An Unforgettable Journey in Santo Domingo: My Scholarship Adventure

My Story About Determination To Travel to the Unknown for a Future of Adventure

In the late 1990s, while working for the Ministry of Trade, Industry, and Commerce in Antigua, I was determined to further my education and complete a master's degree. No trust fund or giant inheritance from my parents or family would fulfill my ambitions–because none existed. I was mostly on my own, and a proper education was my decided key to the door of the world.

Having already earned a bachelor's degree from the University of the West Indies, Cave Hill Campus, I was keen on advancing my studies without incurring debt, a prospect I resolved to avoid due to my firm belief that all education should be free, as it equips individuals to contribute positively to the world. The multiplying net positive effect would more than pay for it through more high-performing, well-adjusted, stable, happy citizens. Maybe it was unrealistic, but many things we depend on today were unrealistic to someone when they first heard of it. Besides, this is proven true in many Scandinavian countries.

Antigua is a small island developing country—its stuttered development often blamed on its pre-1981 colonization under Britain. So, scholarships from developed countries occasionally became available as a form of overseas aid, though the process needed more transparency. Back then, those in charge of these prospects often kept them secret, only advertising the chance close to the deadline if none of their acquaintances wanted them. The hopeful applicant would then commence a mad rush to gather transcripts and all manner of documents to satisfy the university entry requirement. This process was before the universal Internet and emails, so an application depended on snail mail and long-distance telephone calls pleading with administrators to accept your application as you submitted proofs piecemeal.

Through such a convoluted system, I secured a full scholarship to study economic policy in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic (DR), in 1999. At that time, Santo Domingo was not a popular destination for Antiguans due to the language barrier and the country's reputation, as many of Antigua's sex workers came from there. However, I was thrilled at the opportunity to study abroad—anywhere, really—immersing myself in a new culture and language for that golden key. My journey to Santo Domingo was not without its bureaucratic hurdles, as my then-boss tried to obstruct my departure, noting that I did not speak Spanish and would only make about $USD20.00 more than my salary. I told her the increase was more than I made. Besides, in my mind, I had no intentions of working there for life. My determination saw me through.

Upon arrival for our Lomé IV European Development Fund scholarship, we embarked on an intensive three-month Spanish course, which extended to six months for some, running concurrently with our economics classes. Classes at the Venezuelan Institute in Antigua before I knew I was going to the DR gave me an edge. Our professors were seasoned practitioners from institutions like the Central Bank, the World Bank local office, and economic think tanks.

I lived near the Universidad Autónoma, a public university directly across the street, bustling with thousands of students daily. The energy was invigorating. My program, Maestría en Políticas Economicas y Reformas para el Desarrollo (MAPRED) (in English, Masters in Economic Policy and Reforms for Development), was held at the Universidad Católica Santo Domingo. Even today, our alum network, affectionately called Mapreditos, remains active on WhatsApp.

Studying in Santo Domingo was both academically enriching and an adventure. The country's economic fluctuations and political restlessness offered real-world lessons in economic policy. I vividly recall an afternoon when riot police deployed tear gas against student protesters at Universidad Autónoma. The experience of walking through tear gas to get to Católica was eye-opening, literally and figuratively. I was like, "Oh, that's why they call it tear gas!" Another memorable incident involved a student hunger strike that saw the military cordon off my block, requiring me to show identification and be escorted home by a soldier with a rifle at my back. I was terrified since I never had a gun pointed at me before then.

Despite the challenges, there were many enjoyable moments. As part of our program, we learned the history and explored the country, visiting places like Isla Cabritos in Lake Enriquillo. At this island in a saltwater lake, I saw an enormous Komodo dragon for the first time, and mammoth turtles that were probably hundreds of year old. I also went kayaking in Puerto Plata. Another student I kayaked with continued out to sea for miles after I turned back. I suspect he was not enthused with life because, sadly, he lost his entire family—his wife and kids—in a car accident the year before. Some tourists in a fishing boat found him miles out and brought him back to shore, so we had caipiriñas that night at our all-inclusive hotel.

I toured and shopped at the Larimar and Amber jewelry stores in Punta Cana and took a motorbike trip to the Haitian border near Barahona. One of my favorite trips was to Samaná, where I stayed in a B&B beach house with my then-wife. The other accommodation option in that village was a grass and mud hut beside a smelly pigsty, so we felt pretty fortunate. We enjoyed freshly squeezed orange juice, fried plantains, and whole, newly caught chicken for lunch, a delicious and typical meal.

Socially, I embraced the local culture, dancing merengue with classmates and watching locals, beautiful and sexy, float on air, bodies in rhythmic sync, appearing to make love to the music with their clothes on, as they danced bachata and salsa on the Malecón. One classmate, Alex, was an exceptional dancer, inspiring me to take Latin dance classes even today. The local barbershop experience was another adventure—I once had an unwanted bald haircut due to a language mishap! 'Bahito' means shave my head!

Fitness was also a significant part of my life there. My gym trainer, a grad student from Guyana, is now a global-level Classic Masters Class Powerlifting champion. Back then, I ran six miles every other day and worked out the days in-between. I have never achieved that level of fitness since. I still have my gym gloves from that time, which is a testament to how much exercise I did then compared to now. One wino in an open drain at the side of the street cursed us as "Malditos Haitianos" one day when we (Antiguan, Grenadian, and our Guyanese trainer) were heading home after a gym workout. He felt more fortunate than us that day.

Life in Santo Domingo had its rough patches, from language barriers to unexpected health issues like my swollen tongue from pesticide-laden spinach and tummy bugs from eating street food from vendors without access to bathrooms. Learning Spanish as an adult was incredibly challenging, highlighted by moments of frustration, like struggling to buy fruit or communicate with locals in the early days. I recall my second week nearly being in tears once because I couldn't figure out how to purchase the lovely fruits sold on the streets. I was hungry and had money, but I could not talk! I also encountered profound moments, such as meeting an illiterate adult who worked as a waiter, dependent on memorizing pictures to serve guests. This experience was particularly moving, as it highlighted his total reliance on others to explain the written world to him, a stark reminder of the importance of education.

The economic and political landscape of the Dominican Republic during my stay was, well, highly dynamic. The country faced frequent devaluations, economic instability, periodic hyperinflation, fuel price hikes, student protests, and political unrest under President Leonel Fernández's government. These circumstances provided a rich, albeit rugged, environment for my studies. The day students protested against the government, and the tear gas incident was a poignant reminder of the volatile environment we were in. The water cannon truck was no treat, either! I had many more experiences that would require a book! My classmates also had similar anecdotes, many of which we shared with each other when we met up during class.

Despite these challenges, my time in Santo Domingo was enriching. I would do it all over again if given the choice. The academic rigor, cultural immersion, and personal growth made it an unforgettable chapter in my life. From the camaraderie of my Mapredito classmates to the adventures exploring the Dominican Republic's natural beauty, every moment contributed to a profound and lasting impact on my life and worldview. My maternal grandmother was born in San Pedro de Macorís after her parents sought work in the booming sugar industry in the early 20th century. As part of my adventures there, I got to see where she was born and the place where she lived her early life before returning to Nevis. DR was a coming-home adventure for me.

I look forward to returning someday to relive those memories and continue exploring the beautiful Dominican Republic.

I would love to hear of similar adventures in the comments section.

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