How Sly

How slyly ownership of this project has crept out of my control. It was mine at first just as other projects similar to this one have been mine. I dreamed it up. I applied to Peace Corps. I had my reasons and things I wanted to accomplish through the opportunities it offered…as best I could read them through the kaleidoscope eye-piece they offered.

By mine I mean that sense of ownership and responsibility for the trip: all the equipment, that it is the right equipment, that it’s mine, tested and understood, proven even modified to fit my reasons and aspirations and plans, that I have thought of everything, made what I couldn't buy, done what Laurens Van Der Post means when he finally buys sealing wax, that last item known to be the last because it, unique among the others, has no known use to the project. I haven’t been able to accurately define this project so can’t plan for it and it is finally driving me nuts.

I find, recently I have been responding to Peace Corps' description of the project, a project of two years and a bit more, 27 months, and lost track of my own idea of it. When I did my projects—proposed to ride my touring bicycle over the Andes and across South America, for example—I may have not known what I would encounter and I might not be able to use all the camping equipment I’d brought along but all those unknowns were accepted on my terms, I owned the project, mistakes, successes and all.

About this Peace Corps has not been forth coming. Do I bring camping gear or not? They won’t say what we, or I, will be doing. That will be decided after training. I’m an engineer; I’m bringing a multi-tool knife, a scientific calculator and a magnifying lens (loupe.) I’m not bringing a multi meter. They want me to measure voltages on a PV array, they’ll have to supply those tools. I can only do so much guessing and get anywhere close, not be weighed down with stuff I’ll never use.

And what we’ll do on our vacations has been limited by the simple statement in the DR Welcome Book: “Don’t bring a stove; this is not a camping trip,” [approximate quote.] Then what do people do in the national parks or on or near the beaches, for example? Can they camp? Do they? Is there a national ban on camping in the DR? Perhaps camping is not a part of their culture. I hadn’t heard of that and can’t find it on the Internet. Poor as they are, we’re told Dominicans bathe twice a day. What, are they trying to catch up to the Australians (who, I have it from an inside source, shower three times a day)? I’m lucky to get a shower once a week here.

            We’re told in some references to bring a camping stove (Banergee, if I remember correctly.) In that case, I also wonder about bringing a tent. My mosquito netting armed tarp worked well on my “a través” South America trip and might find its way into my duffle. We’re actually told to consider bringing a Thermarest (or equivalent) and a light (yet waterproof) sleeping bag. So far, that last item has eluded me. Are we into tropical expedition equipment now? Waterproof usually means GoreTex. I have a GoreTex bag but talk about expensive!!
            I’ve found my anxiety (Spanish: zozobra) mounting to a point where I could almost hear it and yesterday I decided to make this project mine again, to take it back. My, how slyly it has drifted away…or been lured away from me. There have been so many questions: take the computer? Yes? No? Peace Corps says it can be useful for our work (but be sure to insure it, theft being the problem) and any number of things I’ve bought for this trip/experience/project. I am left sometimes feeling like a fool, an ass, as my mother would have said. I could arrive with all the wrong stuff and then want to hide my reddening face.
            Peace Corps tells us to focus on the language. Fine. And the culture. Fine. Peace Corps recommends we find a balance between work and play. Play? There’s play? Do I bring a cook stove and a tent? They’re small and light. I’m leaving the rock climbing gear behind. It’s an island, surrounded in the warm waters of the Atlantic Ocean, ringed with coral reefs. A mask and snorkel were invaluable (and actually enabled me to catch dinner off Malaysia’s east coast islands for myself and a lovely woman I teamed up with) and light enough for me to carry them on the bicycle. Do I bring those? I have no idea (I’ll bring them.) And I don’t know how to find out. We already know I won’t have the where-with-all to go sailboarding or surfing (world class wind and surf…reserved for the tourists, it seems…very expensive) so what do PCVs do when they go to the beach? Lay in the sun? I hate lying about on the beach. Can’t do it, in fact. I’m good for 10 minutes then have to put the book away. What do folks mean when they refer to the “beautiful beaches?” Palm trees and white sand? Okay. Now…what’s there to do? Chat up the girls? That’s pointless in the DR…or so I’m told. (The girls are under lock and key, the key looking rather a lot like a cross with an unhappy, scantily clad male figure nailed to it. This read between the lines in the Peace Corps’ literature on the DR.) I’m leaving whatever girls there may be alone. How’s the surf? That’s what I want to know. Can I get out to it? Drink? I don’t drink. Like I said, how’s the surf?

I’ve actually had very few things stolen on my trips. Those things were travelers checques and my passport (in India…Old Delhi…on a very crowded bus, people pressing against me, the bus swaying as it rounded corners) and an old camera, travelers checques again, and some other papers (in Nairobi…at sunset in the circle near the casino where I was attacked, robbed and beaten…not severely…but I needed the gear they took) So I decided to stop worrying about losing things. That paranoia can build up in me.

            I got out the soldering iron and melted my name into everything I’m taking that’s made of plastic. The back of the computer, the computer’s battery, the wireless keyboard (my hands are too big to use the laptop’s keyboard with any satisfaction,) it’s companion wireless mouse, the laptop’s charger and a number of other things, even the tiny wireless receiver for the mouse and keyboard, marked up, defaced, spoiled, and mine, un-resalable…but fully functional. Pretty is a problem. Pretty is what’s called “an attractive nuisance.” I can’t permanently mark the Leatherman (a recommended item) but will think of some way to make it darned hard to steal. What was I thinking trying to keep them in pristine condition? Spoil them! They work just fine and nobody else wants them. My bicycle was a good example: used, scratched and faded paint, all new spokes, chain rings, derailleurs, internal parts and a comfortable seat but beat-looking.
            That act might not deter thieves as much as I’d like but something in me changed: I took back this project and my two years in the Peace Corps. Now I am free to learn Spanish and “settle in” (whatever that means and if it’s possible) and dig into my assignments. Everything goes by me first. I am responsible. My gear is mine and I am maximizing my opportunities in the DR. Maybe there really will be no opportunity to camp. (This just in from my “Friends of the DR” mentor: nobody goes camping in the DR. I imagine I will learn just why once I’m there a while. I gather, for one thing, that it isn’t safe to do so, therefore, not smart.)

I’ve made some mistakes, but precautions taken ahead of time usually work. Being aware of the scams and ways of thieves is one way to avoid problems…but I have a lot to learn about those. That and keeping a sense of awareness. Just stay present, and don’t get wooly, don’t give away your power. Stay sober (no problem there for me.) Always question what you’re being told. That’s good practice as well as critical advise for surviving in most situations in this new world of scams (and, yes, I am also talking about wind machines on Vermont ridge lines, vast PV arrays in our agricultural fields, the certainty that CO2 is overheating the planet (very likely it isn’t,) and the 9/11 fairy tale (cuenta de hada) the official explanation of events.) Ask questions, stay awake, do your own research. As the bumper sticker says: “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.” Pay attention. Develop your own sniff test and bullshit meter. In this world it is a fine idea to take a course in science in the pursuit of the above. “People” don’t “do” science in the US. We could change that. Put the BSers and eco-scammers back on their heels.