Thursday was one of the hardest days that I have had in a very, very long time. It was also certainly one of the most worthwhile ones that I have had, ever. After the typical get up/breakfast/bus ride to somewhere start to the day we found ourselves in an impoverished neighborhood in Boca Chica, 40 of us crammed into the yard of a small house listening to two Esperanza International (re-linked for a reminder) employees translate/explain the goings-on of the loan repayment meeting going on inside to us. (Oh, and cliche or no, the sweet reggae sound of some Bob Marley tunes were wafting over the fence from a neighbor's boom box.)
Esperanza gives its loans to groups of five women from the same town, and several of these groups in one town form what is called a Bank of Hope. The loans are secured through a system similar to cross-collateralization which, as I understand it, means that if one person in the group fails to repay then the entire group is responsible, and if the entire group is unable to pay then the other groups from the same Bank of Hope are responsible. Loans usually start in the couple-hundred dollar range, and can progress upwards from there with each repayment. Loan repayment meetings, which are mandatory (you can't just pay, you've gotta show up to pay) take place every two weeks, and the interest rate on each loan is 2%; a loan repayment cycle is 6 months.
Esperanza, like many other micro-credit organizations, loans almost exclusively to women; the reason for this is that studies and experience have shown that women have a much higher repayment rate than men, contribute more to the improvement of their entire family's living conditions with the loan, and are much less likely to squander the loan (basically, more dudes spend more of the loan on booze--somehow that is entirely unsurprising, although maybe I'm just projecting). The women usually use the loan to start a business, often something basic like selling clothes or foodstuffs to their neighbors (apparently, buying a digital camera to take graduation and wedding photos is also pretty in right now). Esperanza considers it a success if, after six months, the lendee has been able to repay the loan and save $30.
After viewing the meeting, during which about twenty women crowded into one of their houses, repaid the portion of their loan due that week (a few women were actually a bit short and others had to pitch in) and discussed things going forward with their loan counselor, we were split into groups and given tours of several small businesses which have been started with Esperanza loans. The first one my woman saw was a business where a woman sold food out of her house to neighbors; she sold the food largely on credit, said our guide (an Esperanza employee), which is common, but kept a list of who owed what, which is clearly a necessity, but not a universal practice. Hers was not the only income in the house, but it greatly supplemented her husband's earnings. She has been receiving Esperanza loans for three loan cycles (18 months) and believes the money she has earned has been a great help in supporting her family and children.
The next business was of a similar scale (very small), and was one where the owner sold clothes to her neighbors. She currently bought goods from a man who brought them over from the Haitian border in a truck, but she would like to grow her business to the point where she could be the distributor. On our way into her house her adorable four year old grandchild ran out and gave all eight or nine of us a hug as we filed in; this was, obviously, the most adorable thing I have ever seen (and although I am prone to hyperbole, in this case I mean it literally--it was even cuter than this).
We piled into the buses and saw a second meeting, and then one more project. I don't remember the details, but what I was struck by several things about the neighborhoods we saw: first, how some houses which were, if not opulent, at least more than adequate, were next to several other houses which might be made of corrugated metal and/or cinder blocks. Secondly, I was surprised by how even in some of the metal and cinder buildings, there would usually be at least one small television set. That technology, while still not as common as in the US, has really found itself a solid foothold here. Apparently Dominicans like their TV.
All throughout this I was thinking about two things: first, micro-credit projects which could be of use in this community and ones like it, and secondly (and less obviously) how intrusive I felt inviting myself into people's meetings and homes. These loans are the difference between self sufficiency and poverty for many of their recipients, and while they are justifiably proud of their businesses and seem to enjoy showing them off, much like at the baseball field the previous day I couldn't get over how voyeuristic I felt inviting myself into their meetings and homes, poking and prodding them, asking for information. This isn't a case study or a laboratory--it's real life!!
I guess more than either of those things, though, the experience really left me feeling humbled and grateful. It was through pure luck that I was born where and when I was to parents who were able to clothe, feed, and educate me; I had done nothing to earn or deserve that, just as people born into the very poor neighborhoods of Boca Chica had done nothing to deserve being born in a country and region where education beyond grade school is for many a near-impossibility, and things we take for granted such as electricity, health care, and indoor plumbing are considered luxuries.
I also felt like a pretty big dirt bag for not having worked harder on my Spanish when I had the chance. I wanted to be able to communicate with these people with at least some degree of effectiveness, and my rusty-from-five-years-of-disuse (and never very good to begin with) Spanish just wasn't cutting it; it was the first time where I really felt that not knowing Spanish was holding me back, not letting me do something that I really needed to be doing--helping these people. I felt selfish. I felt like when I had made the decision (which I didn't make consciously, but I did make with my actions--my almost complete lack of studying--back in high school) I had been a completely self-centered (for lack of a better word) prick.
Also, I just felt like a typical, ignorant American. Any time I did have a question, either for our Esperanza guides or for them to translate for the small business-owner, I felt like it was implicitly prefaced with "This might be a really effing stupid thing to ask, but . . ." But I had to start gleaning knowledge somewhere; the hardest thing was figuring out where to begin. For me, also, it was kind of a difficult thing to admit how much I have to learn: I'm a smart, somewhat-educated guy, who in most situations has some idea what's going on. Here, though, I had to be willing to wipe the slate clean and try to learn as much as I could in a very short time. And, again, I felt like a dirt bag American for not knowing more beforehand.
I don't know how well I did at that, but there were a few things I learned. First, while these people have basic needs that aren't being filled, those aren't necessarily the things they want most--they love being able to buy cell phones, American jeans and t-shirts, and to have TVs in their house. As much as we might think they need a health care system, we have no right to tell them that they can't have a pair of Levis's. Second, the stereotype is a little bit true: despite how little these people have, many of them would tell us that they were happy, but they just wished they could have one thing, or that they could provide for their children a little better. Thirdly, I was amazed at how small 'micro' really is: $30 of savings over 6 months? Lastly, I was actually a little surprised at how much technology is available in this country: like I said, TVs in lots of houses, many people with cell phones, and while not everyone uses a computer they are becoming much more commonplace and even the older generation wants to learn how to use them. The technological tools for these people to make their lives better are there and to some degree available (of course, I spent half of the morning off in my own head in theory land, too, wondering if by coming in and giving these people loans to start businesses we were just practicing modern colonialism--cultural imperialism--and if the spread of capitalism is in fact the best cure for all of hte developing world's woes, or the cause of them. I'm still undecided on this one.)
After these tours we were taken to a school which was started by Marina, an Esperanza loan recipient. She had worked in a clothes factory during the day when she got her first loan, which she used to buy a sewing machine to make and sell more clothes on her own time. When that business began to do well she felt the need to start giving back, and decided to start a school. Through much hard work, several years later her school has grown and now serves over 400 students in one of Boca Chica's toughest neighborhoods. It currently goes up through middle school, but last year all of Marina's graduating class continued on to attend a local high school. Although religion pretty much always makes me uneasy and hers was a religious school where she encouraged students to find Jesus, seeing a school as nice as hers, built largely by the community and funded through donations and small loans, in a community as tough as the one it was in was truly inspiring.
Finally, after a bit of a drive we finished the day with the tour of the Mets Dominican facility in a nearby part of Boca Chica (after the depression and pomo crisis of the AM it was nice to finish the day with something a bit lighter . . . and thoroughly awesome). Many teams have their facilities somewhere near there, as it's conveniently located near a couple airports, and also because it's cheaper, for reasons of the Dominican Summer League's travel, to be near the other complexes (so there's sort of a snowball effect going on there). Although we had heard that the Padres facility was the best of the best, we were all blown away by what we found at the Mets complex. The dorms, dining hall, and classroom were all comparable to what you would find at a nice, liberal arts college; the baseball fields (three of them, the game field built with the same dimensions as Citi Field) were, obviously, far nicer than the baseball field at said liberal arts college. The Mets were also quite proud of their educational program, and said that several players who had been cut had found good jobs at local businesses such as the resorts a few hours up the coast. The 40 or so prospects who are living there and playing in the Dominican Summer League are truly living the life.
The day we were there, July 2nd, just happened to be the first day that teams were allowed to sign 16-year-old prospects, and in our first five minutes Juan, the facility manager and our tour guide, pointed out to us a newly-made millionaire, Ugueth Urbina's son Juan, who had just signed for a $1.2 million bonus that morning. He is, according to Juan, a lefty who can bring some serious gas. He's also a very wealthy teenager.
Also included on the tour was the Mets locker room, weight room, offices, and hitting facilities. When we stopped by the offices Juan hollered into one of them and out came an older man, who Juan introduced as Ozzie Virgil, Sr., the first Dominican player to make it to the big leagues. He played for the Giants from 1955-57, which means he also played with the first Dominican pitcher to make the bigs (and the only Dominican Hall of Famer), Juan Marichal. Ozzie works with the Mets Dominican players, helping with not just baseball but also some cultural issues; he was a great guy (and also a proud papa--he mentioned twice that his son was also a big-leaguer, and we had to be told about his career by our tour guide), so it seems like those players are in the best of hands.
Also, since we're here in large part to examine the economic role that baseball plays in the Dominican Republic, it's worth noting that between maintenance, the dining room, the grounds crew, and other jobs, the Mets facility employs about 45 workers, all local.
This post would admittedly be greatly improved with photos. I hope to be able to figure this out and get some up here shortly. But, for now, readers (and now I know there are readers, now, not just a reader--thanks Mom!), that's all I've got for you. Sorry this wasn't the greatest post ever, but I'm kinda just trying to get caught up, so that way I'll be able to post about some stuff that is fresher in my mind (I should have brought my own laptop instead of just bothering my classmates to borrow theirs--bah!).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment