Just a Nice Dominican Man

Ever since I've been here, I've been told repeatedly not to trust Dominican men. I've been told this by literally almost everybody I have talked to, including Dominican men. The warnings have all come with stories of being let-down, lied to, or taken advantage of. All of the stories have also been told with the best of intentions, in hopes of protecting us from harm or disappointment. This theme has been drilled into me so hard, I have begun to look at every Dominican man as a possible threat.

Linley and I were headed to the club for work one morning, so we flagged down a motoconcho driver (motorcycle taxi driver) and hopped on. We started talking to the man with as much Spanish as we knew, and revealed to him that we were currently searching for a moto of our own. He got pretty excited at this idea, and even more excited when he realized we were working for a program that helped poor children. He took down my number and said he would call soon.

My first instinct was, "Great, what a nice guy!" Then, almost immediately, my skepticism kicked in. I had already had several other people say they would help me find a good price on a moto, none of which really panned out or seemed legitimate. I quickly forgot about my encounter with the motoconcho driver.

The very next day, I got a phone call. It was the motoconcho driver. I was surprised he had called, but still not excited, as I was still wearing my skeptics pants and had no reason to take them off. People always seem willing to help a gringo, but not many are looking to help a gringo without the expectation of being paid or tipped or fed (or at least that is what I was trained to think).

Against my better judgement and the advice of so many, I told him where I lived, and within minutes, he was there. We shook hands like old friends and he told me to hop on his moto. I did, and we took off. He took me to another neighborhood about 5 minutes away, where three men were waiting on a corner with three motos for me to look at. I was nervous and wondered at one point they were going to mug me and steal my gym shorts without pockets, tank top, and flip-flops. I test drove each moto, shook all of their hands, and we took off. Before we left, however, the driver told me I was driving, so he could teach me a thing or two about driving in the DR. Irrelevant, but entertaining for us, it started to downpour. On the way home we even saw a friend walking home and gave her a ride. We had tons of fun splashing around in mud puddles and got completely soaked to the bone, laughing as I came close to trashing his bike several times. We got home, he told me the bikes were overpriced, and left. He didn't even charge me for the ride.

The next day, he called me again and asked if I was home. I said yes, and within minutes, he was there with a friend. His friend was riding a beautiful blue moto. Exactly the bike I was looking for. I hopped on, took it for a spin, nothing fell off the bike, and I was sold. The man left with the blue moto, and there we stood, nodding our heads like two men thinking about a big decision (well, to be fair, I was trying to figure out a good Spanish phrase to ask him what he thought). He gave me a good head nod and said "bueno moto." I was glad he broke the ice and shook my head in agreement. I had the other guys contact info, so I figured my friendship with the motoconcho driver was over. I liked it that way, too, because it meant that I didn't get ripped off by him.

I bought the moto the next day, happy to know that I had a quality bike from a trustworthy man. Sure enough, the motoconcho driver showed up. He walked up the driveway, shook my hand and asked if I had bought the bike. Once I said I had, he went to work. He checked every nook and cranny of a bike I thought had basically come off the showroom floor. He gave me a list of stuff that needed to be done, and said he would be back the next day. BOOM! that was it, that was his scam! He sells me a bike and then charges me for the repairs. I wasn't surprised, and was almost relieved to know this, so I could at least prepare myself for it. I figured I would let him change the oil and tighten some bolts and then give him some money. After all, I did feel like he had more than earned a tip of some sort.

He showed up the next day at noon like he said, and we took off on my new moto to gather supplies. We ended up cruisin all around to get the following:

A piece welded on to fix the kickstand- $2
Oil, brake fluid, battery fluid- $5
extra pegs for an extra passenger- $2
Coke Zero- $1

We got back to my house and worked through the pouring rain to change the oil, clean and lube the chain, grease every bolt, change the battery fluid, add brake fluid, install the sweet new pegs, and clean the whole thing using rain water. It was newer than new. We finished working, got the grease off our hands, and started hangin out on the patio. That's when it started getting awkward. And when I say awkward, I mean it was completely natural and chill, like two friends that just finished working on a bike. I couldn't decide if I should give him money or give him food. Then I couldn't decide how much was too much and how little would insult him. After a while, it became clear he wasn't sitting waiting to be paid.

I started to get the point. He just wanted to be my friend. He wanted to help me out and show me around his neck of the woods. He didn't expect anything in return. The thought hadn't even seemed to have crossed his mind. He's a great friend, regardless of the fact that we can hardly communicate beyond head nods, fist bumps, and the few phrases we know in each others languages. He has even since introduced me to his two children, and checks in on us to make sure we are okay.

It's hard to accept friends like this sometimes, because there is always a sense of "what's in it for you?" or "when is this all going to hit the fan?" It's also hard to receive a free gift, because we feel like we don't deserve it or it makes us less independent if we accept it.

God does a great job at showing us love in the form of average people who just want to be our friend and spend time with us, without needing anything in return. God also has a sense of humor, and gives it to us straight some times when we really need it. I'm not sure what will come of this friendship, but I sure am glad to have met that motoconcho driver. His name:

Jesus