No I am not commenting on the healthcare bill passed in the States (see, I made a funny!) But in all seriousness today I got the pleasure of experiencing healthcare in the DR. I haven't been feeling well these past few weeks and I think things are getting worse, so I figured I would play it safe and just get things checked out.
True conversation between me and our Director of the Internship (not her official title):
To her:
"I will let you know how it goes. I could end up with cancer, the flu, and HIV from a ten minute checkup"
To me:
"Ha ha. Well don't let them stick you with anything."
Just using that to preface my visit and to help explain my feelings upon entering the clinic. Well while it wasn't a bunch of doctors running around trying to inject people with vaccines and drugs and anti-inflammatories, lets just say that the doctor was certainly a little bit overractive with me. He thinks my ear ache is due to stress (not surprised knowing my body) but he then prescriped an amped up tylenol and then said I should get an ani-inflammatory shot. Remembering the wise words of my liason down here, I stopped them then and there.
And then, as we got back in the car, my host brother and I noticed something stuck between the windshield and the windshield wiper. David had gotten a ticket for parking in a no-parking zone (for which there were no signs or indicators that it was indeed a no parking zone). He now owes the parking meter company 300 pesos, of which he defiantely told me he was not going to pay. Sort of amused thinking he was joking, it took me a few seconds to realize that he wasn't. David is not going to pay his ticket. Why?
Because a few years ago the mayor of Santiago announced that in order to raise needed funds for the city, parking meeters were going to be installed in the central of the city. However, the reality is that the mayor set up a private company to enforce the laws and so any money collected from parking fines or meeters doesn't head into the government's funds but rather into a nice private account owned by, you guessed it, the mayor.
Corruption up to the wah zoo. Be happy rule of law exists in our country. And be happy you don't have drug happy doctors trying to get you to take pills left and right. Or do we?
30.6.10
29.6.10
I am not my own, for I have been made new. Please don't let me go, I desperately need You.
No, these are not my words. I took them from Owl City. But they certainly speak volumes with the emotion they convey. Today my devotion focused on Matthew 5:30
"If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell"
Owl City speaks of what has happened and what will occur. As Oswald Chambers puts it, there is not one saint yet that didn't first live life with the characteristic of being maimed. When we are spiritually reborn, we begin a life of restraint, or rather we should live a life of restraint. So we limit ourselves by asking God to intervene, to stop us from committing such actions that aren't necessarily sin but actions that are not conducive with the new life Christ offers us.
This is what Owl City refers to. He recognizes that his acceptance of the Christian faith has brought to him a new life. But it is a life of purging and refining. And so he must cling to what is true during that purging. Suddenly, all in his life is different and new. What once was acceptable is no longer acceptable. Paradigms of life are shattered right before his eyes. His life has purpose beyond the bounds of our world. Such times can be confusing, and so we must rightly ask God to guide us and protect us. As many of the gua gua in this country say,
Dios es my guía. God is my guide.
So I was wrong. Suffering from sin is certainly a part of the Christian walk. But it is only part. On a much larger scale is suffering from the new life in Christ: the purging, the denial, the new boundaries of morals, the new meaning and outlook of life. This is much more terrifying and difficult. Each step of our lives, if we are not scared, uncomfortable, learning, or being purged, we are not truly living out Gods plan for our lives. He has us here not just to expand His kingdom, but also to purify ourselves and make ready the Church. My time here is a time to purge myself of sins and old habits. It is a time of renewal just as much for me as it is for the thousands of women and men that earn a second loan on life with un préstamo con Esperanza.
It does not mean that you need to spend three months in the Dominican Republic. But it does mean that you pursue those times and opportunities to stretch yourself, to be purged, to learn, and to ultimately trust in God. We all will be made perfect, I am observing these changes on a small level each day here. But for perfection to occur, work must first be done.
No, these are not my words. I took them from Owl City. But they certainly speak volumes with the emotion they convey. Today my devotion focused on Matthew 5:30
"If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you; for it is more profitable for you that one of your members perish, than for your whole body to be cast into hell"
Owl City speaks of what has happened and what will occur. As Oswald Chambers puts it, there is not one saint yet that didn't first live life with the characteristic of being maimed. When we are spiritually reborn, we begin a life of restraint, or rather we should live a life of restraint. So we limit ourselves by asking God to intervene, to stop us from committing such actions that aren't necessarily sin but actions that are not conducive with the new life Christ offers us.
This is what Owl City refers to. He recognizes that his acceptance of the Christian faith has brought to him a new life. But it is a life of purging and refining. And so he must cling to what is true during that purging. Suddenly, all in his life is different and new. What once was acceptable is no longer acceptable. Paradigms of life are shattered right before his eyes. His life has purpose beyond the bounds of our world. Such times can be confusing, and so we must rightly ask God to guide us and protect us. As many of the gua gua in this country say,
Dios es my guía. God is my guide.
So I was wrong. Suffering from sin is certainly a part of the Christian walk. But it is only part. On a much larger scale is suffering from the new life in Christ: the purging, the denial, the new boundaries of morals, the new meaning and outlook of life. This is much more terrifying and difficult. Each step of our lives, if we are not scared, uncomfortable, learning, or being purged, we are not truly living out Gods plan for our lives. He has us here not just to expand His kingdom, but also to purify ourselves and make ready the Church. My time here is a time to purge myself of sins and old habits. It is a time of renewal just as much for me as it is for the thousands of women and men that earn a second loan on life with un préstamo con Esperanza.
It does not mean that you need to spend three months in the Dominican Republic. But it does mean that you pursue those times and opportunities to stretch yourself, to be purged, to learn, and to ultimately trust in God. We all will be made perfect, I am observing these changes on a small level each day here. But for perfection to occur, work must first be done.
25.6.10
Denying Community
So I was going to blog about my devotional today, entitled "Receiveing yourself in the Fires of Sorrow." But beyond the fact that I have beaten that issue to death (but I will say Oswald Chambers does a much more effiecient and clear explanation than I), there is something I really have been wanting to take note of, and I want a picture to go along with this, so look for one in the future.
This was something I didn't actually take note of until about a week ago. We take back roads to work each day, avoiding insane traffic and incompatent drivers for safety and time. So we are passing through barrios and small commercial centers. But there is a major difference here than compared to back home. People. Late in the afternoon when Danny and I make the commute back home, beyond the sun casting long shadows on the narrow streets we navigate precariously, there are people out and about. As the temperature finally cools off, men and women begin to sit in front of their house, making conversations with passerbys. Children play in the street with one another. And everyone knows everyone. This community is an actual community. I always find it ironic back in the States when the news comes on and an anchor will say "A local Montgomery Country community was rocked last night with the death of..." I mean, is Damascus, MD really a community? Becuase the way I see it, I know about 1/3 of my neighbors and I think I see children playing outside with each other about once every two weeks. That boy that was murdered, I have never heard of him before. I will have no idea the impact his death will have on his family (this is an example and totally hypothetical, no one to my knowledge has passed away in Damascus, MD) In fact, the only time I really hear of problems in my hometown is through the gossip that runs rampent.
And perhaps that is why the Christian faith is so prevalent in developing countries. Growth is happening outside the developed world. Christianity requires community. It requires relationships, people, support, communication. But if a culture doesn't have a focus on community, Christianity will struggle to survive. Look at Europe. And no, one cannot use the argument that Socialism is a sign of a culture valuing community. In and of itself, socialism reflects an understanding that humans will ultimately fail in taking care of the poor and thus the government should step in, not an understanding that the community is important. Side note, moving on. Wealth does not exist with community. Europe was the first part of the world to ever experience consistent wealth (as in power and wealth for more than a dynasty or empire), and look where Christianity (religion for that matter) is dying first and fastest. And the same can be said for parts of the United States as well.
Huh, ironically enough this turned out to be a depressing post anyways. Well, no not really. Because we have the opportunity to change this shift. We need to learn from Dominicans. Sitting outside your front door from 5 to 7 each night is a great way to practice the Christian faith. Build that community, because it is key to you walk with Christ. I need to as well down here. When in Rome do as the Romans do, and so I need to sit outside my front porch and meet new people.So I suppose I can relate it to my devo:
Christ was tempted to bail out on God's plan for His life. But he states:
"... and what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour?' No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour." John 12:27
The very reason you are on this planet is to spread Christianity to those to which it is unknown. That is done through relationships and building up confidence in faith in others. Go into those uncomfortable moments and build up community., don't deny God those moments He has planned for your life.
This was something I didn't actually take note of until about a week ago. We take back roads to work each day, avoiding insane traffic and incompatent drivers for safety and time. So we are passing through barrios and small commercial centers. But there is a major difference here than compared to back home. People. Late in the afternoon when Danny and I make the commute back home, beyond the sun casting long shadows on the narrow streets we navigate precariously, there are people out and about. As the temperature finally cools off, men and women begin to sit in front of their house, making conversations with passerbys. Children play in the street with one another. And everyone knows everyone. This community is an actual community. I always find it ironic back in the States when the news comes on and an anchor will say "A local Montgomery Country community was rocked last night with the death of..." I mean, is Damascus, MD really a community? Becuase the way I see it, I know about 1/3 of my neighbors and I think I see children playing outside with each other about once every two weeks. That boy that was murdered, I have never heard of him before. I will have no idea the impact his death will have on his family (this is an example and totally hypothetical, no one to my knowledge has passed away in Damascus, MD) In fact, the only time I really hear of problems in my hometown is through the gossip that runs rampent.
And perhaps that is why the Christian faith is so prevalent in developing countries. Growth is happening outside the developed world. Christianity requires community. It requires relationships, people, support, communication. But if a culture doesn't have a focus on community, Christianity will struggle to survive. Look at Europe. And no, one cannot use the argument that Socialism is a sign of a culture valuing community. In and of itself, socialism reflects an understanding that humans will ultimately fail in taking care of the poor and thus the government should step in, not an understanding that the community is important. Side note, moving on. Wealth does not exist with community. Europe was the first part of the world to ever experience consistent wealth (as in power and wealth for more than a dynasty or empire), and look where Christianity (religion for that matter) is dying first and fastest. And the same can be said for parts of the United States as well.
Huh, ironically enough this turned out to be a depressing post anyways. Well, no not really. Because we have the opportunity to change this shift. We need to learn from Dominicans. Sitting outside your front door from 5 to 7 each night is a great way to practice the Christian faith. Build that community, because it is key to you walk with Christ. I need to as well down here. When in Rome do as the Romans do, and so I need to sit outside my front porch and meet new people.So I suppose I can relate it to my devo:
Christ was tempted to bail out on God's plan for His life. But he states:
"... and what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour?' No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour." John 12:27
The very reason you are on this planet is to spread Christianity to those to which it is unknown. That is done through relationships and building up confidence in faith in others. Go into those uncomfortable moments and build up community., don't deny God those moments He has planned for your life.
23.6.10
"Pop!" Goes My Head
I must confess my arrogance and almost parasitic nature. I did not do this internship for the attention. There are far easier ways to do that and remain in the States. But rather, in taking this internship, I began to seek attention. Within the first week here in Santiago I soon found myself desiring for people to know the great work I was doing.
In all honesty, I am doing nothing. What I do is minimal to the workings of God around the globe this very minute. And yet, here I was swelling in pride when in reality I should have been deflating from humility. This will not be a pity trip, but it will be a lesson for all. I hope people read this to learn from it. To use it and apply it in their own lives.
It began this afternoon. I had mentioned to a few of the other interns my struggle with not getting some of the recognition I felt I deserved. I didn't want a parade or a flashing sign, but I saw others getting more attention for, say, studying abroad or working with a local church. Yet here I was in a poor country serving the poorest of poor and people took more of an interest in them?!
Yes. And it is right for them too. Well, one of the interns sent me this passage she stumbled on:
"Be carefully not to do your 'acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them"
Matt 6:1
And so on and so on. I am not saying that I took this internship for it to be seen by others, but the desire certainly grew along with my pride these first few weeks. But then it all collapsed before my eyes right after I was given that verse. Two new banks got their loans today, meaning the associates had to come to the office, deal with some paperwork and receive their loan. These women entered in to receive no more than $200. They had to show the utmost in humility to get this loan. By entering into our office, they are publicly stating they are poor and they need any money they can get to continue providing for themselves and their family. They go through a test, literally, to determine if they are poor enough. If they have gotten to this stage then they have answered questions on how much they make (if anything) and how much they own. Or rather, how little. And yet I walk into this office each day frustrated that people don't notice that I spent $390 on a flight down here or I was able to afford such a trip.
I never did this blog for people to see the "great things" I was doing. That was never the intention and I hope it doesn't appear that way. Rather, this blog is a way to allow people to see God's work with the poorest of the poor through micro finance.
So next time you want a parade with flashing lights and blinking billboards, remember the humility these women display just to receive $200, a small amount that changes their lives forever.
22.6.10
Go with Passion
Who are we that we do what we do? What makes me, me? Our passions, our desires, they developed somewhere. But where exactly? I can't answer that question. But I can make a few observations about this thing we call passion.
Today I was able to visit a different office about an hour north of Santiago in Puerto Plata. It just so happens that the manager of the office is moving to Santo Domingo to take on a new position, and so Helen, the manager of the Santiago office, is taking over for the time being. I observed two meetings with one of the loan officers. She and I got talking back at the office, and she mentioned that while she can get frustrated as she had been just an hour earlier with one of the banks, she knows her heart is with the poor and she could never leave her job with Esperanza. Almost dumbfounded at such a sincere and honest statement, I was immediately intrigued, albeit also a tad confused. Who could ever want to work with the poor their entire life? I have only done one month here and I am struggling. But her passion doesn't mean she doesn't hate her job some days. We joked about the problems she had, but in truth, that joy underscored the frustrations she would have. Sure, the fact that half of the associates don't show certainly gets her upset. But she loves the poor so much that the joy of seeing them eventually pay in full, even if it comes by pulling teeth and fighting with these clients for a week, is totally worth it.
Sitting there, I came to realize something I am not so sure I wanted to accept. My passion, while perhaps obvious to others hasn't been so clear to me. But since my time in Ghana I have started to understand the direction my life is going to take. I have been afraid to tell anyone for fear that it would be truth. Well, it is, and I am becoming more and more certain that it is my Truth from Him. Unfortunately for anyone that reads this blog (all four or five of you) I want to be certain before I let it be known to others.
So what was the point of this posting? Hey, not everything in this blog is about me. No, this post is about you. If you are not asking yourself what you are passionate about, you are not living. As this loan officer said, God gives us our desires and strengths, we need to use them. For her, it is working with the poor. Wherever you are now, at your desk at work, sitting at home on the couch with the World Cup on, or sipping a chocolate mocha at Starbucks hoping to fit in to the niche that just oozes from the store, I want you to ask yourself:
At this exact moment, is what I am doing something I am passionate about?
If it is, ask God to continue to use your heart. If it isn't, or if you feel any doubt, small or big, begin to ask God to show you your true passions. Truth is, you probably already know them. But the social, "financial", relational, and personal pressure of today has most likely caused you to push your passions so far aside you have forgotten them. Don't consider it crazy to change jobs because you feel your talents and heart are somewhere else. Do not doubt that inkling to take a serious pay cut to work with the poor. Do as I and the other four interns in the DR have done. Do something radical that reflects your passion and trust God to provide. He will. For if He can provide for the poorest of poor here in Santiago, Puerto Plato, San Pedro, La Romana, Hato Mayor, and more, most certainly He can provide for you.
You have not lived until you have lived for the passions God has given you.
18.6.10
Un Corazón de un León
I hate poverty. Yet I will hate wealth evermore.
Both poverty and wealth present problems to Christians. But the struggle is quite different. For the wealthy, distractions appear in the form of abundance, social status, and greed. For the poor, distractions appear in the form of hunger, lack of certainty, weakness, and pain.
Call me crazy.
I would rather my Christian walk be one of poverty. True suffering comes from deprivation of something. Starvation takes hold from a deprivation of food. Depression seeds in vacuums of love. It is only until we understand what deprivation of God is do we realize just how much we need Him. Just as I can never empathize with one who starves because I have never starved, I cannot truly empathize with God over my own sin until I have suffered from sin.
But we all suffer from sin.
However, unless we recognize that sin, and thus suffer from it, and thus are deprived of God, we are unable to join God in the celebration of the pain of our lives. Consider this: a woman I interviewed today mentioned her transformation three years ago. Having been Catholic, she had never taken her faith seriously. Then one day a missionary from Canada came into her pueblo to start a Baptist church. Intrigued she began talking to this strange foreigner. After all, why would a rich white person ever leave such a clean and peaceful life for the Dominican Republic? She soon found herself recommitting her faith to Christ through this church. Just a little time following her renewal, she took out her first loan with Esperanza. She finally saw the poverty in her life (hmm, suddenly that opening line doesn't mean the same thing...) and decided to take a stand against it.
No, I was not talking about money when I started this post.
Certainly, lacking money is a type of suffering that can lead to this seemingly unobtainable understanding of God's unfailing love. But more so is the idea that taking the road of poverty; the road that travels low; the road with rocks and debris consistently hindering one's travels; and the road that isn't visible to the untrained eye. This road leads to true joy in the end, no matter how hard it may be. Trust me, as one that has been on that road many times (sadly with many detours) I can say that I have tasted that joy. And I have met people this summer that have grasped just a minuscule piece of it. That woman? She has un corazón de un León. The heart of a Lion. Because she has experienced that joy and is ever more determined to get it. She deserves it, with all of her hardships and sufferings. And so do you.
17.6.10
Hierarchy of Wealth
Why is it that poverty is viewed as a lower status? People always look "up" to wealth, and the poorest of poor are referred to as the "bottom billion." Even in Santiago wealth has everything to do with how high you are. The slums of the city are crammed down into the lowest valleys and by the rivers that cut through the mountains. Perched high above them are brand new apartment buildings with air conditioning and houses (that have windows and not vents) that cast long shadows over the narrow dirt streets that make up the maze of neighborhoods that seem to groan from the congestion and grime.
It is as if the DR has tried to hide its poverty from the rest of the world. Certainly, in the all-inclusive resorts it has. You can come to the DR without even leaving the United States. But in cities such as Santiago that don't have a thriving tourist industry, why do the poor get shoved to the literal bowels of the city? Is it because they smell? I doubt it, as this entire city smells of rot and waste. Is it because they don't have a real door but rather wood slabs attached to a hinge? Does their physical location and the economic situation reflect who they are? If you venture far enough into one of these neighborhoods you may surprise yourself. Step cautiously over that broken glass bottle, take a left at the red painted colmado, and then continue for about 300 yards until you come across two yellow houses. In between the two is a narrow space, wide enough for one person at a time. If are listening for it, you may hear a few voices wafting from the alleyway. For those curious enough, you may decided to slip in between the houses and make your way down to find quite the opposite of smelly, desparate people. The alleyway opens up to three more apartments, crammed in the back of someone's property. Rain water collects in one corner of the opening leaving a puddle that has begun to create mold and mildew on the cement floor and wall. Eight plastic chairs, most broken in mupltiple places, have been set up in a makeshift circle. There are 15 people at this meeting, and most sit on the floor or lean against the wall. But they don't care. They have been able to change their lives for the better. And though the world will still classify them as the poorest of poor, they don't see themselves as poor anymore.
What they were six months ago, that was poor. Today they are rich, and yes, they live in the bottom parts of the city.
It is as if the DR has tried to hide its poverty from the rest of the world. Certainly, in the all-inclusive resorts it has. You can come to the DR without even leaving the United States. But in cities such as Santiago that don't have a thriving tourist industry, why do the poor get shoved to the literal bowels of the city? Is it because they smell? I doubt it, as this entire city smells of rot and waste. Is it because they don't have a real door but rather wood slabs attached to a hinge? Does their physical location and the economic situation reflect who they are? If you venture far enough into one of these neighborhoods you may surprise yourself. Step cautiously over that broken glass bottle, take a left at the red painted colmado, and then continue for about 300 yards until you come across two yellow houses. In between the two is a narrow space, wide enough for one person at a time. If are listening for it, you may hear a few voices wafting from the alleyway. For those curious enough, you may decided to slip in between the houses and make your way down to find quite the opposite of smelly, desparate people. The alleyway opens up to three more apartments, crammed in the back of someone's property. Rain water collects in one corner of the opening leaving a puddle that has begun to create mold and mildew on the cement floor and wall. Eight plastic chairs, most broken in mupltiple places, have been set up in a makeshift circle. There are 15 people at this meeting, and most sit on the floor or lean against the wall. But they don't care. They have been able to change their lives for the better. And though the world will still classify them as the poorest of poor, they don't see themselves as poor anymore.
What they were six months ago, that was poor. Today they are rich, and yes, they live in the bottom parts of the city.
Bloated Heads, Niagra Falls, and Port Au-Prince
I have had a few realizations this week that I will share whether anyone wants to hear them or not. For one, this week has been not been so great. First, we being sick and not feeling 100%, and second with the excitement of being in a third world country weaning and the realization that I am in a third world country finally hitting me. I was becoming tired of the culture, of the heat, of the food, of basically my life. It finally hit it's peak Wednesday morning when, sweating like Niagra Falls, I decided that by Saturday I was going to be on an airconditioned airplane heading comfortably back to the land of McDonalds, paved roads, trash cans, and English. If I had the option I would have just left right then and there, but I figured that just walking away from the loan officer without explaining myself might have been awkward, so I figured I would push through the day.
Our second meeting of the day was with a group of Hatians in an apartment complex. Disorganized and with only three able to speak Spanish, we sat around waiting for everyone to show up. Raymond, the loan officer, turned to me and mentioned that while we waited I could conduct my interview. So I turned to the woman (that supposedly spoke Spanish, but it was more like creolish) and listened to her story. She has been living in the DR for a few months on her own in this community of Haitians. Her husband and daughter, along with the rest of her family, are back in Haiti. When I asked her if she had any problems with her loan, she said no. But then I pushed her and asked her that if she had had any problems outside of the loan that affected her loan. And then she mentioned that she is from Port Au-Prince and that her husband was killed in the earthquake. She also mentioned that now her daughter lives with her mother and her newly widowed sister as well.
I am not one of those disaster junkies, one of the thousands that has swarmed to Haiti to help (no offense to anyone over there now). This may result in a lot of backlash, but lets be honest, most people, while having good intentions, are really hurting Haiti more than helping. That is all I am going to say right now, an argument for another time. However, to be in the presence of a woman who has just gone through a drastic change in her life, especially one from a disaster that we all know so much about, was almost, honorable. But it was also a shot to my bloated head.She was her today, able to support her family back in Haiti that she clearly missed so much, because of the loan Esperanza had given her.
The second realization came today, whilst riding on the back of Robert's bike through the streets of Santiago. It hit me then and there, that what I was doing at that exact morning, commuting from bank meeting to bank meeting on the back of a motorbike in the DR isnot normal. No matter what comes of the internship itself (which a lot will don't get me wrong) the experience and the opportunity to be in this country is simply amazing. Sure, their accent frustrates me. And sure, their food is too bland. But I am here. And I am doing the will of God on a day to day basis. Can it get any better than that?
Well, with places like this to go to, no :)
Our second meeting of the day was with a group of Hatians in an apartment complex. Disorganized and with only three able to speak Spanish, we sat around waiting for everyone to show up. Raymond, the loan officer, turned to me and mentioned that while we waited I could conduct my interview. So I turned to the woman (that supposedly spoke Spanish, but it was more like creolish) and listened to her story. She has been living in the DR for a few months on her own in this community of Haitians. Her husband and daughter, along with the rest of her family, are back in Haiti. When I asked her if she had any problems with her loan, she said no. But then I pushed her and asked her that if she had had any problems outside of the loan that affected her loan. And then she mentioned that she is from Port Au-Prince and that her husband was killed in the earthquake. She also mentioned that now her daughter lives with her mother and her newly widowed sister as well.
I am not one of those disaster junkies, one of the thousands that has swarmed to Haiti to help (no offense to anyone over there now). This may result in a lot of backlash, but lets be honest, most people, while having good intentions, are really hurting Haiti more than helping. That is all I am going to say right now, an argument for another time. However, to be in the presence of a woman who has just gone through a drastic change in her life, especially one from a disaster that we all know so much about, was almost, honorable. But it was also a shot to my bloated head.She was her today, able to support her family back in Haiti that she clearly missed so much, because of the loan Esperanza had given her.
The second realization came today, whilst riding on the back of Robert's bike through the streets of Santiago. It hit me then and there, that what I was doing at that exact morning, commuting from bank meeting to bank meeting on the back of a motorbike in the DR isnot normal. No matter what comes of the internship itself (which a lot will don't get me wrong) the experience and the opportunity to be in this country is simply amazing. Sure, their accent frustrates me. And sure, their food is too bland. But I am here. And I am doing the will of God on a day to day basis. Can it get any better than that?
Well, with places like this to go to, no :)
15.6.10
Endurance, not Enjoyment
I hate Americanism. I do not hate American culture. I do not hate American politics (well, that may be a lie). I do not hate American anything. In fact, I love America. But I hate Americanism. I first noticed this in Nicaragua back in 2005. All of the local restaurants and bars were playing American music. Then in Ghana, I talked to men and women who dreamed of one day moving to the US to take on a better life. But the worst was yet to come when I got to the Dominican Republic. Talking to one of the loan officers here in Santiago, I asked him why he called himself Robert and not Roberto.
"Becoose I iz Amaaricun!" he said in a half joking manner.
Robert loves to talk about the US and how he wants to visit his family there and how he is truly American in blood, not Dominican. And I know he loves the DR, but what he said in his best American accent he could conjure up spoke volumes to the problem the DR and many other countries around the world are facing today. The lust for the western world has overtaken many of these poor people. It has twisted their perceptions of work, success and money. One of the other interns told us about a Dominican that came up asking about the States and said that he was sure one day he would travel to American and make millions in a few years time. Any job was available for him and he would soon shoot up to the ranks of the elite. He also thought you could buy a house in Manhattan and it would cost around the same as a flat here in the DR. Thankfully, the intern, Laura, told him otherwise.
I understand these people's desires for a better life. Anyone that lives in a shack with nothing but a tin roof and four wooden walls riddled with holes and weathered down to its last fibers would want a new home, running water, consistent electricity, and a substantial meal each day. But what has happened is that the prevalence of Western culture (in this blog post, American culture) has perverted that notion of change. What used to be a realization that change came about from hard work and struggle has fallen into the pits of conceitedness and self-loathing. Now, the only way to make it big is to leave your family behind, your culture, your language, and your ideology and squeeze into the ever expanding and overcrowded bubble we call the culture of the US.
Don't get me wrong, Dominicans love their culture. They just love the idea of making it big and bringing change to their lives even more. Imagine, tomorrow, you were offered a million dollars so long as you moved to China and lived there for the next 50 years. But perhaps that is not a good comparison. Because the reality is that, we do not necessarily need another dollar in our lives. The majority of the money Americans make is used out of pure enjoyment and entertainment, not endurance. "But my insurance is more than 250 a month and my cell phone bill is climbing up near 100 bucks a month!" If you needed 315 horsepower in your new 2011 Mustang to survive each day, and if you didn't use that iPhone primarily for the new apps you download each day, yes you could use that argument. But for Dominicans, that extra dollar (or 36 pesos) means potentially a larger meal for the three children each night. Or perhaps shoes that actually fit so the walk to work isn't as painful.
Instead of more enjoyment, to a Dominican, more money means a better chance of survival. Now, most Dominicans are not starving to death nor scrounging around in dumps for a new roof or bathroom. But most Dominicans struggle daily and live in the bottom ranks of wealth. And so to them, the perception of money takes on a whole new meaning, so much so that they would be willing to give up their homes and all that is familiar to them to earn just five dollars more a day. This is why micro finance works. Because to them, this capital isn't for new enjoyment, like a $350,000 mortgage on a house is for an American (but that sun room was just the needed touch for us!) No, to them, this small amount of capital is their ticket to a life with less struggles. To them it is certainty that they will feed their children tomorrow. To them, it is a gift from God, not a gift from creditors. To them, it is mana.
I hope and pray that in their quest to alleviate their pain and struggles, they do not lose focus. As they look and dream towards America, may they not lose their view of money as endurance, not enjoyment.
14.6.10
Certainty in Uncertainty
This past weekend was a much needed retreat with the Gringos to the peninsual of Samana. About 4 hours away from Santiago and Santo Domingo, it is perhaps the least touched area of the DR. Underdeveloped and not easy to get to, it is the DR's own version of the Outer Banks, and I hope it stays that way. It is calm and tranquil and the town we stayed in, Las Terrañas, has a small town feel that places like Juan Dolio, Punta Cana, or Puerto Plata can´t even touch. I have come to learn that I live for the weekends, and I am pretty sure that is the only way I will survive my time down here. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying this internship. But it is not easy living in a country where you don't understand the language.
True fact: I speak Spanish, not Dominican.
Beyond the language barrier, working with the poor is a difficult and arduous task. The monumental responsibility to organize and lead thousands of illiterate, uneducated, but willful people is tiresome and daunting. I have realized (and maybe even mentioned in this blog once before) that it takes a special person to do this type of an internship. And again I don't mean to lift myself up on a pedastle, for there are certainly days I would much rather retreat to my air conditioned basement back in Maryland and enjoy the US's draw against England with a nice angus burger (Note: I hate McDonalds and I detest this current "Angus" craze) than sit here in an office receiving a blast of air in rhythmic timings of ten seconds as a fan designed for a closet attempts to keep the air circulating.
But this post isn't about me. It is about the Domincans that work in this office. As difficult as it is for us interns here, or for the few ex-pats down here right now, none of our struggles or experiences here can surmount to any comparison to the employees of Esperanza. We are here for but three months, the ex-pats perhaps a year or two. But imagine if your job for the next 15 years was to work with the poor by providing capital to the most unstable of lives in this world; to try and provide order in a sector of the global economy that has been under the reign of chaos for thousands of years.
Consider the differences. A man working in Washington DC knows that each morning a train leaves the Shady Grove Metro Station about every 10 minutes. The ride will take him 45 minutes to reach Union Station to where he then has but a three block walk to his office. Allowing an extra three minutes for traffic lights, he can assume that his commute will take about an hour. He then enters his office and commences nine hours of work at his desk. His return journey will be the same.
Employees of Esperanza have to wait for clients that are coming to meetings by car, foot, bus, or bike. They have to hope that they all have their money and that they all show up. The amount of patience they must show, especially with so many variables that can throw off any attempt of order and consistency, is astounding. But perhaps what is more amazing is the amount of order these banks can obtain. Success rates on these loans is astoundingly high. People are surprised mainly because these loans go to "poor people" and their assumption is that they are uneducated and illiterate and therefore unable to appear every two weeks and pay a sum of money they have been told (and explained) to pay. Lets be honest, four year olds can do that.
No, I am not surpised by the fact that these are "poor people" that are repaying loans better than Americans. I am surprised at that these are people who have created some sort of stability in their world where the only certainty they had was that things were uncertain. They have been able to overcome shortcomings, downfalls, outages, sicknesses, unreliabilty, and more to create one more normalcy to their lives. They know things are uncertain, but they also know that every 14 days they must make a payment to Esperanza.
This is why microfinance works. And this is why microfinance works so well with the Christian faith. Christ needs to be our Certainty, our normalcy, and our routine. As my devotion said today, based on John 15:4, we must abide in Him.
"Nor can you bear fruit unless you abide in me"
Ironically enough, Americans have just as much instability in their lives as Dominicans do. It just isn't as noticable as a car breaking down or a power outage. We all can learn from these men and women who have taken a loan out and found stability. Just as they have learned to trust in Esperanza through trusting and lasting relationships with these loan officers, so we must learn to trust and last in our relationship with Christ. We must abide in Him.
True fact: I speak Spanish, not Dominican.
Beyond the language barrier, working with the poor is a difficult and arduous task. The monumental responsibility to organize and lead thousands of illiterate, uneducated, but willful people is tiresome and daunting. I have realized (and maybe even mentioned in this blog once before) that it takes a special person to do this type of an internship. And again I don't mean to lift myself up on a pedastle, for there are certainly days I would much rather retreat to my air conditioned basement back in Maryland and enjoy the US's draw against England with a nice angus burger (Note: I hate McDonalds and I detest this current "Angus" craze) than sit here in an office receiving a blast of air in rhythmic timings of ten seconds as a fan designed for a closet attempts to keep the air circulating.
But this post isn't about me. It is about the Domincans that work in this office. As difficult as it is for us interns here, or for the few ex-pats down here right now, none of our struggles or experiences here can surmount to any comparison to the employees of Esperanza. We are here for but three months, the ex-pats perhaps a year or two. But imagine if your job for the next 15 years was to work with the poor by providing capital to the most unstable of lives in this world; to try and provide order in a sector of the global economy that has been under the reign of chaos for thousands of years.
Consider the differences. A man working in Washington DC knows that each morning a train leaves the Shady Grove Metro Station about every 10 minutes. The ride will take him 45 minutes to reach Union Station to where he then has but a three block walk to his office. Allowing an extra three minutes for traffic lights, he can assume that his commute will take about an hour. He then enters his office and commences nine hours of work at his desk. His return journey will be the same.
Employees of Esperanza have to wait for clients that are coming to meetings by car, foot, bus, or bike. They have to hope that they all have their money and that they all show up. The amount of patience they must show, especially with so many variables that can throw off any attempt of order and consistency, is astounding. But perhaps what is more amazing is the amount of order these banks can obtain. Success rates on these loans is astoundingly high. People are surprised mainly because these loans go to "poor people" and their assumption is that they are uneducated and illiterate and therefore unable to appear every two weeks and pay a sum of money they have been told (and explained) to pay. Lets be honest, four year olds can do that.
No, I am not surpised by the fact that these are "poor people" that are repaying loans better than Americans. I am surprised at that these are people who have created some sort of stability in their world where the only certainty they had was that things were uncertain. They have been able to overcome shortcomings, downfalls, outages, sicknesses, unreliabilty, and more to create one more normalcy to their lives. They know things are uncertain, but they also know that every 14 days they must make a payment to Esperanza.
This is why microfinance works. And this is why microfinance works so well with the Christian faith. Christ needs to be our Certainty, our normalcy, and our routine. As my devotion said today, based on John 15:4, we must abide in Him.
"Nor can you bear fruit unless you abide in me"
Ironically enough, Americans have just as much instability in their lives as Dominicans do. It just isn't as noticable as a car breaking down or a power outage. We all can learn from these men and women who have taken a loan out and found stability. Just as they have learned to trust in Esperanza through trusting and lasting relationships with these loan officers, so we must learn to trust and last in our relationship with Christ. We must abide in Him.
11.6.10
Soy El Rey
I am King
King of whom? Or what, I suppose is a better question. Ironically enough, I started this blog off with the understanding that I would need to rely on God during this internship. And yet here I am recognizing and confessing my failure to take this understanding to heart. Today during one of the biweekly meetings I attended (yet again to take photos with the camera I always seem to forget) I noticed a peculiar site. Admist the rather boisterous crowd of women in the back of a metal works shop was graffiti written on the suit-crusted wall, darker in color than it should be from the dirt and grime of years of hard labor in this shop. Well, actually there were a few artworks of graffiti layered over one another, but the one that stuck out to me, or rather the one I understood immedietely, proudly stated: SOY EL REY.
I am King. It honestly didn't mean much at the time, beyond the fact that I was proud I understood it. However, this elated feeling quickly passed once I realized a four year old Dominican could understand this sentance. But that is just it. At lunch I left the meal a little early. I am tired of the rice, the chicken, the bland flavors (no hot sauce? I miss Mexico!), the poverty, the heat, and the long work days. And I am tired of being sick, this darn cold has got to go..
And so I journaled, complaining to myself at just how horrible my life was, when the realization that I still had 9 weeks to go hit me. And while I didn't freak, I did start to wonder if this was me telling myself I wasn´t able to complete this internship.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
Then my reading from My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers came to mind. The reading today was from Matthew 11:28. Honestly, this is such a typical passage, and when I first read it I thought to myself that perhaps Ozzie had just needed an easy devo to write for today, so he chose this passage. I mean, how many sermons have we heard on this? The reality is that no, he meant it because in his own life he needed the proper "rest." And while maybe his rest wasn´t while he was in the DR, he understood the need to rely on God.
Soy El Rey
The fact is that God is King, like it or not. Personally, that means those times I don't think I can force another bite of bland rice down my throat again without my stomach bursting over from pounds and pounds of carbohydrates; or when I realize that I am poor for the summer in many ways, is when I must relinquish control over to God.
But it also means this, God is King of all things created. Me, my anger, my selfishness, this office, and even Leonardo, the man that lives in the neighborhood near the office and loves to share with me the words in English he knows. But He also created that shanty, hidden below a bridge in downtown Santiago. Where wooden walls are propped up against one another and the bank of the river is no longer dirt but bottles and paper. That is His kingdom too, and He rules over it just as much as He rules over my emotions.
Honestly, this understanding incites me more, but perhaps anger isn't necessarily a bad thing. I must, however, give control of it over to the King.
Soy El Rey
King of whom? Or what, I suppose is a better question. Ironically enough, I started this blog off with the understanding that I would need to rely on God during this internship. And yet here I am recognizing and confessing my failure to take this understanding to heart. Today during one of the biweekly meetings I attended (yet again to take photos with the camera I always seem to forget) I noticed a peculiar site. Admist the rather boisterous crowd of women in the back of a metal works shop was graffiti written on the suit-crusted wall, darker in color than it should be from the dirt and grime of years of hard labor in this shop. Well, actually there were a few artworks of graffiti layered over one another, but the one that stuck out to me, or rather the one I understood immedietely, proudly stated: SOY EL REY.
I am King. It honestly didn't mean much at the time, beyond the fact that I was proud I understood it. However, this elated feeling quickly passed once I realized a four year old Dominican could understand this sentance. But that is just it. At lunch I left the meal a little early. I am tired of the rice, the chicken, the bland flavors (no hot sauce? I miss Mexico!), the poverty, the heat, and the long work days. And I am tired of being sick, this darn cold has got to go..And so I journaled, complaining to myself at just how horrible my life was, when the realization that I still had 9 weeks to go hit me. And while I didn't freak, I did start to wonder if this was me telling myself I wasn´t able to complete this internship.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
Then my reading from My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers came to mind. The reading today was from Matthew 11:28. Honestly, this is such a typical passage, and when I first read it I thought to myself that perhaps Ozzie had just needed an easy devo to write for today, so he chose this passage. I mean, how many sermons have we heard on this? The reality is that no, he meant it because in his own life he needed the proper "rest." And while maybe his rest wasn´t while he was in the DR, he understood the need to rely on God.
Soy El Rey
The fact is that God is King, like it or not. Personally, that means those times I don't think I can force another bite of bland rice down my throat again without my stomach bursting over from pounds and pounds of carbohydrates; or when I realize that I am poor for the summer in many ways, is when I must relinquish control over to God.
But it also means this, God is King of all things created. Me, my anger, my selfishness, this office, and even Leonardo, the man that lives in the neighborhood near the office and loves to share with me the words in English he knows. But He also created that shanty, hidden below a bridge in downtown Santiago. Where wooden walls are propped up against one another and the bank of the river is no longer dirt but bottles and paper. That is His kingdom too, and He rules over it just as much as He rules over my emotions.
Honestly, this understanding incites me more, but perhaps anger isn't necessarily a bad thing. I must, however, give control of it over to the King.
Soy El Rey
10.6.10
Another day, another meeting
Good Morning!
The meeting went well, I got my two interviews done, and once we were finished we were off to another meeting where I did one more interview. We came back to the office where I worked on a few loose ends for past stories (for the first week I screwed up some of the interviews, like forgetting my camera or not writing down which loan I was interviewing for and now I am trying to fix that all...) and then headed off for lunch. Now, I will write the three stories I got today, do a few more loose ends and then prepare for tomorrow. Below are photos from the day.
The road we drove on
Women sewing dresses
9.6.10
This is why I do what I do
It is the stories of these women that I do what I do. This makes this internship worth it no matter the heat, cold water (yes, even I have cold water), the bike rides, or the rain.
Different Worlds
I suppose it is safe to say that for the past year I have not really had a true "home." I haven't lived in one place for more than three months, and the list of places where I have been has included Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean. To say I have been blessed with the opportunity to travel so much certainly seems to be an understatement. God has truly provided me great chances at seeing different worlds. But it is important to get past the excitement of travel and exploring new worlds and understand what exactly happens when one travels. I touched on this before, mentioning my need to rely on God during these three months. It is so easy to travel to a new country, experience a new culture, and then head home without truly understanding a culture. Understanding is very different from experiencing. And you don't need three months to understand a culture. You only need an open heart and desire to understand the culture.
Take, for example, the all inclusive resorts down here in the DR. Anyone can say they have been to the Dominican Republic (DR from here on out) but the fact is that few have. You can come to the DR and never really leave the United States. The moment some people get off that plane they enter their resort and never leave it again until their flight out. They don't have any desire to experience a culture.
But take this more personal example. The fact is that for the past two weeks I have been struggling with the idea that I truly love the poor. Does my commitment to three months here really mean I love the poor? Rosa, one of the loan officers thought so. But it really bothered me. I didn't think I did. But then a few days later it hit me: I wasn't allowing myself to love the poor. I don't know why, but I was guarding myself from them. I did love them, not even knowing them. You'd have to love them if you would choose to spend three months in a poor country, paying to travel around and listen to their stories. And I am not trying to lift myself on a pedestal. Ha, there are many things one has against me. But in all seriousness, I learned that I need to open more than just my ears to these people. I need to open my heart and mind. I need to go into these interviews not to just complete a journal for Kiva, or get a good enough story for HOPE. Rather, I need these interviews to listen to their struggles. And one by one, I will understand their culture better and better.
I need to leave my own all inclusive resort. I need to open up to these people. And then and only then will I truly experience true Dominican culture.
7.6.10
Back to the DR
It has been a while since I last blogged, and I apologize. Last week was crazy busy. Beyond the fact that I went home for the weekend (yes) the first three days of work were just incredibly busy. It was only a three day week here in the DR, some national holiday of sort. So on Monday I worked on a bit of my work that I had gotten from last week and planned how Tuesday and Wednesday would work out. I finally got a hold of the schedule for each loan officer and began to plan out who to travel with. On Tuesday I headed out with Brunilda and got three interviews completed. But I forgot my camera again.. this is really starting to get annoying. Thankfully, I brought back from the States my cord and another memory card so I have enough space to take as many pictures as I want and I can finally post the pictures along with the journal entries.
So I went home this weekend. I got to visit with my family and go to Todd's graduation. I was really lucky to have a free voucher to fly home and visit with my family. It was good to see everyone, but the jump between two very different cultures wasn't easy. To be eating more than enough food for each meal and seeing a ton wasted at restaurants knowing just the day before I was interviewing women that could only afford to feed their families twice a day was not easy. Something big did happen when I was at home. While I was talking to my family and describing the DR to them, I started to miss it. Honestly, now that I am back I don't miss it AS much ;) but it is a good sign if already I feel at home here. Unfortunately, the trip home wiped me out, and I got sick at the same time. Now I have to deal with not feeling well on top of getting back into Spanish mode and working each day traveling around the city.
So, that is a quick update, I promise one of these days I will post something more in depth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)