Yelling and Screaming. My life in Santo Domingo is full of screaming and yelling. The tv in the living room yelling. The little girls playing in the kitchen yelling – the 4 year old doesn’t seem to know how to communicate without yelling. The neighborboy yelling. The mother of the neighborboy screaming at the neighborboy yelling. The cat on the neighbor’s roof yelling. There used to be another cat screaming, until the man, fed up with the screaming cat, poisoned it. True story.
The dark-skinned Haitian man, passing by the house ‘avooodcados! avocCAdos! is yelling. The speakers of the colmado corner store with reggeton screaming. A beat up truck with a megaphone- we buy old batteries, we buy old iron pots-yelling.
I started writing that bit in August, after I had here only about three weeks. But, now, after almost four months, its no longer screaming. Its just as loud and nosy as before. But now, its all blended together into the symphony of sounds that have become familiar and comfortable. They are the sounds of the city. And they no longer stress me, but they embrace me providing the loud, colorful backdrop which is life here.