Outsiders Perspective

A fellow Peace Corps Volunteer and good friend, Jack Fischl, invited me to hang out with his parents for a day while they were visiting last month. We had a wonderful time and I was spoiled by his parents. Jack's dad is an American diplomat living in the Phillipines and below is the guest blog he wrote about the Peace Corps from his visit to Jack's site (less rural than mine...). A humerous and real outsiders perspective.

"Mo, Stella and I just spent ten days with Jack in Panama, touring the country and spending some time at his site, which was a great experience that allowed us to learn a lot about his daily life in the Peace Corps.  Mostly what I learned is that these Peace Corps volunteers are tough hombres and hombrettes (since my trip to Panama I try to use as much Espanol as possible).  We are talking about mas macho volunteeros, who are way grittier than you or me.  Their daily life consists mainly of extreme heat, humidity, varieties of bugs you’ve never heard of, intestinal stuff that we don’t even want to think about, tasteless foods, lots of mud, outhouses, bats, bat poop, big cultural challenges, communicating solely in another language etc. etc.  These are the good parts of the job – I can’t bring myself to write about the hard stuff. 

This trip was especially useful for me, because as I get closer to retirement from the Foreign Service, I have often thought that a perfect next step in my international career would be to join the Peace Corps. You know, live in a grass hut in an isolated location, and make a real difference by helping those who need help most.  An idyllic, sylvan existence full of simple charms.  Somehow in my mind’s eye, when I pictured the grass hut in which I would be living, I just kind of assumed that inside my hut I would find a nice soft queen size bed, fluffy pillows, a hot shower, refrigerator (maybe even a wine cooler with two zones for reds and whites), soft lighting, and of course, a nice clean bathroom well stocked with fragrant soaps and other bathroom products.  Muy incorrecto mi amigos and amigas!  Having now been at a real Peace Corps site, I can report that the grass huts DO NOT have these sorts of amenities.  There are no beds, and there are definitely no bathrooms overflowing with luxurious personal care products (because there aren’t any bathrooms).  There is however, the very soft lighting I hoped for, because without the electricity that we all take for granted, all you have is either a candle or a kerosene lantern to illuminate your reading - at least my fantasy hasn’t been completely shattered.

What is a typical day like in the Peace Corps?  From what I can tell from my short visit it goes something like this.  Wake up with the sun, feeling un poco sweaty and a bit dirty because you can never really get completely clean from your evening bucket shower.  Crawl out from under your  mosquito netting and take a quick inventory of the evening’s insect bites (hopefully they’re only insect bites), make a trip to the outhouse (which I can assure you is NOT one of life’s simple pleasures, although to be honest, I’m only guessing about this because I did my best to avoid outhouses while in Panama), prepare a basic breakfast that most definitely does not include things that require refrigeration, such as milk, butter, yogurt etc. and also does not include anything that requires electricity, like toast, waffles or that nice hot cup of coffee from your Mr. Coffee machine.  Get dressed in your hand washed clothes, or just wear the same clothes you’ve been wearing for the past few days, check shoes for scorpions and tarantulas (really), and then head out to do some good.  This of course is why you are here.  Since there are no cars or any kind of public transportation in your little village, you will of course be walking to your meeting, which is probably about two hours away, straight up hill on a bucolic dirt path (hope that it’s not raining).  Upon reaching your destination, wait around a few hours for everyone to show up, and then conduct your meeting in a foreign language that you’re still learning.  On a good day, people are actually interested in what you’re saying - on a bad day you’re greeted with blank stares.  Wrap up the meeting, walk home, prepare a simple meal before it gets too dark to see what you’re doing, read by candle light and go to bed.  Next day – get up and do it again - for the next two years.

Yup, this is not your typical day job, and I now know that you have to be a special person to be a Peace Corps volunteer (and to be honest, I don’t think I’m that kind of special person).  I of course, am already mucho impressed with my son Jack, but having seen how he’s now living and what he’s doing, I’m even more impressed.  This could be dismissed as fatherly pride, but I also met two of Jack’s colleagues (also Peace Corps volunteers), and I was equally inspired by their dedication and great attitudes.  Laura, who is also affectionately known as Coffee Lady because she graciously made us coffee each morning by boiling the water, and then patiently pouring it through a tiny filter that could handle about a thimbleful of water at a time, is also living at Jack’s site.  She’s a lovely young woman who is teaching English and advising on tourism.  We also met Scott, affectionately known as Toilet Boy (though now that I’ve thought about it, since he’s 6 ft. 4 inches tall, he should probably be known as Toilet Man), who has a two-hour hike just to get to his site.  This is a guy who is really getting his hands dirty, because his day job is building outhouses.  Now that’s dedication!  

These volunteers are living pretty rough, but I believe they are comforted by the sure knowledge that they are helping people that few others care to help.  From my perspective as a career diplomat, it is clear to me that these admirable young Americans exemplify diplomacy at its best.  So, my hat is off to PCVs all over the world.  From what I saw in Panama, the Peace Corps really is, “the toughest job you’ll ever love”. "

The Comarca Ngäbe-Bugle: an Overview

Set in the western mountainous region of Panama, the Comarca is inhabited by two related but distinguishable indigenous groups. The Bugle people number approximately 4,000 and the Ngäbe around 120,000, making them the second largest indigenous group in Central America after the Mayans of Guatemala. They are also one of the only matrilineal groups left in the world. Both groups are part of the Chibcha language family which originally extended from Mexico to Peru.

Before Spanish arrival in 1501, the Ngäbe territory was vast. It extended from the Pacific to Caribbean oceans. Likewise, the Bugles once administered a large landmass. They populated five of Panama's current nine provinces. Since the Spanish landed on its shores, Panama has seen the Ngäbe-Bugle territory diminish to what is now a mountainous indigenous reservation.

Other than surviving (which is more than some can say), the one unexpected event these two indigenous groups have achieved took place in 1997 when one hundred years of seeking independence culminated in the creation of a nascent, semi-autonomous, territory. Since that time roads, schools, health centers, and a few economic opportunities have significantly improved the quality of life here. But if one is not careful "development" can be a double-edged sword because it sometimes brings negative cultural development along with its intended infrastructure development. For the first time ever, generations of Ngäbe-Bugle children are growing up unable to speak the language their parents speak. (for a great article by a fellow PCV on the subject of universal education and its effect on indigenous groups, see http://www.policymic.com/beta/global-affairs/keeping-cultural-identity-indigenous-education). To exacerbate the problem many young people (especially the most educated) dream of working and living outside the Comarca where material comforts abound. It is not a surprise their culture and way of life are at risk of fading into history.

Birth: A woman is "sick" when she is pregnant, a condition that is not to be mentioned, acknowledged or commented upon in casual conversation. I made this mistake a few times during my first months in site and they made for some exceptionally awkward moments. Like most poor women in the world, the women here work almost up to the day they give birth. And because of a high Child Mortality Rate (8.4/100 vs. Panama's average of 1.3/100) many children are only given a nickname for the first years of life.

Death: When an immediate family member dies, the family stays up drinking cacao (cocoa) for up to three straight nights. Following the third day, the family buries the deceased in a hole with all their belongings. While in the U.S. it is normal to wear things the dead have donned (clothing, jewelry, etc.) it is strictly prohibited here. Also, I must be careful to not show any pictures of now-dead people.

Society: The traditional unit of society is the family and their ancestors lived as hunter-gatherers. In the past century communities have developed around churches and schools. They live with an ideal of shared ownership and collective work although private ownership is becoming more popular today. Nearly all families in the Comarca survive on subsistence farming, government checks, and (rarely) on a family member working outside their community.

Gender Roles: Ngäbe women are very hard workers -carrying water, washing clothes, preparing, harvesting and cooking food and raising children is a full time job many times over. Men are also hard working. They plant the food, build houses, harvest some food, and hold almost all the leadership positions in the communities. Still, they find time to relax and sometimes get drunk on a homemade fermented corn drink called chicha fuerte.

What are they like?: People in general are shy and passive like many places in the world steeped in tradition. Not confronting each other and instead talking behind their back or withholding a difference of opinion are common practices. Long periods of silence are also normal and sometimes preferred. I have experienced far more awkward moments in the past seven months than my entire pre-PC life.

Marriage: Weddings are uncommon and when someone moves in with another they are considered married. What is considered dating in the U.S. is considered marriage here, so PCV's have to be careful because a mistake like that could jeopardize one's service. Luckily, however, finding someone near our age without five children and with a high school diploma is about as hard as finding snow here.

Panama's Highest Peak/Hike #2

 Omar loving the sun atop Volcán Barú

The group, after 13.5 hours on the mountain is down and ready for some well-deserved sleep

On the night of March 26, ten other Peace Corps Volunteers and I began our seven hour summit of Volcán Barú, Panama's highest peak at 11,398 ft. The night of March 25 I unwisely went out dancing until 3am and any hope of getting over the cold I had was lost. I was losing my voice. Armed with lots of water, extra food, headlamps, extra clothing for the summit, and three guides we departed around 10:15pm.

There are two routes up Volcán Barú and we chose the harder, longer, more dangerous trail over the unpaved road (hence the guides). At one point we were on all fours bouldering upward as small pieces of  loose debris bounded down on people below. It was during this dangerous incline that I saved Coys life, or so he claims. Someone ahead of Omar kicked loose a twenty-or-so pound rock and as I noticed it bounding past Omar and picking up steam as it came for me, I had to make a decision. I had time to dodge the rock but Coy and Charles were directly behind me and I (correctly) feared their view was blocked by my large frame (remember, this is around 3am). So I stood my ground and took the rock straight to the gut as it sailed off a rock-face in front of me. Luckily the rock hadn't been moving too long and the decision turned out to be the right one.

As soon as we arrived the summit (5:30am) and stopped moving it became unbearably cold. Of everyone, only Coy brought enough clothing. The rest of us were left to huddle, cuddle, and shiver the hour before sunrise. It was all worth the effort, though, as we watched the sun emerge from the other side of the world and felt our icy limbs begin to thaw. While waiting we played "That cloud looks like a...". My favorite was the T-Rex. Either I was delirious or that cloud looked EXACTLY like the dinosaur -small arms and all! We couldn't see both oceans on that day because it was cloudy to the North but the view was gorgeous nonetheless. 

After two and a half hours on the peak we hiked down the easier side (four hours) and by the time we arrived I was talking like Marlon Brando from the Godfather: "It's not personal, Sonny. It's strictly business." I was also near delirious from... well you can imagine... We slept all the rest of that day and night then went to Peace Corps In-Service Training. I can't wait to do it again.

Welcome to the Comarca/Hike #1

Samuel and I chatting atop Cerro Cacicon

Kate with Samuel (back-right) and others posing with ancient rock carvings

My wonderful girlfriend visited Panama (well actually, me) for two weeks in early March. Her stay included one week in the Comarca at my site, one day of which was filled with ten hours of hiking in the blistering Panamanian sun. The decision to hike for ten hours in the Comarca with my visiting girlfriend may seem like a peculiar decision, and indeed it was. Understanding what sort of hiking the Comarca offers (and it only offers one kind) one realizes just how peculiar this decision was.

Quick history lesson transition: Indigenous groups in the Americas have fought European outsiders for the right to live since the 1500's. The destruction of Native Americans is perhaps the most tragic legacy of European expansion, and Panama's indigenous groups have not been spared from this legacy. Traditionally located in the fertile coastal lands of the Azuero Peninsula, the Ngäbe's were removed to the highlands of the Comarca through a combination of war, disease, lies, manipulation, and "economic expansion" for five hundred years. Sound familiar?

The Comarca is a mountainous area with deep valleys of flowing rivers and steep slopes bursting with greenery (except the parts burned for agricultural use). It features stunning views and hikes that get you in shape. Fast. When I first arrived in site I was not ready for the Comarca's endless up-and-down hiking. Kate was similarly unprepared for ten hours of hiking in this unforgiving terrain.  I realized this about eight hours in when we approached an incline and she said "Are you s-e-r-i-o-u-s? ANOTHER hill?". I chuckled and translated for my counterpart, Samuel, who also laughed and replied "Beinvenidos a la Comarca" ("welcome to the Comarca"). 

Kate is tough and she made it just fine (actually the next day we hiked three more hours) and a great memory it was. We summited two peaks for fantastic panoramic views, examined ancient rock carvings, and leaped off a waterfall in the midday heat. My Ngäbe friends wouldn't jump in for fear of an evildoer living behind the waterfall. I found this out afterward and when I asked why they didn't warn me they said I was safe because I am white -apparently the evildoer only haunts them.

Six Months, Six Lessons

After living in Panama for six months I wrote this list of lessons. Unfortunately I was not able to write it until now (or anything else) because things in Bajo Cerro Ñame have been busy! But alas, here is a short list of lessons.

Lesson 1: Bags on top of a bus can get wet. On my way to site for the first time alone I casually made a big mistake. While boarding a full bus I allowed the bus driver to put my bag on top of the bus. Normally this would be just fine but Panama was starting its wettest month and about halfway through the two hour bus ride a big black cloud appeared over our bus. Clothing, books, shoes, medical supplies; everything was soaked.

Lesson 2: Don’t run downhill in mud 100 pounds heavier. This is a slightly embarrassing lesson because I should have learned this a long time ago. Nevertheless, when frustration and exhaustion set in, sound decision making went out the window. After hiking toward site with two packs for two hours soaked to the core by relentless rain, I decided to run the last twenty minutes downhill to site. Not ten steps into that regrettable decision, I slipped and fell, my leg caught underneath my body (hyper-extending my knee) then slid a few feet downhill before catching myself. I climbed back up the hill, cursed my luck, then put my head down and stomped the rest of the way to site covered in mud and favoring my left knee.

Lesson 3: If water is clear, look before putting in hand. Following the capture of a large iguana, I helped my host brother wash it off in the river so my host mom could prepare it for dinner. While washing away my host brother leaped out of the river and yelled for me to do so also. I quickly did and then realized why: a fer-de lance snake was swimming in the water not five inched from my hand! My host dad promptly killed the snake and told us that we were lucky to not get bitten by Panamas most populous deadly snake.

Lesson 4: Distance and time are relative. This was an important lesson to learn. The translation of “muy cercita” is “very close.” After a few hikes in site, though, I learned that “very close” can mean an hour hike uphill and that arriving soaked in sweat and out of breath is the rule rather than the exception. Likewise, “ahora” translates as “now” but is most commonly used as “mas ahora” which confusingly translates as “more now” but transliterates as “later.”

Lesson 5: I attract mud and Ngäbes are machines. Not only do almost all fifty-year-olds out hike me, they also sweat less and perhaps most surprisingly, arrive completely clean. In the wet season I regularly arrive covered in mud from my knee down. What’s more? My hiking shoes cost seventy-five times more than their traction-less $2 plastic shoes.

Lesson 6: Don’t confuse “mierda” with “muerde.” After pretending to be a vampire with my seven and eight year old host sisters I went outside and proceeded to explain our role-playing game to my host mom. I thought it was a good opportunity to practice past tense. I tried to say “I bit Jessica” but I confused two closely-related words and accidentally said “I shat out Jessica.” Luckily my host family had no qualms about laughing about me and we had a great time reliving that moment in the future. And hey, I got my tenses right…

Poverty in the Comarca: improving or regressing?

In a world where success means earning a lot of money we are sometimes (or oftentimes) faced with ethical dilemmas. One such example is the proposed Cerro Colorado Mine in the Comarca province of Panama. The proposed mine holds an estimated $200 billion of gold and copper and is considered the worlds second largest copper deposit. The Comarca, Panama's equivalent of an American 'Reservation', is apparently being told they do not own the land beneath the soil and therefore cannot stop the mining project. Therefore the indigenous Ngobe people, with few options, have been protesting the recent road construction to the proposed mine. Yesterday a three-year-old girl was killed in a tear-gassing incident.

What might the effect of the mine be?

The Ngobe people earn an average of $500/yr per family, making them some of the poorest people in the world. They are stuck in a poverty trap which consists of few opportunities to leave the Comarca, low formal education, and rampant sickness. Faced with these challenges, Ngobe's have become dependent on their land and streams for food, drinking water, and bathing. For these reasons, an open-pit mine which would pollute the water, destroy the land, and create huge amounts of waste could be disastrous to a way of life the most of the world left behind hundreds of years ago.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition, to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - this is to have succeeded." These values are intrinsic to the Ngobe people -it's the only way they can survive. Maybe it's time for us rethink the values that run our world.

Feliz Navidad... Comarca Style!

Well, I have finally succumbed to my first bout of sickness.  After some very uncomfortable stomach issues for almost a week (don't worry- I will spare the details), I was told yesterday to travel to David and visit the hospital.  The stool sample results said that I have amoebas and a bacterial infection in my stomach.  So now I am staying in David waiting for the antibiotics to get me healthy enough to return to site.

Besides this sickness, the last couple of weeks have been great.  I am becoming more comfortable with each passing day and have been relishing the process of developing genuine friendships.  Some highlights to give you an idea of day-to-day life here:

December 20th: On the 21st anniversary of the day the U.S. under George Bush attacked Panama for the stated purpose of ousting Manuel Noriega, I was offered a baby.  That's right. While visiting a family in the neighborhood I was offered to take and raise a woman's one-year-old.  At first I thought she was joking so, calling her bluff, replied to her offer, "sure."  Then with a look of shock she said "okay!" and tried to hand me the baby which caused me to panic and think I misjudged her sincerity. So I covered by telling her that even though I would love to adopt her baby, Peace Corps says I can't. Bummer.

December 22nd: Christmas parade day.  I hiked a couple hours to my friends house this day and from his house, hiked to a nighttime X-MAS Parade. The highlight of the parade for me was that the Santa was wearing fake oakley sunglasses and speaking to a crowd in ngabere through a microphone. The crowd, which would get a prize for guessing the real identity of the Santa, heckled the poor Santa the entire time.  I found it hilarious and at this moment it hit me, "wow, so this is my Christmas". Santa was excited to learn that I was from Alaska, too!

December 27th: Quoting from my journal, "Around 2am I awoke to a loud bang.  Something was wrong with the roof.  With my heart racing, the loose zinc sheet moved again in a flurry of noise and I could see a bit of the starry night sky.  Then a stronger gush of wind came and all at once my shirts fell on me, my hinged 'window' [which is actually only a few pieces of wood] flew open exposing the bent-over tree outside, and the sheet of loose zinc flipped up and over and off the roof and crashed with a "kaboom!" on the ground.  Soon the whole house was awake -everybody laughing- and for the rest of the night I could see the stars in the sky above me through a large hole where a piece of roof used to be.  After calming down (me and the wind) I fell back to sleep."

December 29th: Latrine meeting day. I left at 7am, hiked to Samuel's (20 min.) then the two of us hiked to Quebrada Plata ("money stream") an hour away for my 8am meeting with the community.  Time passed, eventually people began arriving, and 8am turned into 12pm.  The president of the water committee opened the meeting, then Samuel spoke and introduced me, then I talked for about a half hour about the need to get organized, have patience, and the entire process.  Then we had an hour of questions and Samuel was a lot of help!  Later the meeting changed subjects so I sat down and some poor literate girl was asked to read an entire manual on aqueduct maintenance.  This took 1.5 hours and was horrendously boring; meanwhile, kids played (one kept letting air out of a baloon with a loud noise), babies cried, people left, dogs peed on the floor, loud side conversations took place, some food and coffee were served... Samuel was practically asleep when the meeting ended at 3pm.  Four hours of waiting for three hours of work that could have been done in two. Welcome to the Comarca!

December 30th: On this day I tried to help fix the pathway from Samuels house to another path.  The path was too narrow and horses had been falling, so our job was to use picks and widen it.  I worked hard but after two hours I was useless because I had aquired nine blisters on my hands. Victor explained to me that my hands are like farmed chickens with succulent meat whereas their warn hands are like the free range chickens that have much tougher meat. Indeed.

Later that day I visited another family and the mom wanted me to take some pictures of her family for me to print for her.  She grabbed a pair of jeans to prop the baby up with but quickly threw it to the ground because it has three scorpions on it!  I was excitedly taking pictures of the insects when, to my surprise, a mighty brave chicken flew in and attacked the scorpions.  Within a few seconds the scorpions were all dead and eaten by the chicken.  I was too dumbfounded to think of taking a picture. 

December 31st: I went to Samuels house to celebrate new years.  I watched the family make a gigantic batch of arroz con pollo ("rice with chicken") which, in the Comarca, is a rare holiday food.  They cooked it over a wood fire and and it took about three hours.  We ate around 8pm and afterwards Samuel and I talked for almost three hours about his ideas to improve his own life and the life of the community.  He is truly a great community leader.  Later, at midnight, they set off a few fireworks, we ate another plate of food and drank two more cups of sugar with coffee.  I found this to be quite an appropriate 'Comarcan' way to bring in the new year.


"Of the gladdest moments in human life, methinks, is the departure upon a journey into unknown lands.  Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of Habit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares, and the slavery of Home, man feels once more happy.  The blood flows with the fast circulation of childhood. Afresh dawns the morn of life."
-Sir Richard Burton, The Devil Drives