Jarabacoa

I crashed for a couple of hours that night and got up fairly early. After a great deal of driving around in taxis and getting packed and figuring out how and when I would go to Jarabacoa, I got on the bus early that afternoon. I mostly slept and relaxedon the Caribe Tours guagua—it’s a pretty nice service, after all. When I got into Jarabacoa, no one would believe me that I knew where

I was. As I was walking to Medina, my suitcase handle broke. But luckily Alex drove by just then and offered to give me a ride. I had him drop me off at my usual internet café so I could check on

some things and let people know where I was. It was really fun to see my host family when I got to the house that evening. When I’d left Jarabacoa, Doña had run out of her meds and was having some kind of nervous episode, and I’d been pretty worried. Doña fed me some sancocho and I repacked a bunch of my stuff—I’d left my larger suitcase there instead of hauling back to the states with me. I took a bucket bath and hung out with the family the rest of the evening, made my plans for the next day, and went to bed early.

They boys showed me their new schoolgear—it was Smil’s first year in school! And then José started jumping around super excited, and Doña explained to me that she had an appointment in the capital to apply for an

immigrant visa. She had decided not to buy the boys schoolbooks even—it seems they were hoping to move well before the year was out. At some point that weekend that night or the next day, I can’t quite remember, Doña and I got into a rather involved

conversation. I took a mental snapshot of the moment—Doña and I sitting on the kitchen floor, my dictionary in my lap, Doña leaning in and talking quietly, José Rafael trying to sneak around the corner and evesdrop.

We talked about the appointment in Santo Domingo—how they were going to prepare for it, would her husband be coming. Doña said she wanted her husband to come down for the appointment but he said he wasn’t sure he would take off that much work. Doña’s dad had told her he thought her husband

was probably having an affair in New York, and although she didn’t say so, she seemed to suspect it was true. I asked her what I could do to help, and she said maybe I could come with her to the appointment. I wanted to do whatever I could to help them get to New York.