The words in Ngäbere are to be read in the same manner one would read Spanish. The exceptions being the nasal vowels (ä, ö, ü) and "t"s which sound closer to a "d" when in the middle of the word, and "k"s which sound closer to a g when in the middle of a word. As an example, dekä would sound something like deh-gaw.
Nasal vowels:
ä = awe
ö = oo (as in look)
ü = u (as in blue, but with a lengthier pronunciation)
Some basic vocabulary:
Köbö kuin = Good dayÑan Törö = No dream (used as a greeting in Bocas del Toro and the Ñö Kribo region of the Comarca)
Köbö kuin dekä/dere/de(u) = Good morning/afternoon/evening
Ñan Törö dekä/dere/de(u) = Good morning/afternoon/evening
Ñan Törö dekä/dere/de(u) = Good morning/afternoon/evening
Jatuaita = See you
Ñänä = Sun
Ngebere = Left
Ruen = Right
Nitre = People
Chitre = Children (Note the suffix -tre which is used to pluralize people)
Meye = Mother
Rün = Father
Chitre = Children (Note the suffix -tre which is used to pluralize people)
Meye = Mother
Rün = Father
Kwi = Chicken
Rö = Iguana
Gwä = Fish
Nukro = Dog
Minchi = Cat
Nukro = Dog
Minchi = Cat
Mä kä ño? = What's your name?
Ti kä... = My name is...
Nüne = To live
Kwete = To eat
Mrö = Banana, food
I liked to think that I had a decent grasp on basic vocabulary after the first week and was ready to practice with the host family I would receive. Tech week is hosted by a volunteer from the previous group who has been to site for a year and who has applied to host trainees on the basis of having project work underway. Our presence has the dual purpose of lending a hand to the ongoing projects, while also giving us hands-on experience for projects we might eventually engage in once we're working in our own sites.
After a journey, we arrived at the casa comunal to hear words from the leaders of the community. First in Ngäbere, then in Spanish. We were given the opportunity to present ourselves, and I managed to complete my introduction entirely in Ngäbere using what I had learned the prior week. It went: Köbö kuin dere. Ti kä Claudio suliare aune Tikäni ngäbere. Ti jatötikani ingeniería ambiental aune ti kite san diegokri californiatei. (Translation: Good afternoon. My name is Claudio in Spanish and Tikäni in Ngäbere. I studied environmental engineering and I come from San Diego in California.)
Given the large amount of trainees, we had to be grouped together for our host family stays. I was with two other trainees and was staying in the home of a woman named Tereza. She was quite shy to talk to us, so our initial conversations were carried out with her nephew and niece as we took in the stunning view from aside the home.
We were told that because the water hadn't been running for a while, there wasn't any stored for bathing. As such, Tereza's nephew Romel guided us down to a stream where we could take turns bathing. I packed light, so I didn't bring a towel. I mean, I could've brought a towel, but I forgot. I ended up drying the natural way. Later nights, we were informed ñö nurate, or that the water arrived, allowing us to bathe in the bathing area that was located within the latrine house.
After dinner and a brief conversation, the two other trainees and I retired into the concrete house. It wasn't lost on me that our host family had evacuated their own home to make space for us, sleeping instead in the outdoor, partially enclosed, kitchen area that I suspect is typically used for family visits. We invited the family to join us inside for cards, but they politely refused. We played a game of cribbage before going to sleep.
As I mentioned before, I packed light. So light in fact that I didn't bring a sleeping pad, nor a blanket. It's a tropical country, you can survive without a blanket I thought. At least I had a bed frame to sleep on, and sleeping on a hard surface is supposed to be good for your back. So I rolled up one of my spare pants and used it to support my neck and tried to pretend it wasn't a little chilly. As the fog rolled in and night grew, it became harder to pretend. Keeping my clothes on, including the socks, and stuffing my arms in my shirt provided little relief. Fortunately, Tereza's niece came in and gave us all a sheet for additional warmth. It was sufficient to provide the bare minimal warmth to fall asleep for an hour or two at a time.
I wasn't accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces. It would be accurate to say I was slightly uncomfortable. The hard surface also provided little insulation, and the creaky nature meant any movement on my part had the potential of bothering my sleeping cohabitants. I found I would get up to pee about three or four times in the night. Not so much because I needed to go, but because I needed a break from sleeping. If at that particular time the sky was clear however, I saw a grand abundance of stars that really made it all worth it. Daylight would eventually come, and I never found any reason to linger in bed. Despite my sleeping difficulties, I never found myself to be tired that entire week. I even managed to get out on a run before daylight.
The first day, everyone was taken on a tour of the aqueduct, ending at the water storage tank. From there we began work on excavating a water source to build a new "toma" (water-intake) and also doing sediment clean out and some tube repairs. At the water storage tank, community members set up a fire and prepared lunch. I had forgotten to bring my bowl, so my food ended up being served in my empty liter bottle. The lunch rains made all the trails extremely slippery, which made traversing the hilly terrain very fun. This meant surfing downhill and grasping whatever plant matter nearby for traction when climbing up.
We all regrouped at the casa comunal and prepared for a charla (talk/presentation) that was to be presented as a team to the school the next day. We had previously planned this charla back in our training communities so all that remained was to make posters and finalize details.
After presenting our trash management charla at the school, the remaining days were spent working. Whether that was on the rain-catchment, a latrine slab, or demonstrating the construction of a "plubo" (pluma + qubo). At one point we had a session on thermoforming, that is manipulating PVC pipe via heat to re-connect joints after repairs, or to make flow discs (pressure controllers). One work session was set aside to pasear (take a walk/make visits) in which we visited various houses just to chat. This is actually an important skill as much of our time in site involves going out to meet or visit the various people in our communities to develop or maintain relationships. One woman was sewing on a hand-crank machine and taught us the basics. Another showed us various patterns of kra (chacara) they had made. The people were very generous, offering us food and drink, as well as gifting on occasion naguas and kras.
Before we parted for our host-family's homes at the end of each workday, we were given a tasks to find out something about the community or some of the local beliefs. These end of the day queries proved useful for conversational topics when the talking died down. So that night, my other two companions retired somewhat early. I initially went inside the concrete house too but decided that since I only have one week here, I should spend it well with our generous host family. These late night chats were and still remain one of the highlights of my Peace Corps experience.
Perhaps it was because I was alone or perhaps because she had grown more comfortable with my presence, but Tereza began to speak to me some during this time. She admitted to me that she was somewhat shy to speak because she doesn't speak Spanish that well. I told her it was fine since I was trying to study Ngäbere anyways and Romel could translate between us. And so it was that we talked, and I learned.
I learned new Ngäbere words and better pronunciation. I learned about Romel and his time studying abroad in Pennsylvania. How he had never experienced winter like the winter there. He told me that as soon as he stepped outside, his nose began to bleed. He was a student of English and asked that I lend my expertise to answer some of his questions. Most vividly, I recall him pulling out the lyrics of what he claimed to be his favorite song in English. He wanted me to help him finish the translation as he had become stuck on some verses. I happily helped him out, singing parts of the song as we went along. When that was through, we discussed the significance of the lyrics. His favorite song turned out to be "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran.
It was also during these nights that the family told me about Ngäbe beliefs. First we began with chogalis and Tuli Vieja. Chogalis are evil spirits from ancient times whose presence create a stiffening chill. They are said to resemble children or monkeys and they occasionally possess individuals to make them do bad things. It was also said that some Ngäbe would make pacts with the chogalis. To combat them, the Ngäbe would ritually consume cacao which is said to be strongly disliked by the spirits. To dislike cacao is a sign that someone was possessed. Such a person would go through a ritual cleansing involving the consumption of a few bowls of cacao to drive away the spirit(s) from the individual. Today however, they informed me that chogalies are seldom seen as they've been driven away thanks to the word of god. This is fortunate as cacao is hard found on the south side of the Comarca.
Moving onto to Tuli Vieja, this is a spirit that supposedly takes the form of a young woman. She is said to appear by the river at night, especially during rain, where she may be heard crying. Upon approaching her, she would reveal herself as a sinister old woman. This is usually enough to scare someone away, but anyone who thinks them self brave enough to face her would never return. This actually isn't a Ngäbe belief, but a myth that can be heard all over Panama, including Latino communities. There is a running joke that if a man is single and/or seemingly disinterested in women, it's because he's with Tuli Vieja. This prompted Tereza to ask if I was in any sort of relationship, to which I said I wasn't. She counseled me that if I fail to find a Ngäbe woman, Tuli Vieja was always an option. She ended by asking if I would ever be willing to enter a relationship with Tuli Vieja, to which I replied that I didn't know her and would need to figure it out over a nice dinner and conversation. This caused much laughter.
Another of our end-of-the-day conversational tasks was to ask about dreams. In Ngäbe belief, dreams have a real world meaning, and can be a predictor of future events. However, dreams can't be interpreted directly as there's a sort of method to the dream interpreting madness. Many things in dreams signify something opposite in reality. For example, people in dreams represent animals in real life, and animals represent people (or at least, their spirit forms). One dream that drives fear into one's heart is that involving a woman. Women are said to represent snakes in real life, and if one were to touch you in a dream, it means that there's a high probability that a snake will bite you if you decide to go work. As such, Tereza warned me that if I ever dream of a woman, I should not leave my bed that day.
Other dream symbolism is as follows: an elevated, choppy river is said to represent upcoming problems. Such problems could include diarrhea :). An animal attacking you is said to represent an upcoming encounter with an aggressive individual. The presence of animals represent future (within a day or two) encounters with individuals whose character depends on the animal. Good individuals are represented by animals that are considered harmless like rats, lowland paca, avians, deer, and cows. Bad individuals may be represented by horses, bulls, or tigers. The appearance of numbers are a sign of good fortune, and are highly likely to appear in the lottery. If given enough numbers, and if someone interprets the dream well enough to determine their order, one could hypothetically purchase a winning ticket.
One night we discussed Ngäbere names. I confirmed that most Ngäbe names are just names and don't necessarily mean anything else. Ngäbe traditionally took the name of the town they're from as surnames. Just as Ngäbe adopted Spanish names, so too did their towns take on Spanish names. Often times, the Spanish name is a translation of the name of the town. But this isn't always the case. I asked the family if any of them had a Ngäbe name, to which they replied they didn't. I was most surprised that Tereza didn't as it was most common for members of the older generation to have one. In Ngäbere communities that practice "balseria", males may have a name that is utilized solely for the event. To call someone by their balseria name is to challenge them. Outside of the event, this name is also used to challenge someone to a fist-fight, typically while inebriated. In this community, volunteer Chutä had the balseria name Koida, though volunteers are prohibited from participating in balseria.
It's hard to say when Ngäbe names started disappearing, but it may be the result of their integration into Panamanian society as a whole. In the 1960's and 1970's, General Omar Torrijos became popular among the indigenous people of Panama by engaging in programs to integrate them into Panamanian society and open up opportunities previously forbidden to them. During this time, it became mandatory to apply for an ID card. However, Torrijos' method of integration was one of assimilation rather than multiculturalism. As such, indigenous names weren't considered "real names", which required Ngäbes and other indigenous people to adopt a Hispanic name for official purposes. Many Ngäbe already felt shame regarding their heritage and didn't think much of adopting Hispanic names. Many would end up adopting names of famous football (soccer) players. Today, Panama recognizes the rights of indigenous people, and the restrictions on names have been lifted. Nevertheless, social stigma remains strong and many choose to forgo granting a Ngäbe name to their children, even as a nickname. Many children also forgo speaking Ngäbere and it is not uncommon to have situations where a parent speaks to their child in Ngäbere and hears the reply in Spanish.
The final night, I remember, we were tasked to learn about the traditional dance form of the Ngäbe known as Jeki. The most basic forms of Jeki consists of a line of people with their hands on the shoulders of those in front of them. Everyone is lined up from tallest to shortest and alternating between male and female. The lead person holds a maraca and dictates the tempo. In larger groups, there may be multiple maraca shakers who will take up the ends and central positions. Jeki aims to imitate the movement in nature. For example, the form Ngin (Gusano) appears like a grub inching along. Other dance forms that I learned were Dröbare (El Borracho), Kä Diekä (Corte Monte), Jurín (Mono), and Nibta (murciélago). During this process, Romel took the time to show and practice with me the various dance forms to the amusement of Tereza. Given that we had a hard time keeping rhythm, Romel grabbed a small and empty plastic soda bottle and placed a few beans within it to create a makeshift maraca. I borrowed that bottle the following morning to present what I had learned and was later gifted the bottle, which remains in my house.
The final day was the despedida, or farewell ceremony. They presented us with a jeki, in which Chutä participated. For our part, we conducted a jeki (specifically, ngin) as well as the cupid shuffle. We ended by presenting poetry in both English and Spanish and they ended the meeting at the casa comunal by putting artesanía for sale. This included kras, naguas, and chaquíras. That evening, there was a large feast of arroz con pollo for everyone in the community which I spent with Romel.
The last morning before heading out, I and the other two trainees thanked our host family. I offered the cacao I had purchased during my previous visit to the Comarca as a gift, and the other two presented cacao as well. For their part, our host family offered us each a cassava root which I took charge of handling.
After loading up the chivas with our bags, we all crammed in the back and departed the town. Once it was out of view, I took to thinking how my life might be once I get to site and begin my service in earnest. My experience with my host family helped me re-affirm that I was indeed ready for service and removed any slight doubt that was lingering inside.
Ti kä... = My name is...
Nüne = To live
Kwete = To eat
Mrö = Banana, food
I liked to think that I had a decent grasp on basic vocabulary after the first week and was ready to practice with the host family I would receive. Tech week is hosted by a volunteer from the previous group who has been to site for a year and who has applied to host trainees on the basis of having project work underway. Our presence has the dual purpose of lending a hand to the ongoing projects, while also giving us hands-on experience for projects we might eventually engage in once we're working in our own sites.
After a journey, we arrived at the casa comunal to hear words from the leaders of the community. First in Ngäbere, then in Spanish. We were given the opportunity to present ourselves, and I managed to complete my introduction entirely in Ngäbere using what I had learned the prior week. It went: Köbö kuin dere. Ti kä Claudio suliare aune Tikäni ngäbere. Ti jatötikani ingeniería ambiental aune ti kite san diegokri californiatei. (Translation: Good afternoon. My name is Claudio in Spanish and Tikäni in Ngäbere. I studied environmental engineering and I come from San Diego in California.)
Given the large amount of trainees, we had to be grouped together for our host family stays. I was with two other trainees and was staying in the home of a woman named Tereza. She was quite shy to talk to us, so our initial conversations were carried out with her nephew and niece as we took in the stunning view from aside the home.
Morning outside the host family's home (top)
One view from the community (bottom)
One view from the community (bottom)
After dinner and a brief conversation, the two other trainees and I retired into the concrete house. It wasn't lost on me that our host family had evacuated their own home to make space for us, sleeping instead in the outdoor, partially enclosed, kitchen area that I suspect is typically used for family visits. We invited the family to join us inside for cards, but they politely refused. We played a game of cribbage before going to sleep.
As I mentioned before, I packed light. So light in fact that I didn't bring a sleeping pad, nor a blanket. It's a tropical country, you can survive without a blanket I thought. At least I had a bed frame to sleep on, and sleeping on a hard surface is supposed to be good for your back. So I rolled up one of my spare pants and used it to support my neck and tried to pretend it wasn't a little chilly. As the fog rolled in and night grew, it became harder to pretend. Keeping my clothes on, including the socks, and stuffing my arms in my shirt provided little relief. Fortunately, Tereza's niece came in and gave us all a sheet for additional warmth. It was sufficient to provide the bare minimal warmth to fall asleep for an hour or two at a time.
I wasn't accustomed to sleeping on hard surfaces. It would be accurate to say I was slightly uncomfortable. The hard surface also provided little insulation, and the creaky nature meant any movement on my part had the potential of bothering my sleeping cohabitants. I found I would get up to pee about three or four times in the night. Not so much because I needed to go, but because I needed a break from sleeping. If at that particular time the sky was clear however, I saw a grand abundance of stars that really made it all worth it. Daylight would eventually come, and I never found any reason to linger in bed. Despite my sleeping difficulties, I never found myself to be tired that entire week. I even managed to get out on a run before daylight.
Will "Chutä" enjoying an intentional run (top)
Stretching in the morning (bottom)
In the morning one can hear what I call the "bomb bird". I don't know anything about birds, but this bird is distinctive in that it's song pattern resembles that of a timer counting down in an accelerated manner. We would eat breakfast before meeting with the rest of the trainees at the casa comunal. That first day consisted of us meeting with our work groups, meeting our G83 team leader, receiving our team headbands, and coming up with a name. Passing thunder and the fact we were Group D inspired us to name our team Team Drueno. Like Trueno, but with a D. Unfortunately, it sounded very close to Drain-O, and so our team became known as such.Stretching in the morning (bottom)
Team Drueno
Photo Credit: Michael Horner-Ibler
Photo Credit: Michael Horner-Ibler
We all regrouped at the casa comunal and prepared for a charla (talk/presentation) that was to be presented as a team to the school the next day. We had previously planned this charla back in our training communities so all that remained was to make posters and finalize details.
After presenting our trash management charla at the school, the remaining days were spent working. Whether that was on the rain-catchment, a latrine slab, or demonstrating the construction of a "plubo" (pluma + qubo). At one point we had a session on thermoforming, that is manipulating PVC pipe via heat to re-connect joints after repairs, or to make flow discs (pressure controllers). One work session was set aside to pasear (take a walk/make visits) in which we visited various houses just to chat. This is actually an important skill as much of our time in site involves going out to meet or visit the various people in our communities to develop or maintain relationships. One woman was sewing on a hand-crank machine and taught us the basics. Another showed us various patterns of kra (chacara) they had made. The people were very generous, offering us food and drink, as well as gifting on occasion naguas and kras.
Before we parted for our host-family's homes at the end of each workday, we were given a tasks to find out something about the community or some of the local beliefs. These end of the day queries proved useful for conversational topics when the talking died down. So that night, my other two companions retired somewhat early. I initially went inside the concrete house too but decided that since I only have one week here, I should spend it well with our generous host family. These late night chats were and still remain one of the highlights of my Peace Corps experience.
Perhaps it was because I was alone or perhaps because she had grown more comfortable with my presence, but Tereza began to speak to me some during this time. She admitted to me that she was somewhat shy to speak because she doesn't speak Spanish that well. I told her it was fine since I was trying to study Ngäbere anyways and Romel could translate between us. And so it was that we talked, and I learned.
I learned new Ngäbere words and better pronunciation. I learned about Romel and his time studying abroad in Pennsylvania. How he had never experienced winter like the winter there. He told me that as soon as he stepped outside, his nose began to bleed. He was a student of English and asked that I lend my expertise to answer some of his questions. Most vividly, I recall him pulling out the lyrics of what he claimed to be his favorite song in English. He wanted me to help him finish the translation as he had become stuck on some verses. I happily helped him out, singing parts of the song as we went along. When that was through, we discussed the significance of the lyrics. His favorite song turned out to be "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran.
It was also during these nights that the family told me about Ngäbe beliefs. First we began with chogalis and Tuli Vieja. Chogalis are evil spirits from ancient times whose presence create a stiffening chill. They are said to resemble children or monkeys and they occasionally possess individuals to make them do bad things. It was also said that some Ngäbe would make pacts with the chogalis. To combat them, the Ngäbe would ritually consume cacao which is said to be strongly disliked by the spirits. To dislike cacao is a sign that someone was possessed. Such a person would go through a ritual cleansing involving the consumption of a few bowls of cacao to drive away the spirit(s) from the individual. Today however, they informed me that chogalies are seldom seen as they've been driven away thanks to the word of god. This is fortunate as cacao is hard found on the south side of the Comarca.
Moving onto to Tuli Vieja, this is a spirit that supposedly takes the form of a young woman. She is said to appear by the river at night, especially during rain, where she may be heard crying. Upon approaching her, she would reveal herself as a sinister old woman. This is usually enough to scare someone away, but anyone who thinks them self brave enough to face her would never return. This actually isn't a Ngäbe belief, but a myth that can be heard all over Panama, including Latino communities. There is a running joke that if a man is single and/or seemingly disinterested in women, it's because he's with Tuli Vieja. This prompted Tereza to ask if I was in any sort of relationship, to which I said I wasn't. She counseled me that if I fail to find a Ngäbe woman, Tuli Vieja was always an option. She ended by asking if I would ever be willing to enter a relationship with Tuli Vieja, to which I replied that I didn't know her and would need to figure it out over a nice dinner and conversation. This caused much laughter.
Another of our end-of-the-day conversational tasks was to ask about dreams. In Ngäbe belief, dreams have a real world meaning, and can be a predictor of future events. However, dreams can't be interpreted directly as there's a sort of method to the dream interpreting madness. Many things in dreams signify something opposite in reality. For example, people in dreams represent animals in real life, and animals represent people (or at least, their spirit forms). One dream that drives fear into one's heart is that involving a woman. Women are said to represent snakes in real life, and if one were to touch you in a dream, it means that there's a high probability that a snake will bite you if you decide to go work. As such, Tereza warned me that if I ever dream of a woman, I should not leave my bed that day.
Other dream symbolism is as follows: an elevated, choppy river is said to represent upcoming problems. Such problems could include diarrhea :). An animal attacking you is said to represent an upcoming encounter with an aggressive individual. The presence of animals represent future (within a day or two) encounters with individuals whose character depends on the animal. Good individuals are represented by animals that are considered harmless like rats, lowland paca, avians, deer, and cows. Bad individuals may be represented by horses, bulls, or tigers. The appearance of numbers are a sign of good fortune, and are highly likely to appear in the lottery. If given enough numbers, and if someone interprets the dream well enough to determine their order, one could hypothetically purchase a winning ticket.
One night we discussed Ngäbere names. I confirmed that most Ngäbe names are just names and don't necessarily mean anything else. Ngäbe traditionally took the name of the town they're from as surnames. Just as Ngäbe adopted Spanish names, so too did their towns take on Spanish names. Often times, the Spanish name is a translation of the name of the town. But this isn't always the case. I asked the family if any of them had a Ngäbe name, to which they replied they didn't. I was most surprised that Tereza didn't as it was most common for members of the older generation to have one. In Ngäbere communities that practice "balseria", males may have a name that is utilized solely for the event. To call someone by their balseria name is to challenge them. Outside of the event, this name is also used to challenge someone to a fist-fight, typically while inebriated. In this community, volunteer Chutä had the balseria name Koida, though volunteers are prohibited from participating in balseria.
It's hard to say when Ngäbe names started disappearing, but it may be the result of their integration into Panamanian society as a whole. In the 1960's and 1970's, General Omar Torrijos became popular among the indigenous people of Panama by engaging in programs to integrate them into Panamanian society and open up opportunities previously forbidden to them. During this time, it became mandatory to apply for an ID card. However, Torrijos' method of integration was one of assimilation rather than multiculturalism. As such, indigenous names weren't considered "real names", which required Ngäbes and other indigenous people to adopt a Hispanic name for official purposes. Many Ngäbe already felt shame regarding their heritage and didn't think much of adopting Hispanic names. Many would end up adopting names of famous football (soccer) players. Today, Panama recognizes the rights of indigenous people, and the restrictions on names have been lifted. Nevertheless, social stigma remains strong and many choose to forgo granting a Ngäbe name to their children, even as a nickname. Many children also forgo speaking Ngäbere and it is not uncommon to have situations where a parent speaks to their child in Ngäbere and hears the reply in Spanish.
The final night, I remember, we were tasked to learn about the traditional dance form of the Ngäbe known as Jeki. The most basic forms of Jeki consists of a line of people with their hands on the shoulders of those in front of them. Everyone is lined up from tallest to shortest and alternating between male and female. The lead person holds a maraca and dictates the tempo. In larger groups, there may be multiple maraca shakers who will take up the ends and central positions. Jeki aims to imitate the movement in nature. For example, the form Ngin (Gusano) appears like a grub inching along. Other dance forms that I learned were Dröbare (El Borracho), Kä Diekä (Corte Monte), Jurín (Mono), and Nibta (murciélago). During this process, Romel took the time to show and practice with me the various dance forms to the amusement of Tereza. Given that we had a hard time keeping rhythm, Romel grabbed a small and empty plastic soda bottle and placed a few beans within it to create a makeshift maraca. I borrowed that bottle the following morning to present what I had learned and was later gifted the bottle, which remains in my house.
The final day was the despedida, or farewell ceremony. They presented us with a jeki, in which Chutä participated. For our part, we conducted a jeki (specifically, ngin) as well as the cupid shuffle. We ended by presenting poetry in both English and Spanish and they ended the meeting at the casa comunal by putting artesanía for sale. This included kras, naguas, and chaquíras. That evening, there was a large feast of arroz con pollo for everyone in the community which I spent with Romel.
Performing the Cupid Shuffle
Photo Credit: Michael Horner-Ibler
Photo Credit: Michael Horner-Ibler
The last morning before heading out, I and the other two trainees thanked our host family. I offered the cacao I had purchased during my previous visit to the Comarca as a gift, and the other two presented cacao as well. For their part, our host family offered us each a cassava root which I took charge of handling.
After loading up the chivas with our bags, we all crammed in the back and departed the town. Once it was out of view, I took to thinking how my life might be once I get to site and begin my service in earnest. My experience with my host family helped me re-affirm that I was indeed ready for service and removed any slight doubt that was lingering inside.
