Guna Yala Independence Day 2012

"Gaspar, why are you tagging all those trees?"

"So we don`t get lost. Don`t you worry."

Three years ago Gaspar de Leon Smith fell thirty feet out of a tree onto a concrete floor, breaking his arm, wrist, many ribs, and puncturing a lung. He barely survived the fall but credits his impressive recovery to natural medicines his family procured from the "campo", what Panamanians call the jungle. Gaspar is from the indigenous group Guna and he is our guide over the cordillera mountain range.

Our group in Pigandpí at dawn, just before departing (pic by Mateo Johnson)

Fourteen Peace Corps Volunteers and three Returned Peace Corps Volunteers have hired Gaspar and another guide, Fernando, to traverse the twenty-eight miles over the mountains with us. Our goal is to arrive the Carribbean Sea in time to participate in the Guna celebration of independence.

The Guna are a immensely independent people located on the Northeast coast of Panama where they control 365 islands as well as 2.3 squared kilometers on the mainland. They achieved independence in 1925 with the help of the U.S. military. In Panama, the Guna are by far the most organized and economically successful indigenous group. They advocate for a completely closed culture and their celebration for independence is the one time each year they open their borders to outsiders and allow photographs. We were told to be extra respectful so as to ensure PCV`s can participate in the celebration in future years.
We heard rumors that because the Guna have been a closed group for so long they have a high rate of albinism. Actually it`s the highest rate in the world -one percent of the population is albino. We also heard of a legendary independence day party.

So it came to pass that on February 21st, with our interest sufficiently arroused, the seventeen of us met in the town of Pigandì, about fifteen hours from my site on the opposite side of the country. There, we discussed logistics and got ready for an early departure in the morning.
At the crack of dawn we downed some PB&J`s and set out for our campsite fourteen miles away. During the hike Gaspar periodically tagged trees with his red can of spraypaint. On one tree he drew a skull and crossbones. Another drawing said "G Unit," our team name, after him. One said "GY Feb. 22, 2012."

The hike was gorgeous and filled with all types of jungle critters and interesting plants such as an ant the size of my pinky finger. We arrived exhausted to a picturesque campsite at dusk, greedily eying the nearby stream for what became the perfect cool down. A dinner of rice, lentils, and snacks was followed by ghost stories around a campfire, skipping stones, then stringing up and drifting away into our hammocks.

The next day was much the same and we arrived the Carribbean shore at night, then boated to Ustupu, the island with the biggest independence celebration. Once there, we slep at Gaspar`s house.

Gaspar, our fearless leader, showing beautiful Guna Molas (pic by Mateo Johnson)

The 24th was our recovery day. We met with the Sila ("chief" in the Guna language) of the island who told us, "God wants you here and so you are free to take pictures and do as you please." The highlight of the day, though, was when a few of us had beers with a marxist revolutionary named Andrès who told us about his communist studies in Russia and Nicaragua and how he led an attack against a gringo trying to use their land. He also said that he feels solidarity with the Ngäbe people: "they are experienceing what we went through in 1925. I offer my guns, blood, and my life to them in their struggle."

At 6am on February 25th a parade passed Gaspar`s house. We all joined the stampede as it made its way through the island to a stream near a large drinking hut. For two hours graphic demonstrations were acted out depicting their struggle for independence eighty-seven years ago. Following the demonstrations everyone funneled into the sex-seperated drinking hut.

People watching the graphic demonstrations (pic by Omar Cardenas)

Males stood in lines of six and dance and chanted toward six other men opposite them offering bowls of a tasty wine-like alcohol made with coffee and some unknown ingredients. The men recieve the bowls, chug it, then whoop and yell together while getting out of the way for the next line of men.

Some PCV´s and a Guna man recieving drinks during the party (pic by Mateo Johnson) 

The organized drinking style displayed by the men was nowhere to be seen on the female side. Dressed in their beautiful traditional dress, they walked around passing out mini-bowls of the homeade wine to anyone who would take it. Almost each woman had a whistle in her mouth which they blew incessantly. They also passed out Menthol cigarettes (which they LOVE) and carried bottles of Seco, Panama`s sugarcane alcohol, to supplement the wine (which they did).

A Guna woman in traditional dress (pic by Mateo Johnson)

It didn`t take long to realize the Guna women were much more generous with the alcohol than the men. This was evident because the female PCV`s slowed down to the point that a few needed to leave -they´d had enough. Needless to say, the men gradually migrated to the female side of the hut and began recieving drinks from women who were about as tall as my belly button. They were a stumbling, whistling sea of red and yellow colors and they were determined to get an entire island trashed.

At 11am the alcohol ran out and hundreds of people stumbled from the hut arm in arm and blinking their eyes at the hostile sun.

The next morning  the adventure continued. We boated eight hours west in an uncovered skiff along the coast to the port town of Cartì. It was nothing short of miserable; seawater soaked us, winds froze us, and rough seas had many puking over the gunwale. Eventually we made our way back to Panama City for some rest before we began doing what I`ve done so many times in the Peace Corps: trying to figure out what in the hell just happened. Amidst our confusion and uncertainty, there remained one thing of which we had no doubt: nobody parties like a Guna woman.