How to waste $3,000

There comes a time when after some serious thought you can thoroughly reflect on some life decisions and make some accurate judgements on actions you have taken.


I regret my decision to do an internship with Hope International.

Done. Out in the open. Critics will say to me I am arrogant, selfish, and demeaning. I would say I am not ignorant or blinded by this elusive subject we call poverty. I went down to the Dominican Republic to work and learn about micro finance and poverty. I came away with a cultural experience and new friends. It wouldn't be just to say I didn't learn anything about micro finance. And while the little first hand experience I had did teach me a thing or two, I didn't go down to learn that micro finance doesn't work the way Muhummad Yunus would make it seem. It is dirty, rough, hard, and it takes a lot of work. I have more respect for those nationals and expatriates than ever before.

But see, there is this thing called culture. It gets in the way of so many people's attempts to get to the root of... life. Sure, living in a third world country is tough. It is hard, it isn't easy, but should it be used as an excuse for inactivity or unproductiveness? No. And yet for me, my attempts to grow and learn while down in the DR were constantly hit with this abrupt wall of culture for an excuse. Am I angry? Call it bitterness. I am glad for my new friends, both Dominican and American. And I do miss my experiences down there. But that is just it: those experiences would have been there had I been working for for the Peace Corp, the World Bank, studying abroad, etc. What I experienced wasn't anything special to the internship. It was just time spent learning about Dominincan culture.

I want to learn about culture through work. Through partnerships I want to meet new people. I want to see new places travelling to a new location either to start a new project for investment or find a new slum to help alleviate poverty, not just to experience a new dump or new town. That is what I came to the DR to do. And I got new friends instead. Hey, friends are good. But those people are still hungry, still hurting, and here I am back in my heated and air-conditioned room telling you about the warm fuzzy feeling poverty brings to the many of Americans who experience it. How terrible it was to have cold showers in the morning, to eat rice and beans every day:

To make a spectacle of a new culture and of poverty.


I didn't go to the DR to do that. But I ended up doing the very thing I detest in so many pele who talk about poverty like it is a entertaining 3 minute thriller.