Propmt: Other than through classes in school, in what areas (non-academic or academic) have you acquired knowledge or skills? How?
I step out of my uncle's 1996 red Dodge Ram truck; happy to be out of the dangerous, unpaved, bumpy road. I take a deep long breath as I analyze my surroundings. There are children running around shirtless and shoeless along the small closed- in streets of San Jose de Ocoa, in Dominican Republic. I feel as if I had stepped out of a world of color, into an opaque hopeless world of black and white. There aren't any traffic lights and the gray cement homes are packed together tightly on the short streets. I timidly follow my uncle into my great uncle's home. This is the first time that I will have visited my family in Dominican Republic; my heart beats rapidly and my palms begin to sweat as I walk through the squeaky feeble doors.
The house is dark; I ask my uncle if anyone is home, and he replies that he hears them out back. I clumsily make my way through piles of shoes and clothing to the backyard. I am shocked to see there are hens everywhere, this is my first time seeing this many animals in a single backyard. An old, short, and tan lady smiles at me and rushes to give me a hug. She speaks rapidly in Spanish and overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, all I can do is smile and nod my head. From the corner of my eye, I see an old, skinny, and pale man sitting on a discolored plastic chair on the opposite side of us; he beckons me to his side. I tread lightly on the dark green patches of grass, nervously biting my nails as I near him. He stands up and gives me a warm embrace. In Spanish, he says that he is so happy to have finally met me. Out of nowhere, tears begin to well in my eyes; I was flabbergasted by my surroundings yet filled with a sense belonging and love.
That was nearly four years ago; my uncle offered to take my brothers and me to Dominican Republic to spend the summer. My first few weeks, I spent them in Santo Domingo, the capital of Dominican Republic. My uncle had a mansion, with his own maid. In addition, there was a beauty salon right down the street, where I could get my hair done for only five dollars. Santo Domingo was very different from Miami. My uncle could send me to the store to buy his beer and although I was only fourteen, they would hand it to me with a smile and no I.D.
The girls my age went to adult clubs, almost every day. They dated men nearly three times their age and many of them were married by the time they were eighteen. I felt as if I were in a scary alternate universe. However, I enjoyed learning about my culture. My experience was extremely engaging.
In Santo Domingo, there was only one super store, in which you could buy all your household appliances and groceries. If you weren't willing to travel the distance, you had to resolve to buy all your poultry and beef from a "carnicería" and your vegetables from a vendor in your neighborhood, who would sit in the heat all day selling her produce.
Once a day, a man would walk down your street, yelling at the top of his lungs "AVOCATE, QUENEPA, MANGO", which translates into avocado, mamoncillos, and mangos. My brothers and I would rush out of the house, with our Dominican pesos in hand choosing the best of each fruit. Once a week, my aunt would hysterically yell out "SE FUE LA LUZ", this meant that the light went out; it would stay out for the entire day, which meant freezing showers. Life in Santo Domingo was both fun and frustrating.
A few weeks after my arrival, my uncle took us on a trip to see our family in San José de Ocoa. The trip was long and physically grueling. The roads were disastrous, the majority of my trip I clung tightly to my seat, praying we would make the journey.
San Jose de Ocoa was very different from Santo Domingo. The families were so impoverished that they could not afford shoes for their children; they did not own cars, so they drove around in mopeds instead. There wasn't a hospital or even a grocery store in close proximity. Many of the people there lived on subsistence farming, producing just enough to feed their families each year. My great-aunt cooked everything on one small stove top, she owned only two pans, and they did not own a refrigerator. They kept their spoilable produce in a neighbor's house across the street. There wasn't any running water so they gathered the water they would use from a local well each and every day. My great-aunt have to boil five gallons of water, for us to drink. It was difficult to wash dishes, take showers, use the facilities, or anything that involved using water. I never valued running water so dearly ever before.
My time there exposed me to so many beautiful aspects of San Jose de Ocoa. The families there depended on each other to survive. Everyone in the entire town knew each other. They took care of each other's children like their own, they helped cook and clean for their sick neighbors, and they depended on each other for the food they needed to survive. Everyone contributed to the needs of others. They were like a large family made up of smaller subunits, which worked in unison with each other to survive the harsh conditions.
However, my visit to San Jose de Ocoa, exposed me to a completely different side of the world. A place where there are unplanned power fluctuations, where many families did not even have electricity in their homes, where the tap water is not potable, where political corruption seems to be widely practiced and accepted, and where an entire country is heavily dependent on foreign aid and loans. This was a country filled with children that may never receive an education.
I learned much more in Dominican Republic, than I could have ever learned in a classroom. I realized why the United States is a haven for immigrants looking for the opportunities to advance themselves. I am blessed to have the necessities many people lack such as food, shelter, water and clothing. My family is enduring rough financial times, but nothing like some of the families in San Jose de Ocoa. Experiencing life in an environment like San Jose de Ocoa, has motivated me more than ever to take advantage of the education opportunities I have in the United States. I want to be able to accomplish great things in life and one day return to Dominican Republic in order to aid in the advancement of its citizens.
I step out of my uncle's 1996 red Dodge Ram truck; happy to be out of the dangerous, unpaved, bumpy road. I take a deep long breath as I analyze my surroundings. There are children running around shirtless and shoeless along the small closed- in streets of San Jose de Ocoa, in Dominican Republic. I feel as if I had stepped out of a world of color, into an opaque hopeless world of black and white. There aren't any traffic lights and the gray cement homes are packed together tightly on the short streets. I timidly follow my uncle into my great uncle's home. This is the first time that I will have visited my family in Dominican Republic; my heart beats rapidly and my palms begin to sweat as I walk through the squeaky feeble doors.
The house is dark; I ask my uncle if anyone is home, and he replies that he hears them out back. I clumsily make my way through piles of shoes and clothing to the backyard. I am shocked to see there are hens everywhere, this is my first time seeing this many animals in a single backyard. An old, short, and tan lady smiles at me and rushes to give me a hug. She speaks rapidly in Spanish and overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, all I can do is smile and nod my head. From the corner of my eye, I see an old, skinny, and pale man sitting on a discolored plastic chair on the opposite side of us; he beckons me to his side. I tread lightly on the dark green patches of grass, nervously biting my nails as I near him. He stands up and gives me a warm embrace. In Spanish, he says that he is so happy to have finally met me. Out of nowhere, tears begin to well in my eyes; I was flabbergasted by my surroundings yet filled with a sense belonging and love.
That was nearly four years ago; my uncle offered to take my brothers and me to Dominican Republic to spend the summer. My first few weeks, I spent them in Santo Domingo, the capital of Dominican Republic. My uncle had a mansion, with his own maid. In addition, there was a beauty salon right down the street, where I could get my hair done for only five dollars. Santo Domingo was very different from Miami. My uncle could send me to the store to buy his beer and although I was only fourteen, they would hand it to me with a smile and no I.D.
The girls my age went to adult clubs, almost every day. They dated men nearly three times their age and many of them were married by the time they were eighteen. I felt as if I were in a scary alternate universe. However, I enjoyed learning about my culture. My experience was extremely engaging.
In Santo Domingo, there was only one super store, in which you could buy all your household appliances and groceries. If you weren't willing to travel the distance, you had to resolve to buy all your poultry and beef from a "carnicería" and your vegetables from a vendor in your neighborhood, who would sit in the heat all day selling her produce.
Once a day, a man would walk down your street, yelling at the top of his lungs "AVOCATE, QUENEPA, MANGO", which translates into avocado, mamoncillos, and mangos. My brothers and I would rush out of the house, with our Dominican pesos in hand choosing the best of each fruit. Once a week, my aunt would hysterically yell out "SE FUE LA LUZ", this meant that the light went out; it would stay out for the entire day, which meant freezing showers. Life in Santo Domingo was both fun and frustrating.
A few weeks after my arrival, my uncle took us on a trip to see our family in San José de Ocoa. The trip was long and physically grueling. The roads were disastrous, the majority of my trip I clung tightly to my seat, praying we would make the journey.
San Jose de Ocoa was very different from Santo Domingo. The families were so impoverished that they could not afford shoes for their children; they did not own cars, so they drove around in mopeds instead. There wasn't a hospital or even a grocery store in close proximity. Many of the people there lived on subsistence farming, producing just enough to feed their families each year. My great-aunt cooked everything on one small stove top, she owned only two pans, and they did not own a refrigerator. They kept their spoilable produce in a neighbor's house across the street. There wasn't any running water so they gathered the water they would use from a local well each and every day. My great-aunt have to boil five gallons of water, for us to drink. It was difficult to wash dishes, take showers, use the facilities, or anything that involved using water. I never valued running water so dearly ever before.
My time there exposed me to so many beautiful aspects of San Jose de Ocoa. The families there depended on each other to survive. Everyone in the entire town knew each other. They took care of each other's children like their own, they helped cook and clean for their sick neighbors, and they depended on each other for the food they needed to survive. Everyone contributed to the needs of others. They were like a large family made up of smaller subunits, which worked in unison with each other to survive the harsh conditions.
However, my visit to San Jose de Ocoa, exposed me to a completely different side of the world. A place where there are unplanned power fluctuations, where many families did not even have electricity in their homes, where the tap water is not potable, where political corruption seems to be widely practiced and accepted, and where an entire country is heavily dependent on foreign aid and loans. This was a country filled with children that may never receive an education.
I learned much more in Dominican Republic, than I could have ever learned in a classroom. I realized why the United States is a haven for immigrants looking for the opportunities to advance themselves. I am blessed to have the necessities many people lack such as food, shelter, water and clothing. My family is enduring rough financial times, but nothing like some of the families in San Jose de Ocoa. Experiencing life in an environment like San Jose de Ocoa, has motivated me more than ever to take advantage of the education opportunities I have in the United States. I want to be able to accomplish great things in life and one day return to Dominican Republic in order to aid in the advancement of its citizens.