Panama? Really?

The New York times published an article, The 45 Places to Go in 2012. Panama is the top destination mentioned to visit; "Go for the canal. Stay for everything else."

While the Panama Canal is undoubtedly worth seeing, the article fails to mention what the "everything else" is - because it is definitely not the Trump Ocean Club (the region's tallest building - think ugly tall shark fin). Considering though that Panama is usually hidden under Costa Rica's shadow in terms of tourism, it is an honor that Panama is included.

Peeling a Pig

My bovine housemates from my host family days

I visited Marta’s family to ask them why they didn’t show up at the recent latrine meeting, so the conversation did not start on very positive pretenses. After we finished with business, while the son was up in a tree tossing me down mandarin oranges to eat, I asked Marta what she was cooking in the gigantic pot set up over the fire outside. She told me, pig, once she could find one of her brothers to kill it.

I decided to stick around. Although about a third of the families in my community raise a pig or two, I have never tasted pork in the Comarca. A piglet is a huge investment – $40. If the family wants the pig to grow quickly, corn must be available, or else the pig can be left to snuffle around for food in the woods and yard. Once the pig reaches 150 or 200 pounds the family can sell it live to a Latino farmer for $100 and up, and it is hauled away.

The same holds true for cows. A few better–off men in the community own a herd of cows, which turn all of the footpaths into swamps when being herded from pasture to pasture. Only three cows have been killed in the village itself for community consumption in the past year. I have come to abhor pigs not only because they are smelly and ruin gardens, but because they are a symbol of what people in my community cannot afford – meat.

So naturally I was surprised that this woman was going to kill a pig for her family (and me) to eat. She explained that the pig stopped growing after it reached 50 pounds, so it was not worth trying to sell it. As we were talking, her brother walked by with an axe. I heard a screechy squeal, and next thing I knew a dead pig was plopped down on a few logs on the ground next to me.

I was still confused why Marta was heating up a big pot of water –even this small pig would not fit. It turns out that the hot water was first used to wash the pig with a brush, and then to peel the pig. I was handed a big butchering knife and while Marta dumped cups of boiling water on the pig, I scraped off the hair with the knife. It made me appreciate how much surface area this small hairy pig had.

Once the pig was completely hairless, we rinsed it off with hot water again and then started to cut it up. First, down the center to pull out the inner organs. Then, leg by leg. I was so focused that I did not have time to be grossed out, and neither did the 10 kids crowded around us witnessing the dissection. The last and only other intimate experience I have had with a pig was on an operating table in a lab at Johns Hopkins, when we were testing our bipolar kidney clamp on an anesthetized 200 pound pig. My lesson learned from my first pig operation was to not pop the bladder. This time I had better luck.

The mountain of edible pig parts grew – because pretty much everything is edible, including the head. I stayed for lunch (boiled green bananas and pig liver) and then headed back home with my goodie bag of 1 pound of pork, which I shared with my neighbors. It tasted like heaven.

A sign at a carniceria (meat shop) in Medellin.

Harry Potter and the Floor that Needed Sweeping

For some reason, the topic of Harry Potter came up more than once over Thanksgiving: who has seen the latest movie, who has read any of the books in Spanish, etc. (Fact: I have read all of the books in English but I never made it past the 3^rd movie.)

Returning from my Thanksgiving getaway, what do I see on my porch but a brand-new broom! Of course I thought of Harry Potter.

There is a special scrub brushy plant that is collected in order to make a broom. The broom needs to be replaced every 3 days or so, which I never keep up with. In the dry season, the plant becomes hard to find and women will go far and wide searching for it. I have a plastic broom as well but the natural broom works better on the dirt floor and patio area.

Latrines, Here We Come!

Hi all,

Many thanks to those of you who contributed to the Latrine Project, or attempted to contribute. It turns out that the project was fully funded within 5 days of my blog posting and email sending! The project work will start in January or February of 2012.

For those of you who wished to contribute but did not get a chance, I will inform you of other opportunities in the future. I recently applied for local Peace Corps funds to hold a piñata making workshop for the local women. There is always something that needs doing!

Ciao,
Carolyn

9 Words I Can’t Live Without

(Yeah, I couldn’t think of a 10^th word.)

I arrived in Panama over a year ago with 2 years of middle school Spanish, 3 ½ years of high school Spanish, and 2 semesters of college advanced Spanish. What this all amounted to: I could proficiently read and write, but could barely speak or understand Panamanian Spanish.

The following are 9 Spanish words that I did not know before arriving in Panama that are all necessary for any conversation (in a rural setting).

1. Foco- flashlight.

Between the hours of 6 pm and 6 am, a foco is necessary to do just about anything. I use a headlamp but most Panamanians have the head-clamping-flashlight-on-shoulder technique mastered in order to free up both hands to cook, sew, wash dishes, carry multiple children, etc.

There are more or less two types of families in my community – those who have a family member working outside of the Comarca who sends money, and those who live solely off subsistence agriculture. However, statistically it is difficult to economically differentiate between these two types of families because both would be classified as “unemployed”.

Through observance I have discovered an easy way to quantify the financial status of a family- the Foco to Person (F:P) ratio. An ideal ratio would be 1 working foco for every 1 person. My host family that has 1 professional family member just about reaches the F:P ratio of 1:1. However, my neighbors who live solely off the land are lucky to have a F:P of 1:7. Unsurprisingly, the kids are not doing so hot in school because they can’t study after 6 pm since the mom is using the foco to cook.

Cooking with foco.

2. Pasear – to visit.

The house visit: one of the most beautiful parts about rural Panamanian culture, but you better follow the rules. I learned through trial and mostly error.

Visiting

a) Unplanned visits are standard. Just walk right in.

b) Announce your intentions. Ti nigi basara nete. Yo estoy paseando aqui. I am visiting here.

c) Take a seat and stay awhile.

d) Eat/drink whatever is given to you. If you have a plastic baggie with you, it is okay to dump the food in the bag and bring it home to share with your family.

e) Abrupt departures are alright, especially if it looks like it will rain or get dark soon.

f) *Bonus points* My 88 year old host grandmother goes to pasear with her own cup in her bag to save the host the trouble. However, she is a professional pasear-er – she often stays the night at the house she is visiting.

Receiving visitors

a) Give the visitor a chair/stump/bucket to sit on.

b) Due to the structure of most Ngabe houses, your guest will be able to see what you are cooking. If you have any food or coffee ready, share it with your visitor.

c) If you don’t have anything ready and the visitor isn’t a nearby neighbor, at least make some extremely sugary coffee for him or her. Brownie points if you start cooking a meal to share with the person. If the visitor starts packing up to go, instruct him to wait for the coffee/food.

d) Talk about the weather and when/if the rain will come today.

e) If you have just harvested anything, give some of it to the visitor. This is usually cue for the visitor to leave.

f) As the visitor is leaving, thank them for the visit. Gracias para la visita.

Pasear-ing rain or shine.

3) Pereza - Laziness.

____ me da pereza. ____ gives me lazy/ makes me lazy.

This phrase is the bread and butter of any pasear-ing conversation. These days, it’s “The rain makes me lazy.” In a few months, the hot sun will be the culprit. Other possible options are the mud, work, walking up a hill, waiting for transportation, etc.

Solution: Mid-day naps are not looked down upon in rural tropical culture to quitar la pereza (to get rid of the laziness).

Sometimes everyone gets a little bit of pereza.

4) Pena- Shame/Embarrassment.

Me da pena. It gives me shame.

I spent my first 3 months in my community battling against pena. Women would pretend they didn’t recognize me on the trail. No one participated in my meetings. My 2^nd host dad pretended I didn’t exist for 1 ½ months.

Solution: Be obnoxiously outgoing. Which is not in my persona, but I got over it.

4) Vivora- Snake.

I knew the word culebra for snake but one uses that around here. I coexist with spiders and scorpions, but I never hear stories about them so they don’t worry me. Vivora, on the other hand – everyone has a story to tell about a lost horse, dog, finger, or worse – child. When a vivora is killed it is hung up on a tree to warn others. So far I have been blissfully vivora free.

5) Bochinche – Gossip.

I wouldn’t say bochinche is a good thing or a bad thing, just necessary. I contribute to it too because I visit many family that don’t talk to one another. Common conversation: ME: “Your neighbor 2 houses away had a baby last night [in her house…obviously].” THEM: “Oh really? Girl or boy?”.

Of course gossip can also be ugly, and it did get that way with my whole Jose debacle. My volunteer friends and I have become overly integrated into Panamanian culture and we also shamelessly bochinchar about one another when we meet up or talk on the phone. “Did you hear that Suzy had Dengue fever?”

Gossip? Never! (at Thanksgiving)

6) Cochino – Dirty/Nasty

Every time a toddler starts eating chicken poop on the ground, or a baby touches a mangy dog, the mom shouts out “COCHINO!” It is also the best way to describe a muddy path, a pig, or an unswept floor. Or probably me, after hiking.

7) Ahora – Later

In Spanish class I learned that ahora means “now”. Not true. Ahorita means “soon”, ahorita mismo means “really soon.” Seeing someone get up and start doing something means “now.”

8) Bulla (boo-ya) – Noise

DEJA LA BULLA! – Leave the noise!

That’s what I yell at my dog when he’s barking too much. Moms also hurl this phrase at children playing too loudly.

A common house-visiting conversation is about what life is like in the United States as opposed to the Panamanian countryside. The common perception of the U.S. is that there is lots of bulla and dirty air and danger and money. I do my best to defend my country by saying it has its countryside and peace as well. It’s funny what one considers bulla, because for my first few months here, pigs and roosters and barking dogs and late night/ early morning Christian song singers kept me awake more than any city traffic jam ever has in the States.

Marching bands: A major source of bulla

Spanish speakers or students out there: Are these words familiar slang or are they campo Panamanianisms?

**I know the numbers are messed up, but due to the fact that Blogger can count better than I can, it won't be fixed.

A Day in the Life

At 5:50 am, my neighbor wakes me up to deliver me breakfast. “Bechiiiiii, Bechiiii, are you still sleeping?” (but in Spanish). My gas tank ran out 3 days ago and until I get it replaced, I am relying on my host family’s kitchen. Rice and potatoes and chicken – a treat at any hour. My cat Meri thinks so too and won’t stop whining. I eat a little bit and then place a big pot upside down over the bowl to protect the food from my pets.

I go back to bed and wake up to BANG – Meri knocked the pot off the table onto the floor. My neighbor’s dog rushes inside to get a taste of the delicious food (Where is my dog at?!). I blindly scramble out of bed in the dark, shoo away the animals, and collect a few unscathed potato and chicken pieces off the dirt floor (I know, gross) to suffice for the rest of my breakfast. It’s 6:15 am. Time to start another day.