One thing I tend to forget about QP is how much change has happened there in so short a time. Fifteen years ago, all transport out was by boat, meaning several hours of paddling in dug-out canoe. People left rarely, and when they did, it was to get essentials they couldn´t find within the community. The only people who came and left with any regularity were the Latino teachers, who taught Monday-Friday in the grade school.
Today Bocas´ highway (and only road) cuts through the center of the community. Many people go into town weekly, if not more often, and are used to seeing different faces in Almirante and elsewhere. That´s a lot of change in fifteen years, and naturally, certain residents of QP are more ¨old-fashioned¨and conservative than others. Francisco Abrego was one of them.
I shouldn´t have been surprised when he was a little reluctant about my presence in the community at first. His daughters responded to my greetings while he stayed silent. He cast his eyes downward as as I passed, and made himself scarce if I hung around talking to the girls for more than a few seconds. It quickly became clear he was mistrustful of me and unreceptive to the ¨Project Friendship¨campaign I was rolling out during my first few months in site. I chalked him up for a loss. I can ony woo so many people with my special mix of Miss Congeniality friendliness and Rosie the Riviter get-to-work gumption.
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Almost a year later, I looked up at Señor Abrego from a six-foot depth. I was inside his latrine hole, digging away with a work group of five others guys.
¨I bet you never thought you´d have a gringa doing this for you,¨ I joked. A chuckle burst out of him, and I caught a glimpse of that gold tooth. It is much less intimidating now.
At the next juice break, he, usually the quietest member of any group, started telling us a story. ¨My father was terrified of anyone who wasn´t Ngobe, becuase he´d never really known another race. He taught me to be that way too,¨ he said. ¨I remember the first time we ever saw a plane fly over. He told us all to run and hide. For sure a war would start. He thought the gringoes would invade.¨
Franciso can´t read or write and never went to school. He farms the same land his father did, and understands much more Ngobere than Spanish. Though he may be uneducated, imagine how much he´s allowed himself to learn, for his world view to shift. That has to be a greater idealogical jump than most Americans make in a life time, for to go from fear to greeting a gringa that morning with 15 happy ¨Kuin deka!¨s (Good morning in Ngobere), a smile sweeping across his face. And to a person who he once might have thought an invader or threat, he gave the best piece of fish at lunch.
| From Panama Pura Vida |
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| From Panama Pura Vida |
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| From Panama Pura Vida |
Fran, far right
¨My father was terrified of anyone who wasn´t Ngobe, becuase he´d never really known another race. He taught me to be that way too,¨ he said.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a self aware statement. I have been taking so many classes on multiculturalism and awareness and the biggest piece is awareness of our own assumptions and where they come from. And it is not an easy thing to become aware of and pinpoint!And he stated it so easily. He seems much more knowledgeable than many of us who have had years of education (and counting)! I love reading all of your posts Catherine! It sounds like you have become a wonderful part of a great community!
Francisco is a fine example for everyone to live by. He opted out of his own prejudice. He watched and waited and changed his opinion based on what you and others have shown him: that you can be trusted, and that he can afford to share a chuckle with you. It's a big deal.
ReplyDeleteThats not a bad view for a toilet.
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