
wet, scrub up, then rinse off, and once a day max- if there is enough water
that day. For the toilet the rule is: if it’s yellow, let it mellow, if it’s
brown, flush it down, and don’t even think about putting toilet paper in the
pot. There’s a stick if you forget! (piece of rebar). I've been back for over a week now and I still catch myself thinking "oh, no! I put the paper in the toilet!" Right now, I can’t even
imagine becoming comfortable with the lack of privacy here, I mean there aren't even curtains on the showers, and you are using the bathroom right in front of everyone. As I look back, I’m amazed thinking
about how in such a short time we were all comfortable undressing in front of
one another, using the bathroom, showering, etc. It’s all so normal, why waste
time worrying about such things in conditions such as these.
Tonight we played volleyball and I braided almost everyone’s hair.
Dinner was beans and rice with fried yucca (it was all so delicious!) but we
had to do the dishes, clean the floors, etc. afterwards. There will be chores
every evening. After all, we came to serve, right? After we showered, we
chatted on the patio for hours and Washy (Darlin), who is the night security guard, made us Dominican coffee. I
would write “Guachi” because his nickname comes from “Guachiman” (I’m
guessing - it means watchman), but he writes “Washy”. The coffee is exactly like café cubano but
slightly less strong and without the foam. He says they also commonly add some
nutmeg, but he didn’t make it for us that way. Well, it’s already 12:30am and
the bugs are going crazy with the light, even with my fan (and the
anti-mosquito net). More later!
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