As my final day approaches, I ask myself what my next step will be. I have enjoyed my time here despite the obvious difficulties (no running water)and my adventurous spirit has yet to wane. I still spin the globe and dream about life in other places. I still feel nostalgia for places I've never been, and I still have a potent passion to work in the non-profit sector. I know that if I can survive three months here with the language barriers, cultural differences, poorer lifestyle and enjoy every minute of it, I can survive anywhere. My experiences have taught me so much. I have witnesses how good organizations operate, and how bad organizations falter. I learned how important oversight is, the importance of presenting one self as a leader, and the difficulties of makign rapid fast decisions at any given moment. The cultural differences here have prepared me, I feel, for any random inconvenience in the workplace. Such a fast paced and stressful environment has taught me how to mold myself to be more flexible and respect the difficulties that many people here have to overcome (such as no internet).
Obviously, I learned a lot about microfinance as well. I learned, at least in my opinion, how much better it is than NGO. The saying is, they don't give handouts but rather a helping hand. Microfinance teaches solidarity, opens up communities, teaches responsibilities, and lays the ground work for future progress. Of course, it is not an answer for poverty. Not in the least bit. But it does help alleviate the troubles that poverty induces. I really hope that someday I can implement what I have learned here somewhere else and make a lasting impact.
Overall, I am glad to go home. I feel that three months was more than enough time for me to be here. I am looking forward to seeing family and friends. My family already agreed to be waiting for me in Boston with a pizza and a milkshake. I plan to watch a Red Sox game, catch a Pats game, eat some hamburgers, go to the movies, and enjoy the luxuries of running water, air conditioning, internet, medical insurance, and food (I lost 20 lbs here, and I already weighed only 155 when I got here). Needless to say, I will need a good 2 weeks rest before I return to school. I am appreciative for all the friends I made here, and for the great work that Esperanza is doing in this country. Well, that's it! I'M SHIPPING OFF TO BOSTON!!!!! The most beautiful city in the WORLD ;)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Dengue Fever Part 2
Hours later, however, I began feeling even worse. Again, the symptoms were very similar to Dengue. For 15 minutes I would be sweating immensely, the next 15 minutes I would be shivering. As I tried to eat some soup, I began sweating a river. It was if I had just come back from my daily jogs. I became scared and told my host mother that I wanted to go to the clinic. In somewhat of an argumentative manner, she told me not to worry that it was fever and not Dengue. Still, I wanted to make sure and explained to her that perhaps my body was not accustomed to the diseases here in the Dominican Republic. Apparently, I offended her. At that moment though, I could’ve cared less. My host brother walked me to the closest clinic, where things only became more confusing.
When I reached the clinic and after explaining to them the symptoms, they thought it would be best that I stayed the night. He left home to tell his mother, who called my boss, and both arrived to see me. At first, they were telling me that I shouldn’t stay because I would be fine, and that it would cost a lot of money. However, as I began to leave I became extremely nauseous and asked for a bucket. I puked up the soup that I had eaten earlier. After that, my boss suggested that I stay, that the nurses would take care of me. At that point, I was confused and didn’t know what I wanted or what I should do. Ultimately, they convinced me to stay. Of course, on the way to my room I puked some more.
When I finally rested my head on my new bed in the clinic, it was then that I realized that my boss called all my co-workers to tell them that I was sick. However, it wasn’t because she thought that they would be worried, but rather it was a reason for them to laugh at me. One of them even came to the clinic herself to make fun of me to my face. She kept saying, “Benjamin, you have Dengue and you’re going to die here.” It was a joke to the Dominicans that a poor American thought that he had contracted Dengue. So, for about an hour my host mother, boss, and co-worker joked amongst themselves at my expense, telling me that I’m going to die and will never see my country again. Obviously, though I knew by then that I didn’t have Dengue, I wasn’t very amused.
When they finished laughing at me, they left me to sleep in the clinic. I watched the Lord of the Rings to prevent the inevitable…trying to sleep. The nurse who told me that I could knock on her door for anything had fallen asleep herself (I was hoping she could give me some drugs). My body was still in lots of pain. I spent the next hour and a half rolling in my bed and making frequent trips to the bathroom. They woke me early up the next morning and stuck me with a bunch of needles for some tests. Finally, after six more hours of rolling around in my bed, the doctors concluded that all I had was a fever and sent me on my way…but with a hefty bill. 5,400 pesos or 142 American dollars! For one night. For a TV controller that barely worked. For tests that told me something I already knew. For a nurse that fell asleep earlier than I did. For a bunch of Dominicans to laugh at me. For a bag of IV that I’m pretty sure was just water. 142 American dollars. And no drugs.
Hato Mayor, Dominican Republic, Benjamin Brennan
When I reached the clinic and after explaining to them the symptoms, they thought it would be best that I stayed the night. He left home to tell his mother, who called my boss, and both arrived to see me. At first, they were telling me that I shouldn’t stay because I would be fine, and that it would cost a lot of money. However, as I began to leave I became extremely nauseous and asked for a bucket. I puked up the soup that I had eaten earlier. After that, my boss suggested that I stay, that the nurses would take care of me. At that point, I was confused and didn’t know what I wanted or what I should do. Ultimately, they convinced me to stay. Of course, on the way to my room I puked some more.
When I finally rested my head on my new bed in the clinic, it was then that I realized that my boss called all my co-workers to tell them that I was sick. However, it wasn’t because she thought that they would be worried, but rather it was a reason for them to laugh at me. One of them even came to the clinic herself to make fun of me to my face. She kept saying, “Benjamin, you have Dengue and you’re going to die here.” It was a joke to the Dominicans that a poor American thought that he had contracted Dengue. So, for about an hour my host mother, boss, and co-worker joked amongst themselves at my expense, telling me that I’m going to die and will never see my country again. Obviously, though I knew by then that I didn’t have Dengue, I wasn’t very amused.
When they finished laughing at me, they left me to sleep in the clinic. I watched the Lord of the Rings to prevent the inevitable…trying to sleep. The nurse who told me that I could knock on her door for anything had fallen asleep herself (I was hoping she could give me some drugs). My body was still in lots of pain. I spent the next hour and a half rolling in my bed and making frequent trips to the bathroom. They woke me early up the next morning and stuck me with a bunch of needles for some tests. Finally, after six more hours of rolling around in my bed, the doctors concluded that all I had was a fever and sent me on my way…but with a hefty bill. 5,400 pesos or 142 American dollars! For one night. For a TV controller that barely worked. For tests that told me something I already knew. For a nurse that fell asleep earlier than I did. For a bunch of Dominicans to laugh at me. For a bag of IV that I’m pretty sure was just water. 142 American dollars. And no drugs.
Hato Mayor, Dominican Republic, Benjamin Brennan
Dengue Fever Part 1
Well, I really didn’t want to share this story with anybody else, but I ultimately decided that perhaps it would be best to express my slightly embarrassing experience with others. Some may find it funny; others may find it a little upsetting. Yet, that’s what blogs are for, to receive different perspectives. To begin, a couple of weeks ago I and along with the other interns here in the Dominican Republic received an email from the central office warning everybody about the sudden outbreak of Dengue Fever. Dengue fever is an illness that is contracted through mosquito bites. For 15 days, the individual is overcome with intense sweating, body ache, nausea, diarrhea, and a head ache. Needless to say, it is not a pleasurable experience.
I was out in the field about one hour away from the central office. As usual, we were visiting communities to receive the loans that were owed to us. During the second meeting, I started feeling an intense headache. It was an aggravating pressure as if it were applied by large pliers on my temples. I thought it was just because I was dehydrated, which is usually the case. Yet, after forcing down some food and drinking plenty of water, I began feeling worse. And yet, the worst was yet to come.
In the state of Hato Mayor, from tip to tip, the roads are horrendous. Potholes are ubiquitous, and many roads are not even paved. It makes long trips a nightmare because it feels as if you are on a boat lost at sea rocking back and forth. I get car sick easy enough on paved roads, so I always dread the long trips to other communities. As we were returning to the head office, I began feeling worse, and the car ride certainly did not make things better. For an hour, I felt as if my insides were let loose and rolling around inside my body, floating carelessly in the liquids of my body. You know that 8-ball toy that you shake around and ask it questions? Well, my inside felt like that. I could hear them slamming against my ribs, making similar sounds that the little triangle in the 8-ball makes when swished around violently.
When we finally arrived back at the office, I could barely see straight. I knew it was something serious, and asked to go home. I was so dizzy that I couldn’t even speak or understand Spanish. Eventually, I was able to demonstrate the fact that I was not feeling well and one of the drivers took me home.
At home I began feeling worse. I started to sweat buckets and my entire body ached. All I could think was that for the next 15 days my state would only worsen. On the news I heard of many stories of people dying from Dengue fever. I called all my friends to look up the symptoms of Dengue, and apparently I had every symptom. I went downstairs to tell my brother the situation. I spoke to him in English while he translated, since I could barely even think. My host mother said not to worry, that it was just a fever. She said that my host sister was feeling the same way the other day. I decided to calm my nerves and trust them.
I was out in the field about one hour away from the central office. As usual, we were visiting communities to receive the loans that were owed to us. During the second meeting, I started feeling an intense headache. It was an aggravating pressure as if it were applied by large pliers on my temples. I thought it was just because I was dehydrated, which is usually the case. Yet, after forcing down some food and drinking plenty of water, I began feeling worse. And yet, the worst was yet to come.
In the state of Hato Mayor, from tip to tip, the roads are horrendous. Potholes are ubiquitous, and many roads are not even paved. It makes long trips a nightmare because it feels as if you are on a boat lost at sea rocking back and forth. I get car sick easy enough on paved roads, so I always dread the long trips to other communities. As we were returning to the head office, I began feeling worse, and the car ride certainly did not make things better. For an hour, I felt as if my insides were let loose and rolling around inside my body, floating carelessly in the liquids of my body. You know that 8-ball toy that you shake around and ask it questions? Well, my inside felt like that. I could hear them slamming against my ribs, making similar sounds that the little triangle in the 8-ball makes when swished around violently.
When we finally arrived back at the office, I could barely see straight. I knew it was something serious, and asked to go home. I was so dizzy that I couldn’t even speak or understand Spanish. Eventually, I was able to demonstrate the fact that I was not feeling well and one of the drivers took me home.
At home I began feeling worse. I started to sweat buckets and my entire body ached. All I could think was that for the next 15 days my state would only worsen. On the news I heard of many stories of people dying from Dengue fever. I called all my friends to look up the symptoms of Dengue, and apparently I had every symptom. I went downstairs to tell my brother the situation. I spoke to him in English while he translated, since I could barely even think. My host mother said not to worry, that it was just a fever. She said that my host sister was feeling the same way the other day. I decided to calm my nerves and trust them.
Dengue Fever Part 1
Well, I really didn’t want to share this story with anybody else, but I ultimately decided that perhaps it would be best to express my slightly embarrassing experience with others. Some may find it funny; others may find it a little upsetting. Yet, that’s what blogs are for, to receive different perspectives. To begin, a couple of weeks ago I and along with the other interns here in the Dominican Republic received an email from the central office warning everybody about the sudden outbreak of Dengue Fever. Dengue fever is an illness that is contracted through mosquito bites. For 15 days, the individual is overcome with intense sweating, body ache, nausea, diarrhea, and a head ache. Needless to say, it is not a pleasurable experience.
I was out in the field about one hour away from the central office. As usual, we were visiting communities to receive the loans that were owed to us. During the second meeting, I started feeling an intense headache. It was an aggravating pressure as if it were applied by large pliers on my temples. I thought it was just because I was dehydrated, which is usually the case. Yet, after forcing down some food and drinking plenty of water, I began feeling worse. And yet, the worst was yet to come.
In the state of Hato Mayor, from tip to tip, the roads are horrendous. Potholes are ubiquitous, and many roads are not even paved. It makes long trips a nightmare because it feels as if you are on a boat lost at sea rocking back and forth. I get car sick easy enough on paved roads, so I always dread the long trips to other communities. As we were returning to the head office, I began feeling worse, and the car ride certainly did not make things better. For an hour, I felt as if my insides were let loose and rolling around inside my body, floating carelessly in the liquids of my body. You know that 8-ball toy that you shake around and ask it questions? Well, my inside felt like that. I could hear them slamming against my ribs, making similar sounds that the little triangle in the 8-ball makes when swished around violently.
When we finally arrived back at the office, I could barely see straight. I knew it was something serious, and asked to go home. I was so dizzy that I couldn’t even speak or understand Spanish. Eventually, I was able to demonstrate the fact that I was not feeling well and one of the drivers took me home.
At home I began feeling worse. I started to sweat buckets and my entire body ached. All I could think was that for the next 15 days my state would only worsen. On the news I heard of many stories of people dying from Dengue fever. I called all my friends to look up the symptoms of Dengue, and apparently I had every symptom. I went downstairs to tell my brother the situation. I spoke to him in English while he translated, since I could barely even think. My host mother said not to worry, that it was just a fever. She said that my host sister was feeling the same way the other day. I decided to calm my nerves and trust them.
I was out in the field about one hour away from the central office. As usual, we were visiting communities to receive the loans that were owed to us. During the second meeting, I started feeling an intense headache. It was an aggravating pressure as if it were applied by large pliers on my temples. I thought it was just because I was dehydrated, which is usually the case. Yet, after forcing down some food and drinking plenty of water, I began feeling worse. And yet, the worst was yet to come.
In the state of Hato Mayor, from tip to tip, the roads are horrendous. Potholes are ubiquitous, and many roads are not even paved. It makes long trips a nightmare because it feels as if you are on a boat lost at sea rocking back and forth. I get car sick easy enough on paved roads, so I always dread the long trips to other communities. As we were returning to the head office, I began feeling worse, and the car ride certainly did not make things better. For an hour, I felt as if my insides were let loose and rolling around inside my body, floating carelessly in the liquids of my body. You know that 8-ball toy that you shake around and ask it questions? Well, my inside felt like that. I could hear them slamming against my ribs, making similar sounds that the little triangle in the 8-ball makes when swished around violently.
When we finally arrived back at the office, I could barely see straight. I knew it was something serious, and asked to go home. I was so dizzy that I couldn’t even speak or understand Spanish. Eventually, I was able to demonstrate the fact that I was not feeling well and one of the drivers took me home.
At home I began feeling worse. I started to sweat buckets and my entire body ached. All I could think was that for the next 15 days my state would only worsen. On the news I heard of many stories of people dying from Dengue fever. I called all my friends to look up the symptoms of Dengue, and apparently I had every symptom. I went downstairs to tell my brother the situation. I spoke to him in English while he translated, since I could barely even think. My host mother said not to worry, that it was just a fever. She said that my host sister was feeling the same way the other day. I decided to calm my nerves and trust them.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Cockfight
There is an intriguing element of violence that captivates human interest. Many times it is idolized as a means to an end. In movies the hero is exalted for killing his enemies, the soldier is glorified for dying for his country, and stories of masked murders serve as fictitious instruments to both scare and entertain. In all parts of the world, violence is a temptation that purges the darkest secrets of our imagination, and sometimes reveals the malevolent side human nature. What is it that makes toying with death entertaining? I asked this question repeatedly after I watched my first cockfight here in the Dominican Republic.
First off, my experience was not what one would imagine. I was not surrounded by bloodthirsty, toothless, sun-burned farmers out in the bateys of the Dominican Republic. Rather, I was in an air-conditioned, high-class stadium surrounded by wealthy business men and beautiful waitresses carrying around food and drinks. There were electronic scoreboards, a bar/restaurant, and a green turf where the rooster fought.
I must say, the experience was not as brutal or bloody as I thought it would be. I think it was because roosters just claw and peck at each other, while a dog fight, for example, involves growling and fierce biting. Regardless, every fight was a fight to the death, and at the end of the round there had to be a loser. It was hard to watch a rooster suddenly fall to the ground without moving as the other stood triumphantly over its disposed foe. The men that bet for the winner cheered, while the rest sat down quickly with arms crossed.
It was interesting to watch a large amount of people yelling as two roosters fought to the death down below. It appeared that humans have an obsession with death. Whether we fear it through religion, honor it through burial, or crave it through a bellicose spectacle, death becomes a part of our lives because it is something inevitable. We all just have different ways of dealing with it.
After watching my first cockfight, I realized that life is similar. We ourselves fight with death, constantly struggling to enjoy life while working hard to sustain it. However, in the end, there always has to be a winner, and there always has to be a loser.
First off, my experience was not what one would imagine. I was not surrounded by bloodthirsty, toothless, sun-burned farmers out in the bateys of the Dominican Republic. Rather, I was in an air-conditioned, high-class stadium surrounded by wealthy business men and beautiful waitresses carrying around food and drinks. There were electronic scoreboards, a bar/restaurant, and a green turf where the rooster fought.
I must say, the experience was not as brutal or bloody as I thought it would be. I think it was because roosters just claw and peck at each other, while a dog fight, for example, involves growling and fierce biting. Regardless, every fight was a fight to the death, and at the end of the round there had to be a loser. It was hard to watch a rooster suddenly fall to the ground without moving as the other stood triumphantly over its disposed foe. The men that bet for the winner cheered, while the rest sat down quickly with arms crossed.
It was interesting to watch a large amount of people yelling as two roosters fought to the death down below. It appeared that humans have an obsession with death. Whether we fear it through religion, honor it through burial, or crave it through a bellicose spectacle, death becomes a part of our lives because it is something inevitable. We all just have different ways of dealing with it.
After watching my first cockfight, I realized that life is similar. We ourselves fight with death, constantly struggling to enjoy life while working hard to sustain it. However, in the end, there always has to be a winner, and there always has to be a loser.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tramite de Esperanza
I thought for this journal I'd give a little break down as to how Esperanza works, since I haven't yet in the past.
Basically, we got out far into the country to visit a poor community. We visit what we call "banks" or a group of people separated by smaller groups. Sometimes there may be 5, 10 or 15 people at the meeting, depending upon how well they expanded. Each group must have 5 people, no more no less. If the group does not, then they are not eligible to receive loans. Additionally, each bank has a "coordinator" or a person designated the leader of the other 4 people. That person is responsible for making sure everyone pays and arrives to all the meetings. As for the entire bank itself, there is also a treasurer and secretary, who have other responsibilities such as keeping track of who paid, and payments in the past.
Once we arrive, we have a brief prayer session where we sing songs about God. The members then recite their duties and responsibilities, followed by the actual payments. It is the coordinator who must give the money by hand to the "consultant" or the person working for Esperanza that receives the payments. We count the money, record it in each individuals booklet of accounts, and take attendance. This is suppose to take 45 minutes in total, but some meetings have gone as long as 3 hours. This is because people often do not have enough money, so we must order them to find a way to get it. Some people don't show up, and we have to send others to go find them or the money they owe.
At the end of the day, after visiting 2-3 communities, we recount the money and deposit it. We return to the office, record attendance and payments on a database, and note down any other observations. What I just described is only a tiny description of what goes on. There are countless obstacles that make life difficult for the consultant. Arguments, long trips, misinformation etc. all contribute to the daily trouble of being a consultant. Regardless, it can be a very rewarding experience.
Basically, we got out far into the country to visit a poor community. We visit what we call "banks" or a group of people separated by smaller groups. Sometimes there may be 5, 10 or 15 people at the meeting, depending upon how well they expanded. Each group must have 5 people, no more no less. If the group does not, then they are not eligible to receive loans. Additionally, each bank has a "coordinator" or a person designated the leader of the other 4 people. That person is responsible for making sure everyone pays and arrives to all the meetings. As for the entire bank itself, there is also a treasurer and secretary, who have other responsibilities such as keeping track of who paid, and payments in the past.
Once we arrive, we have a brief prayer session where we sing songs about God. The members then recite their duties and responsibilities, followed by the actual payments. It is the coordinator who must give the money by hand to the "consultant" or the person working for Esperanza that receives the payments. We count the money, record it in each individuals booklet of accounts, and take attendance. This is suppose to take 45 minutes in total, but some meetings have gone as long as 3 hours. This is because people often do not have enough money, so we must order them to find a way to get it. Some people don't show up, and we have to send others to go find them or the money they owe.
At the end of the day, after visiting 2-3 communities, we recount the money and deposit it. We return to the office, record attendance and payments on a database, and note down any other observations. What I just described is only a tiny description of what goes on. There are countless obstacles that make life difficult for the consultant. Arguments, long trips, misinformation etc. all contribute to the daily trouble of being a consultant. Regardless, it can be a very rewarding experience.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Pictures
Luckily, a friend of mine took pics of me at the dentists last week. Thought I'd share them. Otherwise, it's blistering hot, countryside is beautiful, project is tiresome, only 1 month left.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)