The people I live with are a little skittish. They believe in vampires, boogie men, and creepers with ankle fetishes that arrive after sundown. At first, I tried to challenge these ideas, especially after they blamed a loaf of bread stolen from my kitchen on a recent string of vampire crimes. I fought against it, asked them to think logically, but that was a losing battle. Now? Now I consider it my full responsibility to advise of these public safety hazards and spread every single rumor I hear. I think of it as another notch on my "cultural integration" belt.
These tales must be told with complete earnestness. Wide eyes, a little finger waving, and some gentle but persistent pleading for the listeners to please be careful. This is serious.
Here is the latest tale that has been spread around QP. I warn everyone I come across:
About 14 years ago, a baby boy was born in the nearby town of Quebrada Plátano. He was not like other babies. From the stomach up, sure, 100 percent normal. But from his hips stretched two, long horse legs.
The doctors advised the mother not to raise this baby. There are ways to get rid of infants that are born half-horses, you know. The mother refused. This was her son. She loved him, but she recognized she couldn't raise him like any other baby. So for the last 14 years, he has been enclosed in a room of their house. She feeds him, bathes him, and takes care of him like any mother. But the door is always locked, and he has been kept away from prying eyes.
In all this time, he grew restless. He is haunted by passing visions of the outside world that he's unable to participate in. He has become, or always was, what the people here call a "bad spirit." And in the recent weeks, his restlessness caused him to leave in the middle of the night, appearing beside unsuspecting people in the dark. Some stories say he walks with two "friends," others say he comes alone. All warn against him. He is a bad spirit who wants to do us harm.
I was warned about him by several men in my community, two of whom who had seen him first hand. "You live alone," they said. "It would be very easy for him to find you." I nodded and promised to double check the locks on my doors. Of course, not everyone believes these stories, and I imagine that, like the vampires and that weird guy with the ankle fetish, they will soon fade from fashion, but in the mean time? I like walking up behind people and clicking my tongue in the rhythm of a two-footed horse.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Project fundraising update.
Community members and I have been working to plan and prepare for a sanitation project that will provide latrines to 28 families in the village. Please consider donating to the project if you haven't already. This is a low-cost way to greatly improve the health of the people of Quebrada Pastor. Every single penny goes toward building materials. Community members provide all of the labor.
Since I initially posted the project we have raised $635. Thank you to everyone who has generously given. Another organization has pledged to donate half the budget, leaving $2050 to raise.This is a reasonable amount if a few individuals, organizations or corporations could come together. Please let me know if I can forward more project information to you or someone you know who is interested in donating. We wanted to start building this month but cannot get started until all the funds are collected. Everyone has worked hard to get this far and we are eager to get started.
To donate or read more about the project go here.
Contact me at cvbasham@gmail.com.
Since I initially posted the project we have raised $635. Thank you to everyone who has generously given. Another organization has pledged to donate half the budget, leaving $2050 to raise.This is a reasonable amount if a few individuals, organizations or corporations could come together. Please let me know if I can forward more project information to you or someone you know who is interested in donating. We wanted to start building this month but cannot get started until all the funds are collected. Everyone has worked hard to get this far and we are eager to get started.
To donate or read more about the project go here.
Contact me at cvbasham@gmail.com.
Where your chocolate comes from
Saturday was a day in the finca. I went with a family an hour into the hills to take out the beans from some cocoa pods they had harvested. Here are some pictures:
The beans which had been cut from the trees a few days earlier and left in a pile:
Vanesa and A bed of banana leaves to throw the beans onto:
The pods are cut open with machetes and the beans are taken out by hand. The white jelly is sweet and can be eaten; it is later removed during a days-long fermenting process. What remains are the almond-sized cocoa beans.
It only took about an hour to get all the beans out. but someone needed a break.
Digging up some root vegetables before heading home.
The beans which had been cut from the trees a few days earlier and left in a pile:
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| From 2011-01-12 |
Vanesa and A bed of banana leaves to throw the beans onto:
 |
| From 2011-01-12 |
The pods are cut open with machetes and the beans are taken out by hand. The white jelly is sweet and can be eaten; it is later removed during a days-long fermenting process. What remains are the almond-sized cocoa beans.
 |
| From 2011-01-12 |
It only took about an hour to get all the beans out. but someone needed a break.
 |
| From 2011-01-12 |
Digging up some root vegetables before heading home.
 |
| From 2011-01-12 |
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| From 2011-01-12 |
Monday, January 10, 2011
Birthday
My uncle Peter asked me what it´s like, being here in Panama. It sounds like an easy enough question, and at the time I think I answered with little hesitation. You can get used to anything. Life in the village feels normal to me now. Things that shock outsiders seem so minor to me that sometimes I wonder why they make such a big deal out of them. I uess i can't say exactly what it's lie being here because I've gotten so used to it.
While I was home, a lot of people asked me if the kids in my village get presents at Christmas. They don´t. If families celebrate, it might be with a nicer-than-normal meal. They spend a few extra dollars to have stewed chicken and maybe a bit of lettuce and tomato.
This idea seemed to make Americans sad. A Christmas without presents. But that´s only because we´ve always had something to open on Christmas morning. We´d miss all that stuff if we only had a plate of chicken to look forward to. But poor kids don´t believe in Santa. They don´t expect presents, so it´s not really sad when there aren´t any. That is just how Christmas is here. They eat well, spend the day with the family, and are truly grateful if the day goes by and everyone is healthy, happy and full. Sounds nicer than some American Christmases if you ask me.
Birthdays are the same. Special food if there´s money, and if not, it´s just another day. I got used to that. But returning to my community after spending two weeks in the states, and at a time when it´s buy buy buy, give give give, my view was set a little askew.
One of my favorites, Rosibel turned five on Friday. The day before her mother has been rushed to the hospital after fainting while washing clothes. Rosibel came over to my house early on Friday morning when Julio, her dad, stopped by to tell me he was going to the hospital for the day to be with his wife, and his oldest daughter would be watching the younger kids. I asked Julio if Rosibel knew it was her birthday. I thought maybe they hadn't said anything, since no one would be there to celebrate with her. Family emergencies take precedent. But he said that yes, she knew.
In the mixed-up mash of having one foot still in the U.S. and one in my village, I lost my balance a little bit. All of a sudden I wanted to give this girl a birthday. Maybe because her family made me a part of theirs in the last year, or because she is one of the sweetest, most adorable children around and expected nothing. And in a weird way, I think I wanted to do it mostly for me. When I returned to QP after being in the states, a heaviness landed on my chest. I wanted something fun for these people, something to be easy, to celebrate something. After almost a year and a half there I got used to the hardships and the rough edges, but I felt newly exposed once I came back.
So the mission that day was to lighten the mood. I made Rosibel a birthday crown. I gave her some change, a fortune to a five-year-old. And I let her in every single time she came by the house (at least five or six.) When I saw her running to the hill each time a bus slowed to see if her parents were finally coming, I offered to read her a story instead.
I don´t think I would have felt as sympathetic had I not just returned from the states. If you let every sad or difficult thing affect you here, you would be immobile. But somehow, after reminding myself how easy things can be at home compared to life here, I felt the need to make something easy just for once. Brighten a birthday just for the sake of it.
You can get used to anything, including forgotten birthdays and holidays. In the big scheme of things, they are trivial. But sometimes all it takes is a birthday crown and a smile to turn a couple of girls' day around.
(she insisted on posing with the pencil sharpeners)
While I was home, a lot of people asked me if the kids in my village get presents at Christmas. They don´t. If families celebrate, it might be with a nicer-than-normal meal. They spend a few extra dollars to have stewed chicken and maybe a bit of lettuce and tomato.
This idea seemed to make Americans sad. A Christmas without presents. But that´s only because we´ve always had something to open on Christmas morning. We´d miss all that stuff if we only had a plate of chicken to look forward to. But poor kids don´t believe in Santa. They don´t expect presents, so it´s not really sad when there aren´t any. That is just how Christmas is here. They eat well, spend the day with the family, and are truly grateful if the day goes by and everyone is healthy, happy and full. Sounds nicer than some American Christmases if you ask me.
Birthdays are the same. Special food if there´s money, and if not, it´s just another day. I got used to that. But returning to my community after spending two weeks in the states, and at a time when it´s buy buy buy, give give give, my view was set a little askew.
One of my favorites, Rosibel turned five on Friday. The day before her mother has been rushed to the hospital after fainting while washing clothes. Rosibel came over to my house early on Friday morning when Julio, her dad, stopped by to tell me he was going to the hospital for the day to be with his wife, and his oldest daughter would be watching the younger kids. I asked Julio if Rosibel knew it was her birthday. I thought maybe they hadn't said anything, since no one would be there to celebrate with her. Family emergencies take precedent. But he said that yes, she knew.
In the mixed-up mash of having one foot still in the U.S. and one in my village, I lost my balance a little bit. All of a sudden I wanted to give this girl a birthday. Maybe because her family made me a part of theirs in the last year, or because she is one of the sweetest, most adorable children around and expected nothing. And in a weird way, I think I wanted to do it mostly for me. When I returned to QP after being in the states, a heaviness landed on my chest. I wanted something fun for these people, something to be easy, to celebrate something. After almost a year and a half there I got used to the hardships and the rough edges, but I felt newly exposed once I came back.
So the mission that day was to lighten the mood. I made Rosibel a birthday crown. I gave her some change, a fortune to a five-year-old. And I let her in every single time she came by the house (at least five or six.) When I saw her running to the hill each time a bus slowed to see if her parents were finally coming, I offered to read her a story instead.
I don´t think I would have felt as sympathetic had I not just returned from the states. If you let every sad or difficult thing affect you here, you would be immobile. But somehow, after reminding myself how easy things can be at home compared to life here, I felt the need to make something easy just for once. Brighten a birthday just for the sake of it.
You can get used to anything, including forgotten birthdays and holidays. In the big scheme of things, they are trivial. But sometimes all it takes is a birthday crown and a smile to turn a couple of girls' day around.
 |
| From 2011-01-12 |
(she insisted on posing with the pencil sharpeners)
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