You came just in time
Amoebic dysentery
My holiday gift
Viper, Amoebas,
Spider, Equis, Mosquitoes
Thanks to me, all dead.
Children draw and paint
Visitors all afternoon
I dig a rain ditch
Graduation day
High school diplomas in hand
Dad’s celebrate drunk
Machete backhand
Weeds tremble before its fall
See the sky, cacao.
Looking for color
In front of my wooden house
New flowers, please bloom
Peeing in a cup
Is now my nightly challenge
Do not spill a drop
Sweet morning bird songs
Wake me to another day
Sun through wooden slats
We stood silent
By the fruit branch Christmas tree
Food came, lights sparkled
Women watch men drink
Then call it a good party
And eat more starches
SWEET coffee, first drop
of future diabetes.
Why can’t I refuse?
Thunderous downpour
Can’t be louder, until it is
Rain on a tin roof
My small panther cat
Feared neighborhood meal time thief
Still I love her purr
My cat is gimpy
An invalid companion
We limp together
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tidbits
Its been so long I don’t even know where to begin, so I think I will just post some highlights.
-Yesterday my community threw a party for all the kids at school, as they are starting their big 3 month vacation. The party included sac races, apple bopping, face painting, food and my favorite activity of the day, climbing a 30ft greased pole. It took about 6 or 7 men stacked on top of each other about 8 attempts, finally with a small boy climbing on top of everyone to reach the prize on the top of $20.
the men
the ladies
- Magic circle: I had a moment last week where I actually felt like I was doing my job as a volunteer, ie sharing a new and useful technique with a member of my community. Something to be replicated and passed on to anyone interested in innovative agriculture.
I dug a hole.
But not just any hole, a magical hole, three feet wide and two feet deep. To be filled with all organic trash from her kitchen. When the hole is full of natural goodness, we will then plant platanos around the edge, so the roots can feast. Around that we will plant guandu, which does nice things to the soil. Amongst all that we’ll plant sweet potatoes. Magic.
-So the other morning I was supposed to go to the farm with someone and she canceled, last minute. This happens a lot and it got me down. So I wandered around town. I visited some houses and the lord rained down upon me many gifts. Here, in one single day, is what members of my community gifted me in no particular order. Some corn bollo with chicken neck, a cup of coffee, a cup of hot chocolate, a huge bowl of rice with 2 fresh river shrimp caught just for me, a coke, nanci ice cream, a bowl of rice, chicken and name, a great deal on two mochillas, a free taxi ride and a beer. I also stayed for about 2+hours visiting in 3 different houses. In one they showed me how to make Johnny cakes. In another we played cards. In another I was given a reaffirming talk about the difficulty of getting things done in this community making me feel better that it’s not just me. I went to bed belly stuffed and feeling all right about life again. Just a little glimpse into how awesome the people in my community are, even when simultaneously frustrating.
- Now that I am settled in, folks can visit! My PC friends Oti and Katherine came for one night to give a acueduct charla. We learned how to make flow reducing discs. Only three people showed. So it goes. My friends Lee and Josh came another night. We were going to give our first escuela de campo on grafting, which I was pretty excited about. But it rained. And when it rains here, nothing gets done, so it was cancelled. This is unfortunate as it rains a lot here. However, we did make some dank breakfast burritos, with cheese and sour cream – unheard of in the campo! Delightful.
- Last month I went far into the mountains, in the Comarca Ngobe-Bugle for 4 days of Ngobe language training. It was rad. The communities in the mountains are a lot more traditional than mine, as such, I got to wear my first Nagwa( the traditional dress here), speak ngobe with the kids at home (no kids in my community speak ngobe), eat some sautéed otoe leaves and learn lots of funny new words. For example, I learned that in Ngobe Love and pain are the same word. Also heart and sad are the same word. Also, they have no word for thank you. Now think on that.
- I spent two weeks out of site in November. First came Thanksgiving in the lovely lovely mountains. A beautiful lodge in a swiss alp like setting with tons of delicious food and friends from all over the country. Woot. Then on Boquete, a yuppied out mountain town where we ate greek food, met some Spanish friends, had a foosball tournament, and went to some hot springs where we played with a spider monkey. Double woot. Then on to Las Lajas, the beach. After all this we had our first in service training, five days of talks and demonstrations Instiututo Nacional de Agricultura ( a agriculture high school). We learned some cool stuff about gardens, rice and fish tanks and got to play guitar and hang out in the dorms of the every night. It felt like going back to college. Peace Corps college.
The SAS group working on a rice tank
Our Spider Monkey friend, chillin.
Sooo, I’ll be spending Christmas in site, with some of my fave families. On Christmas eve, a ladies artisan group that I work with will be having an inauguration for an artisan house they just built, complete with a soup feast and bonfire and I'll be bringing marshmellows! Then on New Years I'm heading to Bocas island, land of tourists and shenanigans. And that is that.
Happy Holidays to all!!!
-Yesterday my community threw a party for all the kids at school, as they are starting their big 3 month vacation. The party included sac races, apple bopping, face painting, food and my favorite activity of the day, climbing a 30ft greased pole. It took about 6 or 7 men stacked on top of each other about 8 attempts, finally with a small boy climbing on top of everyone to reach the prize on the top of $20.
the men
the ladies
- Magic circle: I had a moment last week where I actually felt like I was doing my job as a volunteer, ie sharing a new and useful technique with a member of my community. Something to be replicated and passed on to anyone interested in innovative agriculture.
I dug a hole.
But not just any hole, a magical hole, three feet wide and two feet deep. To be filled with all organic trash from her kitchen. When the hole is full of natural goodness, we will then plant platanos around the edge, so the roots can feast. Around that we will plant guandu, which does nice things to the soil. Amongst all that we’ll plant sweet potatoes. Magic.
-So the other morning I was supposed to go to the farm with someone and she canceled, last minute. This happens a lot and it got me down. So I wandered around town. I visited some houses and the lord rained down upon me many gifts. Here, in one single day, is what members of my community gifted me in no particular order. Some corn bollo with chicken neck, a cup of coffee, a cup of hot chocolate, a huge bowl of rice with 2 fresh river shrimp caught just for me, a coke, nanci ice cream, a bowl of rice, chicken and name, a great deal on two mochillas, a free taxi ride and a beer. I also stayed for about 2+hours visiting in 3 different houses. In one they showed me how to make Johnny cakes. In another we played cards. In another I was given a reaffirming talk about the difficulty of getting things done in this community making me feel better that it’s not just me. I went to bed belly stuffed and feeling all right about life again. Just a little glimpse into how awesome the people in my community are, even when simultaneously frustrating.
- Now that I am settled in, folks can visit! My PC friends Oti and Katherine came for one night to give a acueduct charla. We learned how to make flow reducing discs. Only three people showed. So it goes. My friends Lee and Josh came another night. We were going to give our first escuela de campo on grafting, which I was pretty excited about. But it rained. And when it rains here, nothing gets done, so it was cancelled. This is unfortunate as it rains a lot here. However, we did make some dank breakfast burritos, with cheese and sour cream – unheard of in the campo! Delightful.
- Last month I went far into the mountains, in the Comarca Ngobe-Bugle for 4 days of Ngobe language training. It was rad. The communities in the mountains are a lot more traditional than mine, as such, I got to wear my first Nagwa( the traditional dress here), speak ngobe with the kids at home (no kids in my community speak ngobe), eat some sautéed otoe leaves and learn lots of funny new words. For example, I learned that in Ngobe Love and pain are the same word. Also heart and sad are the same word. Also, they have no word for thank you. Now think on that.
- I spent two weeks out of site in November. First came Thanksgiving in the lovely lovely mountains. A beautiful lodge in a swiss alp like setting with tons of delicious food and friends from all over the country. Woot. Then on Boquete, a yuppied out mountain town where we ate greek food, met some Spanish friends, had a foosball tournament, and went to some hot springs where we played with a spider monkey. Double woot. Then on to Las Lajas, the beach. After all this we had our first in service training, five days of talks and demonstrations Instiututo Nacional de Agricultura ( a agriculture high school). We learned some cool stuff about gardens, rice and fish tanks and got to play guitar and hang out in the dorms of the every night. It felt like going back to college. Peace Corps college.
The SAS group working on a rice tank
Our Spider Monkey friend, chillin.
Sooo, I’ll be spending Christmas in site, with some of my fave families. On Christmas eve, a ladies artisan group that I work with will be having an inauguration for an artisan house they just built, complete with a soup feast and bonfire and I'll be bringing marshmellows! Then on New Years I'm heading to Bocas island, land of tourists and shenanigans. And that is that.
Happy Holidays to all!!!
My astonishing and somewhat shattering failure as a Panamanian mother.
I wrote this about 2 weeks ago. After a day like this, sometimes all you can do is write.
I tried to meet the Panamanian mothers day challenge today, and totally failed. Not in the sense that I failed to call my mother and wish her a very special day because she is such a special mother (which I did, because she is), but more so in the sense that I failed at receiving free government handouts. These are the true symbol of a Panamanian holiday and my failure here is the final proof that I might not have the endurance and wherewithal it takes to be a Panamanian handout recipient.
The story starts yesterday when the ladies in town tell me they are going down to the ‘rancho’ to receive their free gift from the government for mother’s day. My friend Edi is leaving town at 6am and can’t go, so asks that I might take her ticket and get her free gift for her. Everyone thinks this is a great idea, including myself, and we all smile and laugh and then go to sleep with visions of free washers and stoves filling kitchens up and down the road.
But here is the thing about life; there are two worlds we live in. The one we imagine and the one that actually happens. And it just so happens that when you are living in a developing foreign country, Panama for example, the gap between the two is often surprisingly wide.
In the world that I imagine here is what this day looked like: Come 2pm (the time of said handout) I head over to Hilda’s house and we start to walk down to the rancho, which is a small outside barlike building about 3 minutes down the road. The sky is blue; a delightful breeze carries us up the road as all other mothers come out of their houses to join us in the walk. We chatter and walk, butterflies flit about and perhaps we see a sloth in a nearby tree. After waiting for various friends and walking we get there about 2:15, pleasantly early. We might have to wait 30 minutes or so for the government van to show up with its bags of free food, maybe a couple of stoves or TVs I had heard were rumored to be distributed. The bag of free stuff is pretty full and heavy so I am minorly uncomfortable under its load while walking it home. However, I am more than happy to do this for Edi and Duncan as they are two of my favorite people in town who have done innumerous kind things for me, and I have often thought to myself that if it came down to it, and they needed a place to stay, I would give them my house and go sleep in the dirt somewhere. When I get to their house, Duncan is so pleased that he offers me a few of the cans of tuna inside as well as a delicious lunch of various fried starches and meats topped off with a cup of hot chocolate and a couple of slightly lewd jokes. I’m back in my house by 3:30 with some free canned fish and a full day ahead of me to plan for the rest of the week. Mothers day success.
In the real world what actually happens is that I am stumbling, sweaty and smelly, dragging my sore feet up my front stairs at 10 o’clock at night, with not a gift to be had and with $5 less to my name. I sit in bed and wonder how I could have failed at free hand outs, especially in the name of someone I am willing to give my house to. In fact, I even ended up paying not be given something for free; an obvious lack of talent. So how did this happen?
To understand I will give you a glimpse into the day.
For starters, the day is hot. Frickin hot. Even though the event starts at 2, I am dragged along to the bus stop at 12pm to wait for the free government bus, which is yellow school bus, that picks us up around 1:30. Turns out we are going to the rancho in Almirante, not our sweet little building down the road. At this ‘rancho’ there is a huge line to get in. Did I say line? What I meant was a large mosh pit of women, more intense than at any concerts I remember, except this one has babies and small children scattered in it so you have to be a bit more careful where you throw your elbow. Everyone is sweating, pushing and passing babies over head to avoid suffocation. I decide not to struggle to get in, and kind of hang out in the background for a while until I get caught in a door directed current too strong to escape. I later discover this was my first poor choice and proof that I have much to learn in the way of handouts. Rule number 1, you have got to be a fighter.
Why? The reason there was such a clustermuck at the door is that, even though tickets had already been distributed through communities, they were handing out new tickets at the door and all the lower number tickets got the best prizes. Also, all the lower number tickets (0-300+) largely happened to be all the city folks from Almirante who were allowed in, while pretty much all the indigenous were denied door access until the 300+ number tickets. But more on that later.
I get inside at 3, after an hour in the mosh pit, completely separated and lost from my friends. I buy myself a soda and some pork rinds, the only snack to be had. ( 75 cents down) There are approximately 2,000 women, in a building about the size of your elementary school gymnasium. They are putting on a show on a miniature stage where a lady seems to be cracking jokes and then aggressively screaming for everyone to applause, though no one seems amused. This is peppered with small children doing traditional dances and women telling stories which includes them mumbling then shouting then doubling over in nervous giggles until they cannot talk anymore. And since this is Panama, there is ridiculously loud music blasting the entire time. Some people have chairs, most do not.
The one thing that I did benefit from this day were two free plates for food, which were being handed out discriminately. (that being, to the Latinos, but not so much to the ngobes.) That's right, in light of these horrible inequalities, I went back for seconds. In my waiting time, I also popped outside for a bit to buy some meat on a stick and an ice cream. ($1 down)
After 4 hours of this, the government representate shows up at 7pm. They start calling out numbers to come receive their gift, saying that there is something for everyone. They do this one by one, about 2 per minute, beginning to call out 1,948 numbers. And it is already getting dark. I start to feel weak in the knees. Both water and juice runs out, only beer to be had and the bathroom smells. I buy my friend Hilda and I a beer. ($1.30 down).
By 8pm I am swaying on my feet. My back and feet are starting to hurt. I am sweaty and thirsty. But I am resolute, I will get this gift for Eddy if it kills me. She deserves a refrigerator!! My ticket number is 567, and after a few hours of astute listening, I realize that every single "random" number in the 500s picked wins "fine Chinese sheets." aka, crap. I feel much less inspired to put in for the long haul and come 9pm I suffer my greatest defeat yet. I find my friends, and say I am going to catch a taxi home ($3 down). This goes against handout Rule #2, which is NEVER leave until you have something in hand. It is because of rule 2 that most women in my community caught the free bus home at 4am. 4am!!! The lucky ones won a cheap Styrofoam mattress. The majority of women in my community won, are you ready for this? A plate. A plastic plate. A cheap plastic plate. That's what the higher numbers won. After 14 hours of waiting, sweating and pushing, they came home with a plate and then got up at 5 or 6 to fix their kids breakfast. Happy Mothers Day!!!!
I have had many jobs in my day some good, some bad. But none can compare to the work that is receiving something for free. I cannot think of a single job I would not rather be doing, to earn the money to buy said pressure cooker, blender, mattress or cheap plastic plate instead of sitting in this crowded disaster for a day. It was a lesson in how not to thank your mother. And never again will I be so fooled by freeness.
I tried to meet the Panamanian mothers day challenge today, and totally failed. Not in the sense that I failed to call my mother and wish her a very special day because she is such a special mother (which I did, because she is), but more so in the sense that I failed at receiving free government handouts. These are the true symbol of a Panamanian holiday and my failure here is the final proof that I might not have the endurance and wherewithal it takes to be a Panamanian handout recipient.
The story starts yesterday when the ladies in town tell me they are going down to the ‘rancho’ to receive their free gift from the government for mother’s day. My friend Edi is leaving town at 6am and can’t go, so asks that I might take her ticket and get her free gift for her. Everyone thinks this is a great idea, including myself, and we all smile and laugh and then go to sleep with visions of free washers and stoves filling kitchens up and down the road.
But here is the thing about life; there are two worlds we live in. The one we imagine and the one that actually happens. And it just so happens that when you are living in a developing foreign country, Panama for example, the gap between the two is often surprisingly wide.
In the world that I imagine here is what this day looked like: Come 2pm (the time of said handout) I head over to Hilda’s house and we start to walk down to the rancho, which is a small outside barlike building about 3 minutes down the road. The sky is blue; a delightful breeze carries us up the road as all other mothers come out of their houses to join us in the walk. We chatter and walk, butterflies flit about and perhaps we see a sloth in a nearby tree. After waiting for various friends and walking we get there about 2:15, pleasantly early. We might have to wait 30 minutes or so for the government van to show up with its bags of free food, maybe a couple of stoves or TVs I had heard were rumored to be distributed. The bag of free stuff is pretty full and heavy so I am minorly uncomfortable under its load while walking it home. However, I am more than happy to do this for Edi and Duncan as they are two of my favorite people in town who have done innumerous kind things for me, and I have often thought to myself that if it came down to it, and they needed a place to stay, I would give them my house and go sleep in the dirt somewhere. When I get to their house, Duncan is so pleased that he offers me a few of the cans of tuna inside as well as a delicious lunch of various fried starches and meats topped off with a cup of hot chocolate and a couple of slightly lewd jokes. I’m back in my house by 3:30 with some free canned fish and a full day ahead of me to plan for the rest of the week. Mothers day success.
In the real world what actually happens is that I am stumbling, sweaty and smelly, dragging my sore feet up my front stairs at 10 o’clock at night, with not a gift to be had and with $5 less to my name. I sit in bed and wonder how I could have failed at free hand outs, especially in the name of someone I am willing to give my house to. In fact, I even ended up paying not be given something for free; an obvious lack of talent. So how did this happen?
To understand I will give you a glimpse into the day.
For starters, the day is hot. Frickin hot. Even though the event starts at 2, I am dragged along to the bus stop at 12pm to wait for the free government bus, which is yellow school bus, that picks us up around 1:30. Turns out we are going to the rancho in Almirante, not our sweet little building down the road. At this ‘rancho’ there is a huge line to get in. Did I say line? What I meant was a large mosh pit of women, more intense than at any concerts I remember, except this one has babies and small children scattered in it so you have to be a bit more careful where you throw your elbow. Everyone is sweating, pushing and passing babies over head to avoid suffocation. I decide not to struggle to get in, and kind of hang out in the background for a while until I get caught in a door directed current too strong to escape. I later discover this was my first poor choice and proof that I have much to learn in the way of handouts. Rule number 1, you have got to be a fighter.
Why? The reason there was such a clustermuck at the door is that, even though tickets had already been distributed through communities, they were handing out new tickets at the door and all the lower number tickets got the best prizes. Also, all the lower number tickets (0-300+) largely happened to be all the city folks from Almirante who were allowed in, while pretty much all the indigenous were denied door access until the 300+ number tickets. But more on that later.
I get inside at 3, after an hour in the mosh pit, completely separated and lost from my friends. I buy myself a soda and some pork rinds, the only snack to be had. ( 75 cents down) There are approximately 2,000 women, in a building about the size of your elementary school gymnasium. They are putting on a show on a miniature stage where a lady seems to be cracking jokes and then aggressively screaming for everyone to applause, though no one seems amused. This is peppered with small children doing traditional dances and women telling stories which includes them mumbling then shouting then doubling over in nervous giggles until they cannot talk anymore. And since this is Panama, there is ridiculously loud music blasting the entire time. Some people have chairs, most do not.
The one thing that I did benefit from this day were two free plates for food, which were being handed out discriminately. (that being, to the Latinos, but not so much to the ngobes.) That's right, in light of these horrible inequalities, I went back for seconds. In my waiting time, I also popped outside for a bit to buy some meat on a stick and an ice cream. ($1 down)
After 4 hours of this, the government representate shows up at 7pm. They start calling out numbers to come receive their gift, saying that there is something for everyone. They do this one by one, about 2 per minute, beginning to call out 1,948 numbers. And it is already getting dark. I start to feel weak in the knees. Both water and juice runs out, only beer to be had and the bathroom smells. I buy my friend Hilda and I a beer. ($1.30 down).
By 8pm I am swaying on my feet. My back and feet are starting to hurt. I am sweaty and thirsty. But I am resolute, I will get this gift for Eddy if it kills me. She deserves a refrigerator!! My ticket number is 567, and after a few hours of astute listening, I realize that every single "random" number in the 500s picked wins "fine Chinese sheets." aka, crap. I feel much less inspired to put in for the long haul and come 9pm I suffer my greatest defeat yet. I find my friends, and say I am going to catch a taxi home ($3 down). This goes against handout Rule #2, which is NEVER leave until you have something in hand. It is because of rule 2 that most women in my community caught the free bus home at 4am. 4am!!! The lucky ones won a cheap Styrofoam mattress. The majority of women in my community won, are you ready for this? A plate. A plastic plate. A cheap plastic plate. That's what the higher numbers won. After 14 hours of waiting, sweating and pushing, they came home with a plate and then got up at 5 or 6 to fix their kids breakfast. Happy Mothers Day!!!!
I have had many jobs in my day some good, some bad. But none can compare to the work that is receiving something for free. I cannot think of a single job I would not rather be doing, to earn the money to buy said pressure cooker, blender, mattress or cheap plastic plate instead of sitting in this crowded disaster for a day. It was a lesson in how not to thank your mother. And never again will I be so fooled by freeness.
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