Profe in the DR 20

Profe in the DR 20

We had thunder storms Tuesday night, leaving the soccer field in need of work again.  It seems we spend a lot of time trying to keep the field in good enough condition to play.  We are constantly trying to get rid of all the standing water and mud, filling in holes made from people or animals walking on it when it is wet and muddy, filling in ruts, picking up garbage and glass people throw on the field, and fighting back the thorn bush that is forever trying to swallow up the field.  We seem to spend even more time however, trying to find a shovel, a rake, and something to carry dirt in.  I have fixed the tire on a wheelbarrow so many times already that there are more patches than tube.  We can never come up with more than one five gallon bucket at a time, and even rice sacks seem to be at a premium.  It is not uncommon for us to spend twice as much time trying to borrow tools than time spent using them.

On Wednesday we played a practice game between the men’s team and the teenager’ team.  After the teenagers scored a goal, one young man, maybe 18, began to argue with Blanco who was refereeing the game (Blanco is the coach of the teenager’s team).  The young man continued to argue it wasn’t a goal until Blanco finally threw him out of the game.  The young man refused to take off his penny (practice jersey) and next thing I know, he and Blanco were rolling on the ground fighting.  I quickly ran over and got the young man off of 53 year old Blanco and separated the two.  I got the young man to take off the penny, and everyone told him to leave.  However, he stuck around and started threatening Blanco that he was going to get a gun and shoot him.  Blanco got mad and chased the young man off by throwing rocks the size of his fist at him. 

Rock throwing is very common here.  If you are angry at someone, throw a rock at them.  If you want to have some fun, throw a rock at someone.  If you like someone, throw a rock at them, hard.  Just last week one of the boys who plays chess with us had a big gash on the top his head from a rock.  I am forever hearing rocks that missed their mark (or maybe not) hit my house.  They make a real thud when they land on the metal roof. 

I got out yesterday for a three hour ride up into the mountains, accompanied by 15 year old Papito.  We rode mid day and I got a little more sun on my arms than I wanted.  You could clearly tell where the sleeves of my bike jersey ended (tan lines).  Today one of the boys asked me why my arms were two-toned.