Someone else's shoes

The biggest challenge I've faced recently is dealing with all of the people issues associated with the latrine project. At some point in the last few months, a couple of people I was very close to stopped talking to me, presumably over some sin I committed in my efforts to execute this project. I know the root of the issue began because of arguments between the two of them, which somehow spun out to involve me. But how it resulted in the silent treatment from one and angry accusations directed at me, followed by silence from the other. I still don't understand.

I am left thinking, how can this be? I have tried to be fair, patient, and have given people the benefit of the doubt more times than they deserve. How can people be mad at me? But, that is a selfish line of thinking. Of course no one will see it my way. And truthfully, it is unfair for me to feel put upon or attacked when I understand as little about their point of view as they do about mine. After all this time, I still have no idea what they are thinking sometimes. The experience of growing up in an entirely different culture, with different norms, expectations, and ways of resolving conflict acts as blinders that will keep me from ever understanding completely. But I keep trying to figure it out.

To them, I am a white person who has access to a large sum of money for latrines. They are poor people who deserve this money. We are friends and I owe it to them personally. They think that they have waited a year and a half and only now have I produced something worth getting excited about. In their eyes, I am finally fulfilling my commitment to them, giving what is owed.

My rule, among others was that people who work will receive materials for the latrine they solicited. That was the agreement we made in the planning stages. If they do not show up for work days, they lose their rights to the materials. It is the fact that I am sticking to this that is rubbing some people the wrong way.

They are angry because, to them, I am breaking a promise by excluding them. Because we are friends, and I am refusing to help them. I am directing my attention to those who are working and the others feel left out and betrayed. They assume because I am white and from a rich country that they are owed hundreds of dollars of materials. They see my behavior as petty, malicious, and cold. I see theirs as unreasonable and greedy.

What makes it all so frustrating is that to many (not all) of the people I work with, the very idea of sustainable development on which Peace Corps is based is incomprehensible. The idea of earning something, working for it, participating as a community to reach a common goal is still untranslatable. They fall into the same traps--gossip, negativity and complacency that have held them back from progress in the past. However, to them, the lack of progress is my fault. They make zero connections between their own behavior and the potential for positive change. Panama's traditional model of rural development-- giving things out and requiring nothing from receivers, combined with the idea that I come from a country that gives out money in bags from the factory (most people sincerely believe this and think I am lying when I deny it) leaves them with the expectation that they have no role to play in their own development. Someone will do the work for them, and they will benefit from it. Some people don't understand what I am talking about simply because they have never seen a project run this way before.

So although these situations leave me tearing my hair out and feeling at times, like maybe everything Peace Corps is trying to do in these communities is too ambitious, I do have some successes to celebrate. The problems I described are not shared y everyone. Some people get it, at least sort of. I have a dedicated group of workers who are showing a lot of initiative and motivation. The the other day, they finished the blocking on a latrine by themselves and set up the table and rebar to throw the cement floor on top. This is huge. A month ago they had no idea how to build a latrine, how to lay block, or even mix a good batch of cement. They were too skittish to work without my supervision, and even then, stood back and watched me before picking up a tool. Now they are doing the work themselves. People who I haven't worked with very much with in the last year articulate Peace Corps' mission and my ideas more clearly than some of my key counterparts. These are huge steps that they have decided to take.

There are frustrations, hundreds of them. There are just as many disappointments. But along with those there are the rewards, ones I hoped for that are coming true, and a bunch of unexpected others. I am constantly challenged by this experience, and although I wish it weren't this way, I know I will leave here with so much more knowledge gained than I could ever hope to leave behind.

Skills and knowledge I've learned in Panama that will be useless upon re-entry

1. Cooking without dairy, refrigeration or meat.
2. Lawn mowing with a machete.
3. Bathing and washing my hair with fewer than two gallons of water.
4. Enjoyment of boiled green bananas and plantains.
5. Enough knowledge to get me half way to a medical specialty in tropical infectious diseases.
6. The life cycle of roundworm.
7. Drinking things which in the U.S. are solid foods, ie corn flakes frozen popsicles, oatmeal drinks.
8. Sleeping through crows, screaming children and church hymns sung between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m.
9. Basic masonry.
10. Advanced hair braiding.
11. Essential properties of gravity-flow water systems.
12. Conversational Ngobere.