Feeling the Culture

It is always exciting to feel as if you have begun to blend into another culture. Here, after one month’s time, that feeling is finally setting in. It takes years to really understand the subtle nuances and complexities of a culture and I think that in most cases, foreigners can probably never really fully be accepted and integrated into a culture in which they did not grow up. But just the other day, I caught a glimpse of feeling as if I were at home here. Our work here at Esperanza is extending credit to those who would normally never have access to it, so that they may become empowered. What made me feel as if I was were able to rid myself of the image of being just another passing tourist? Extension of credit. Twice in one day, actually. In the morning, on my way to work, the panederia (bread shop) was not able to break one of my big bills, instead of rejecting me service they just said to pay them back sometime in the future, not a common move when that dollar could be half a days’ wages.

Some of the guys I have gotten to know along my daily walk to Munoz.

That evening, I stopped by a local internet café to make a couple of calls, as the internet at the office had been down for the day. I had gotten to know Angel (a man), the store manager, after a couple of conversations in previous weeks. While he was able to break the big bill for me, he didn’t have exact change. Instead of employing the usual technique, sell you extra crap you don’t want until it balances out for the change you should have received (which seems to be the common practice here at every super market, conveniently out of change or at least not able to see it in the corner of the register, forcing you to buy an extra dollar of Halls breath mints every time), Angel simply offered to have me pay him some extra the next time I came in.

In both situations the amount was no more than a dollar. Pretty miniscule to us, but as I mentioned before, a lot more to people down here, and more than anything it was the fact that they recognized me, knew I lived in the area, and offered to take a small chance in order to help me out. It wasn’t until just this last week that the moto drivers have receded a bit in their zealous attempts to pick up the business, especially a white guy. Their non-stop whistling, hissing, and yelling to offer a ride has subsided into smiles, offering a hand-shake, or at least kind, one-time offers to take me somewhere. They see me walking the same route every day or in other various parts of the city. After having been here for several weeks now, they recognize me, say hello, or even introduce themselves, rather than flock to take advantage of me.

As I mentioned earlier, I think that it would take years for me to ever truly understand the depth and differences of culture here, but it has been a really good feeling to at least get my feet wet. To feel as if you are shedding the tourist skins that make you into a chunk of juicy meet for every local, and replacing that image with a foreigner who has come to live amongst the people and try to embody their culture, at least for some time, brings an exciting and inspiring sensation of acceptance.

To Have A Purpose

One of the most important lessons that I learned this last week was one of basic human nature. I don’t think that it matters if you are an Al-Queda terrorist, a catholic priest, or a biker at Sturgis, all human beings crave to be valued and appreciated by their peers. The second and somewhat intrinsically linked desire is to feel useful, to feel as if your work actually counts for something, and you have a purpose in what you are doing.

The first thought was sparked while I was out in a rural community sitting in on one of the loan meetings with Eliseo, one of our loan officers. As these women struggled to make their loan payments on time, as well as show up to the meetings, one of the women (who was clearly a leader and forward thinker in the group) suggested that Esperanza do something to make the women feel important. She suggested giving a flower, anything really. Emphasizing that it had nothing to do with how large the gift itself was, what mattered was that these women saw that our organization truly cared for who they are, they meant something more to us than “just a loan”, and these women were crying out to be reaffirmed and cared for by someone. I think that that is a pretty good life lesson, give flowers. The small things that we do for someone to let them know that someone cares for them and appreciates who they are, I think, is not only gratifying to the giver, but will make a world of difference in the lives of the receiver who is getting more than just a small token of friendship, but a feeling of self-worth, affirmation, and whole new respect for the giver. Give Flowers.

The second inherent desire that I mentioned was the need to feel purposeful in our lives and particularly in our vocation too. Now, I say that never really having had a “real job” for more than several months, but as I reflect upon my experiences there are countless examples of this very concept.

My time last week with the dental clinic is an example that is particularly fresh in my mind. I spent the morning entertaining children, organizing adults into a line and carrying out my role as the photographer of the waiting area. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. These are some of the endless details that have to be done for this kind of project to work and a wonderful opportunity to try and “serve the least of these” albeit through making them laugh or just bringing cups of fresh drinking water. However, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but ask myself if I was really being as effective as possible. After pouring tens of thousands of dollars into a college education, raising support to travel thousands of miles, I found myself feeling as if some of those resources were going to waste as I did menial tasks that really could have been done by most anyone.

I’m not saying this attitude is right, but it’s what I felt. And what I was really searching for, I believe, was something to make me feel special, to feel like I was needed, and the making the clinic run smoother. I was longing to feel as if I was needed to make things work. It wasn’t until I was given the honor of holding a light and snipping stitches for the doctor that my desires were fulfilled. Or as I got to look into the patients mouths and send them to the appropriate dentist/hygienist, that is when I felt as if I was making a difference. Now, really, none of those tasks were really that difficult, nor were they things that anyone with a sixth grade education could not have done. But what is important is that I “felt” a whole new purpose. I was charged with a new energy and excitement about my work there, my confidence increased, and I think my Spanish even started flowing a little smoother, kinda weird.

Dentistas

Yesterday, Esperanza hosted a free dental clinic for many of the clients in the Puerto Plata area. Eight dentists from Santo Domingo came up with a group called Smiles for Life. The clinic was held about fifteen minutes outside of Puerto Plata near the community of Muñoz, where we work with the women. The Muñoz community is the remnants of an old Baté or sugar cane community. Sugar cane was once the largest industry and export from the Dominican, but the current President, Leonel, has spent his last four years in office ramping up most of the countries economic efforts towards attracting tourism and has practically abandoned the sugar cane industry altogether. What is left, are many low-income communities that are filled with Haitians and Dominican laborers who no longer have any work or education systems in place. If you cross the highway, literally fifty yards away from the deserted cane fields, you will find one of the many new resorts/golfcourses that has sprung up along the Northern coast of the DR. It would basically be like California deciding that it was going to stop its fruit production and divert all of their efforts/resources towards condo development on the coast. A few rich people would have a nice place to go vacation, but millions of the immigrants and domestic workers in this industry would be up a creek. Meanwhile, the food shortages and prices would just continue to escalate even further for those around the globe. I’m getting distracted from my original purpose with this entry. All that is to say, that the dental clinic where I spent the last two days was nestled nicely into one of these old cane fields.

People came by the dozens. As only seven or eight could be helped at a time, crowd control over the other fifty people waiting in line was a full task in itself. One of the beautiful things about the slow-paced and sometimes inefficient lifestyle found in Latin America, is that the people are pretty content waiting. While my Dad would have gone bazurk, these people just quietly sat for a couple of hours in order to receive such a free service, despite any of the inefficiencies they had to wait through. We had the group sit and wait in another building where we took advantage of the opportunity to share some basic, but much needed information. Several of the doctors from the clinic shared about nutrition for infants, STD’s, HIV/AIDS, and general health, while a pastor shared about Jesus with each group of people as well. Since most of the lessons were done in Creole, I found my purpose entertaining the little grommets running around by pulling a surgical glove over my head and inflating to the size of a beach ball. My favorite part was when Nancy, this sweet old lady that stands at about 4.5 ft tall came running over to me to try and help me get it off, thinking that I had somehow accidentally got my head stuck in the glove and I was suffocating as it kept inflating bigger and bigger.

While this young girl probably wouldn't qualify for a dental assistant in U.S, these people would gladly take whatever they could get

I spent most of my afternoon in the clinic itself, which was just a big room that had been converted into a makeshift dental/orthodontics office and oral surgery room. I seated the waiting patients into the room and then commanded each to open their mouths. It was my job to see if they needed to have their teeth pulled out, drill and fill the cavities, or just get a good cleaning. I now have a whole new appreciation for the thousands of dollars that my parents poured into my mouth growing up.

The highlight of my afternoon was getting to spend about an hour as one of the oral surgeons assistant. I held a flashlight for him, got to snip some stitches, and documented a couple of the surgeries. It was so knarly! I was truly amazed at the speed and precision that all of them (the hygienists and dentists too) worked at to crank through about two hundred patients. One of the coolest surgeries I got to help with was a young man that had to sets of upper teeth, kind of like a shark, where a short row of teeth lay behind his primary row of top teeth. A lot of Nova cane, yanking, blood, and a few stitches later, the guy was good as new.

All in all it was a great couple of days. The crew of dentists were a blast to be around, and the five or six members of Esperanza from the Santo Domingo office that came up were really enjoyable to be around too. What I appreciated most, was huge impact that a few people were able to make when they took a little bit of their time, skills, and energy to share with others. What was fifteen minutes of work for one of them, meant years of less pain for one of these individuals.

Pedro Was a Hillary Fan

Earlier this week I was able to spend the day with Pedro, the supervisor of all of the microfinance aspects of Esperanza here in the Dominican Republic. It was really interesting to drive from community to community with him hearing his thoughts on microfinance, sustainability, and what it means to be a Christian in this day and age. My Spanish continues to improve every day, but I’m still far from being fluent. The Dominican accent is particularly hard to understand and I usually have to make people slow down a little bit. They drop the s from the tail end of most words and will turn an “r” into a “y” sound with just about every opportunity. Instead of hearing, “Como esta usted Carlos”? You might here, “Como eh-tah oo-ted Caiylo”?

(Here is a photo of Norberto, our office manager, and Jennifer, another volunteer from Seattle that was here for five months and just left yesterday)

Haha, nonetheless, I’ve been having a blast learning to communicate in a new language. All of the work and moments of frustration that come with learning Spanish are well worth the struggle when you get to have a meaningful conversation with someone or group of women that you never would have been able to even communicate with before. Every day has it’s ups and downs too. One day (or afternoon) I feel as if I’ve got the language down and I can share how I feel or make people laugh, but then there will be other times that I still feel like I’m in Señora Himsl’s Spanish I basic grammar class in high-school, and that I will never be able to grasp hold of this foreign tongue.

All that is to say that I had a wonderful day spending time with Pedro, who used is very intelligent, an effective speaker, and a balls-to-the walls Christian who is ready to save anyone he meets (I’m going to leave that one open-ended on whether or not that’s a good characteristic). As we drove between communities we discussed a lot, but I was particularly interested in hearing the thoughts and opinions he had on our Presidential elections and his political views on war, poverty, and the United States.

It fascinates me that nearly every person I talk to down here can ask me about who I think is a better candidate for U.S President or they can tell you that they were disappointed to hear that Obama had won the democratic electoral vote the night before (most people are big fans of Hillary down here). I am 99% sure that one could say that the people of the Dominican and probably most of Central America (excluding some of the very poor that don’t have access to a tv, newspaper, or internet) are FAR more educated on topics such as history and politics in America than most people in America.

Sometimes their views are a bit slanted in one direction, as they all get their information through the same biased news channels, but still, it was shocking to me.

When they asked me, “Travis, why is it that Americans don’t know about or care about who their next President is?” after I had shared with them about our ignorance in general. I sort of paused, searching for a good answer that I have never really had. “Well, I’m not entirely sure, but basically we have become pretty apathetic in general. Because of the hard work of our last two generation who came out firing from WWII and the Cold War, busting their ass to make it to the top and provide a safe, successful future for their children, our generation has had everything they need at their fingertips without have to do a dang thing. Many people live comfortable lives without ever really having to work too hard and if they don’t have enough, they can either fall back on Mom and Dad or a very secure government that will at least provide for the needs and necessities that would be found among the upper-middle class in a country like the DR,” I tried to explain that, “many of us have put up blinders to anyone outside of the US or really anything that is not directly related to our own self-interest. We have no idea of the impact and power that our country has on the world or even how our consumer/political decisions effect those in foreign countries. A lot of people really just don’t care because they are sure that these same amenities and securities that have been passed down to us from earlier generations will just keep flowing no matter what we do, how hard we work, or who our president is. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is chomping at the bit to find out more about the US, the war in Iraq, and our newest trade policies that will drastically effect their economies.” Now I’m sure I didn’t exactly say that in Spanish, but you know, I think they got the gist of it.

To Give or Not to Give

I’ve come to realize how important it is for the poor and the community in which they live to take hold of development initiatives themselves. Often times, development agencies and kind hearted individuals will generously give much of their time and resources to “help the poor”. Their help takes the form of offering free medical clinics, building orphanages, bringing clothes for the needy or building shelter for the homeless. These are all wonderful things, undoubtedly, and can even be life saving to individuals that have absolutely nothing, but in the big picture they can have a negative effect too. Seeing the look upon the face of a child that has received a nice new toy that you paid for (as their parents couldn’t pay for it) on Christmas day brings us the warm fuzzy feelings that come with giving and the satisfaction of bettering the lives of those less fortunate. But do we think about the feelings of shame and remorse that are further ingrained into those parents, knowing that they can not adequately provide for their children? One sided “giving to the poor” where we are the benefactor and they are the recipient of such aid, allows us to reap all of the benefits of our altruism while maintaining a comfortable distance from the hurt, disparity, and real issues that plague many of these individuals. Our role as the giver will continually keep the poor in the position of the receiver. This furthers the mentality that they will never be able to leave the life of poverty that they were born into. It continues the devastating mentality that has been ingrained in them from a young age, a mindset that MUST be changed in order to see a true betterment in an individuals quality of life and self-worth.


With that being said, I am more convinced than ever that microenterprise has the potential to transform lives by its inherent nature that demands creativity, hard-work, and the satisfaction of providing for ones family through their own endeavors. It offers, “A hand up rather than a hand out,” as the cliché saying in the industry goes. In my first full week of work down here, I have been so blessed to get to see this truly at work.

For the first time ever, Esperanza is trying a new program that began last week. I mentioned Munoz in an earlier entry, the Haitian community of roughly 6,000. Sixteen women plus several volunteers have been chosen to participate in the program that will focus on investing in the lives of women who have been in prostitution, but want to leave that lifestyle. In a nutshell, these women will spend a couple of hours everyday with someone from Esperanza or volunteers from their community, learning about Christ, vocation, and putting a purpose in life, um, to drive it (they will be taught lessons out of “A Purpose Driven Life”). After training the women with some basic skills such as baking, sewing, and making candles, they will receive a loan or lump sum of cash. Continuing to guide them with business training (which is pretty basic, but it’s amazing some of the stuff we assume is common knowledge until you see a village who’s average education is probably not much above 6th grade), the women will be required to make payments on their $150 business loan every two weeks.

The women form groups of 4-5 that comprise a “bank”. The women unite in solidarity to make their payment as a group. Meaning, if one of the women doesn’t make a payment, all are penalized. This social pressure is a pretty strong incentive for the women to pay up. Called “social collateral”, this dispersion of risk among several women and the relationship they have with one another takes the place of the house or car that would function as the collateral in a normal banking loan. If one woman can not make a payment, often the others will unite to cover her for the week (while I say “women” there are men too, but women make up nearly 85% of Microfinance clients).

After one week with these women, they have honestly captured my heart. Every afternoon we gather in a small church in their community where we sing, do a devotional, and usually some other sort of training that has to do with basic skills or health education. While many of the women only speak Creole, I am able to speak to them in Spanish (and they understand the majority of it) or there are a couple of them that can translate into Creole for us. The women come faithfully, usually bringing one or two of their young children that are still breast-feeding along with them. Yesterday, we had a gathering with them where we played music, shared about who Jesus was, and opened up the floor for any of them to share about their lives. After having only been with one another (and us) for two weeks it was amazing to see how comfortable they were. I think that many of them were just touched by the fact the other people would want to invest any sort of time or energy into…. Them? They have never had people who believed in them, cared for them, or wanted anything more to do with them than getting something from them. Their stories were uniquely different, yet all so similar in the pain, separation, and oppression that they had or are enduring. I’m excited to see how this particular program goes and I know that it will be a blessing to both us and them regardless. Friday was definitely a success in all aspects except for when I was thoroughly peed on by a little baby girl that was sitting on my lap, leaving me with a stain for the rest of the afternoon yesterday :(

What is Microfinance?

The basic concept behind the work that we’re doing down here is microfinance. To most, microfinance means providing very poor families with very small loans (microcredit) to help them engage in productive activities or grow their tiny businesses. Over time, microfinance has come to include a broader range of services (credit, savings, insurance, etc.) as we have come to realize that the poor and the very poor who lack access to traditional formal financial institutions require a variety of financial products.

Microcredit has largely been a private (non-profit) sector initiative that avoided becoming overtly political, and as a consequence, has outperformed virtually all other forms of development lending. The typical microfinance clients are low-income persons that do not have access to formal financial institutions. Microfinance clients are typically self-employed, often household-based entrepreneurs. In rural areas, they are usually small farmers and others who are engaged in small income-generating activities such as food processing and petty trade. In urban areas, microfinance activities are more diverse and include shopkeepers, service providers, artisans, street vendors, etc.

While it certainly isn’t going to solve all of the worlds problems, as some advocates may proclaim, I am pretty convinced that microfinance is one of the most effective ways to empower individuals, communities, and create a sustainable form of development to better the lives of the poor and marginalized.

Sshweaty Taxis

My arm stuck to the guy’s next to me as I pulled it away to re-adjust it, trying to get comfortable in the small public cab. However, the cramped conditions and heat were a small price to pay as I stared out the window at the lush green fields, palm trees, and tattered homes along the side of the road. I’ve found that it’s usually best to stare out the window and don’t watch the road. Next to India, it’s the craziest driving I have ever seen. Although, even in India they have the excuse of elephants and sacred cows that they have to dodge in the middle of the street, adding to the pandemonium, but here, there’s no excuse it’s just crazy. Motoconchos (motorcycles that serve as personal taxis) whiz by on either side of you, paying no attention to any sort of driving code or law except not getting hit by something bigger than them.

Five of us were packed into this little Toyota Corolla as we headed to a small Haitian community about twenty minutes outside of my new hometown, Puerto Plata. Ahead of us a guy waved his arm for the public cab to stop, “Sorry buddy, we’re a little full in here,” I silently chuckled to myself, but the driver slowed down nonetheless and came to a stop in front of the man. As the guy opened the back door I thought to myself, “you have got to be kidding me”. It didn’t seem to phase him nor the other two guys in back with me. After jostling around for about twenty seconds and several unsuccessful attempts to close the door, we did it. We were in, four grown men in the backseat of a Corolla. About 2 minutes later a hefty woman in her late forties waved on the side of the road. To my astonishment, he pulled over again. This was getting ridiculous, I thought. However, she headed towards the front unlike the first guy. The man in front slid up onto the center console, partly on top of the woman and partly on top of the driver. Oh good, not only are we driving like we were in a Talladega free for all, now we had immobilized our driver’s right arm. Well, I soon learned that I shouldn’t have had any doubt whatsoever. Our driver was so good, that he was able to take money from all 6 passengers, dig for coins on the floor, and give us all proper change with his one free arm while he easily maneuvered in between the truck in the right lane and the oncoming car in our (of course the left) lane. All in a days work. Anyways, we continued on like this for about twenty minutes before reaching the exit for Munoz where they dropped a couple of us off to make the half mile walk through abandoned sugar cane fields to the community.

Munoz is one of the poorest areas in the Dominican. While it lies only minutes away from expensive beach hotels, it is a community of nearly 6,000 Haitian immigrants, most of whom are illegals I would imagine. It was truly a beautiful place. Just before you get to the village, there is a small creek where you can always find children playing and often adults bathing. The houses are usually only 1 room that is about the size of our pantry room at home, or the average bathroom. The walls are made of whatever material can be found, usually scraps of wood and corrugated metal that are hastily hammered together and the roves are mostly made of sheets of tin.

I have already spent four days in this wonderful community, and I have many more to come. Jennifer, a volunteer who has been here for four months was been working on building a program for the women of Munoz. My arrival here couldn’t have been any better as I caught the tail end of the of first week. The program will be five weeks long. It is aimed at restoring the dignity and the lives of women who have been forced into prostitution. I will have much more to write about this, but it’s getting late and I’m going to sleep. I will make an effort to write a bit more about the actual work I’m beginning to do down here for those of you who might be wondering what that is exactly. But, I just wanted to share a couple of these new experiences while they were still fresh in my mind and hadn’t just become routine. Thanks for reading!

Buenos Dias Santo Domingo

Well, I was indeed sweating upon arrival to Santo Domingo. The first couple of days here were in the 90’s and HUMID! Hauling my possessions for the next to months in my big Jansport backpack, 1 duffel bag, and a smaller backpack, I was greeted by several smiling faces and your classic “Welcome Travis” (or whoever sign) after shuffling through customs. After exchanging sweaty cheek kisses (as seems to be the custom in most of Latin America) with the ladies and friendly hugs with the guys, we took off to a nearby restaurant on the ocean.
The food here is pretty similar to that of Costa Rica from what I have seen so far. It is generally fairly plain. Lots of soups, veggies, chicken, and of course a TON of rice and beans (habichuelas here in the DR). The restaurant we went to seemed fairly upscale, but I still thought it was pretty odd when we received our bill that showed we each owed 520 pesos. Here, there are 33.6 pesos to the dollar. So our meal, which cost us 16 dollars each, should have been enough for the average Dominican to live on for a week. Hmmmm, I quietly thought to myself, I come to a country to walk among the poor and try with whatever skills I may have to move towards a world where poverty is abolished and the inequalities are lessened, and this is how I begin this work?
Like most developing countries the DR is subject to the huge inequalities that exist between the majority of the poor and the fraction of wealthy individuals that hold nearly all of the countries wealth. Most of this money is concentrated in the urban cities and dotted along the northern coastlines where small resort towns thrive upon tourism. It is said that 60% of the people in Dominicana live on less than $2.00 a day. A pretty staggering fact that was hard for me to digest at the time as I looked around me at the well-dressed families (who were actually celebrating mothers day) and nice cars that drove the streets of the city. But as I found out a couple of days later, you don’t have to drive too far to find yourself amongst those that live each day hand to mouth. I’ll go more into that later.
So my first several days were spent doing an orientation with Esperanza. Similar to our time in PA (although certainly on a much more Latin schedule (Slooooow)), we were walked through the inner-workings of the organization and met all of the people in the Santo Domingo office. My two other companions for the first couple days were Lindsay Garber and Julie Lutz, who are also down here for a few months before they transition into the big, bad, post college world. We arrived on a Sunday afternoon, so our first morning at the office began with their Monday morning ritual, which was pretty cool. To begin each week, everyone at the office gathers on top of the building where they sing worship songs in Spanish, have coffee, and someone shares a message for the week. It was so cool to sing all of the old Sunday school classics a capella and in Spanish! The entire group of people at the office in Santo Domingo is amazing. After spending only 3-4 days there I was sad to leave the people that had so quickly befriended me. From what I have seen in my first week here, Dominicans are some of the friendliest natured people I have ever met. When walking down the street, a prolonged stare will usually end in a friendly smile or a “buenas”, a nicety that is usually spared to most gringos visiting Latin American countries. Relationships between friends and coworkers are filled with plenty of jokes and a pretty light-hearted atmosphere. While undoubtedly still with their own share of problems, like everyone in the world, these people seem to genuinely care for one another and at least appear to respect and show kindness to foreigners. Well, this shouldn’t be half bad ☺.