Goodbye and Good luck

In my last week in the community, three families separately invited me over to eat freshly killed pollo de patio (free-range chicken) with harvested rice.  I also tried to visit all 20 or so families that I know the best, which goes to say that I barely cooked a meal in my house that week.  People graciously gave me wishes for safe travels, and most promised to stop by my house one last time before I left to say another goodbye.  Many women told me they would see me again in Heaven - if I continued to follow God.

My main work counterpart Juan (not the same Juan who took me on the trip) organized a good-bye party for the last day in the community.  Unlike some other volunteers, I was blissfully uninvolved in the planning process.  He collected rice donations from all participating families, and I chipped in $17 that I had raised by selling used tools from the latrine project.  He used the money to buy pollo de patio for the event.  I also filled the piñata that I had made a few months ago with candy, and made a banana cake.

Despedida (Good bye party) attendees - about 15 families present.

It started out just like any other meeting here – people trickled in slowly, and avoided entering the thatched meeting until the meeting was convened.  Juan formally gave the Agenda, which was 1. Introduction, 2. Words from the Community, 3. Words from Bechi, 4. Pinata, and 5. Food.  Five or six people stood up and said some very kind words, including what we have accomplished as a community and interpersonally.  Then it was my turn.  I had scribbled down some words in advance, but when the time came I tossed that aside.  First I presented a technical report I had written about the aqueduct project, and read aloud the part about future work that needed to be completed.  It seemed like an odd time to talk about these business-like items but I figured if I just presented the report as a document there was a good chance that no one would actually read it besides Juan.  Then I talked about how wonderful the community was as a place to live and work, and some more sentimental words along that line.  The part that really caught me up is when I said I would miss seeing the kids continue to grow up.    

My good volunteer friends Kayla and Emma came over to spend the last night at my house, and we received visits throughout the evening and final morning from lots of neighbors.  The grandmother of the entire community hiked down to my house in the morning to see me off, which was quite touching because I haven’t seen her leave her house in a few weeks.  The proper thing to do at some point during my departure would have been to cry, and my community would have appreciated it, but my stoic New England blood would not let it happen.  Alas, it was still a sad time.  

Piñata time

This week I have been in Panama City closing up my Peace Corps service, and next week I will start traveling.  I will hopefully post a few photos of my travels, but I probably will keep them short – first, because I am ditching my computer; and second, because I like to write about people rather than places and things.  I respect the words of Paul Famer, the famous doctor/anthropologist who has spent years researching and working in Haiti – whenever he writes about the behavior or habits of people from places that he has only briefly worked in, such as Peru or Russia, he prefaces it by “I have no claim to any knowledge of XX culture until I’m conversant in the language and have spent a couple years there.”

Thanks again to everyone who has read this blog during my time in Panama, or has sent me a letter, card, email, comment, package, or thought.  All positivity is appreciated, and I look forward to seeing many of you in the U.S. during the holidays and in 2013!

Follow-up volunteer Seneca (Ido) and me

Final morning - people waiting to see me off.  I wasn't done packing yet.

My host dad gave me that chakara bag as a gift. 

My host family/neighbors that always visited me, shouted out my name every time they passed my house, invited me over, sent me bowls of food and fresh vegetables  - How often do you talk to your neighbors ?

My host grandma.  She's in her late 80s but no one knows her age for sure.  She gave me my name Bechi.