On the road…again!

Afghanistan to Zambia

Chronicles of a Footloose Forester

By Dick Pellek

Dominican Republic

As a country right next door to Haiti, and occupying about 2/3 of the Island of Hispaniola, the Dominican Republic was also a pleasure in contrasts.  The Footloose Forester went there several times, on business and for pleasure.  The business part had mostly to do with the Agroforestry Outreach Project in Haiti.  As neighbors, we consulted back and forth regarding nursery technology, outreach programs, program implementation issues, and the like. Some of the contacts were smooth and fruitful; but one or two were a bit thorny. On one occasion, the Footloose Forester was urged by his Project Manager in Haiti to visit the USAID office in Santa Domingo with a particular objective in mind. The Project Officer, a Direct-Hire USAID employee set the trip up, starting with the mandatory notification by cable to his counterpart that Footloose was coming. But that counterpart of his Project Manager was out of the office when Footloose arrived, so he explained to the only other USAID employee in the office what his mission was, and the fact that a cable authorizing the trip describing his mission had already been sent. That routine protocol gesture did not deter the Dominican counterpart (a white American) from laying into Footloose and threatening to send him back to Haiti, for the audacity of working in the USAID library without his knowledge. Footloose Forester really enjoyed such encounters. The first thing he said was that he would be happy to close his notepad, go pack his things and leave the country.  Then he would go ask his Project Manager to contact his counterpart and ask him why he did not read the authorizing cable, nor permit Footloose Forester to conduct his mission. There seem to be too many autocrats in USAID who think that the country they are working in is their country, and that they can order people out, if they so choose.

A more pleasant working visit was later worked out with more satisfactory logistics.  Footloose Forester got authorization to travel by auto across the border into the western part of the country and visit with project associates in the field before having to lock horns with bureaucrats in Santa Domingo.  It was also an adventure in contrasts on the ground, just as the contrast in the landscape of the border region between the Dominican Republic and Haiti can be seen in satellite photographs. On the Dominican side the landscape appears green in photos; on the Haiti side it is decidedly brown and barren.  So it was as he approached the border crossing in low gear along a narrow, deeply rutted and unpaved road on the Haiti side. Once through the seldom-visited immigration hut, he quickly accelerated into high gear along a paved road.

The Dominican Republic was proud of its golf courses.  The Footloose Forester had planned for years to play there, and during one short vacation period, he played twice.  Details about the planning are obscure now, but he remembers driving east out of Santa Domingo early in the morning to be at the golf course early enough to work out any tee time arrangement that might be posed to him.  About 10-15 miles before he reached his destination, he remembers coming into a medium sized town while it was still dark.  The town enforced their speed limit by digging shallow trenches across the road at strategic places at either end of town.  When you hit one of those trenches in the dark, it makes your teeth rattle and the underside of the car gets a more severe jolt.  After finding out the hard way going to the golf course, Footloose was prepared on the way back, again in the dark after the sun went down. This time he pulled off to verify that the trenches were indeed cut out of the blacktop road material to a depth of 6-8 inches.

By the way, he played alone on a great golf course. The other more famous course at Punta Cana was a few miles away and had a waiting list, so he accepted a tee time to play on another Robert Trent Jones course.  He was even allowed to walk, something he always preferred to do when he had the chance.  The next day, choosing which course to play on was not an issue.

On another trip, or a previous one, Footloose Forester arrived by air after midnight.  He rented a car at the airport and started into town but decided that he was far too tired to look for a hotel at that late hour.  So he drove just far enough to give himself a good start in the morning.  He stopped at one of the few cabanas that still had their lights on, and asked for a room.  They wanted payment in advance, but then handed him a towel, a piece of soap (unwrapped and previously used), a partial roll of toilet paper; and a condom.  Standard issue, one presumes, for cheap cabanas far from the lights of the city.