The secret fart

                This will be a short entry. The fart, after all, is a secret. And you won’t be learning what that secret is, either…because I don’t know what it is. If I did, it wouldn’t be a secret. So this is the short record of a deduction.

                The diet here seems in conflict with the very culture that insists upon that diet. Beans. Rice, white rice, the bad stuff with all the goodness milled out of it, a mountain of it (and Dominicanos put away before I’ve gotten my fork and spoon out,) and beans abundantly ladled over the mountain. Arroz y habituelas, with a little meat tossed on top, usually chicken but also beef at times. And the culture is anti-smell. No “bad” smells allowed. A Dominican army would falter and fail if their supply of body deodorant sticks was interrupted. And absolutely no farting allowed, anytime, anywhere. This is so strict even Peace Corps doesn’t mention it by name. It is assumed that the emphasis put on that which smells and bathing multiple times a day (with cold water) will enable any new volunteer to draw the essential parallels, make the appropriate extrapolations. A fart even heard will dispossess the unfortunate farter of his or her culture. Men may fart and be socially quarantined. Women simply never fart. It’s never happened here, can never happen here and will not happen here; no need for discussion. Women are pure…a kind of revered subspecies, but pure. Any woman that farts is a man…and any man dressing as a woman is going to be found eaten by sharks. Message: don’t fart. Eat lots of beans and don’t fart. It’s no wonder the health issues Dominicans have.

                So, what I’m thinking is, physics win out, which is the usual case. People must fart. Everyone must fart just as I do after a meal of one mountain of white rice accompanied by a heaping portion of beans. So when does it happen? There have to be opportunities. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep from farting. My gut distends with the held gas generated by the beans and rice I must consume to be a apprentice to this culture. Holding it in as I have to, through hours of meetings right after lunch, for example, without crying out in pain has to take practice. I remember one attack of gas I had in college that actually put me down in the common room I was in such pain. When the gas finally worked its way out, well, description aside, it was a tremendous relief. My experience informs me of what it must be like for millions of Dominicans every day. I have a new reverence for their abilities and perseverance. And, then, one must consider that eventually that gas has got to get out.

                I have yet to find a gas relief center in any town or city here. I haven’t been everywhere but with a need so great such centers, if needed, would be everywhere. Quite profitable, too, given circumstances. So there’s another way, a more “appropriate technology” so to speak and to put it in terms of my service work here. A fart heard would be as socially damaging as a fart smelt. So farts, a.) must happen and, b.) must be silent.

                I can just hear my friend scolding her 5 year old: “No, son, you can’t do that.” “But, Mom, I have to.” “You can’t do that, now go to your room and stay there until you figure out what to do.” “Aw, Mom! No fair!” “Go on, now. I mean it. To your room. Go.” And they figure it out. They have to.