What did you do the last 2nd of July? G85 WASH, we celebrated the Fourth of July. The staff had a cultural activity space set aside for us to have a brief celebration of the United States' Independence day and an opportunity to share American culture with the members of the training community. Why on the Second of July? Well the G83 cohort arrived in country on the Fourth of July, and that same day was set for us to go out and visit pre-assigned volunteers.
We organized the activities the day before. The history team (which would include me) would present on, as the name suggests, the history of the holiday. Specifically, the revolution, the formation of the United States with the Declaration of Independence, the Treaty of Paris, the failure of the Articles of Confederation, the adoption of the current constitution, the legal recognition of the holiday, and the celebration today. A poster was drawn (by a different group) beforehand which presented facts about the holiday today. They made sure to include some dark facts as well, such as how it's the deadliest holiday.
For activities, we could do everything but cook a traditional meal (i.e. grill hotdogs). The activities crew included the dance "Cotton-Eyed Joe" to demonstrate and teach. Afterwards, we had an egg toss and a three-legged race (staff vs. volunteers). Althroughout, United Statesian music was played.
We intended to have a variety of stations for people to visit, but it seems we misunderstood since only the staff showed up, though most of them are Panamanian. As a result, we did each activity one after another until it was time for lunch. During our gaming and music-ing, a few community members did stop by to observe (but too shy to participate), so maybe the culture sharing wasn't a total loss.
Note: This blog post intended to have a few videos of the event, but they have since been lost.
Friday, December 27, 2019
Friday, December 20, 2019
Panamá and its indigenous peoples: Ngäbe Culture and History
Panamá is remarkable for its system of Comarcas: semi-autonomous indigenous areas that also have representation in the legislature. As of right now, Panamá has five comarcas: Ngäbe-Buglé, Kuna Yala, Madugandí, Emberá-Wounaan, and Wargandí. The creation of a sixth: Naso/Teribe, is currently underway. The majority of Peace Corps Panamá indigenous sites are Ngäbe communities, with a few in Buglé or Naso communities. With the Darién closed to future volunteers due to the increased security risk, my group will not be serving Wounaan or Emberá communities.
Our first taste of Ngäbe culture was presented during a cultural event known as the "tour de provincias". That is, staff members and a couple of current volunteers presented on the four provinces our group of G85 would be working in: Bocas del Toro, Coclé, the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé, and Veraguas. At the Bocas del Toro station, we learned of the famous "Picante de Bocas" which I was promised was spicier than Mexican salsa (it wasn't). It still did have spice however, which I rate as mild. But I digress.
Arcadio, one of our language and culture facilitators, hails from the province of Bocas del Toro and is of Ngäbe descent. He was responsible for presenting the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. There we drank unsweetened cacao from a tatuma (bowl created from a calabaza fruit) and learned of its cultural importance. Cacao is believed to be medicinal, and when prepared by certain individuals, such as the eldest sibling, youngest sibling, or a twin, it contains much greater potency. It is also believed to be disliked by evil spirits, so it is wise to prove one is not possessed by asking for seconds.
What follows is everything I've learned since. Ngäbe, in their language of Ngäbere, translates to person. Originally located along the coasts of western Panamá, the Ngäbe retreated into the cordilleras during the Spanish Conquest and the majority can be found in the hills that make up the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. The conflict is the reason why the word for a Spanish or Latino person is "Sulia", which means cockroach. The word for Spanish, "Suliare", can thus be translated as "language of the cockroach". The Ngäbe were eventually conquered and the majority converted to Catholicism. This history however, made the Ngäbe more susceptible to protestant missionaries in the mid-nineteen hundreds such that the majority of Ngäbe today practice a protestant religion, though some practice a religion called "Mama Tata" created as a reaction to their history of foreign influence.
One of the most distinctive identifiers of a Ngäbe woman is the nagua. This was originally a plain puritanical dress brought by missionaries. I can't say exactly when, but as consciousness rose and the Ngäbe became vested in reclaiming their culture, the plain dresses were transformed to the colorful naguas that are seen today. Ngäbe clothing tends to be colorful as it is representative of how colorful nature is. The "dientes" or triangle patterns on the clothing are said to represent the mountains and rivers, though I've had someone tell me that they don't actually represent anything, that they're just a traditional pattern.
In Ngäbe communities, most people communicate with one another in Ngäbere. However, as communities become more connected with the larger cities, Spanish ends up taking higher precedence than Ngäbere. A typical Ngäbe community in the Comarca would consist of elderly people who are fluent in Ngäbere, but who may only have limited proficiency in Spanish. The younger adults would be fluent in both Spanish and Ngäbere, but their children would most often only be fluent in Spanish. The use of Ngäbe names outside of a nickname is rare and in later generations there's a preference to be called by their official latino name. Part of the reason why Ngäbere and other indigenous languages are being lost is because of the shame felt both for being indigenous and for speaking improper Spanish.
For my part, I like to share the fact that my maternal grandmother was indigenous as well. I talk about how she was Nahua, the primary culture of the Aztec Empire, but that she knew only very little Nahuatl because her mother was too ashamed to teach it to her. As such, my mother doesn't know the language, nor do I. Ngäbe people can relate to this story and agree that it is a tragedy that an important aspect of their culture, their language, is fading away. I do my best to learn and speak in Ngäbere as a means to show interest and support for their culture. I also always share my indigenous name (volunteers get them too) when I introduce myself, even if it means that people won't remember my official name.
Our first taste of Ngäbe culture was presented during a cultural event known as the "tour de provincias". That is, staff members and a couple of current volunteers presented on the four provinces our group of G85 would be working in: Bocas del Toro, Coclé, the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé, and Veraguas. At the Bocas del Toro station, we learned of the famous "Picante de Bocas" which I was promised was spicier than Mexican salsa (it wasn't). It still did have spice however, which I rate as mild. But I digress.
Arcadio, one of our language and culture facilitators, hails from the province of Bocas del Toro and is of Ngäbe descent. He was responsible for presenting the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. There we drank unsweetened cacao from a tatuma (bowl created from a calabaza fruit) and learned of its cultural importance. Cacao is believed to be medicinal, and when prepared by certain individuals, such as the eldest sibling, youngest sibling, or a twin, it contains much greater potency. It is also believed to be disliked by evil spirits, so it is wise to prove one is not possessed by asking for seconds.
What follows is everything I've learned since. Ngäbe, in their language of Ngäbere, translates to person. Originally located along the coasts of western Panamá, the Ngäbe retreated into the cordilleras during the Spanish Conquest and the majority can be found in the hills that make up the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. The conflict is the reason why the word for a Spanish or Latino person is "Sulia", which means cockroach. The word for Spanish, "Suliare", can thus be translated as "language of the cockroach". The Ngäbe were eventually conquered and the majority converted to Catholicism. This history however, made the Ngäbe more susceptible to protestant missionaries in the mid-nineteen hundreds such that the majority of Ngäbe today practice a protestant religion, though some practice a religion called "Mama Tata" created as a reaction to their history of foreign influence.
One of the most distinctive identifiers of a Ngäbe woman is the nagua. This was originally a plain puritanical dress brought by missionaries. I can't say exactly when, but as consciousness rose and the Ngäbe became vested in reclaiming their culture, the plain dresses were transformed to the colorful naguas that are seen today. Ngäbe clothing tends to be colorful as it is representative of how colorful nature is. The "dientes" or triangle patterns on the clothing are said to represent the mountains and rivers, though I've had someone tell me that they don't actually represent anything, that they're just a traditional pattern.
In Ngäbe communities, most people communicate with one another in Ngäbere. However, as communities become more connected with the larger cities, Spanish ends up taking higher precedence than Ngäbere. A typical Ngäbe community in the Comarca would consist of elderly people who are fluent in Ngäbere, but who may only have limited proficiency in Spanish. The younger adults would be fluent in both Spanish and Ngäbere, but their children would most often only be fluent in Spanish. The use of Ngäbe names outside of a nickname is rare and in later generations there's a preference to be called by their official latino name. Part of the reason why Ngäbere and other indigenous languages are being lost is because of the shame felt both for being indigenous and for speaking improper Spanish.
For my part, I like to share the fact that my maternal grandmother was indigenous as well. I talk about how she was Nahua, the primary culture of the Aztec Empire, but that she knew only very little Nahuatl because her mother was too ashamed to teach it to her. As such, my mother doesn't know the language, nor do I. Ngäbe people can relate to this story and agree that it is a tragedy that an important aspect of their culture, their language, is fading away. I do my best to learn and speak in Ngäbere as a means to show interest and support for their culture. I also always share my indigenous name (volunteers get them too) when I introduce myself, even if it means that people won't remember my official name.
Friday, December 13, 2019
A typical day in training (June 23, 2019 - August 12, 2019)
My new life in training took some getting used to, but eventually routines were established that were largely followed until the last day of training. This post is dedicated to describing how some typical days went during PST.
Sundays
Sunday mornings were my favorite mornings. I'd get up late (7:00a), recover a mango, and greet my host grandmother, "Mama" Rita. Some time later, host-family relatives arrive with bread and my host mother, Maritza, brings out the cream of corn (served in cups) and fried eggs. The rest of the morning would be devoted to chores. For my part, my host mom was opposed to me washing the dishes, sweeping, or performing any type of house-work. For the 2nd and 3rd Sunday of my stay, I was allowed to harvest nance fruit off the ground for use in chicha and pesada. Since the tree only fruits for a month out of the year however, this chore ceased to exist. As such, I usually spent the time after breakfast watching TV with Mama Rita.
After eating lunch, which according to my Sunday records consisted of either spaghetti with chicken on top of rice, or lentils and chicken on top of rice, I would head out to play some sort of sport with the other trainees/aspirantes. That is, ultimate frisbee or volleyball. Of course, some Sundays there would be no games as many of the trainees were too... tired, from the previous Saturday.
After the games, I'd usually return home and spend the rest of my time with my host family, watching TV and eating dinner. Dinner remained uninfluenced by the day of the week, as my host mom always made it at home. It almost always included rice and some type of meat (fish, beef, pork, chicken), and usually some sort of veggies (typically lettuce, tomato, and cucumber). Lentils were a common occurrence in dinners as well. Usually I would also get some chicha to drink, or maybe some soda. As with every day, unless there was some sort of party we were attending, the family locked up the house at 9:00p and proceeded to bed. Usually before bed however, one of us would have to awkwardly remind the other about the weekly rent that had to be paid, and perform the transaction before saying "hasta manana".
Weekdays
I'd get up at 6:35a or earlier and take a cold shower. My host mother was almost always at work at the fonda at least an hour before I woke up, and often my host father would be gone as well. After getting dressed, I'd collect a mango (at least for the first few weeks while the tree gave fruit), sit with Mama Rita and think about the day ahead. After a good while, I'd say my farewell and proceed to the fonda for breakfast. Breakfast would consist of a meat (pollo frito o guisado, bolita de carne, salchicha) and 2, in any combination, of an hojaldre, empenada and/or tortilla. Drink would consist of a chicha de maracuya, piña, nance, o avena. On rare occassions (twice) I received a pomegranite chicha. I usually ate my breakfast with another trainee, Nikki, though she tended to arrive late.
For language class days, we'd have three and a half hours of instruction. During breaks, my class would usually head to one of the local stores to buy snacks. After class, we had a one-hour lunch break. In my case, I immediately went to the fonda to eat either sancocho (a stew of chicken or beef, and assorted veggies with a side of rice) or a plate of lentils, rice, fried chicken (or pork), salad (covered in a generous amount of sour cream), and a small piece of fried plantain. Sometimes I'd eat with Nikki, but she tended to arrive after I had finished and left.
The afternoon sessions were referred to as technical sessions. These were mostly lectures ranging from behavior change, to latrines, to HIV, and more. Occassionally we would get to do some hands on activities, such as the concrete lab where we made a concrete lid. A few afternoon sessions, most of which occurred during the first few weeks, were set aside for cultural activities. Whether that be cutting fruit, learning about the different provinces where we'd serve, or presenting history, both United Statesian and Panamanian. In the latter weeks, we'd await the arrival of the "pan-man" after technical sessions to buy pastries from his unmarked white van.
The last part of the day I'd spend with my host family, eating dinner and watching TV in Mama Rita's patio. The TV channel was always on Canal 13 (Telemetro), and during the weekdays from 8:00p - 9:00p ran the comedic series "El Man Es German". A Colombian TV show which, if the ads are to be believed, is the most popular in Panamá. The TV series that followed was "Jesus: En Sus Ultimos Capitulos" which I'd hear coming from the room of the neighbor who shared my bedroom wall.
Saturdays
Saturdays played out like Sundays, except breakfast was at the fonda and trainees tended to use this day to travel out of the community. Usually this would be the nearest major town to us from which we could purchase supplies (such as for the upcoming volunteer visit, or tech week) or acquire haircuts (our community only had a barber, so he only cut men's hair). Often times though, trainees would head out to Panamá city to see the sites, buy some gourmet cookies, and hang out at bars. I myself ventured out a couple of Saturdays (stories to be posted), but I largely stayed back in the community, following the Sunday procedure listed above.
Sundays
Sunday mornings were my favorite mornings. I'd get up late (7:00a), recover a mango, and greet my host grandmother, "Mama" Rita. Some time later, host-family relatives arrive with bread and my host mother, Maritza, brings out the cream of corn (served in cups) and fried eggs. The rest of the morning would be devoted to chores. For my part, my host mom was opposed to me washing the dishes, sweeping, or performing any type of house-work. For the 2nd and 3rd Sunday of my stay, I was allowed to harvest nance fruit off the ground for use in chicha and pesada. Since the tree only fruits for a month out of the year however, this chore ceased to exist. As such, I usually spent the time after breakfast watching TV with Mama Rita.
After eating lunch, which according to my Sunday records consisted of either spaghetti with chicken on top of rice, or lentils and chicken on top of rice, I would head out to play some sort of sport with the other trainees/aspirantes. That is, ultimate frisbee or volleyball. Of course, some Sundays there would be no games as many of the trainees were too... tired, from the previous Saturday.
After the games, I'd usually return home and spend the rest of my time with my host family, watching TV and eating dinner. Dinner remained uninfluenced by the day of the week, as my host mom always made it at home. It almost always included rice and some type of meat (fish, beef, pork, chicken), and usually some sort of veggies (typically lettuce, tomato, and cucumber). Lentils were a common occurrence in dinners as well. Usually I would also get some chicha to drink, or maybe some soda. As with every day, unless there was some sort of party we were attending, the family locked up the house at 9:00p and proceeded to bed. Usually before bed however, one of us would have to awkwardly remind the other about the weekly rent that had to be paid, and perform the transaction before saying "hasta manana".
Weekdays
I'd get up at 6:35a or earlier and take a cold shower. My host mother was almost always at work at the fonda at least an hour before I woke up, and often my host father would be gone as well. After getting dressed, I'd collect a mango (at least for the first few weeks while the tree gave fruit), sit with Mama Rita and think about the day ahead. After a good while, I'd say my farewell and proceed to the fonda for breakfast. Breakfast would consist of a meat (pollo frito o guisado, bolita de carne, salchicha) and 2, in any combination, of an hojaldre, empenada and/or tortilla. Drink would consist of a chicha de maracuya, piña, nance, o avena. On rare occassions (twice) I received a pomegranite chicha. I usually ate my breakfast with another trainee, Nikki, though she tended to arrive late.
Peeling a mango
Photo credit: "Mama" Rita Ramos
From there, we would either board the bus to Panamá or go to our language classes. At Panamá, we would attend sessions on policies from the various staff sectors (security, medical, etc.), maybe do some paperwork or get a vaccine, and perform some sort of group activity around the topics covered. For lunch, we'd head out to a plaza in order to buy a meal at the various kiosks which offered pizza, empanadas, hamburgers, green smoothies, and more. The nearby grocery store was a popular destination for trainees looking to buy things unavailable in the community like shampoo or candy bars. We'd then go back for more sessions until 6:00p or so. Office days meant we returned past dinner time at our host families' home, but they'd always have our dinners set aside.Photo credit: "Mama" Rita Ramos
For language class days, we'd have three and a half hours of instruction. During breaks, my class would usually head to one of the local stores to buy snacks. After class, we had a one-hour lunch break. In my case, I immediately went to the fonda to eat either sancocho (a stew of chicken or beef, and assorted veggies with a side of rice) or a plate of lentils, rice, fried chicken (or pork), salad (covered in a generous amount of sour cream), and a small piece of fried plantain. Sometimes I'd eat with Nikki, but she tended to arrive after I had finished and left.
The afternoon sessions were referred to as technical sessions. These were mostly lectures ranging from behavior change, to latrines, to HIV, and more. Occassionally we would get to do some hands on activities, such as the concrete lab where we made a concrete lid. A few afternoon sessions, most of which occurred during the first few weeks, were set aside for cultural activities. Whether that be cutting fruit, learning about the different provinces where we'd serve, or presenting history, both United Statesian and Panamanian. In the latter weeks, we'd await the arrival of the "pan-man" after technical sessions to buy pastries from his unmarked white van.
The last part of the day I'd spend with my host family, eating dinner and watching TV in Mama Rita's patio. The TV channel was always on Canal 13 (Telemetro), and during the weekdays from 8:00p - 9:00p ran the comedic series "El Man Es German". A Colombian TV show which, if the ads are to be believed, is the most popular in Panamá. The TV series that followed was "Jesus: En Sus Ultimos Capitulos" which I'd hear coming from the room of the neighbor who shared my bedroom wall.
Saturdays
Saturdays played out like Sundays, except breakfast was at the fonda and trainees tended to use this day to travel out of the community. Usually this would be the nearest major town to us from which we could purchase supplies (such as for the upcoming volunteer visit, or tech week) or acquire haircuts (our community only had a barber, so he only cut men's hair). Often times though, trainees would head out to Panamá city to see the sites, buy some gourmet cookies, and hang out at bars. I myself ventured out a couple of Saturdays (stories to be posted), but I largely stayed back in the community, following the Sunday procedure listed above.
Friday, December 6, 2019
A trip to Panamá (June 22, 2019)
A street in Panamá
Anyways, one day we arranged ourselves into groups to prepare for a scavenger hunt of sorts into the city. The purpose of the assignment was to familiarize ourselves with the public transportation system and to get to know the city generally, but more specifically, visit important landmarks; such as the clinics Peace Corps medical may send us to, a hostel that offers volunteers a discount, an artesania market where you can find polleras, and so on.
Our first course of action was to interrogate our host families on how to get from the training community to the city, as we had previously only left on private transportation. We then planned our departure and regrouped the following morning to find any bus/busito/van/chiva heading to the interamericana (Pan-American Highway). We eventually found a van with available seating to take us there where we then waited for an infamous diablo rojo.
The diablo rojos are public buses that drive routes throughout the provinces of Panamá and Panamá Oeste, though they once drove routes throughout the entire country. They are converted school buses that are easily identifiable by their graffiti'd exteriors. The buses are renowned for having conductors that drive maniacally, and previously were known to blast reggae music before a law passed prohibiting such excessive noise. Due to the increasing cost of maintaining the buses however, the diablo rojos are being phased out in favor of busitos. If you find yourself in Panamá soon, you may as well take a ride in one before they're gone.
Unlike other modes of transportation in Panamá, the diablo rojos are not air conditioned, but they are also cheaper compared to, say, a busito ($0.90 as opposed to $1.50). If all the windows are pulled down, the forced ventilation is sufficient to keep the temperature at reasonable levels. Future Me would find himself in a diablo rojo with all the windows up as people seem to find the heat more tolerable than being splashed by rain. Regardless, we arrived to the Albrook bus terminal over an hour later.
The next step was to acquire metro cards (if not acquired the last time we were here) so that we could travel around the city. For those interested, metro cards can be purchased for 3 dollars at the various machines around the Albrook terminal mall area and must be loaded with dollars. The metro bus fare is $0.25 and the subway fare is $0.35. We started with the bus to visit the clinic and took note of the sign color, black and green. Each location we were to visit had a question or two we would need to answer as a form of verification when our tour was complete.
We later found our way to a certain hostel where we toured the area and learned about the discount offered to Peace Corps volunteers (verified by presenting our Peace Corps IDs). We ran into Shellee, a third-year volunteer going for a second third-year (fourth year), who we assumed was spying for the staff. She claimed she wasn't, but I've yet to find any proof confirming or denying my suspicions.
Our group's tour came to an end at a mini-supermarket which sold ice-cream cones at what I believe was $2.00. We decided to find some place to lunch before finding our way back. We settled on a Mexican restaurant that happened to be nearby, which turned out to be the best course of action. It is at this location that I actually encountered something spicy. See, here in Panamá, spice isn't on the menu. In fact, the "picante" salsa they have here is really just 99.97% vinegar. So, reuniting with my good friend Green Salsa was a real treat. I even took some to go.
Usually the phone eats first, but I couldn't
help eating at least one quesadilla.
On our way back, we decided we would try the metro train. There was supposed to be one fairly close to us, but we ended up lost along the way, and the directions we received sent us to a different station that was further away. Despite the inconvenience, it provided an opportunity to see more of the city and we did eventually make it to the metro. The metro train is fairly new, having been inaugurated in 2014, and was an efficient way to travel back to the Albrook terminal. We were still ahead of schedule, so we decided to check out some of the shops around the mall. I didn't buy anything, and I never did (aside from my host dad's shirt) for a couple of reasons. One, I'm living solely off the Peace Corps budget. Two, I'm really cheap.
Before departing to take public transportation back to our site, we met with the Safety & Security manager who verified our return and took a group photo with us. The way back involved an air conditioned ($1.50) bus that travelled relatively slow such that we almost arrived late to our communities. In fact, another group departed a half-hour after us and arrived ahead of us by five minutes. Regardless, our last step was to call the Safety manager to confirm our arrival back to site and to answer the scavenger hunt questions. Since about 8 other groups were trying to call at the same time however, we were put on hold for a good long while. So we all just hung out at the front yard of one of our group member's host family.
Eventually our turn came up, and the security manager called every group member up to answer a couple of the questions. She was particularly impressed that I referred to her in the "usted" form as volunteers and trainees tend to fall back on the more familiar "tu" form. Without any problems, we completed the interrogation and the group parted ways towards our respective host families. At this point, we were officially allowed to travel out of our communities as we pleased on any of our free days. So long as we respected the 9:00p curfew...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
By Week 6 of training, the staff had already figured out who was going where for site placement. But, they would not tell us our placements ... -
March 16th, 12:01 am I was awoken by the voice of a fellow volunteer coming from outside my door. After escaping from my mosquito net, I s...
-
Greetings, Welcome to the beginning and the end of my blog. I've always struggled to succinctly describe my service in Peace Corps, or t...