How good old hospitality restored my faith in humanity
During our brief visit to Dominican Republic we manifested pineapples, pork, and fresh fish in abundance, and learned a thing or two about the power of prayer.
Dominican Republic was a paradise. Palm trees, coconuts, and pineapples. Crystal clear, turquoise waters, and a few short but fun adventures on land. The highlight was a day-long stop in the small fishing village on Isla Beata, near the Haitian border, where we befriended the entire village of men—border police and fishermen who stayed on the island for weeks or months at the time, but lived on the main island, usually with big and numerous families.
Most of the men that I spoke to had many children with different women. One of them had eleven kids with five mothers. I got to explore and assert my newfound identity as a documentary photographer as the men were happy to get their pictures taken and in the few hours that we spent there I was running from end to end of the village as people were requesting “the photographer” at their posts.
El gringo, a local fish handler who connected the fishers to the markets in Santo Domingo, invited us for dinner at his place and sent us off with a bag full of fish, pork, and chicken. He was evangelical and happy to talk to us about God and Jesus while blasting religious music on the loudspeakers on his terrace. Just pray for what you need and God will deliver, he assured me. But it was important to follow the way of Jesus—not just in words but in acts. He loved sharing and giving, and when I mentioned to the captain at the military outpost that el Gringo had given us a bag of meat he just laughed and answered that he had insisted on giving him a chicken as well.