Following the nearly six week stint in site (which I wrote about in my last blog) I took my counterpart, Samuel, to a Project Management and Leadership seminar. The highlight of the three-day event was the cultural night on day two where Samuel and I, along with other Ngabes and their volunteers, performed the traditional dance "Hegi," which is basically coordinated stomping. That night he was so excited about the cultural activities that we stayed up late chatting. It became our most interesting conversation to date. Samuel told me many interesting tidbits about Ngabe relationships in general and his personal experiences in particular. The following is a fascinating yet sad glimpse into life here, but it is also incomplete. Ngabe psychology is incredibly complex and different from my own and coming to real conclusions (even after living here a year) is nearly impossible. For that reason I present the following as I got it- openly but without much explanation.
Ways Relationships Start
1) A group of working men are watched by a woman who just happens to be passing by. She is looking to see who works the hardest and "gritars" (a type of yell-greeting. Mine sounds like "oohwayyyyy") the best. After making a decision solely by herself (she gets no help from her mom, sisters, or friends) she approaches the man and says "I saw you working the other day and you work the hardest so I am going with you." According to Samuel, the guy is so proud to start his family the thought of saying "no" never crosses his mind. They're considered married.
2) Another way a relationship may start is how Samuel came to be with his first wife, Lela (pronounced "Layla"). After finishing sixth grade he worked on a farm a couple of years then returned and asked Lela's uncle, Alberto, if he could marry her (he would normally ask her parents but they had passed away from Tuberculosis when she was younger). Alberto said "yes" because he and Samuel were family; Samuel's sister has married Alberto years before. Despite Alberto's permission, not everyone thought Samuel was good enough for Lela. One day Lela's cousin confronted Samuel in a path and said "I don't want you to marry Lela so you have to fight me for her." Samuel refused and it wasn't until her cousin socked him in the face that he fought. According to Samuel, he won quickly. The following week, another cousin socked Samuel in the face for the same reason and with the same result as the first fight. Samuel had proven his valor and literally won Lela. He was 16; she 13.
3) The father of a young man meets with the father of a young woman. The mothers also meet. They must meet four times, each time drinking a large amount of "chicha fuerte" (fermented corn drink) and discussing the match. By the end of the fourth meeting they decide the two will marry. At that point they inform the two young adults of their fate which neither knew was being discussed. They don't have the option to decline.
4) A secret relationship which angers her parents when it is discovered. Her parents feel disrespected and for this reason the couple must avoid her family for an extended period of time. During this time she lives with his family while waiting for the anger to dissipate. After many months she returns home bearing gifts and food and is forgiven. After still more time passes the husband can go to his in-laws house but must do so very wearily because he is afraid of getting beaten up. After he is accepted and forgiven the in-laws visit, everyone parties, and all is good in the world.
Cheating/Divorce
If a woman cheats the two men must fight. The woman, then, must go with the winner. If the original husband wins he brings her home and beats her "because she has disrespected him". When her dad finds out and confronts the husband the husband explains what happened, the result being that her dad immediately understands and drops the matter. The husband is considered justified. On the other hand, if the original husband loses the fight he also loses the girl and the matter ends there.
If the man cheats it is a different story. This is because he is "male and stronger." There is no beating and rarely a fight (between the women). In this circumstance the woman has the right to leave her husband although this is rare. If she leaves and finds another partner the new husband and the old husband must fight because the old husband doesn't want her to be with anyone else. Regardless of the winner, though, she stays with the new husband.
Polygamy
Samuel asked Elena to be his second wife twenty-four years ago and despite him already having Lela, Elena said "yes." Some random day following that conversation Elena showed up at Lela and Samuel's home. Immediately everyone knew why she was there because she had never visited before. Lela was angry with Samuel and Elena. Since then, however, time has healed wounds and the women now consider themselves family. They share food, gossip and chat but their relationship is still more cordial than friendly. Elena's dad, Feliciano, upon finding out his daughter's plans, attempted to match her with someone else but she refused. Feliciano resorted to having his brother (Elena's uncle) sock Samuel in the face (knowing that if Samuel lost, he couldn't marry Elena). After Samuel won, Feliciano elicited his son (Elena's brother) to sock Samuel's face. After Samuel won that fight Feliciano had no choice but to sock Samuel in the face himself. Again Samuel proved his valor and won the girl. According to Samuel, since the fight with Feliciano he has been free to go anywhere he pleases without trouble and he and Feliciano are now good friends.
Lela has eight children aged five to thirty-four; Elena has six aged nine to twenty-three.
Along with their language and many customs, the Ngabe practice of polygamy is dying. It is unpracticed by the younger generations and will be gone within a few decades.
Last tidbit
Ever since he married Elena, Samuel has spent the large majority of his nights at her house and his days at Lela's. Why? I do not know. On the exceptions ("to keep Lela happy") Lela makes him sleep on the floor of his nine-foot-by-nine-foot store which is closer to my house than her's. When I asked him why he doesn't sleep in the bed with her he explained that she is "brava" (aggressive/fierce/angry) with him. Still, once a week, year after year he sleeps alone on the cold dirt floor of his little shack of a store because he thinks it makes Lela happy.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Regaining Sanity
Peace Corps allocates up to three days per month for volunteers to rejuvenate. We call this "regaining our sanity". These days are normally taken consecutively and are for things like internet, a warm shower, or even dinner at a restaurant. Ideally a trip out of site coincides with other volunteers' trips and allows you to get some work done too. Every 3 weeks to a month throughout my service this is what I've done - I've left site to "regain my sanity". (Not that I lost it, right?...right?) That is, except for the the six weeks of June and the first half of July, when I left site only once. Those six weeks helped me focus on my continuing integration into Ngabe culture and reflect on the challenges I have faced.
If you ask me about the most difficult part of being a PCV, my rapid fire response would be: bugs at night (yes, even with a mosquito net), lack of food (especially veggies), people not paying for photos I print for them and children stealing my peanut butter. But if pressed to think hard about the Peace Corps experience, I would say there is only one great challenge: trying to balance a successful integration into a new culture and language (or two) while simultaneously being an effective co-facilitator, educator and empower-er. Recently, I ran across some literature that Peace Corps had sent me before going to Panama. There was a quote from a volunteer in Guinea-Bissau that I underlined over a year ago.
This is easier to do when practiced on oneself first. For example, once I realized why I want only one wife, (yes I know it's illegal, but ultimately, it's because polygamy is not socially acceptable in the U.S.), I can accept why my counterpart and best friend here has two wives (ultimately it comes down to status). Family and family size are highly valued in Ngabe culture, so having multiple wives makes sense here, but while I can understand that cultural difference, I still don't like it and find unfair. But, at least we can both approach a conversation from a feeling of mutual respect and understanding, rather than a paternalistic and ineffective "you are wrong, do-as-I-say" attitude.
These are skills that PCVs try to use when we are faced with perplexing new behaviors. After all, my friend in site has to deal with my selfishness, punctuality and excessive reading. Thus far the integration process has cruised fairly smoothly over the few (peanut butter related) bumps we've had. Sharing our cultures has been mutually beneficial, to the point that we understand and trust each other. Now, I honestly feel comfortable calling this place home. It seems that our out-of-site mantra "regaining my sanity" no longer applies to leaving my site. I will start referring to those trips as "remembering my American-ness".
If you ask me about the most difficult part of being a PCV, my rapid fire response would be: bugs at night (yes, even with a mosquito net), lack of food (especially veggies), people not paying for photos I print for them and children stealing my peanut butter. But if pressed to think hard about the Peace Corps experience, I would say there is only one great challenge: trying to balance a successful integration into a new culture and language (or two) while simultaneously being an effective co-facilitator, educator and empower-er. Recently, I ran across some literature that Peace Corps had sent me before going to Panama. There was a quote from a volunteer in Guinea-Bissau that I underlined over a year ago.
This quote explains how I feel very well and leads to the logical question: how do you get through those barriers and achieve real integration? As Peace Corps has taught us, culture is experienced through the behavior of individual people who have been conditioned by a set of values. With this in mind, cultural integration requires three skills: predicting the behavior of others, accepting the behavior, changing your own behavior. The secret to successful integration lies in the reality that you don't have to approve or adopt a particular behavior; you only have to accept that behavior as in line with the values inherent to that culture.Most of us agree that although we knew Peace Corps was going to be hard, it is often hard in a different way than we expected. We all worried about adjusting to the bugs and the heat, but that's the easy part. It's more of a challenge to get used to dealing with a perplexing bureaucracy, the lack of motivation in some host country counterparts, the lack of technology and education, and cultural barriers.
This is easier to do when practiced on oneself first. For example, once I realized why I want only one wife, (yes I know it's illegal, but ultimately, it's because polygamy is not socially acceptable in the U.S.), I can accept why my counterpart and best friend here has two wives (ultimately it comes down to status). Family and family size are highly valued in Ngabe culture, so having multiple wives makes sense here, but while I can understand that cultural difference, I still don't like it and find unfair. But, at least we can both approach a conversation from a feeling of mutual respect and understanding, rather than a paternalistic and ineffective "you are wrong, do-as-I-say" attitude.
These are skills that PCVs try to use when we are faced with perplexing new behaviors. After all, my friend in site has to deal with my selfishness, punctuality and excessive reading. Thus far the integration process has cruised fairly smoothly over the few (peanut butter related) bumps we've had. Sharing our cultures has been mutually beneficial, to the point that we understand and trust each other. Now, I honestly feel comfortable calling this place home. It seems that our out-of-site mantra "regaining my sanity" no longer applies to leaving my site. I will start referring to those trips as "remembering my American-ness".
Friday, July 15, 2011
Hearty Stew
For anyone accustomed to bathrooms, clean water, electricity, stoves, wood floors, personal or pubic transportation, television, restaurants, mattresses, cooking oil, shoes, a regular paycheck and other items meant to improve lives I have one question: are you happy?
By contrasting such comfortable lives with the rest of the world one would expect Americans to be the happiest people in Earths history. But it is not so. In Gregg Easterbrook's book, The Progress Paradox, he reviews hundreds of recent studies regarding happiness in America as related to wealth and concludes that American's (including the rich) are not any happier than we were a half century ago despite real average income doubling in that time. And compared to much of the rest of the world Americans can actually be considered unhappy.
Where the indigenous Ngabe people of Panama live life is stripped down and hard. Manual labor is a daily lifelong duty- cutting, planting, harvesting and preparing food, building living structures, hauling water from nearby streams, hiking everywhere, etc. They have to do this in either blistering sun or drowning rain -there's no in-between- with high rates of sickness and infant mortality and a low life expectancy. Rates of low education means that you are very lucky to work on a farm for $5/day for one month every year. Families here earn less than $500/year; you made that last week if you get $12.50/hour. If you are a high school dropout pulling minimum wage at McDonalds, in one year you make more than a family here does in thirty!
In the United States and elsewhere -where status is determined by how much one makes and not necessarily by how much good they do or happy they are- maybe we should acknowledge which is more important and judge success on that.
Although no studies have ever been done on Ngabe happiness, it is not hard to see that they are thoroughly happy people who relish each others' company and love to laugh, tell stories, joke, and gossip. And after spending some time here it is easy to see why.
Family clusters share in meaningful work tilling the soil under the sun. This work provides exercise and produces delicious and healthy vegetables, fruits, and grains to feed their huge families (any extra is given to other families). They are always outside experiencing beautiful views, lush greenery, and constant excitement from weather (incredible storms), animals (everywhere), and visitors (constant). They know their land deeply because they generally live on one plot their entire lives. They make beautiful bags and sombreros out of natural dyes and materials as well as other useful crafts -the knowledge of which has been passed down through generations.
These are things that have left many of our families in the last couple generation and I suspect evidence of reduced happiness in the United States is more than a correlation to these lost values and skills; it's a causation. So we see that comfort and cash are but two ingredients in the stew that is our lives. We're missing the meat and potatoes, without which we're left hungry and wanting more.
By contrasting such comfortable lives with the rest of the world one would expect Americans to be the happiest people in Earths history. But it is not so. In Gregg Easterbrook's book, The Progress Paradox, he reviews hundreds of recent studies regarding happiness in America as related to wealth and concludes that American's (including the rich) are not any happier than we were a half century ago despite real average income doubling in that time. And compared to much of the rest of the world Americans can actually be considered unhappy.
Where the indigenous Ngabe people of Panama live life is stripped down and hard. Manual labor is a daily lifelong duty- cutting, planting, harvesting and preparing food, building living structures, hauling water from nearby streams, hiking everywhere, etc. They have to do this in either blistering sun or drowning rain -there's no in-between- with high rates of sickness and infant mortality and a low life expectancy. Rates of low education means that you are very lucky to work on a farm for $5/day for one month every year. Families here earn less than $500/year; you made that last week if you get $12.50/hour. If you are a high school dropout pulling minimum wage at McDonalds, in one year you make more than a family here does in thirty!
In the United States and elsewhere -where status is determined by how much one makes and not necessarily by how much good they do or happy they are- maybe we should acknowledge which is more important and judge success on that.
Although no studies have ever been done on Ngabe happiness, it is not hard to see that they are thoroughly happy people who relish each others' company and love to laugh, tell stories, joke, and gossip. And after spending some time here it is easy to see why.
Family clusters share in meaningful work tilling the soil under the sun. This work provides exercise and produces delicious and healthy vegetables, fruits, and grains to feed their huge families (any extra is given to other families). They are always outside experiencing beautiful views, lush greenery, and constant excitement from weather (incredible storms), animals (everywhere), and visitors (constant). They know their land deeply because they generally live on one plot their entire lives. They make beautiful bags and sombreros out of natural dyes and materials as well as other useful crafts -the knowledge of which has been passed down through generations.
These are things that have left many of our families in the last couple generation and I suspect evidence of reduced happiness in the United States is more than a correlation to these lost values and skills; it's a causation. So we see that comfort and cash are but two ingredients in the stew that is our lives. We're missing the meat and potatoes, without which we're left hungry and wanting more.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
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”. "
Thursday, May 26, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Panama's Highest Peak/Hike #2
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| Omar loving the sun atop Volcán Barú |
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| 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.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Welcome to the Comarca/Hike #1
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| Samuel and I chatting atop Cerro Cacicon |
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| 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.