Archives For Staff / Travels

by Ugochi Obidiegwu (pictured third from left), 2022 Innovation and Design fellow 

Joining HOPE International as an innovation and design fellow, I was curious about HOPE’s operations. I particularly wanted to see if the amazing things I saw on the website happened in real life.

Therefore, when I saw there was an opportunity to see the work of Esperanza International, HOPE’s microfinance partner in the Dominican Republic (D.R.), I signed up. And I was not disappointed. HOPE’s method of Christ-centered economic development works.  

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We are now in the third month of the war in Ukraine, with heavy fighting continuing in the east and south of Ukraine where Russia has occupied several cities where HOPE Ukraine operates. Missile strikes continue in Kyiv and other areas across the country.

The United Nations is reporting that more than 5.6 million Ukrainians have now fled the country as a result of the war. And 7.7 million people are displaced internally—most fleeing the violence in the eastern and southern regions. Continue Reading…

HOPE interns brainstorm on the whiteboard.

by Ruthie Claydon, Experience Team Assistant (summer 2021 intern) During my internship with HOPE International, I experienced spiritual growth in completely new and unexpected ways. Throughout the summer, I felt fully welcomed and integrated into the vibrant staff culture. Overall, here are four of the biggest ways I was impacted by HOPE’s employee-directed spiritual practices. […]

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By the time we reached Rigoberto’s home, the sun had set, and I was feeling wiped out. Traveling to homes, through markets, and up the surrounding hills of Comas, Peru, we’d had two full days of meeting incredible savings group members connected to Comas CMA Church, HOPE’s partner in Peru. But stepping into Rigoberto’s home, I immediately felt soothed.

Part of it was probably because Rigoberto (pictured above) reminded me of my own dad: Both of them have a gentleness about them, and both have served as teachers for decades. Another piece was the warm greeting we received from Rigoberto and the members of his family—two daughters, his mother, sister, brother, and one grandchild—who welcomed us and invited us to sit with them to talk.

At first glance, they seemed like a close, happy family—but as we talked, Rigoberto shared that this hadn’t always been their reality.

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When I left to do a grocery store run back in March of this year, I was actually thinking the errand would be a refreshing break. I was shopping sans children for the first time in two years—in my mind, the equivalent of a tropical vacation. Yes, I’d heard about COVID-19 and how people were stocking up on certain staples, but I was prepared to respond calmly. I’d shop my list for the week, like I always did, and not give in to the panic.

But as I encountered the bare aisles—only a couple bags of edamame left in the frozen veggie aisle, bread and cereal gone, spaghetti sauce picked over—I found myself breathing a little harder. Continue Reading…

When I heard that a whole generation of economic progress could be lost because of COVID-19, what might have been an abstract concept felt personal.

Like kids across the country, my first grader, Addi, spent this spring learning from home. One assignment had her interviewing a family member, and she chose her grandpa: my dad. She carefully printed questions in her notebook—using her best phonetic spelling—and as FaceTime connected, I settled in to hear the stories I remember hearing as a child: my dad and his brothers chasing each other across farm fields, dad knocking an aggressive farm goose senseless in self-defense, his exasperated mother shooing six boys out of her kitchen with a rolling pin—or whatever else was handy.

Addi and I giggled over several of these same stories, but hearing them as an adult, many were tinged with a sadness and struggle I hadn’t remembered. Like when my dad told Addi about his family’s two-seater outhouse, how the brothers competed to be first in line for a weekly bath so the tub water would still be clean, how glasses of water turned to ice on bedside tables in the wintertime, how his parents saved every bit of extra money to buy each boy a second-hand bicycle one Christmas, how they rarely visited a doctor, and how his parents buried their only daughter and a son before their fifth birthdays.

It dawned on me: Not in a faraway country or too long ago, my dad grew up in poverty. Continue Reading…