Greetings,
Welcome to the beginning and the end of my blog.
I've always struggled to succinctly describe my service in Peace Corps, or to even convey the emotions I had felt throughout service. I admit that even this blog is an incomplete account. Though my service lasted a mere 7 months (after training), I've recorded more than a few stories.
You can find the first post here.
COVID-19
There were rumblings about COVID-19 in the media since late 2019. People were aware of it in Ladera and Lado Oeste, though it had yet to reach Panamá. I admit that I was initially skeptical about the threat of the virus. I had assumed it was just another swine flu/ebola type scare. Nevertheless, the heightened interest around the virus allowed me to begin conducting health charlas. Some people were rather ornery about the change to health promotion from the water project, but as we were waiting on CONADES, there wasn't much more that could be done.
Health Charlas
After calling a meeting, it was decided that the best course of action would be to provide separate charlas for Lado Oeste and Ladera which would be provided weekly.
Aside from the initial introductory charla whose topic was on COVID-19 and the immune system, the rest of the charlas were organized such that at least one member of the community would help me prepare and present the charla.
Planning these charlas took more time than I had previously considered. Adding to the fact that I had also been hosting small English classes, I found myself to be rather busy.
The second charla presented proved to be quite popular: hand-washing and soap making. In reality, people were interested mostly in the soap making part. One excited participant would tell me "Mi padre hacía su propio jabón. Me interesa poder hacer el mismo."
As part of the preparation phase, I met with the volunteer presenters to go through the soap making process. In the end, volunteering benefitted them by allowing them to keep their own personal soap. The only ingredients needed to make soap are: water, oil (the higher the quality, the better) and sodium hydroxide (potassium hydroxide could also work).
There was a delay come presentation time in Ladera as I had forgot a measuring cup (a metered baby's bottle) which was necessary for determining proper ingredient ratios. Thus I had to run all the way to Lado Oeste, and then all the way back which took about half an hour. Nevertheless, people were determined to see soap be made and attendance did not falter. A common question, understandably, was how long it would take the soap to dry and become usable. The answer is a few weeks, which is something of a shock. Some people were also interested in making liquid soap, which I confessed I did not know, though I considered researching it.
In Lado Oeste, much of the same situation occurred and I forgot the metered baby bottle again. This time, it only took me half a minute to retrieve it. The presenters, having taken over, allowed me to duck out for a moment so that Emelina could offer me Michilá. Once I had returned, the process of making the primordial soap was complete. It was decided that the soap would dry underneath my house until such time came that it was ready for use. I would not see the results however.
This charla would turn out to be my last. At the end of that very day, Tristan and Fé would show up at my door.
At the very least, I would later receive word that the soap developed properly and worked quite well for laundry.
Christmas Time
Christmas time arrived on a day warm like any other. In Curva del Río where electricity is readily available, some houses were decorated with festive lights.
In Lado Oeste, celebration meant going to days-long church marathons in Curva del Río in the days leading up to, and through Christmas. I assumed the same happened in Ladera as most of the people there were of the same religion.
Only a skeleton crew, so to speak, remained in Lado Oeste, keeping watch on the homes. Add to that, a storm passed through and the flooded river made crossing alternately dangerous and difficult.
Prior to Christmas time, I had begun experimenting with making flour tortillas. My first attempt at them resulted in tortilla-looking pancakes. Corn tortillas were easier to make, as one only needs Maseca (brand corn-flour), water, and a small tortilla press as well as plastic to keep the masa from sticking. Flour tortillas are more finicky requiring a good ratio of water, flour, and vegetable shortening. Add to that, they're more of a pain to roll out.
On the eve of Christmas, a family from elsewhere who was temporarily staying in Lado Oeste invited me over to eat and watch a movie. I agreed, and got to work on some tortillas as my contribution. I recall that while I was rolling out tortillas so that they would be ready to cook, Kobäre ran into the house and started playing at my feet. I was mildly annoyed at first, but then I looked down and realized he was playing with his prey.
Blood was streaked across the floor and my foot as he decapitated a mouse and began consuming the body. I quickly went to wash my feet vigorously before returning to clean up the blood left over. At the very least, Kobäre didn't leave left-overs. Now I know why no mice were stirring the night before Christmas.
Morbidity aside, my Christmas miracle came in creating an item of food that could be defined as a flour tortilla.
For those who might be interested in making flour tortillas for themselves, I used the assistance of Mely Martinez's website "México en Mi Cocina". Information on how to make flour tortillas can be found here.
While the website sets you on the path, it ultimately takes practice to start making good flour tortillas.
Anyways, I contributed these tortillas when I arrived later in the night. I was offered a plethora of "unusual" fruits such as a pear, some grapes and an apple. On top of this, they gave me rice with chicken.
On their phone, set up across from the seating on a table played the movie Falcon Rising (2014). Why that movie? No idea. But a movie is a movie.
The following morning, Christmas morning, we got more rain. I suppose it was the closest we could get to a snowy Christmas.
New Year's Eve
I had been invited over to Bernardino's home during the day in Ladera. His family had prepared a small feast and also offered gifts for the children. As for the gifts, I cannot remember if the tradition is to give gifts during this time, or if they were supposed to be given at Christmas but delayed for other reasons.
I recall feeling a little queasy after eating, but I suppressed any urge to vomit.
I was surprised when suddenly they pulled out a piñata for the kids to hit. Unlike the ones I've seen in the United States and México, these ones were filled with flour as well as candy. The result was a powdery mess all over the floors and the children who scrambled to collect the candy. It may well be that the flour is intended to be fun and/or part of tradition, but it also had the effect of marking those adults who intervened in the fray.
The event wrapped up in the afternoon. Most people, including Bernardino had plans to be elsewhere. As did I. I had been invited to spend the night with Nelly of Curva del Río. She owned a home in Ladera, and was listed as my back-up host family. However, the fact that she never got to be my host-mom didn't stop her from referring to me as monso tikwe (my son).
Come dinner time, I had to refuse food. My digestive system was not being agreeable. Then the diarrhea hit.
Remigio, Nelly's husband, suggested I may be suffering amoebas. His treatment: down a bottle of Seco (Herrerano), and clear them out. Such a thought nauseated me further, but maybe that's what the amoebas, acting in sel-preservation, had wanted me to feel.
2020 arrived when I was on the can. I would get up several times that night to visit the toilet.
The first day of 2020 I only ate some toasted bread and ended up utilizing some oral rehydration salts. A good start to a good year.
Racism
Panama, like nearly the entire world, is no stranger to racism. It holds a diverse population of Latinos, Indigenous, Asians, Blacks, and a few non-hispanic whites. While the power is held predominantly by Latinos, race still exists under the white supremacist system established since the colonial era.
While some Latinos have a superior position than other owing to lighter complexion, all at the very least share a privileged position above the indigenous people.
Below are my observations from my brief time in Panama. By no means is it a complete picture of the racial dynamics in Panama.
Stereotypes About the Indigenous
The indigenous are thought of as lazy savages, undeserving of the government aid afforded them. There also seems to be a sense that the poverty experienced by much of the indigenous community is a result of personal action (or inaction) as opposed to say, present and historical discrimination.
The "Chinos"
Not all Asian-Panamanians are of Chinese descent. Nevertheless, the Spanish language tends to refer to all Asians as "Chinos". A disproportionate amount of small-business stores are owned and staffed by Asians. So much so that "Chino" is synonymous with Mini-Supermarket. This has caused resentment among various quarters of Panamanian society, including among the indigenous.
Blacks
Panama has a large population of people of African descent. As with the rest of the Americas, blacks were brought over as slaves to provide labor. More recently in Panama's history, they arrived largely from the Caribbean to provide labor for the construction of the Panama Canal, as well as to work in the banana plantations. As such, they play the role of "immigrants stealing our jobs / driving down our wages."
Stereotypes against blacks are very similar to those in the United States. Dehumanizing language, particularly with reference to them being monkeys is commonplace, even in indigenous communities. When I pointed out to one of the youth in my assigned community how Latinos used similar language to describe the indigenous, he merely shrugged it off along the lines of "It's not true about us, but it is about [blacks]."
White flight also applies in Panama.
Personal Experience
My experience with direct racism in Panama was about equal to zero. I belonged to the primary culture and as a result I easily blended-in in urban areas.
Once I was established in an indigenous site, things were different. Outside of my assigned communities, I was met with distrust and minor hostility. They didn't use the word sulia to refer to Latinos in this region, but rather Chuy. I remember when walking down the street of Curva del Río, a woman looked back to see me and immediately called out to her daughter who had run ahead: "Ven acá! Viene chuy." A woman in Ladera initially refused to speak with me until weeks later when her sister vouched for me.
These weren't acts of racism, as racism is a system that targets marginalized groups. These acts were the result of fear. Over time, I managed to allay concerns. Not only because I was a common face in the region, but I also carried around a kra and an indigenous name. I spoke some of the language. I had proof that I was a friend.
My real brush with racism came from having the Hispanic identifier. One of the first things I was told, was that I didn't look pure American. While I overlooked the comment at the time, further commentary started to grate at me. People began asking questions about why Peace Corps placed volunteers where they did. They asked me why I was placed in their respective communities, and most tellingly, if there were ever cases where volunteers swapped communities. What they were getting at was, why did everyone get a (non-hispanic) white volunteer except us?
White people are viewed as more capable and intelligent, if not also kinder and amiable. The communities I was assigned were dedicated and organized enough to pull out all the stops in welcoming the Peace Corps staff during the site selection process. That the Peace Corps chose to send a Latino to their community was viewed as something of a snub.
Even as late as after in-service training (IST, yet discussed), when I would show them pictures of my (Latino) host family there, I was told "Se parecen a tu familia. El Cuerpo de Paz debería haberte envoyado allí."
I did what I could to ignore these comments and try to prove my worth. I studied Ngäbere using all materials available to me, I stayed active with project work, and I got out and about in the community as often as possible. The commentary persisted to my dismay, but it helped to remember that a great many people did truly appreciated my presence.
When I arrived at the home of Cutilio and Juliana, one of the first things I noticed were the animals. Along with their dog and brooding hen was a cat with two kittens.
The cat had no name and was just referred to as minchi, Ngäbere for cat. A neighbor, Margarita, once had a big orange cat named Ilario. Apparently however, he took to living in the hills. Nevertheless, he would occasionally come by the home of Juliana to pay a visit to his feline friend. I only ever laid eyes on him once.
According to Cutilio, they once had a major mouse problem which prompted them to get a cat. The mice have since disappeared. However, this cat hunts more than just rodents. Lizards are the most abundant prey, but she also hunts bats and Juliana claims to have seen this cat fight and kill a snake. She also ate half a loaf of bread I left unattended.
In Ngäbere there is a word for someone who hunts all manner of animals with excellency, brai. I wished to refer to the cat by this name, but it never really caught on. She just remained minchi.
Brai's kittens, one male and one female, would play with each other while she went out to hunt. They were good friends and often I found them curled up and sleeping on top of each other. However, Cutilio's sister once came to visit and took the female kitten leaving only the male. In the neighborhood, there weren't any other cats as cats are unpopular.
I was promised the remaining kitten so that my new house would be protected from rodents, which are attracted to penca (thatch).
So I worked to gain the trust of this kitten which had gotten big enough to follow its mom into the house (to Brai's dismay). I would feed both cats and in that way, the young kitten came to be comfortable with my presence and even allowed me to pet him. What I would notice though is that he would finish the food I gave him quickly and then steal the food I gave his mom from right out of her mouth. She would respond with cat slaps to no avail. For this reason, I named him Kobäre (Selfish).
After settling into my new rented home, I took Kobäre and relieved Brai of the ingrate. Prior to my evacuation, I would witness him kill 1 mouse, 1 bat, and a few lizards.
Gallery
