Panama woes

An interesting Economist article !  I am not sure if the link will expire.

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.

Let it all go

Monkey boy harvesting lemons.

The saying “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” has never been so true as in my recent house move-out.  I was lucky to be able to sell the majority of my practical household items to my follow-up volunteer (stove, gas tank, pots and dishes), but I was still left with a lot of not-so lightly used clothes, a machete (HIGHLY VALUED), and general junk.  There is no trash collection anywhere in the Comarca so I started daily burn piles to eliminate the paper trail.

The next day my neighbor asked me what I was burning.  I told her, only paper trash and some old underwear.  She jokingly told me to let her know when I was going to do my next burning.  The sad part is, I’m not sure if she was kidding because her son asked me about it later too!

My dog is so popular!

My host mom Chavela and me

I was comforted by the fact that everything else could at least go to use.  An air mattress with a hole in it serves as a good tarp to dry corn and rice out in the sun.  My stained t-shirt is still better than the 10 year old’s holey t-shirt.  All of you who have ever sent me a card, photo, or postcard, they are all scattered amongst 12 Ngabe families, perhaps nailed to the wall by now.  A neighboring  grandmother gave me a chakra bag she made, so I traded her back one that I had recently finished.

Baby Dania Carolina. Those stickers were part of the housing clean out

The process forced me to reject all of my pack-rat tendencies.  I am traveling for 2 months so I cannot physically afford to carry sentimental items with me.  Also, my community has been constantly giving to me for 2 years, so the least I could do was to give back a bit.

Visiting the Other Side of the Comarca

During my first year in Panama, my next door neighbor Juan worked as a nurse in a community only accessible by boat, through the Caribbean Sea and up a river, about 9 hours away by public transport.  Because of its distance he only came home once a month to visit his wife and kids.  He told me one day he would take me to see this beautiful yet dangerous place.  During his vacation month, Juan put a lot of effort into my house construction, but since then we really haven’t worked together much.

Earlier this year Juan was able to transfer to a local health clinic and now lives permanently at home.  However he kept his promise, and we traveled to his former workplace for a weekend.  He told me to be ready at 4 am on Friday.

Juan and me on bridge arriving to town

We walked down to the Interamerican Highway in the dark and caught the bus to the city of David.  From there we took another bus to Chiriqui Grande and waited for the boat to leave with the missing boat driver.

Health center open 24 hours a day

Several sodas and snacks later (that’s how Panamanians kill time), we passed through the Caribbean and up a river into the jungle.  It was bizarre to arrive at the town with sidewalks and electricity lines that is part of the same Comarca (Indian reservation) where I live.  The latrine-looking structure had a flush toilet and shower inside!  

Juan and I had a chill couple of days in Kankintu.  Honestly, we have nothing in common, and conversation was quite sparse, but I have become quite at peace with silence and light conversation.  We stayed with and ate with his former co-worker, and walked to the neighboring town up river.  In the town there is a university, two-story high school, and lots of nice stilted wood houses.  We toured the hospital where he used to work, as well as the baby recovery center for malnourished kids. 

With medical team at baby recovery center

Then, we headed back home, because Juan had work on Monday.  Back at his house, we shared the photos on my camera from our trip with his parents, wife, and kids, none of whom ever want to travel on a boat.  I had a good time getting to know another part of Panama in the company of my neighbor.

To the vet

A month after my cat Meri’s 2^nd litter of 4 kittens, I decided to get her spayed.  This was partially to comply with my follow-up volunteer’s wishes to not raise kittens, and partially because it can’t be healthy for a cat to have 3 litters a year for too many years.

I called up a number for a vet in a nearby town.  He told me he could pick me and the cat up at the bus stop at any time.  Early my last Sunday morning living in the community, I walked an hour with my cat in my arms to my volunteer neighbor’s house to borrow her cat carrier, and then we headed down to the bus stop in a truck.  My cat Meri and I waited 2-1/2 hours for the vet to come in the hot, filthy bus stop – I called the vet two times and both times he said he would be right there.  Get me out of Panama.

A neighboring grandmother wants to trade a chicken for one of the kittens.

Errr.....

He finally arrived in a nice SUV and picked me up.  Instead of driving to the nearby town, he took me to a large estate house next to a huge rice milling plant, the biggest employer in the area.  Confusedly I walked into the house and realized that the family was preparing for the 93 year old grampa’s birthday celebration.  The vet told me he would take care of my cat soon, and drove off in his SUV.

I could have been stranded in worse places.  The extended family slowly arrived in various vehicles, and fed me the classic birthday meal, arroz con pollo (rice with chicken).  I couldn’t believe how similar the event was to family birthdays back at home.  The kids were playing around back, the aunts were handing out food and gossiping, and the uncle was making a delicious concoction (ceviche) in the kitchen.  I didn’t even want to talk to anyone about being a Peace Corps volunteer in the Comarca, I just wanted to sit back and watch.  I was just really glad to have borrowed the cat carrier, because it would have been awkward to have my cat in my arms the entire time.

After lunch, the vet took Meri into a back room and did the operation.  Soon after, the heavy rains came with vengeance  so I had no choice but to stay.  Eventually the cake came out and we sang “Happy Birthday” in English, with the 2^nd verse in Spanish.  I guess that’s what Upper Middle Class Panamanian families do?  Digital camera and Blackberry phones were snapping photos and the baby blew out the candle on the cake.

In the evening, the rain finally stopped and the family members started to leave.  The family fed me dinner and then offered to drive me up the mountain to my community entrance so that I would not have to wait for the passenger truck.  I said goodbye to the vet, who wouldn’t accept my payment, and then the older couple drove me up the hill, back into the Comarca.  Twenty minutes after my deja-vu family birthday celebration, I was back in the land of non-birthdays. 

Post- operation

In the following week, I gave lots of non-formal education to my community members and neighbors about sterilizing animals.  While male castration is done locally, most people did not know that it was possible to spay a cat or dog.  Granted, most likely only a very special person could get away with attending a gluttonous birthday celebration and getting her cat spayed for free, simultaneously.