Unanji and Tobä in Panama: Part 2

This is the second installation of a two part blog series my mom wrote following her trip with Corey to visit me in Panama this past March.


"The name Scott is the name I have grown accustomed to calling my son, Scott. But the community in which he lives issued him the Ngäbe-Bugle name of Choy. I don’t have a clear understanding of this re-naming, but it was mentioned that when a community member dies, their name is eventually re-issued. Who decides this and how it is implemented is a mystery.


The most profound aspect of the trip centered around our visit to Choy’s site. Once in Tolé we had a short hike to the grocery store which was clearly the hub of this small town. We were under a bit of time crunch as we didn’t want to be hiking into Choy’s site after the sun set. Once the sun sets it is pitch black here. To lessen the hike time, we opted to catch the local pick up truck (taxi of sorts) that the Ngäbe-Bugle use for transportation from their communities into nearby towns. The truck was packed with Ngäbe-Bugle men, women, and children. We were given the nod to hop on board. This is the point where it was clear to me that I was the foreigner. As I squeezed my way through the folks on board the truck, their beautiful eyes met mine in utter silence. I did what I knew best and smiled, trying to relay to them that yes, I know I am the odd person out here, but thank you for letting us ride with you. I was definitely the big elephant in the room. I looked back at Choy who found a place to ride standing on the bumper and he gave that “atta mom” nod with a grin.


We were dropped off after a twenty minute ride and started the hour and half hike down a dusty road that eventually led to a trail to his site. Along this dusty road were many make-shift houses. Choy decided it was time for us to learn a couple Ngäbe-Bugle phrases, one being the common greeting, Ñandori (pronounded "Nyan-tow-ry"). As we walked along, I practiced my greeting with those we passed. At one house a man came to the side of the road to greet Choy, and Choy in-turn introduced us. Eventually this man’s whole family came over, including the grandma. She spoke in their language, Ngäbere, which Choy translated for us. She told us she is old and only comes outside after the sun has set. Surprisingly, she then proceeded to announce my new name – Unangi ("oo-nan-ji"). She gave Corey the name Tobä ("tow-bah"). This created lots of discussion and laughter among us all. Priceless to say the least. Choy told us later that it was a very unique and a cool experience for the grandma to make an appearance to gave us Ngäbe names.

We continued on our journey as the sun was setting. Before long we needed flashlights to find our path leading down through the thick rainforest to his site. As we approached the site, a very young boy and little dog appeared. The boy said “Hi Choy” and they chatted for a bit in spanish as we walked along. The first thing that came to my mind was how dark it was outside and that this little barefoot boy, no older than six years old was able to navigate without lights and that his toes were exposed to God-knows-what that crawls in the night. Once we got to Choy´s hut, the family that lives near him were outside waiting for us. We met Lela ("Layla") the mom and three of her eight children, Jonathon, Pepo, and Luiz. It was a great moment to finally meet the family he had been living and working with these past 18 months.

Corey, me, Choy, and his cat in front of his hut

Inside Choy’s thatch-roofed hut, we lit candles and started unpacking our gear. Pepo, with Luiz in tow, presented us with tray with three cups of coffee. To me, this represented an expression of Choy being welcomed home. After Pepo left, Choy said you probably don’t want to drink the coffee as it is made with boiled water but will normally have regular water added to it. Their regular water is not filtered and after hearing the unique stories from all the PCV’s about the journeys their gastrointestinal tracts have been through (and continue to go through), I took his advice. Choy proceeded to drink all three cups and tossed the dregs out the door.

Choy’s dog, Osito (meaning "little bear") and his cat were very excited for his return, as was another puppy named Peter. The animals were all quite small in comparison to what we are accustomed to in the US. This aspect of the visit really tugged on my heart. The dogs and cat were so cheerful and civilized, yet rail thin. I kept trying to find morsels of food scraps to feed them. My focus during our stay here was on the dogs, cat, and pig named Wilbur. These animals survive by rooting around for anything consumable. This was tough to witness and not something I could get used to.

Osito

Mornings, as they unfolded, were delightful. From just before sunrise, while still in the sac, you can hear the animals starting to rustle and the roosters crowing. Eventually you hear the voices of young boys waking up and chatting in the distance. Bear in mind the children in these communities have no TV or computers. Evenings were also special to witness. Lela hangs out with the boys in the hammock near a fire pit each evening before bed. Again, it was remarkable to me as to how much there was to talk about that didn’t include any arguing or fighting or negative overtones. More than once I thought to myself what a good mother Lela is. And Samuel, her husband, must be a good father to those boys as well. He is Choy’s counterpart for his Peace Corps project. Samuel was working outside the site during our stay there, so we didn’t get to meet him. I was impressed with how industrious he was with his land and how wise he was to have a PCV live with him and his family. There are still some indigenous children who have not seen a white person. By having a Choy live with them, Samuel is exposing his children in a non-threatening fashion to a world outside their community. It was precious watching the interaction between Choy and the boys. Choy is meditatively thoughtful and patient towards them and they are obviously reverent towards him (although I am sure Choy would dispute that adjective). Choy is also keen on what the boys are up to and if they have an agenda or ulterior motive.

Lela and Luiz

We spent the day hanging out in the hut and hiking up the mountain side, followed by a dip in the stream. Scott has just enough room in his hut for a bunk, two hammocks (one of which is attached to the posts under his bunk), two stools, and a counter for his kitchen. Needless to say, Corey and I slept on the floor on top a leaky blow up mattress (so on the ground), but with a mosquito net over us. Once Corey sat in the hammock he didn’t move from it for hours. And once I discovered the other hammock, I drifted off to napland. The boys would visit throughout the day chatting with Choy about this and that (in Spanish). For breakfast, Choy made oatmeal with all sorts of condiments added. And for dinner we made a rice dish with sautéed vegetables.

Choy showing Pepo and Luiz the bubbles we brought them

Our hike out the following day started early and at the same time the children in the community were hiking to school, each dressed in their clean, crisp white and blue school uniform. It was impressive how they were able to walk through the dusty red dirt flawlessly, without getting their slacks or shoes filthy. Most of the children have a cloth that winds around their hand and palm that is used to dab the sweat from their brow as they hike to school. Keep in mind the temperatures are in the upper nineties during this time of year (the dry season).

Three things impressed me most about my experience with the Ngäbe-Bugle people. First, hygiene must be important because everyone’s hair was combed and shiny clean, and there were no noticeable odors, which is remarkable for living in such warm temperatures. Second, loving and caring for their children was obviously important, and there were lots of children. And third, the Ngäbe-Bugle are a proud indigenous people that have a lot to pass on to future generations."