Make the Road by Walking

13 Octubre del 2009.
“You will make the Road by Walking.”

For those of you who may not be familiar with this phrase, it is a rally-cry for the indigenous of Latin America to walk towards a better, just reality. It expresses the deep, deep faith necessary to walk toward something so radically different from present reality, without knowing the direction of the path, not knowing if there IS a path! The only certainty is that there WILL BE a path, once we have blazed it with our own heart’s fire and wetted it down with our own sweat and tears.
This is a good way to start this new blog. First thing this morning, the M assigned to orient me to the city and help me find housing said to me, “You are driving.” Mmm. My dirty secret is that I have never driven south of the border, I just act like I have when driving in Chicago.  The command was clear enough, “Drive.” So we navigated Santo Domingo’s crowded, no-nonsense streets with U-turns and non-working stop-lights and fallen-down street signs and horse-drawn carretas and banana sellers, and I drove without fear. Making my road by driving.
I have been studying the map and picking Aunt Sharon’s brain about the island, the culture, ministry, our relationship with the National Convention of Baptists (exceptionally good) and my possible future barrio home (Villa Mella? Sabana Perdida? Ozama?). She does not seem opposed to my references to a big, black dog to keep me company at night.
14 Octubre 2009
The SD team, Dominicans included, seems a little surprised by my adamant desire to live in the Barrios. América, one of our national church planters, laughed about the irony: “We Dominicans spend our whole lives trying to get out of these dirty, far-flung neighborhoods, and here you walk in and want to live in the poorest of them all! Ha!” This is what I have been called to, so will not waver. Sharon and I are striking a balance between marginality and security. We have focused on an area that is stable with regards to violence and drug-related activity, but comprised of lower-class, working people who sit outside their homes and play dominos and pluck guitars. That is fine with me. 
Grocery shopping was fun: Supposedly there is a large Palestinian population in the Capitol, so I was able to purchase Bismatti rice, pita, dates and couscous. Thrilling. I bought organic shampoo and lotion made of extracts of “Baba de Caracol,” or “Snail Slime.” It is working miracles on my face. I was tickled to find organic coffee grown on a local sustainable collective of national farmers. To top off my “green” fix, Sharon told me that my water heater is solar-powered. Ha!
I am eating well: Rice, beans (Habichuelas, not Frijoles), fresh tomatoes, aguacate, and limones. And of course, Platanos maduros. Coffee here is prepared Ethiopian or Turkish-esk. It is made in a Espresso-maker or “Greco” on the stove and is strong, dark, and bitter. A little goes a long way.
My kitchen and house is fully equipped with things the company bought for me, their only journeyman for a long, long time. I have new sheets, towels, pots, pans, knives, and even a new, metal lemon-squeezer. I cried with gratitude this morning as I made breakfast in my temporary apartment. I feel like I was given a shower of some kind. Aunt Lottie Moon (my Single M heroin) could not have found a more appreciative recipient than I am at this moment. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. The team can never know how thankful I am to be “nested” in some place, with things of my very own. I have been couch-surfing with different families in different cities in three different countries for over a year-and-a-half. It is a gift to have a place, to feel like a woman. There is great dignity that comes with ownership, with a kitchen. Thank you for all who made this possible with your generous giving through our Sweet Aunt Lottie’s Christmas Offering.
Gratified, Allison