My Christmas on the Toilet

Even though I already wrote a post on the holidays celebrations abroad, I thought I’d reflect on what actually happened during the holiday season.

My Christmas was very different than my experience in the United States. In the Dominican Republic, Christmas Even or “Buena Noche” is definitely more important than Christmas day. On Christmas Eve family from all around the country often gathers in one place and celebrates by eating a very large meal consisting of special foods not eaten during other parts of the year. These foods often include lasagna, special chewy candies, potato and beet salad, pasta salad, and other delicious foods. The family drinks, listens to music, often plays dominoes, and at the end of the night eats a lot of food.

The next morning, Christmas morning, does not mean really anything. When I woke up Christmas morning, accustomed to being woken up to a “pig pile” by my little brothers so we could rush to the top of the stairs in our pjs, the slow, monotonous morning was different. While I am used to my parents organizing the presents that Santa brought us the night before as we ashiously waited at the top of the stairs to see what Christmas toys awaited us, with my host family there were no toys. Many of the families in my community could not even afford a special meal for noche Buena, perhaps chicken, but nothing too special. Christmas morning I wished everyone merry Christmas very enthusiastically, but not even one person wished me merry Christmas back, we quickly fell into our normal routine of them responding with “How did you sleep?”.

People in the DR do give gifts on Christmas, but wait until about a week later for three kings day, where often parents give gifts to their children. In my community, many children did not receive gifts, their families simply couldn’t afford to spend the extra three dollars on a small doll or toy car. There was a car that came into my community the last day of the three kings day and brought toy cooking sets for the girls and small toy cars for the boys in the community under ten years old. This truck came from a governmental party and was very very welcomed in the community.

I spent my Christmas on the toilet with a bad case of diahrea. When I had emerged from my sickness and ventured out into the community I was greeted by the community Dona’s. Dona’s are the women of the household. I have never seen anyone gossip with the skill and fierocity of DOnas and following the standard greeting of “Hola, como esta” with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek, I was patted on the back and told about what times I had had bowel movenets and how many times during the night. They remembered when I had gone to the bathroom during my sickness better than I had. Even though these women were spread out around the community, they were worried about me, looking out for me and concerned about the state of my stomach. In a weird way the details of my bowel movements relayed back to me was a confirmation that this was becoming my home, I was looked after for whatever I needed and appreciated in this place that didn’t have my Christmas but I found a comfort in the place I have been living becoming my new home.