There were screams all around me. The loquacious men released their spit all over me while I tried to make my way through the crowd. It was as if I was on the floor of Wall Street. Convoluted and artisan-made crafts whisked past me as I left the scene. I felt it would never end.
My father had warned me that the sellers in Dominican Republic vexed everyone they saw, but I had never fathomed it to this extent. My father had also warned me that I was not to go past the market, but I did not listen. The lucid advice was eternally lost into the crowd once I entered the market. He had previously denounced the other side of the market, saying that there were thieves and dangerous criminals. But something made me want to go; it was almost a sort of untamable beast that wanted to see another world, experience another reality. Once I left the market, an almost different air filled my lungs. Scenes of the walking dead and disaffected voices filled all that I saw. A young boy, no more than ten, then walked by with his incontrovertibly starving dog. I thought he, seeing that I was a tourist, would tantalize me for money. I was shocked, however, to see him just look at me. It is impossible to describe what I saw, what I felt, in that moment, but it is something I will never forget.
He continued walking, but I moved towards him. He was hesitant to interact with a foreigner, but I spoke and conciliated him thanks to all the years of my Hispanic parents yelling at me. I told him I just wanted to give him something. He said no thank you several times, but his eyes bore a different answer. I gave him the little money I had of five hundred pesos, which is the equivalent to about fifteen dollars. He smiled in a way that many people never live to see; it was as if I had not given him money, but hope. He gave me a bracelet made of buttons, then silently walked away with his dog. That one moment resonated in my mind more than any other beach party or movie in the city did. I did not feel thankful for what I had; if only for a moment, I felt as poor, lifeless, and, most of all, hopeless as that boy. It made me realize that hearing about poverty; reading about poverty; learning about poverty; was completely different than seeing poverty. It forever changed my outlook on society and hope. Will I end world hunger? No. But I can help at least one more person, either in a different city or in a different country, lead a better life in whatever way I can. I still wear that button encrusted bracelet every day as a reminder of what hope does for someone.
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