José Guerra and the History of Lado Oeste

Piedra Roja

José Guerra grew up in Piedra Roja, an area located by the Cricamola River. At the time, it was part of the province of Bocas del Toro, but is today part of the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. One story he told me was that during his childhood (sometime in the late 1940's or early 1950's), a German had moved into the area. At this point, José kindly explained that Germans speak a language different from English. Anyways, the man was supposedly a former soldier, having escaped from the 2nd World War. He lived in the area as a laborer and accordingly learned the local language. The ultimate fate of the German is unknown as José himself would move out of the area.

Chitä

José's older cousin, Chitä had moved with his wife in the late 1950's westwards in what was the frontier of its time. Previously, Bocas del Toro was scarcely settled owing to the difficulty of the terrain and lack of towns from which to draw supplies. The development of Bocas del Toro (the town), Changuinola, and other settlements provided staging grounds from which to journey into the rainforest and establish farmlands. Much of the settlers would be Ngäbe, looking to exercise their newfound rights to claim land ownership under the government of Omar Torrijos.

Chitä would only live in what was to become Lado Oeste for a few years. Curva del Río, today a town of over 2,000 inhabitants, had less than 100 people at the time. As I went around Curva del Río, some of the older folk recognized the person who I was named after and remark "te nombraron bien". One man, who was a kid when Chitä was around recalled that Chitä would get drunk in Curva and challenge people with his balsería name: Suri (tigre). During balsería itself it is said he was quick and try all his opponents might, they could not knock him down.

I asked what became of Chitä and José paused for a moment, making me think the worst had occurred.

"No te voy a engañar" he started "pero su esposa lo dejó y después el se mudo a Changuinola".

Chitä left the land to José, who then moved from Piedra Roja to Lado Oeste with his wife Emelina. He was in his mid-late teens at the time. His birthdate, as with many people of his generation, is a result of guesswork. No one kept track of dates so it was anyone's guess how old they were.

Present Day

In 2003, the community of Lado Oeste was officially registered. Today Lado Oeste is inhabited by José, Emelina, their descendants, and those who married their descendants. There are a few unrelated (in terms of family) households that I include as part of Lado Oeste for the purposes of the water project, but Lado Oeste proper consists of a cluster of households, all but two of which are related to José and Emelina. One noticeable aspect is that each household is headed by one of their daughters and the man they married, but never the other way around. Of the 10 children José and Emelina had, 7 were female and 3 were male. Their sons had moved out of the community (the closest living in Curva) while their daughters remained. There should have been an additional household in the community, I was told, if it weren't for a snake (icha) killing one of their daughters.

The people of Lado Oeste make their living through agriculture, eating their produce and selling their surplus. The staple food is bananas which is supplemented with tubers such as cassava. Cacao is the major cash crop responsible for the majority of their cash reserves. Their farming methods are fairly natural with their crops growing among the forest trees (though they clear out the dense ground foliage). The machete is the only form of herbicide used.

Additional food sources include domestic animals (chickens and the occasional pig). A small clearing in the hills contains a few cows (and ducks for some reason), but the primary purpose for raising the cows seems to be selling them rather than eating them.

Cows

Water System

Since 2011 the near-entirety of Lado Oeste is connected to a spring-source. The project was largely funded by the Consejo Nacional de Desarollo Sostenible (CONADES). The project came about due to the efforts of one Alfonso who lives in Ladera. The original plan was to eventually extend the water system across the river and thus bring water to Ladera. However technical difficulties, a lack of further funding, and interpersonal conflict prevented the continuation of the work.

The project was resurrected when Bernardino made contact with a Peace Corps Response volunteer who promised that the Peace Corps volunteer who was coming to Curva del Río could write them a grant. This Response volunteer was something of a maverick. I'm not entirely sure what his job functions were, but he had ended up making promises that Peace Corps couldn't keep and had caused some headaches in the office. At the very least, he helped Lado Oeste and Ladera form a joint water committee, reopening project communication between the two.

The G83 volunteer that arrived in Curva del Río was unable to secure a grant for the community, for grant writing was neither his job nor were those communities part of his prerogative. He did however help lay the groundwork for them to receive a volunteer of their own...

Religion in Curva del Río, the Atheist Among Them, and Homophobia

Brief Religious Profile

The inhabitants of Curva del Río are almost exclusively christian, though there are a few different sects represented by three major churches. The predominant affiliation in the neighborhoods of Lado Oeste and Ladera were with the evangelical church which called itself "Iglesia del Evangelio Doctrinal". In Ladera there was a total of one (1) Catholic.

In the more urban central neighborhoods of Curva del Río, there was a greater of diversity of religious affiliation with churches representing the evangelicals, Jehovah's Witnesses and one church representing "Iglesia de la Luz del Mundo" (shortened name). You might recognize the latter church from the news as their leader was arrested in California in 2019. Various other churches exist in neighboring communities such as Seventh Day Adventist, Methodist, or Iglesia del Evangelio Completo.

The Atheist

The night after our trip to Río Alto, my host family and I had been conversing about the ancient indigenous empires in what is today Latin America. I recall recounting the tale of the founding of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire. The Mexica people (a tribe of Nahuatl speakers) had been wandering the land at the behest of their Gods in search of a place to establish their capital. They would know the place by a prophetic sign: An eagle would be eating a serpent while perched on a cactus growing out of a rock. The sign was said to have been discovered on an island in Lake Texcoco and the city would be Tenochtitlan.

During the discussion we could hear the hymns coming from their church. I asked if they were supposed to go, to which they replied they didn't feel like going. But on the matter of the church they asked me a question: "A que iglesia perteneces?"

"Ninguna. No soy cristiano." At this point I was wondering how truthful I should be. This can be a sensitive subject.

"Entonces, a qué religion perteneces?"

"No soy religioso..." I started to think perhaps I could be entirely truthful. At least with them. After all, they ditched church this night so they're likely not fanatics. And besides, the people in this province aren't as conservative as elsewhere. So the moment of truth came with the next question.

"Pero crees en dios?"

"No..."

Silence ensued. I think I messed up. Clearly misread the situation.

 I started to backtrack. "Bueno, no es decir que creo que no hay un dios, ciertamente creo que podría ser una posibilidad..."

"Pero no crees que hay un dios creador que vela por el mundo?"

"No." I finally settled.

"Por qué?" Juliana asked.

Well I won't rehash the whole discussion but it wasn't long and they ultimately accepted the situation for the time being as they pondered how my non-belief could be possible. Come the morning they thought they found the answer.

"Has oído de Jesús?" Cutilio asked "el que murió para salvarnos a todos?"

"Jesús Cristo? Claro que sí." I responded.

Now they were stumped. Before it would have been understandable that I didn't believe because clearly, I hadn't heard the good news.

In the days that would follow José, patriarch and preacher, would recount to me stories of the Old Testament. I remember one woman in the community who mentioned God by chance made sure to reinforce that he exists and watches over us all.

Other than commentary, heightened suspicion, and fear for my soul, my atheism was not detrimental to my work. From time to time I would make an appearance at the church which was more than tolerated as it "es bueno escuchar la palabra de Dios." Though word of mouth tends to travel rapidly, the people of Lado Oeste kept this information to themselves. This worked to my benefit for a few months before I ended up having a discussion about my lack of faith with a family in Ladera. At that point, word of mouth travelled rapidly and a few made sure that I heard their negative reactions.

In conservative communities, volunteers have found people unwilling to work with them until they prove themselves good Christians by attending church regularly. I was lucky that at the very least, the people of my assigned communities tolerated my lack of belief. The episode did remind me to choose my battles carefully though.

Biblically-Justified Homophobia

Homophobia is rampant in Panama and is often justified along biblical lines. In Panama City, attitudes are shifting and gay pride parades are held annually with thousands of attendants (compared to around a few hundred during the first parade in 2005).

But out in the campo, discrimination would be rampant if people didn't hide their identities. Often quoted is Leviticus 20:13 with particular emphasis on the "abomination" part. Fortunately, conversations on the subject were generally scant and there were two situations in my 7 months of service where I found myself in the conversation. The second time I was able to just "disagree" and leave the conversation in the busy context at the time.

The first time however I purposely got involved with the conversation. One person, who I shall not name, was discussing with another his displeasure with the homosexual community. He then advocated that Panama should become more like Brazil by assaulting and even killing those who are or appear to be gay. I had to join the conversation to oppose such blatant displays of hate.

"Asesinar gente, por estar gay, en serio?"

"La biblia dice que son una abominación. Y ahora quieren adoptar niños! Luego esos niños van a crecer y ser gay. No es natural."

"Tenía un amigo, criada por dos mamás y el todovía es heterosexual."

"Pero tu no sabes, tal vez el tiene su esposa y niños pero en secreto el va con hombres..." He paused to consider his next argument. "Eres gay? Por qué los defiendes?"

This was a delicate situation. The conversation had attracted additional attention. To some, I could foresee the pieces starting to click. That if his accusation was true, if I was gay, then it would make sense that I would hate God, because God hates gays. Indeed, such a label would seriously damage my reputation. Fortunately, the burden of proof is quite high as people like to believe "gays don't exist here". I also like to think that given the severe ostracism that comes with such a verdict, people were less willing to pass such a heavy judgement.

"No, pero hablo porque ellos son humanos y no deben ser matados."

An onlooker chimed in, "Es que aquí, [los homosexuales] nos da pena."

"Sí, entiendo. Y también, puedo ser seguro si mi amigo es gay porque si lo fuera, no es necasario que el esconde."

My homophobic debate partner agreed, "es cierto que aquí, necesitan esconder."

I wrapped up with the following, "También es bien conocido donde vengo que usualmente, la gente más homofobico son ellos que son secretamente homosexual. A los demás no les importa tanto cómo otras personas viven sus vidas."

Considering this phrase he ended with "Ah sí, no me importa."

In the end, I doubt I changed any minds.

Komehein and the Wedding in Río Alto

 August 16, 2019 - August 19, 2019

1:00 am

I felt my leg itch so I scratched it. Then my arm, scratched that too. Then I felt a crunch. Then I felt things moving on my arm, and my leg. Then I got up and brushed all these insects off of me.

I grabbed my flashlight and shined it on the bed, as my eyes adjusted I had trouble determining what it was I was seeing. Were they bed bugs? Were the bed bugs here huge? No, they look like ants, but what's up with their heads? Are they carrying bed bugs and farming them like they do aphids? Oh wait, that is their head? What the fuck are those things? I shined my light towards the wall to see swarms of them moving, very ant-like to some undetermined location.

Not wanting to disturb my host family, I walked out my room and onto a hammock for the night. My host mom woke me up an hour layer asking me why I was sleeping where I was. When I informed her about the things, she had Cutilio investigate. By this time, the swarm had mostly disappeared with a few stragglers still exploring the bed. "Komehein", he said, "comen madera". In other words, they were termites. Nasutitermes corniger to be precise. He went out to find their source and advised me to just brush off the remainder and move the bed away from the wall. I was off to a great start.

That Damn Dam

Early the next morning we got up to make the journey to Curva del Río. There they hired a private taxi to bring us to a dam from which we could get on a boat to head to [fake name] Río Alto. Peace Corps regulations stipulate that volunteers must always (as in always), as in always, wear life jackets when on a boat. Always. Doing without could result in a reprimand or even separations from service. Fortunately, being well aware of this regulation they had ensured one was available for me. They took a picture which they claimed they were going to send to the Peace Corps office.

The dam itself was controversial for the area residents. Roughly 1,000 people were displaced by the dam. Initially, they were given small payouts for compensation (if they agreed to move ahead of time), but after a series of protests they were awarded higher sums of money and new communities were built by the dam's lake at the company's expense. Nevertheless there is still conflict regarding land rights near the dam and about the legal situation that allowed the initial displacement to happen in the first place.

As we rode over the lake, one of the boatmen pointed down to identify where a community had been. Some successor communities adopted the same name as their predecessors, but either formally or informally add "Arriba" to their names.

When we began our ascent to Río Alto I spotted a pile of cacao pods, but otherwise I saw nothing unusual. The lake behind was partially obscured by trees.

Río Alto

The community itself was relatively developed for being so physically isolated. With concrete walkways and buildings as well as flush toilets.

We stayed in the house of their eldest son, Magdiel. I later learned that they had two other sons, one of whom lived in Changuinola and the other who lived in Panama City. After their sons had grown up and moved away, my host mom told me that she and her husband had felt lonely so they decided to have another child. They prayed for a girl since traditionally, they stay put in the community. Sure enough, they got Mei.

Magdiel had asked me about the kind of work I would be doing. While explaining the health promotion side of my assignment, I took the opportunity to show him and his son, Carlos "Nicho", a video we had received prior to our departure. While Panama has not experienced a cholera outbreak since the 1990's, the video generally summarizes many important actions that can be taken to prevent disease.

After watching the video, Magdiel turned to his son and said "Necesitas lavarte las manos." Of course, I had to explain that he too would have to wash his hands.

Cutilio, using a local kid as a guide, walked with me to the home of Gene's (the volunteer assigned to this community) host family. I approached with an hola, but probably should have used a kuin dekä instead. A man appeared overhead and straight up asked "qué?"

"Estoy aquí para visitar la voluntaria."

"Qué voluntaria?" he asked.

I wondered if I was at the wrong house. "Genevieve?"

He stared at me.

"Genoveva?"

With that he nodded and walked off.

Gene appeared with a "who dafuq is this?" look, but lightened up with surprise when she saw it was me. Having prepared not to see another volunteer for weeks at least, seeing another volunteer so soon was certainly unexpected. We chatted for a bit before my host dad took me away so that we could eat lunch.

Later in the day I came to learn the reason we were here. Apparently there was a wedding of which my host family was distantly related. This was a bit unfortunate for me as I had not brought any sort of formal clothing. Fortunately, a kindly neighbor allowed me to borrow a formal shirt of his for the night's church session as well as the ceremony the day after.

The church, also built by the dam company was a large concrete structure the size of a typical church. Large enough to accommodate the population of visitors from various communities. The church event was administered by the same evangelical sect that my host family belonged to and the session went along the formula I described in a previous posting. Given the amount of communities present, the session was a 3+ hour onslaught. I wish I could I say I was tuned in for the whole thing, believe me, I tried. But instead I would look at the kids sleeping on the ground and wish I could do the same.

The next morning I offered to help my host mom with breakfast. She was hesitant to do so, but did agree to let me help make patacones. This was a victory for me as my previous host mom refused.

Before the ceremony Gene stopped by with her guide, an assistant English teacher. As the crowd proceeded down to a river somewhere for a baptism of sorts, Gene gave me a tour of the community. We came across a game of Volleyball where Magdiel was taking part. Unlike football (I'm referring to the one you actually play with your feet), which is male dominated in much of Latin America, volleyball was co-ed. Still, volleyball is not all too common.

During one particular volley the ball had gotten pumped high into the air. I managed to squat down and return it high and across, but the force of contact had knocked me to the ground. The opposition, wisely chose to lose the point and step out of harm's way.

Unfortunately, I was still wearing my loaned shirt at this point and my loaner angrily confronted me about dirtying his shirt. I told him It'd be clean by the time I returned it to him, and he walked off. Magdiel came up and told me "no te preocupes, ese hombre tiene una rabia". To me, it seemed he was more upset that I was playing a game of volleyball rather than attending the baptism, to which Magdiel agreed that I was probably right.

For the wedding night, I decided to stay outside the church this time. Conversing with Gene, her guide, and other individuals. Of course, I would listen in and observe the wedding through the crowd from time to time but sitting for hours stuck inside the church was not ideal.

Among the individuals outside the church was a kid who had come from a more isolated, non-Spanish speaking community in the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. As a result he was still learning Spanish, but his Ngäbere skills were comparable and in some ways more advanced than his adult peers due to the lack of Spanish substitutions. His teacher, Gene's guide, was complimentary of his student's rapid progress in learning Spanish. Despite the greater language barrier, he was less shy to speak to Gene and me than were the adults. As a result, the kid was the first person who I practiced my Ngäbere with. Primarily we went over vocabulary words, such as the parts of the body.

When the ceremony came to an end, Gene and I were invited to a nearby make-shift dining area for cake. Of course, no cake is properly served unless it's served on top of rice with chicken!

Seriously though, arroz con pollo (known in Ngäbere as aro kwiben), is so simple yet so tasty. Whenever there is an occasion, such as a wedding or a birthday, this is the food of choice. Not only because it can easily be made in large quantities, but also because it is utterly delicious.

With the wedding complete, and our stomachs full, there was nothing left to do but retire for the night and, in the case of my host family and me, depart early the following morning.

View of the Lake
Photo Credit: Yorleni Morales

The end of PST and arrival to Site

August 13, 2019

On this day we were slated to meet our community counterparts. Sometime in the afternoon the first of them began to arrive.

My counterpart, Bernardino was the latest to arrive, along with Andres and Martín, the counterparts representing neighboring communities. This was understandable being that they had to travel one of the furthest distances to arrive.

As had been provided to me in the community dossier, I knew I would be assigned to serve two communities rather than one (due to their small size) and I was also aware that Bernardino was the secretary of the Junta Administradora de Acueducto Rural (JAAR), or water committee.

Meeting Bernardino, I got the impression that he was a very busy man as he was constantly on his phone. Given his late arrival, we didn't have much time to chat before the day's sessions began. I gleaned some cursory knowledge about the communities, he being from what I'll call community #2. All I knew at this point was that the communities shared a joint water committee and that I would be living in community #1.

August 14, 2019

Before the swear-in ceremony the next day, we had some more additional time to talk further where I learned that he was a bit of a world traveler, having been to the United States and Thailand. The nature of his trip to the United States at the time was a mystery to me, but photos and conversations with others needed to be had so further discussion with Bernardino was postponed.

From left to right: Shelby, Martín, Claudio, Bernardino, Sean, Andres

Cerro Ancón lies behind.

Swearing-in Ceremony

Normally, swear-in precedes departure for sites. However, swear-in was moved a day early as the following day, August 15, was a local holiday celebrating the foundation of the original Panama City. As such, that night served as a final farewell for the cohort as re-unification was not expected to occur for another year.

August 15, 2019

The final Peace Corps office session that August 15 was a discussion around levels of intimacy and cultural barriers. One such example would be that passive smiling is more of a big deal in Panamanian culture as it expresses interest. Of course, smiling after a joke or when posing for a photo is regarded as neutral. Both the new volunteers and their counterparts would come up to present on the various points of discussion. Bernardino volunteered to cover a point and smoothly presented in a demonstration of his experience with public speaking.

After having a couple of hours to pack and prepare for departure, we were all taken to Albrook Mall from which we would start our journeys to our individual sites. However, Bernardino being from so far away took this chance to get some shopping done in the largest mall of the Americas. Being the de facto guide for Andres and Martín, they too waited for him. In turn, their volunteers, Sean and Shelby, would be waiting as well. Thus our departure was delayed a couple hours, but in the end there was really no rush.

For various reasons, counterparts tend to race back home. Whether its excitement to introduce a volunteer to their community, discomfort with being away from home or being in the big city, or simply because they feel its their job. Bernardino did not feel these compulsions. We had been afforded a night in David, Chiriquí after all. After an 8-hour bus ride to David, I asked Bernardino around what time he figured we should get up to go. He told me to sleep-in as long as I wanted.

August 16, 2019

So as all the other volunteers departed at or before 6:00 am, we didn't leave the hotel until after 9:00a.

Part of the trip travelling between Bocas del Toro and Chiriquí involves crossing through the Fortuna Forest Reserve and driving over the Fortuna Dam. The minibus van we were travelling in made a small pit stop where vendors sold various food items such as sliced pineapples. Bernardino pointed out that these were all people displaced by the dam, in a foreshadow of his own history.

Eventually, we arrived at what I'll call Cubo, a hub from which various volunteers purchase supplies and find transportation.

Another minibus van, we reached what I'll call Curva del Río, of which my two assigned communities were technically neighborhoods. As for the two communities, previously referred to as community #1 and community #2, I shall now be refer to them as Lado Oeste and Ladera, respectively.

From here, Sean and I parted ways with Shelby as our communities lay further South while hers was located Westwards. The road continued south a small distance, halting before a stream. As such, foot travel was required. Two men from Lado Oeste, Cutilio and Felipe, met me near the end of the road to help carry my luggage. Bernardino meanwhile parted ways with me temporarily as he had to make a stop by his home in Ladera. I was advised to put on my rain boots for we would be crossing streams and mud.

This was my first time using rain boots mind you. Them being oversized provided particular challenges, yes. However, I felt a rare feeling of invincibility as I walked through a puddle with feet still dry. This was followed by a humiliating defeat as after crossing a stream with yet dry feet, I proceeded up a muddy slide where my boots got trapped. Attempts to free them resulted in one of my feet pulling clear off the boot and landing in the mud. Cutilio laughed and advised me to stay to the sides of the pathway. Noted.

Roughly 10 minutes later, there was a fork in the trail at which point Sean and I parted ways.

"Casi estámos allí" Felipe assured me. "[Sean] todavía le queda tanto."

On the trail ahead of me lay cacao trees in abundance with yellow, red-purple, or green pods growing off of their branches. Mixed variably among them were banana trees.

Then we came to the river. No bridge. In fact, only one bridge crosses this particular river but it's located far far away. Fortunately, it had been relatively dry so the water level only reached just below the knee at the deepest portion. Nevertheless, it was a minor struggle to navigate the multitude of small mossy rocks located on the river bed as well as to combat the current.

I made it to the other side and tried to empty my boots as coolly as Felipe and Cutilio had. After only pouring out about half using the leg-lift maneuver, my two guides began walking off. Preferring not to get lost, I followed suit with water still swirling in my boots.

After traversing the trail for a few more minutes we arrived in Lado Oeste. A girl looked down from the first house we walked by. After telling her "kuin dere" (good afternoon), she smiled and hid from view. We arrived underneath a house (all of the houses in the community were raised on stilts) where a meeting area was set up. I was given a stump to take a seat while tens of people present looked upon me and whispered to each other. I would later be told that more people would have been able to show up, had I arrived on Saturday.

At this point, I considered emptying my boots but wasn't sure how that would have been viewed, so I decided to let my feet continue to soak.

Once Bernardino arrived, the meeting started in earnest. The whole ordeal was a bit of a haze, at one point I was asked to give words which I recall doing quite well, but what I had said I cannot remember. I had mentioned that I was previously given the name Tikäni when I was visiting in the Comarca Ngäbe-Buglé. They were less than pleased about that.

Emelina, community matriarch, speaking purely in Ngäbere denounced the name claiming that that community had no right to grant me a name, and that there was no obligation to accept it. As such, she demanded to give me the name they had planned prior: Chitä. Chitä was the original founder of Lado Oeste having settled the area in the 1950's.

After having translated the above to me, Bernardino asked me if I approved of the name, to which I said of course. With that, the meeting had concluded, and everyone took me up a small hill to the house where I would be staying, the house of my host family.

The Welcoming Party
Photo Credit: Bernardino Morales Tera

After having arrived at my host family's home, I was able to pour out the river water from my boots and proceed into the house, wring out my socks, and hang them to dry.

The household consisted of Juliana, her husband Cutilio, and their 2-year old child Yariela who was referred to by her Ngäbere nickname "Mei".

After a quick dinner of [dinner not recorded] I was informed that they were having a church gathering that particular night and asked if I was allowed to go. After confirming that such activity was not prohibited, I accepted the invitation.

The small church was largely a modified home, but retained a kitchen so as to provide meals to visitors from out of town as well as during certain occasions. The permanent residents of Lado Oeste were exclusively evangelicals. A typical gathering would have men and women separated across a small aisle with only children crossing the gender-barrier (and who largely did their own thing). The pastor(s) would give certain sermons and lead certain hymns. Afterwards, members of the audience would go up, read certain biblical passages, give a brief reflection on the passage, and then lead the next hymn. The lead pastor would then close the meeting and everyone would go about shaking each other's hands. When visitors come from other towns, the church gathering could last quite a while indeed. In the cases when meals were handed out, those who travelled furthest were given their meals first.

This particular meeting lasted about an hour and a half before concluding. After returning back to the house, I had a round of conversation with my host family. The first topics touched on general information about the community, he claimed that chlorine was occasionally added to the water system (which I would later find out was a lie, but perhaps for the best given the organic material present in the system). The community itself relied on bananas as a staple with cacao sold as a cash crop. Vegetables (largely tubers) were grown as a supplement.

The first thing my host dad Cutilio remarked was "Pensaba que los voluntarios de Cuerpo de Paz eran Estadounidenses."

"Pues, sí. Todos los voluntarios son ciudadanos estadounidense, incluido yo." I replied.

"Ah, sí, pero..." He continued, "No pareces estadounidense puro."

This was something I was prepared to come across. I explained that the United States is perhaps more diverse than they have come to believe, either because of the composition of tourists or because of the movies they have seen. That said, it could be said I was not a "pure" United Statesian by virtue of my US-Mexican dual nationality. Nevertheless, I was a US citizen and not an uncommon representation of one at that.

He then added that he was first surprised to hear about a "Peace Corps" since we're always at war. The people of the United States, he assumed, were a violent people, especially based on what he saw from movies. That said, they aren't particularly opposed to violent movies. After all, Rambo is quite popular in the region, though it's rare for anyone to have access to any of the movies.

The conversation wrapped up with them informing me that we would be visiting a community by a dam over the weekend. I recognized the name they gave me as the name of one of the communities a volunteer from my cohort was assigned.