A Readers Paradise

One of my goals coming into Peace Corps was to read more. Specifically, I set the goal of reading one-hundred books over my two years here in Panama. As I have recently passed that number I thought it would be wise to present my favorite books here as a guide for others -the multitudes from the "real world" who don´t have the amount of down time that I do- to cut straight through the mounds of book mediocrity and focus solely on books worthy of anyone´s valuable time.

1) Best Development Book: 
"Pathologies of Power" -Paul Farmer 

It is extremely rare to find a book that changes the way one sees the world. "Guns, Germs, and Steel" by Jared Diamond did that when I was in college; "Earth in Mind" by David Orr did that fresh out of college; now "Pathologies of Power" has done it in the Peace Corps. If you are concerned about poverty -this should be everyone- you must read this book. This book is in my all-time top three.

• Runner up: "Poor Economics" -Esther Duflo, Abhijit Banerjee

2) Best Fiction:

"East of Eden" -John Steinbeck

 

My favorite novel by one of my favorite authors. Some say his more famous "Grapes of Wrath" is the great American novel. To that I say "bah". "East of Eden" lingered in my mind longer and was more interesting. I think it's Steinbeck's masterpiece.

• Runner up: "Atlas Shrugged" -Ayn Rand
• Runner up: "Blindness" -Jose Saramago
• Runner up: "Confederacy of Dunces" -John Kennedy Toole

3) Best Writing:

"All the Pretty Horses" -Cormac McCarthy

 

Probably the most beautifully written book I've ever read. McCarthy is another favorite author of mine -the master of simple sentences. The way he can bring a setting to life is incredible. 

4) Personal Experience:

"Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" -Barbara Kingsolver

 

By far my favorite book by Barbara Kingsolver. This is the story of her family's attempt to only eat food locally grown, much of it by them, for an entire year. It also features excerpts from her scientist husband and her daughter in college. Beautiful, educational, inspiring, and great recipes!

5) Best Non-Fiction:

"The Lost City of Z" -David Grann

The absolutely engrossing incredible true story of Pery Fawcett, a real-life Indiana Jones, only more badass. This reads like the most thrilling fiction.

• Runner up: "A People's History of the Unites States" -Howard Zinn

6) Best History:

"Cod" -Mark Kurklansky

 

This short history of cod is great. Cod, as much as I hate to admit it, is definitely America's fish. Cod was one of the reasons the American Revolutionary War broke out for gosh sakes. An infinitely more interesting history than I could have imagined. A must read for history nerds.

• Runner up: "Path Between the Seas" -David McCullough

7) Best Reporting:

"The Big Short" -Michael Lewis

 

Widely considered the best book about the recent US financial crisis, it explains complicated concepts a midst a surprisingly engrossing tale chock full of fantastic characters. Good luck putting this one down.

• Runner up: "Where Men Win Glory" -Jon Krakauer

8) Best Sports Book:

"The Book of Basketball" -Bill Simmons

The best book I've read on the history of my favorite sport. I've followed Mr. Simmons' columns for a long time. He is a true fan and this book is a hilarious delight. 

9) Best Peace Corps Chronicle:

"River Town" -Peter Hessler

 

A thoughtful and immensely reflective story. Hessler served in China in the 90's just after china re-opened it's country to the world. I learned a ton about China's history and culture. Most PC chronicles tend to be -unlike "River Town"- tragic and inspiring, full of painful and incredible stories. Most PCV's have an experience more like Hessler's. These other two great PC chronicles fall into the former category.

• Runner up: "The Ponds of Kalambayi" -Mike Tidwell
• Runner up: "Monique and the Mango Rains" -Kris Holloway

10) Best Collection of Short Stories:

"Interpreter of Maladies" -Jhumpa Lahiri

 

Lahiri's Pulitzer Prize-winning first book is also the best collection of short stories I've ever read -with the possible exception of "Unaccustomed Earth," her third book. Her understanding of the human condition -told through the experiences of Indian-Americans- is more real and honest than anything else I've read. I can't wait to read more from this perceptive author.

11) Best Collection of Poems;
"The Prophet" -Khalil Gibran

Gibran, the third best-selling poet of all time behind Shakespeare and Lao-Tzu, is most famous in the English-speaking world for, "The Prophet." First published in Lebanon in 1923, this collection of poems can be seen as Gibran´s guideline for living a good life, drawn from christian and sufism teachings and infused with Gibran´s values.  If you are looking for spiritual guidance, this book is an equally beautiful alternative or supplement to the Bible.

Wilbur's Big Day

As many readers of this blog know, I purchased a piglet from my neighbor back in February for the hefty price of $29.50 and carried him to my house in a large rice bag so he wouldn't remember the trail. Then I named him Wilbur.

Wilbur relaxing behind my house, three months old

Over the past seven months Wilbur consumed literally hundreds of pounds of pulverized corn feed and grew to be quite a large pig. Whenever we ran out of food he got us into trouble by wandering into my neighbors yard to dig up and eat his prized yucca, a nutrition-less yet omnipresent root vegetable. But overall, Wilbur was a good and entertaining pig.

Here's an example: Wilbur used to sleep beside my palm-thatch hut and snore all night, except, that is, for the few times each night he woke up to scratch his hind parts on my 12'x12' house. The first time he did this when a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer named Jake was sleeping over, the 2am shaking of the hut really spooked him. I had long ago learned to sleep through such noisy activities. So Jake was alone and afraid sleeping on my dirt floor without a mosquito net and exposed to all sorts of creepy-crawlies. I am surprised he didn't wake me up. In the morning he told me of his wretched night and I explained -between fits of laughter- that Wilbur is quite the passionate scratcher.

Some people thought it insensitive to raise a pig for slaughter. "You're going to kill it?!?" they asked incredulously. You can't get the meat without the slaughter, I told them. And as I'm not yet prepared to give up meat I figured I might as well embrace the whole carnivorous process that comes with being an omnivore.

Sadly, though, I did grow fond of Wilbur (it doesn't help he has a name). He used to oink at me as if he knew I was his owner. I rewarded him with soothing ear scratches, for which I received more oinking.  A fair trade I would say. Friends also grew fond of my second favorite pet (after my dog, Osito, who loved to chase Wilbur around our yard to everyone's amusement). When my friend, Andrea, a PCV from Texas, found out I was raising him for slaughter she told me that I was worse then the witch from Hansel and Gretel -"she only fattened them up!"- and that if she were Wilbur she would definitely mess up my yucca.

I responded, politely of coarse, that a livestock-loving-tree-hugger-Texan is a contradiction in terms. To which she quipped, "I know. As much as I feel for Wilbur's plight, I'm too much a sucker for bacon to really have his back. Unless that back comes in the form of juicy ribs." My first convert!

The months passed. One day we pinned down Wilbur and my host-dad, Samuel, castrated the poor guy then poured alcohol on the wound. I was temporarily deaf for two days after that. Luckily we operated on a full moon because, as Samuel explained to me, if the moon is not full the pig will likely bleed to death. He was proven right: Wilbur lived!

For a few more months, that is. On September 4th -the day before my birthday- I killed Wilbur. Fellow PCV's Andrea, Jess, Jake, and Kelsi (my follow-up PCV, from Hawaii) all came to join me and my host family for the celebration. In her eagerness Andrea asked, just after Wilbur died and we were removing the hair from his skin, "Is it wrong that he looks delicious already?"

Yeah, a little bit. But she was right, just a little early. Nearly six hours after the slaughter all eighteen of us sat down to enjoy some much-deserved pulled-pork sandwiches. We decided it was a great opportunity to share some of our favorite American food with my host family. They loved it.

The following day my host-mom, Lela, made some of my favorite Panamanian food, arroz con puerco, for my birthday. The rest of the meat we ate throughout that week and shared with our neighbors. The intestines and bones we left for the dogs and vultures.

Wilbur was the first -and hopefully last- animal whose death came about as a direct result of celebrating my birth. It's not fair, I know. Especially because he gave me so many memories and laughs. So aside from immense amounts of food and the occasional scratch, the last gift I have for him is a public expression of gratitude: Thanks for making my 26th birthday oinkingly unique and unforgettably special, Wilbur. You are missed.

Omar guided me through the slaughter

Wilbur's last minutes

Shaving begins (using boiled water seen right)

Jess helped me move Wilbur to his shaving station

                  

Wilbur shaved, Samuel started cutting

Samuel the artist. Lassie watches, excited 

Jake, Kelsi, and of course, Luiz, preparing the sandwiches

Sunshine in the Comarca!

From April to July of this year the communities of Quebrada Plata, Quebrada Carrizo, and Quebrada Frijoles have accomplished a backbreaking amount of work. The measurable accomplishments are as follows:

• 46 completed latrines (at approximately $100 each)
• Improved sanitation for over 300 people (not including the school latrine we build which serves roughly 200 children).
• Improved health awareness and increased knowledge of healthy personal hygiene practices to over 40 community leaders and promoters.

These results sound good but knowing actually how good is hard if you don't live in poverty. This is because it relies on the more human -and as a result, less measurable- aspects of improved sanitation. I've lived here -in the poorest district of the poorest province of Panama- for two years and yet I can only partially empathize with the struggles my neighbors face. 

When I think about the immeasurable effects a latrine project might have here three memories are triggered. First, I think of the moms who, sick of their children being sick (and looking like miniature men with shoulders held back to accommodate their "beer bellies", which are instead filled with worms) not only paid $5 to join the project but broke traditional gender roles at numerous meetings by speaking out (normally the women listen patiently to the men). In an impressive display of solidarity, once one woman did this it set of a firestorm of competing female voices that all but drowned out the male ones. It was the males turn to listen, and they did. Project plans were changed -for the better I might add- on multiple occasions because of this.

I also think of the Ministry of Health worker who I witnessed tactlessly and shamelessly berate a group of Ngabe's for defecating in rivers and the jungle, completely oblivious to the social and historical realities of living in extreme poverty and being exposed to modern industrial society just a half century ago.

Lastly, I think of my two closest neighboring families which, between the two of them, have buried three children before they turned four years young. My hope is that this latrine project will help alleviate some of their unjust suffering.

Although I have suffered though debilitating bacterial infections and intestinal amoebas much like they have, I have access to sanitary, clean hospitals; most of my neighbors don't. They visit underfunded, under supplied, and understaffed health clinics; and these only under grave circumstances (they tend to use natural medicine first, although this trend is changing with the younger generation). And because intestinal "issues" tend to not fall under the "grave" category for anyone over three years old, gas, diarrhea, chronic upset stomach, distended bellies, malnutrition, a lack of energy, and an increased risk of getting sick as a result of a weakened immune system have become normal parts of life.

Samuel Salinas (left) and Martin Santo Pinto, the leaders of the latrine project, in front of Martin's new latrine

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Completing the project was a difficult and time consuming process because we could build only two concrete latrine floors per day. Once they were built, however, the families constructed their "little houses" as we say in Spanish, in quick fashion. (The excitement as we neared the end gave everyone a needed last boost to finish). Once they were done there was just one thing left to do... Celebrate!

The inauguration ceremony was held after all the latrines were completed. I purchased a large amount of food, asked some women to cook it (they got to keep the leftovers!), and on July 19th a group of fifty or so people met and listened to a series of speeches. Many spoke about how grateful they were for their latrines. Some explained how nice it was for someone to follow through on a promise (the government representatives here infamous for not following though). A few even said I would be in their hearts forever and that they hoped they would be in mine. I assured them they would. When it was my turn to address the group I spoke of the two year process we went through, congratulated them on their incredibly hard work, and thanked them for opening their homes to me and treating me like family. I finished, "back in early 2011 you decided a latrine project was your number one priority. Not that you have latrines you get to decide what your next priority is and take it on. In this slow way you can improve your lives step-by-step."

After all the speeches were given, we sat down and enjoyed rice with chicken and veggies, juice, bread, and coffee. We told each other stories and took breaks to snap photos (one woman wanted a picture with me to make her husband jealous. She was going to tell him, "see I don't need you, I have a gringo boyfriend"). Later, just before I left, a young guy I'd never met approached me and while shaking my hand proclaimed, "Choy, bueno, esa proyecto demoraba mucho pero siempre vale la pena. Estamos muy contento." ("Scott, well, this project took a long time but it was definitely worth the effort -we are very content."). 

"I couldn't agree more," I replied. And with that said I left and walked home in the rain watching -waiting- for the sun to peek through the clouds. Fleetingly, I was sure it did. But then a light bulb flickered in my head and I quit watching, for I now know that if you are patient enough the sun will always follow the rain.

Happy new latrine owners at the inauguration ceremony