Dominican Republic –March 13, 2006

This third leg of my “tour” to experience both the need for and the work of Habitat for Humanity carried me on Saturday to the Caribbean nation of the Dominican Republic, whose people are as warm and colorful as the climate and island they share. (You can also read about my previous experiences in Asia and the Pacific and Africa and the Middle East.)

The inviting people of the DR share a special relationship with land and water, which, for many of them, can be at once both scarce and plentiful. More about that later.

I’m honored to have met a number of Habitat partners during my short visit to the country these past few days, and while troubled by the poverty that exists throughout the nation, I was buoyed by the compassion that inspires a lot of people there. It was great to see committed people channeling that compassion through Habitat for Humanity

MariCarmen Defillo, gracious host and board president for HFH-DR, picked us up at the airport in Santo Domingo, and we drove together to a Habitat project in Barrio Independencia, where we dedicated four houses with local families and celebrated the transformation that has begun in their lives. Barrio Independencia is the first Habitat community in Santo Domingo.

In some ways, the DR is what one might imagine of an island nation. Its buildings are lavender and pink and yellow and lime green and any number of other colors that seem to sing in the sun. Roadside vendors sell their fruit under umbrella shade, customers shop at busy corner markets, mothers wait with children at the bus stop, the ubiquitous motor-scooter changes lanes ahead. And the ocean seems always only steps away.

Once we arrived at the dedication, it was pure celebration. Because in a land with a 17 percent unemployment rate where 25 percent of the people live in poverty, decent, affordable housing is definitely cause to rejoice.

After visiting with the new homeowners, the local Habitat committee and Habitat supporters, we headed for our hotel in Santo Domingo, a bustling city of more than 2 million people.

We were privileged to spend Saturday evening with a number of existing donors and partners and with others interested in learning more about the important work Habitat is doing in the DR. I was pleased to meet and have dinner with Rafael Alburquerque, who is the country’s vice president. He is a former law professor who wrote most of DR’s labor laws, and it meant a lot to me personally and to the staff and board to know of his interest in and support of our work.

The evening was a great opportunity to share Habitat’s message of hope and its proven solution to the plight of poverty housing—which, I should say, is immense in the rural areas of the DR and the densely populated urban slums of Santo Domingo.

Sunday morning, we left the hotel and, across the street, the ocean stretched out blue as far as I could see. The sun shone brightly. The beauty of it all, however, belied the dreadful living conditions I encountered only a few minutes later in the Tres Brazos community of Santo Domingo, specifically the Las Latas neighborhood, whose name translates to “The Tins” because of all the metal roofs. The neighborhood streets are narrow and choked with cars, which seemed only to amplify the mass of urban makeshift housing that stands clustered in ragged panels of scrap metal, concrete block and wood.

To make matters worse, the neighborhood housing rests literally in a river bed. And although the area is dry much of the time, heavy rains and hurricanes quickly remind residents of the location’s natural purpose. Storm waters regularly assault the low-lying hovels, forcing families into shelters for a week or two at a time. The shacks closer to the river’s edge have no windows because of the frequent storms. They’re dark, small and butt up against one another at all different angles. Because they’re made from whatever materials could be found, their appearance is rather chaotic, crooked, and I found myself more than once dodging the jagged tin roofing as I walked through the narrow alleys.

Not very long ago, the earthen ground was covered over with concrete in an attempt to reduce the volume of mud after the rains. It left me wondering which is worse—the muddy cocktail that rain waters must have stirred before the concrete was laid? Or the way it is now—a sloping concrete funnel that thrusts water downhill toward and into the already feeble shanties?

Ironically, water for consumption is scarce in Tres Brazos. Residents can access it on Tuesdays and Saturdays through a couple of unauthorized spigots, but that water is used more for washing and cooking than for drinking. For those who can afford it, bottled water is sold in five-gallon drums—but the cost for that adds up quickly. Sewage runs openly in the streets, and we saw garbage and dead vermin right by the shacks: a health nightmare for the children and families there.

It makes me sad and angry every time I see such conditions. None of God’s children should have to live that way. In spite of the destitution, however, I encountered smiles on the faces of those whose life burdens are so severe. It’s comforting to know that where smiles go, there goes hope as well—and hope is what HFH-DR is bringing to families in Tres Brazos and throughout the DR. In this case, work is under way with the Sisters of Charity to move some 200 families in Tres Brazos away from the riverbed neighborhood and onto higher, more stable ground with better access to schools and jobs. These families will get a hand up, but there are so many more we need to serve.

The board of directors and national staff are energized by their shared commitment to poor families seeking a better way. And as they recognize the increasing value of lots on which to build in the DR, they’re also driven by a shared vision to reach the Promised Land. The reference has become a focal point around which HFH-DR eagerly rallies. It’s from the book of Joshua where the Israelites are separated from the Promised Land by a rushing river. God’s message to Joshua, repeated five times, is to “be strong and have courage for the Lord your God will be with you.” A friend pointed out to me that they then have to step out into the rushing water before God miraculously stills the water for them to cross.

HFH-DR’s message is a symbolic Promised Land, a biblical land for the sake of which they’re taking a collective faith leap on behalf of families in need. Equipped with their own diligence and with solid trust in God, they’re rushing into the figurative waters, full of hope, expectations and compassion.

But theirs is also a literal “promised land,” as they very deliberately engage landowners in partnerships to secure much-needed property throughout the country.

With the leadership and commitment they have in place, I’m confident they will succeed and renew promise for those families throughout the country still only dreaming of a better place to live. Through HFH-DR, the island nation is surrounded by hope and potential.

I’ll write again soon from our next stop: Mexico City. Thanks for reading!