¨Twas the Week Before Christmas

And all through the Comarca,
Not a creature stirred,
Except bugs, rats, cats, dogs, drunks, birds, Peace Corps Volunteers, lizards, spiders, kids, etc

No, there is no Christmas in the Comarca. Sure, the people of Panama know about Christmas and even celebrate it, but they do not experience the whirling maelstorm of consumerism that seems exclusively American. While the world bemoans a coming recession and Americans still buy 21.6 presents per person (down from 23 last year) on average, the folks in the Comarca quietly go about their lives without much of a thought towards the day that Jesus was registered with the government (he was born in April). There are no presents, no trees with decorations, no songs or mistletoe. There will probably be a Christmas service for those who were converted by the recent missionaries, but very few are thinking about doing anything special, let alone even hearing about ads and sales from Thanksgiving to end of the year as they are not getting them over the radio and they don´t have TVs (or electricity).

But here, in this little shack, in the corner of the village, in the heart fo the jungle, there is one young blonde cutie who wants to hear some carols, decorate with garland, and put up a tree. She sings softly those songs that she carries inside, gathering a small herd of children to her like the Pied Piper of Hamburg. She does a little piroqette with the twinkle of a tear in her eye as she wishes whole-heartedly to be in a place that celebrates this favorite of American holidays, this wonderful time when we all put aside our differences and think about what is good for everyone. We take time to ponder the meaning of world peace and the brotherhood (sisterhood) of man (woman). We plan trips to see family, or at least a phone call to touch base, and we search the stores and malls for those perfect gifts for our loved ones, presents they will actually use. We attend churches with sermons full of hope, and read many a Hallmark card with lovely sentiments.

While we feel like we are doing a good deed by being here, and we are happy to have friends like the other PCVs we will be meeting up with at the beach on Christmas Eve, we do indeed miss that special time of year when even an old grouch like me has trouble uttering a bah-humbug. When the stores and schools and court buildings are all showing their Christmas spirit and playing those classics, and even strangers are a little nicer to each other than they have to be. Its a time when there are plays and TV shows about being a better person, Santas in malls offering hopes to kids and outside of stores offering hopes to the poor, and we can all hope that the item we really want (that was at the top of our gift list) is under the tree decorated with memories of past Christmases.

We are going about our lives as we had expected ourselves to, searching for leaders of the community and encouraging them to continue to fight for a better life. We are just starting so it is a time of hope and optimism for us, even without the holiday spirit. And yet, somehow, I´m sure that this little blonde of mine will have us some plane tickets back to the States next year, because she is not going to want to miss more than one Christmas in a row!