No Es Feo, Es Diferente

Today I am back in Puerto Plata. There wasn't much to do in Santiago, so I took the chance to go out and see another office and how things run. I usually come along with Helen, and today was no different besides having an extra person in the car. There is a new gerente in the office in Santo Domingo Oeste and he is up here observing and being trained by Helen for the week. Our first meeting was with a group that is missing payments, nothing new there and they day seemed to be turning out to be rather mundane. Almost a bit disappointed at the regularity, we headed out quickly to our next meeting. It was about a half hour drive west to a coastal town called Sousua. The meeting was a reconocimiento, which is the last day of training for new banks and groups where the gerente comes out to sort of quiz the new clients and see if they really understand what is expected of them and Esperanza. The bank was way out in the countryside. We turned off Highway Five onto a dirt road filled with rocks, trash, and potholes. Inching our way along, we then turned up a steep road that seemed ready to turn into a rockslide at any moment, and continued climbing the side of a mountain until we reached the site. We arrived late and most of the women were waiting for us. Now before I continue, I need to preface the next part of the story. As we headed out from Puerto Plata we drove along the malecón, which is the oceanfront street common in many Dominican towns. The new gerente mentioned how nice it was and I agreed but said that the beach itself was quite dirty (ugly was the exact word I used). He gave me a hard time for it, and we joked about how I apparently thought the north coast was dirty.

At any rate, we waited for the two missing women to show, when suddenly we decided to travel to the one client's house instead. Upon arriving we were greeted with a few typical hosts: horses, dogs, and cats. And so we sat around the house again waiting for now just one woman to show. So we sat, and sat, and sat. The conversation changed subjects just as quickly as the dark storm clouds moved in, dumped gallons of water, and moved out. At one point a small puppy with a mixture of brown, white and black fur stumbled around the many chairs and feet on the porch sniffing curiously and cautiously at all who were present. Some of the women commented on how cute it was when suddenly a large black male dog drifted our way from the street. The only two people to see it were me and the new gerente. It was soaking wet from the downpour and it was clear it had not had a proper bath in over a year. It also looked a bit sickly, and would never be seen in an American household. I turned to the gerente and said, as I did before on the malecon, "Que feo." He turned to me and said something that almost made my jaw drop three feet.

"No es feo, es diferente."

Translation: it isn't ugly, it is different.

What a view of the world to have! To suddenly see everything as different rather than ugly. Not everything is pretty to one's eye, but everything is different. And that difference is what makes it beautiful. The man with the lazy eye; different and beautiful. The river, with green ooze and overcast with lush greens; different and beautiful. The fact is that all in this world is God's creation and thus beautiful no matter how feo your eyes make it out to be.

Microfinance is ugly, harsh, and difficult. But it is beautiful. The success discovered, the confidence restored, the love renewed, and the joy replenished in a dirty and harsh environment is thrilling. It takes time to finally see such a world, and it will take me years to train my eyes to see this world as different, not ugly. But it is possible, and I will try until I see this world as God sees it: rare, varied, different, and because of that: beautiful.