Many of you reacted with more horror than I was expecting the first time I shared some of the Ngobes´ favorite recipes. I just get used to things and I forget that maybe other people wouldn´t like to be served a bowl of boiled yucca with rice, boiled bananas, and noodles on top. Why? Because not everyone likes to eat three days worth of carbs in one sitting. Oh, I forgot.
I bring you this second edition, because lately my neighbors have been offering me a whole heck of a lot of food. I am not sure why this started up again, but I sort of wish it would stop, because as much as I appreciate their generosity in sharing what little they have, I know their own families need and enjoy it more.
THE BAD
Patitas-Chicken feet. If a family has chicken to eat, they´re doing pretty well. It means that day they had the money to buy something other than canned sardines or just eat the root vegetables in their finca. However, we must never forget that this is Panama and these people are poor, so the chicken they eat is of a different variety than what you or I might choose at home. Chicken feet cost 65 cents a pound, and when used to made a soup, they really do provide a nice, rich, chickeny flavor. But don´t rush out to your butcher just yet.
Because when it comes to actually eating the feet? That part is not fun. The texture of the dimply skin is fatty and rough, and if you get a mouthful of anything, it´s tendon or bone. No problem for the Ngobes, because they like to eat the bones, and good thing because I am quite sure that fish and chicken bones are their only true source of calcium.
Pescuezo- Chicken necks! An economic step up from the feet. These cost about 85 cents a pound, and on the back, they do have a little strip of meat. The rest of it, like the feet, is skin, tendon and vertabrae. Chicken necks have good flavor too, in theory, but would be better if just used for stock and removed. I always have to floss pieces of spine and marrow out of my teeth after eating these. Not pretty.
I always feel guilty when offered these two foods, because the Ngobes eat every last little bit, but I still can´t bring myself to chomp down with gusto on chicken spine. For them any kind of chicken is a special occasion, a good day. It reminds me how lucky I am that I have never been hungry enough to eat chicken bones, or to suck a chicken toe of the foot and nearly swallow it whole. I worry that I am showing them disrespect when I leave so much of what to them is good food left in my bowl. I do my best to eat as much as possible, but there are some habits a gringa just can´t break.
Chica de Maiz- Corn juice. Grind uncooked corn kernels, throw them in a big pot with water and cook until you have a thick, milky consistency. Add sugar if, Gracias a Dios (Thank God), you have some that day. The result is a slightly sour, rock heavy beverage that is served hot. It tastes like something that will make you really sick later on. It hasn´t actually yet made me ill, but if my neighbor offers me some at 8am, I am not hungry again til dinner. Sticks to your ribs.
THE AMAZING
Cacao- I live in chocolate country. It grows on trees. I buy it for 30 or 35 cents a ball, depending on my dealer. I say dealer because I am addicted. A ball yields probably between 8 or 10 servings. Grate into water, let it come to a boil, and steam for 10-15 minutes, add sugar. For super rich hot chocolate, do it with powdered milk, and allow yourself to experience the most incredible beverage on the planet. Also delicious served when left to cool in the pot. Chocolate milk!
Fried plantains- Oh my God. Slice super ripe plaintains. Fry in oil. My Ngobes don´t make these very much, they say maduros (ripe bananas or plantains) give them diarrhea. I think it is the idea that it has a flavor that is upsetting to them. But that´s fine, more for me. Can´t wait to make these back in the states and serve over ice cream. You gringos are going to freak out.
Arroz con Coco- Rice cooked with juice from inside a coconut (maybe 1/2 or 2/3 coconut, to 1/2 or 1/3 water). A carribean favorite and INCREDIBLE when served with fried fish. Thank God coconuts grow everywhere.
Showing posts with label culture week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture week. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Culture points and catch phrases
During training, I wrote a post about culture in Panama. At the time, I lived with a Latino family and had little exposure to life with Ngobes. I´ve spent over a month in site now and would like to catch up up on some of what I´ve learned. I include catch phrases in this list because I hear each of these sayings many times a week, if not more, and I consider each a culture point in its own right.
¨No hay plata.¨ (There is no money). If Ngobe life was a song, this would be the chorus. People like to end a lot of stories with this sentence, and then look wistfully at me. Sometimes it´s innocent, but it can also be an indirect way of asking for money. Direct communication doesn´t exist in this country, and telling a long story and ending it with this common refrain is the way they know to ask. And they ask often because they think that I am...
The Gringa with money. Panama uses American currency, and everyone knows the U.S. as the place where the money is made. Many also think that its just handed out from the ¨factory¨to anyone who wants some. Everyone is rich, right?, they ask. I have tried to explain this, but in my efforts to explain the basics of inflation, deflastion, and other economic keywords, I often lose them and myself. (If everyone has $1,000, tomorrow when you go to the store, rice will cost $100´, I say). It feels futile anyway, because poverty in the United States is nothing like it is here.
Anyway, needless to say, everyone assumes that because I´m a gringa, I have unlimited piles of money lying around. I´ve been moderately successful in my efforts to dispell this rumor, explaining that I came to live with them, and live like them, so PC only gives me enough for food, money, and transport. I still get asked for money a lot, which is irritating, and from my perspective, kind of hurtful. I left family, friends, and much more to help out here, and it feels like it still isn´t enough. But that´s the thing. I can´t look at it from my perspective. In a way, yes, they do ask me for money more frequently because they assume I have it (and even on my PC stipend, I do have a lot more money than families here), but they also ask because the idea of sharing and gift giving is ingrained in their culture. It isn´t a big deal. It happens all the time, and there isn´t so much of the ¨but this is mine!¨mentaility Americans have.
¨¿Regalame esto?¨- Gift me this? If someone hands me a bag of oranges from their finca, they often say ¨Te regalo,¨meaning ¨I gift this to you.¨Similarly, the idea of money lending and sharing in general much more accepted here. It is not rude to walk up to my bedroom door and say ¨Lend me a dollar.¨Even though it rubs me the wrong way (not even a please!), I remind myself that these are the same people who see me walking and ask worriedly if I´ve eaten yet, and if the answer is no, and they have food to spare, they always invite me in for dinner. Before I came to Panama, I would have said I was a good sharer, but I think these people have me beat.
¨No hay plata.¨ (There is no money). If Ngobe life was a song, this would be the chorus. People like to end a lot of stories with this sentence, and then look wistfully at me. Sometimes it´s innocent, but it can also be an indirect way of asking for money. Direct communication doesn´t exist in this country, and telling a long story and ending it with this common refrain is the way they know to ask. And they ask often because they think that I am...
The Gringa with money. Panama uses American currency, and everyone knows the U.S. as the place where the money is made. Many also think that its just handed out from the ¨factory¨to anyone who wants some. Everyone is rich, right?, they ask. I have tried to explain this, but in my efforts to explain the basics of inflation, deflastion, and other economic keywords, I often lose them and myself. (If everyone has $1,000, tomorrow when you go to the store, rice will cost $100´, I say). It feels futile anyway, because poverty in the United States is nothing like it is here.
Anyway, needless to say, everyone assumes that because I´m a gringa, I have unlimited piles of money lying around. I´ve been moderately successful in my efforts to dispell this rumor, explaining that I came to live with them, and live like them, so PC only gives me enough for food, money, and transport. I still get asked for money a lot, which is irritating, and from my perspective, kind of hurtful. I left family, friends, and much more to help out here, and it feels like it still isn´t enough. But that´s the thing. I can´t look at it from my perspective. In a way, yes, they do ask me for money more frequently because they assume I have it (and even on my PC stipend, I do have a lot more money than families here), but they also ask because the idea of sharing and gift giving is ingrained in their culture. It isn´t a big deal. It happens all the time, and there isn´t so much of the ¨but this is mine!¨mentaility Americans have.
¨¿Regalame esto?¨- Gift me this? If someone hands me a bag of oranges from their finca, they often say ¨Te regalo,¨meaning ¨I gift this to you.¨Similarly, the idea of money lending and sharing in general much more accepted here. It is not rude to walk up to my bedroom door and say ¨Lend me a dollar.¨Even though it rubs me the wrong way (not even a please!), I remind myself that these are the same people who see me walking and ask worriedly if I´ve eaten yet, and if the answer is no, and they have food to spare, they always invite me in for dinner. Before I came to Panama, I would have said I was a good sharer, but I think these people have me beat.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Culture week roundup
Every time I sit down at the computer to write a blog post, I am daunted by the amount of information and stories I have to tell. Today is no different, and worse, I´ve forgotten my notepad with all of my little thoughts and notes I wanted to share.
I´ve just returned from culture week, and my first experience living with a Ngobe family. I stayed in a raised hut with with a mother and father, and two kids, 14 months and four years old on the Island of San Cristobal in the Carribean. When we arrived on Sunday, the whole town was abuzz waiting for the boat load of gringos to disembark, and while we walked through the town to the rancho, we were stunned by the number of children all around. So. many. children. Over the course of the week, they would become some of our best buddies in San Cristobal, running up to hold hands as we walked to class, lifting up their arms to be thrown in the air, and hanging on the legs and backs of the big, burly boys in our group. We spent a couple afternoons swimming in the ocean with them. Ngobe kids loaded up their dugout canoes with PC aspirantes, and we swam around among the coral in water that was still only about waist-deep(my host mom later dug out spines from my feet with a needle. So handy!). We made sure to paddle extremely far out. The environmental-health situation in Isla Cristobal is pretty poor; they do all of their business in ¨servicios¨over the water. Often in the afternoon and evening, the smell of excrement wafts from house to house, especially those whose homes are built directly over the shore.
That aside, I continue to be wowed by the jaw-dropping openness and kindness of the Ngobe people we meet. I would like to say it is my effervescent charm that endears me to everyone, but I can take no credit for how well we are treated.
My host mom was very shy and bashful, and at first. When she spoke it was barely above a whisper. But by second day, she started giggling at my jokes, making her own, and even asked to braid my hair. DISCLAIMER: Only consent to a Ngobe hair-do if you want to look like a fool. At first, I thought she was whipping up these styles purely to humiliate me, but I later found out they legitimately think they look lovely. The first style consisted of several brightly-colored pony tail holders positioned at all angles over my head. Everyone from the PC Bocas group could not look at me without laughing. The last day, my host mom said she had to braid my hair, and I tried to do a little intervention by saying that I like the braids best when they started in the back of the head and go down. You know...I was hoping for something french-braidish. I asked if she understood, and she said yes, but then she immediately began forming two gigantic Clifford-size dog-ear braids down the side of my head, with a violent part in the middle. The braiding continued, and at one point, I asked how many braids she had made, and in one of my favorite moments of the week, she sheepishly replied, ¨Varios...¨
This needs no translation. I spent all of Friday walking around with six braids with neon-colored scrunchies, hearing all the aspirantes laugh at me, barely able to mak eye contact. No Ngobes though, to them, I looked just fine.
The rest of the week consisted of culture lectures, Ngobere classes, walks on the medicinal plant trail, visits to the artisan shops, and even a visit to another volunteer´s community on the other side of the island. We paseared to a bunch of houses there, meeting one incredibly sweet, quietly intelligent older man who told us he stayed home all day from work to wait for our visit. With children tugging and grabbing you, Ngobes eager to teach you their language, and community members peering out their windows hoping you´ll stop by to talk, it´s hard not to feel incredibly optimistic about the next two years of service. Nothing comes easily in PC, but I can already see how the rewards will make it all worth it.
In other news, my Spanish is coming along. In my second language interview a couple of weeks ago, I scored advanced-low, and I am definitely shifting more easily between English and Spanish, and speaking a lot more fluidly. I am grateful that I´m well understood, and made sure this past week to spend a lot of time talking with my host family. Every night I sat out on the porch and chatted for a couple of hours, asking them questions about their life in Panama and answering some of theirs about life in the U.S. I continually found myself struggling to put words to such foreign concepts and realities in our country. For these people, the world is so small. One woman assumed everyone in the United States spoke Spanish. I told her a lot of people took it in high school, but few speak it fluently. She couldn´t figure out how they could forget. Everyone asked about my family constantly, trying to understand how I could be 22 and still without children. They were all worried about my parents, and couldn´t imagine why I would move so far away. And how could they? Most Ngobe families live within spitting distance, who could imagine moving half a world away to live with strangers?
On Thursday, my host mom snuck into the living room, where I had just finished watching Touched by an Angel dubbed in Spanish with Monica, a seven-year-old fan of mine who lived next door. (You may be interested to know, whoever dubbed for the Irish angel kept a slight brogue somehow through the Spanish. Incredibly impressive.) My host mom sat down on a bench, and all of a sudden said she didn´t want me to leave on Saturday, and why couldn´t we do tech week in San Cristobal? I told her my permanent site is close, and I could come and visit soon. She paused, a grin spread across her face, and she said, ¨Catherine, how many stories is your house in the U.S.?¨ I said it was two floors, and told her the floor plan, and she said, ¨You can visit me here, but when can I come and visit you and your family in America?¨
On Saturday, she and Toni, my four-year-old host brother, walked me to the dock to say goodbye, and I tried to thank her for everything, and to convey completely how grateful I was. They stood on the dock and waved goodbye, and I was caught off guard by how sad I was to be leaving them.
As we sped away toward Bocas Island, I realized I have two families in Panama now, in Santa Clara and now in San Cristobal. Nani, my SC-host mom was sad to hear my site was in Bocas, because it would mean visiting her, the Daiveys, and Gresyi would be difficult She hugged me as I left last week, and her concern and advice for me was so genuine. ¨Take care, Catherine,¨she said, scanning me up and down, in disbelief that the sweaty, friendly gringa was venturing out to the rough and wild Bocas province. She watched from the door as my friend and I disappeared down the hill, and again, I was surprised at how sad I felt to have to leave them for two weeks.
We are treated so well here, often times just because people, particularly Ngobes, are so honored and excited to have us as guests. We felt like rock stars walking down the paths in San Cristobal, with kids crawling out of windows and climbing onto porches to yell hello. I can´t wait to see my own community in a few weeks, and to find out what happens when my stay is more permanent, and it´s time to get real work done. The reality of living and working here for two years is starting to hit me. Food is an adjustment, there is very little privacy, and once the gringa-excitment wears off, I will undoubtedly be struggling trying to motivate, and inspire people to change how they´ve lived for years, all in a second language. As rich as some of our interactions have been, I am always wondering when other volunteers taking about having ¨friends¨in their community, how meaningful these relationships really are. How deeply can you know someone when, even though you live together, in most way you are still a world apart? Howevr, weeks like the one I just had always remind me that laughter sounds the same in every language, all kids want your attention, and people always surprise you, sometimes for the worst, but mostly for the best.
In other news, I have a cell phone! I finally called home last night, and the reception was awesome. I think you can get to me by dialing 001 for the int´line, country code 507, then 64101638. I won´t have service when I am in Santa Clara, but I will try to start texting and calling when I can. Once I am in Bocas permanently, I will always have service.
Much love to everyone. I´m off to tech week where we´ll be building a compost latrine, thermoforming PVC pipes for aqueducts, and learning how to maintain, repair and design the lines. We´ll be in the Comarca, where the food will be somewhat less plentiful, and a lot less enjoyable (think boiled bananas three times a day), so I´ll undoubtedly have more to share next week. Be good.
I´ve just returned from culture week, and my first experience living with a Ngobe family. I stayed in a raised hut with with a mother and father, and two kids, 14 months and four years old on the Island of San Cristobal in the Carribean. When we arrived on Sunday, the whole town was abuzz waiting for the boat load of gringos to disembark, and while we walked through the town to the rancho, we were stunned by the number of children all around. So. many. children. Over the course of the week, they would become some of our best buddies in San Cristobal, running up to hold hands as we walked to class, lifting up their arms to be thrown in the air, and hanging on the legs and backs of the big, burly boys in our group. We spent a couple afternoons swimming in the ocean with them. Ngobe kids loaded up their dugout canoes with PC aspirantes, and we swam around among the coral in water that was still only about waist-deep(my host mom later dug out spines from my feet with a needle. So handy!). We made sure to paddle extremely far out. The environmental-health situation in Isla Cristobal is pretty poor; they do all of their business in ¨servicios¨over the water. Often in the afternoon and evening, the smell of excrement wafts from house to house, especially those whose homes are built directly over the shore.
That aside, I continue to be wowed by the jaw-dropping openness and kindness of the Ngobe people we meet. I would like to say it is my effervescent charm that endears me to everyone, but I can take no credit for how well we are treated.
My host mom was very shy and bashful, and at first. When she spoke it was barely above a whisper. But by second day, she started giggling at my jokes, making her own, and even asked to braid my hair. DISCLAIMER: Only consent to a Ngobe hair-do if you want to look like a fool. At first, I thought she was whipping up these styles purely to humiliate me, but I later found out they legitimately think they look lovely. The first style consisted of several brightly-colored pony tail holders positioned at all angles over my head. Everyone from the PC Bocas group could not look at me without laughing. The last day, my host mom said she had to braid my hair, and I tried to do a little intervention by saying that I like the braids best when they started in the back of the head and go down. You know...I was hoping for something french-braidish. I asked if she understood, and she said yes, but then she immediately began forming two gigantic Clifford-size dog-ear braids down the side of my head, with a violent part in the middle. The braiding continued, and at one point, I asked how many braids she had made, and in one of my favorite moments of the week, she sheepishly replied, ¨Varios...¨
This needs no translation. I spent all of Friday walking around with six braids with neon-colored scrunchies, hearing all the aspirantes laugh at me, barely able to mak eye contact. No Ngobes though, to them, I looked just fine.
The rest of the week consisted of culture lectures, Ngobere classes, walks on the medicinal plant trail, visits to the artisan shops, and even a visit to another volunteer´s community on the other side of the island. We paseared to a bunch of houses there, meeting one incredibly sweet, quietly intelligent older man who told us he stayed home all day from work to wait for our visit. With children tugging and grabbing you, Ngobes eager to teach you their language, and community members peering out their windows hoping you´ll stop by to talk, it´s hard not to feel incredibly optimistic about the next two years of service. Nothing comes easily in PC, but I can already see how the rewards will make it all worth it.
In other news, my Spanish is coming along. In my second language interview a couple of weeks ago, I scored advanced-low, and I am definitely shifting more easily between English and Spanish, and speaking a lot more fluidly. I am grateful that I´m well understood, and made sure this past week to spend a lot of time talking with my host family. Every night I sat out on the porch and chatted for a couple of hours, asking them questions about their life in Panama and answering some of theirs about life in the U.S. I continually found myself struggling to put words to such foreign concepts and realities in our country. For these people, the world is so small. One woman assumed everyone in the United States spoke Spanish. I told her a lot of people took it in high school, but few speak it fluently. She couldn´t figure out how they could forget. Everyone asked about my family constantly, trying to understand how I could be 22 and still without children. They were all worried about my parents, and couldn´t imagine why I would move so far away. And how could they? Most Ngobe families live within spitting distance, who could imagine moving half a world away to live with strangers?
On Thursday, my host mom snuck into the living room, where I had just finished watching Touched by an Angel dubbed in Spanish with Monica, a seven-year-old fan of mine who lived next door. (You may be interested to know, whoever dubbed for the Irish angel kept a slight brogue somehow through the Spanish. Incredibly impressive.) My host mom sat down on a bench, and all of a sudden said she didn´t want me to leave on Saturday, and why couldn´t we do tech week in San Cristobal? I told her my permanent site is close, and I could come and visit soon. She paused, a grin spread across her face, and she said, ¨Catherine, how many stories is your house in the U.S.?¨ I said it was two floors, and told her the floor plan, and she said, ¨You can visit me here, but when can I come and visit you and your family in America?¨
On Saturday, she and Toni, my four-year-old host brother, walked me to the dock to say goodbye, and I tried to thank her for everything, and to convey completely how grateful I was. They stood on the dock and waved goodbye, and I was caught off guard by how sad I was to be leaving them.
As we sped away toward Bocas Island, I realized I have two families in Panama now, in Santa Clara and now in San Cristobal. Nani, my SC-host mom was sad to hear my site was in Bocas, because it would mean visiting her, the Daiveys, and Gresyi would be difficult She hugged me as I left last week, and her concern and advice for me was so genuine. ¨Take care, Catherine,¨she said, scanning me up and down, in disbelief that the sweaty, friendly gringa was venturing out to the rough and wild Bocas province. She watched from the door as my friend and I disappeared down the hill, and again, I was surprised at how sad I felt to have to leave them for two weeks.
We are treated so well here, often times just because people, particularly Ngobes, are so honored and excited to have us as guests. We felt like rock stars walking down the paths in San Cristobal, with kids crawling out of windows and climbing onto porches to yell hello. I can´t wait to see my own community in a few weeks, and to find out what happens when my stay is more permanent, and it´s time to get real work done. The reality of living and working here for two years is starting to hit me. Food is an adjustment, there is very little privacy, and once the gringa-excitment wears off, I will undoubtedly be struggling trying to motivate, and inspire people to change how they´ve lived for years, all in a second language. As rich as some of our interactions have been, I am always wondering when other volunteers taking about having ¨friends¨in their community, how meaningful these relationships really are. How deeply can you know someone when, even though you live together, in most way you are still a world apart? Howevr, weeks like the one I just had always remind me that laughter sounds the same in every language, all kids want your attention, and people always surprise you, sometimes for the worst, but mostly for the best.
In other news, I have a cell phone! I finally called home last night, and the reception was awesome. I think you can get to me by dialing 001 for the int´line, country code 507, then 64101638. I won´t have service when I am in Santa Clara, but I will try to start texting and calling when I can. Once I am in Bocas permanently, I will always have service.
Much love to everyone. I´m off to tech week where we´ll be building a compost latrine, thermoforming PVC pipes for aqueducts, and learning how to maintain, repair and design the lines. We´ll be in the Comarca, where the food will be somewhat less plentiful, and a lot less enjoyable (think boiled bananas three times a day), so I´ll undoubtedly have more to share next week. Be good.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Site Annoucements
Thank you to everyone who has been sending me emails. I wish I could send more lengthy responses, but unfortunately my computer time is limited. But know that I miss you all, and am always thinking about what you´re all up to.
As for me, today was the most important day of my training so far. We received our site announcements four hours ago, and I couldn´t be more pleased. They kept us in suspense for several hours, during which I got a serious case of the nervous giggles, leg twitches, and thumb-twiddles. The hour of announcement began with a clip of President Kennedy talking about Peace Corps, and a series of commercials that have aired since PC was started 48 years ago. Talk about drama. They were giving the telenovelas (Spanish soap operas) a run for their money.
The training directors placed a huge map of Panama in the center of the room and said they would announce sites from east to west, starting in the Darien and ending in Bocas. I was called second-to-last, and will be living in a Ngobe site in Bocas, very close to where my site visit was. We only receive a little information about our future site, but from what I´ve heard so far, I´m absolutely elated.
My site has a view of the Carribean Ocean, is predominantly Ngobe, but also has a Latino population. This will be good for my Spanish, as many volunteers are concerned about language loss once they move to an indigenous site. I don´t need to hike anywhere, it sounds like the town is very close to the highway. I was surprised to hear it has over 1,000 people, which was not at all what I was expecting, but I was also told you´d never know there are that many people there. There are only 120 houses total, and while most live close to the road, many others are spread far out. So far out it might take me a couple of days to pasear from one side to the other.
This is good opportunity for exercise.
The site sounds more accessible than I was expecting overall, which means I should be able to get to the Internet regularly, and also to a market to buy the vegetables after which I am constantly lusting. My main project will likely involve composting latrines. The community has demonstrated an interest in them, and even applied for a grant through a government agency, but as of yet, nothing has come of it. They are desperately in need of latrines, as they only have three serving the entire community. Essentially everyone does their business in the creek.
Herego, there is a lot of opportunity for health education as well, which is something I was hoping for and looking forward to. The schools are well-attended and have a larger staff than I was expecting. There is also an existing water committee, and an active community leader who has taken the lead on the latrine project in the past. It is a relief to hear there is some leadership in the community already. Its size is daunting, but I think I was placed there partly because my APCD thinks I could be good at motivating an organizing the groups. Volunteers in Bocas also have a lot of opportunity to work with host-country agencies, like the Ministries of Health, Social Development, etc, which I hope to do also. Our first three months in-site are dedicated to ¨Proyecto Amistad¨or project friendship, and doing a community analysis. During this time, I´ll get a better sense of what people want, what it will take, and whether it´s feasible.
I am thrilled to be in the Bocas province. I´ll have cell reception, several other volunteers close by, and also... when you guys come to Panama... I am very close to Bocas Island, which is the top tourist destination of Panama.
This Saturday we leave for culture week, which will be on one of the islands off the coast of Bocas. After that, we´ll come back through David, and then have tech week in the Comarca Ngobe-Buble. Tech week is for learning more details about how to build latrines, repair, design, or build aqueducts, and other key EH skills. I´ll be away from Santa Clara for two weeks, living with indigenous host families, and spending a lot of time with my training group. I heard these are a stressful couple of weeks, but I´m ready to go in with guns blazing.
I promise to bring my camera this time.
I have so much more to share, but am running out of time. It´s been a chaotic couple of weeks, with tons of presentations, projects, language test, and everything in between. My APCD interview last week went really well. It was a huge confidence boost, and a good reminder of why I´m here. I´lll be in David again later this week, and hopefully I can check in again then. If not, I am sure I´ll have more thoughts than you want to hear once culture and tech weeks are over.
In the mean time, check out the video posted here. We watched it last week, and it shows what some indigenous communities in Panama are like. Might give you a better picture of what PC does here and under what conditions.
As for me, today was the most important day of my training so far. We received our site announcements four hours ago, and I couldn´t be more pleased. They kept us in suspense for several hours, during which I got a serious case of the nervous giggles, leg twitches, and thumb-twiddles. The hour of announcement began with a clip of President Kennedy talking about Peace Corps, and a series of commercials that have aired since PC was started 48 years ago. Talk about drama. They were giving the telenovelas (Spanish soap operas) a run for their money.
The training directors placed a huge map of Panama in the center of the room and said they would announce sites from east to west, starting in the Darien and ending in Bocas. I was called second-to-last, and will be living in a Ngobe site in Bocas, very close to where my site visit was. We only receive a little information about our future site, but from what I´ve heard so far, I´m absolutely elated.
My site has a view of the Carribean Ocean, is predominantly Ngobe, but also has a Latino population. This will be good for my Spanish, as many volunteers are concerned about language loss once they move to an indigenous site. I don´t need to hike anywhere, it sounds like the town is very close to the highway. I was surprised to hear it has over 1,000 people, which was not at all what I was expecting, but I was also told you´d never know there are that many people there. There are only 120 houses total, and while most live close to the road, many others are spread far out. So far out it might take me a couple of days to pasear from one side to the other.
This is good opportunity for exercise.
The site sounds more accessible than I was expecting overall, which means I should be able to get to the Internet regularly, and also to a market to buy the vegetables after which I am constantly lusting. My main project will likely involve composting latrines. The community has demonstrated an interest in them, and even applied for a grant through a government agency, but as of yet, nothing has come of it. They are desperately in need of latrines, as they only have three serving the entire community. Essentially everyone does their business in the creek.
Herego, there is a lot of opportunity for health education as well, which is something I was hoping for and looking forward to. The schools are well-attended and have a larger staff than I was expecting. There is also an existing water committee, and an active community leader who has taken the lead on the latrine project in the past. It is a relief to hear there is some leadership in the community already. Its size is daunting, but I think I was placed there partly because my APCD thinks I could be good at motivating an organizing the groups. Volunteers in Bocas also have a lot of opportunity to work with host-country agencies, like the Ministries of Health, Social Development, etc, which I hope to do also. Our first three months in-site are dedicated to ¨Proyecto Amistad¨or project friendship, and doing a community analysis. During this time, I´ll get a better sense of what people want, what it will take, and whether it´s feasible.
I am thrilled to be in the Bocas province. I´ll have cell reception, several other volunteers close by, and also... when you guys come to Panama... I am very close to Bocas Island, which is the top tourist destination of Panama.
This Saturday we leave for culture week, which will be on one of the islands off the coast of Bocas. After that, we´ll come back through David, and then have tech week in the Comarca Ngobe-Buble. Tech week is for learning more details about how to build latrines, repair, design, or build aqueducts, and other key EH skills. I´ll be away from Santa Clara for two weeks, living with indigenous host families, and spending a lot of time with my training group. I heard these are a stressful couple of weeks, but I´m ready to go in with guns blazing.
I promise to bring my camera this time.
I have so much more to share, but am running out of time. It´s been a chaotic couple of weeks, with tons of presentations, projects, language test, and everything in between. My APCD interview last week went really well. It was a huge confidence boost, and a good reminder of why I´m here. I´lll be in David again later this week, and hopefully I can check in again then. If not, I am sure I´ll have more thoughts than you want to hear once culture and tech weeks are over.
In the mean time, check out the video posted here. We watched it last week, and it shows what some indigenous communities in Panama are like. Might give you a better picture of what PC does here and under what conditions.
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