How it feels to grow up in a third world country

Madam Contest master, fellow Toastmaster, and esteemed guest, 

My name is Auris Laura Candelaria Arias and I will be talking to you on how it feels to grow up in a third world country. What  can I tell you about my childhood? Except that it was the best time of my life

Things were magical

My cousin jumped buildings.

We were in a fire.

I was hugged and told I was loved every single day, multiple times a day.

The way I raise my son is in large part, to how I was raised.

The year, 1990 or thereafter. the place, Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, or as I call it, paradise.

Paradise was cool. There was hot weather everyday. I once look at a map of the world and it seemed to me that we were smack middle of the equator. No wonder it was so hot! the sun was punishing us!!

We used to live by this hill, and if you had a bike and went down the hill you were surely and innocently, risking your own life.

I lived down the street from what Americans would call "the White House." And I get it, it really was white and as I remember shaped in that same dome circular ceiling type that the White House in America. I wonder if the same architect goes from country to country, replicating the same design of the white house. rip-off.

My aunt she was dark skinned and had a son, Marcus that was my brother and my cousin. We call that primohermano.  He was skinny and so much stronger than me and it was so weird to me because I must have been at least 20 pounds more than him. But he could lift more stuff than me. I read in science class it must have been due to this hormone called 'I forgot.'

The beautiful thing about the past is that it stays the same, and it doesn't change. the future is still being written, but the past. It stays the same, and there is a comfort of that. No matter how much you mess up in life, you can go back to a time in your life when you were great, you were loved, you mattered.

For me, that has always been my childhood. 

The world is cruel, because it keeps changing. Even physically, if you go back to the street that you grow up in, its different. I did that, I went back when I was 13. and the door was still pink. The stoop was still there. But in there, lived a new family, surely making a new story in the household that is such an amazing part of my story. 

I miss being a kid. I miss having fun. I miss feeling valued and the world being an unpredictable place full of adventure and new things. I'll tell you some of the things that happened that made me wonder. My sister had something in her ear, we took her to the doctor and it turned out it was a bug. I spent so many thinking hours wondering how a bug had flown into her ear and gotten so deep in there and how she didn't notice. and how long before she noticed it. 

My cousin caused a fire that almost burned the house down. The only way we noticed was because he carried a small little cup of water from the kitchen to the closet. After about the 5th time, I or someone followed up and we found the fire. my aunt, other aunt, and another aunt all were mesmerized by the fire. I don't remember if the firefighters came and to be honest, I am not sure if my country had firefighters back then. 

When you live in a  third world country you don't have the government come and help you. You have each other. You have your neighbor. And if you don't help, it is really all on you because you are the only one that can. When our maid's house burned down, we found her a place to stay. She lost everything in one night and she had 3 kids. I know what you are wondering, its a third world country how can you afford a maid? The truth is, its cheaper than keeping a fish. 

Yes, there was  time we tried pets. The fish kept dying because we fed it oatmeal. We didn't know there was fish food and we surely didn't have money or a car to go to back to the fish wonder. it makes me wonder how we got that fish in the first place. We lived with rats, everywhere you go, rats. When it rains in my country, worms don't come out, its rats. They run everywhere with their huge tails and they both scary and disgusting. Because of growing up in DR, I know how the worst smell of the world, its a dead rat. I know most of you don't know what I'm talking about, but trust me. 

In DR, we believe in hitting kids. The teachers hit you, your parents hit you, your parent's siblings hit you (and then the parent thanks them for spanking their kid when they get home from work). An unruly child is a sight to be seen.  But at what point does hitting go over into abuse? my aunt used to have this thing when she would make you count how many times she hit you with the belt. and my cousin, you know the teeny tiny one, one time he lost count, and he was up to 9! so he had to start again. I felt like I was forced to watch someone being tortured so I looked away. that's another thing they force you to watch so that you don't get out of line.

The most exciting thing I remember was the time my aunt tried to hit me. I was a golden child, a perfect child. I woke up, I did my bed. I did the dishes, I did everything I was told right away. So when I got hit it was almost a crime. It was like, what did Auris do? I never got hit. i followed all the rules. Anyhow this day, I was there and she had that look and she yelled at me and she got the belt. and then I started running. One, yes I was scared to get hit, but two, it was my aunt she was bigger than me. then it turned into an action movie in my head. let me show you how it was. my thought was, let me tire her out. and then I just couldn't stop running away. I knew I was in trouble and I know I was getting in more trouble making it so hard to get to my behind to beat. but I couldn't help it, I was in too deep now. 

What has worked in the past: the rats. we got cats to get rid of the rats. but they were scared of the rats. 

In my country, things don't work. We are used to that. when you house burns down, a firefighter wont come. or by the time they get through the traffic and unregulated traffic laws, your house is gone. when you are homeless, there is no red cross. if you husband leaves you, there is no child support. he just moves 3 towns down and get another girl and another family and you'll never know until 20 years later when the half siblings met in the one college they have, the WAS. you see, we are used to things not working. we learn to roll with the punches. You start making excuses for people, you start drinking presidente (our beer which translated to English is roughly, the president). Just like our beer, the presidente might as well not exist. You see, America I truly know what its like to live in a self-serving government. We are responsible for ourselves, and for each other. 

And when you grow up down the street from a blind president, yes you heard that right my president Balaguer was blind. and no it wasn't a mistake that we voted for him. He stayed on over 3 terms my entire childhood. When pumbling doesn't work one day and poop is coming out of the toilet and out of the street sewer, you don't cry. you don't great. you get excited because this is adventure. toilets the places that you flush and poop goes down, on that day, it came up. 

There are so many variables and there is nothing you can do to be prepared. you learn to roll iwth the punched you learn to adapt. and most of all, you learn to be patient.