Balseria

The summer was ending.

The rains were coming.

The traditions called for it.

The people wanted it.

The time was ripe.

Balseria.

They came from all over.

They came to Ceble.

They came from tiny villages.

They came from our town.

They came from the capital.

They came from the other side of the mountains.

They came from San Felix, and San Lorenzo, and one even came from San Francisco, CA.

There must have been 300, at least.

They had made the chicha fuerte and sancocho.

They had covered hats with vulture feathers sticking straight up high.

They had fashioned musical instruments from turtle shells and cow horns, bones and conchs, and bits of left over modern trash.

They had dried out hunting trophies in splayed eagle to hang on their back: jaguars, sloths, monkeys, and a little squirrel.

And they had cut the balsa wood in five foot lengths.

The slightly sloping field can be seen from our town.

A lush green of short grass dotted with large black volcanic rocks.

We three girls and three boys hiked for over an hour and a half.

The trail drops off precipitously at first and then picks its way over hill and creek.

The sun was shining high and strong.

We were sweaty from the start.

The Balseria had started a few days before.

We had been planning to go for some time.

We learned that it had been moved, and then moved back.

We heard the balsa throwing would continue for one morning more.

We didn’t want to miss this.

We passed people on the trail headed in the opposite direction.

We asked each for the latest news.

“Are they still throwing the balsa?”

“Is there still chicha fuerte?”

“Are people still there?”

Many of these people had mashed up faces, swollen lips, cut eyes.

They had blood on their shirts.

Vomit on their chins.

Grass and mud on their knees.

They walked with a limp.

Sometimes we passed them without a word for they were passed out under a tree.

We arrived.

We were questioned.

They wanted to know who we were.

Why we were there.

Then our friend saw us.

He wanted to know who was the owner of these women.

Ryu and Eli pointed at me.

Lisa and Steph laughed.

Jen protested, loudly, in English.

We saw more friends,

We drank the chicha fuerte.

We tried to get our faces painted.

We made new friends.

We drank much chicha fuerte.

We joined the groups in the main field.

Only men were playing then, though women do, too.

Each group was split into two teams.

The teams came from the same family or village.

There was much bellowing, oohing, ahhing, and hooting.

Many men were wearing naguas (Ngobe dresses) to hide their legs.

One man has the balsa.

Another stands his ground.

The balsa-thrower may skip in close, circle the target.

The balsa-dodger might taunt, blow a whistle.

The thrower cocks his arm lifting the balsa high.

The dodger rolls to the balls of his feet.

Like a javelin, the balsa flies.

Only between knee and ankle can the balsa fly.

Like a dancer, the dodger’s feet move.

IT FLIES.

IT STRIKES!

The dodger’s teams race to pick up the balsa.

The thrower becomes the dodger.

The one who got the balsa becomes the thrower.

The dance begins again.

Eli, Ryu, and I race after the balsa.

We are excited to try our luck.

I get the balsa after a throw.

I chuck it rather lamely, easily dodged.

It is the receiving that I want more.

Balsa wood is a light wood.

I had planned to let them hit me.

I had planned to show my Alaskan strength.

I had thought that the balsa would be shorter.

I had thought that the balsa would be thrown sideways.

I had assumed it wouldn’t hurt much.

I was wrong.

The other side picks up the balsa.

There is much shouting for the throw at the gringo.

The other man begins to approach, running in a circle.

He moves in right to my shoulder.

He wants me to be scared.

He wants me to be distracted.

He backs up to throw.

I lose my nerve, try to dodge.

I throw my left leg out straight in fear.

The balsa hits my right leg, not fast enough to evade.

The inside of my right calf explodes with pain.

I do not fall or cry out,

But I regret my decision to show off.

The welt rose immediately.

The welt continued to rise for some time.

The welt drained blood into my ankle hollow.

The bruise was ugly for some time.

The rest of the day I dodged much better.

We drank more chicha fuerte.

We played the turtle and the horn.

We whistled and bellowed, oohed and ahhed.

I didn’t get hit again. Ryu, twice. Eli, not at all.

The women fended off marriage proposals.

Normally shy, respectful men become enamored.

"You are the sun in the sky.”

“I do not yet have a blonde wife.”

“Come meet my other wife to see if you like each other.”

Not one proposal was sufficient to ensnare a gringa.

At midday, the bare-knuckle fist fighting began.

Shirts were removed to protect them.

Men stepped up to square off.

Always one man fought with only one man.

They aimed for the head and nowhere else.

I had planned to fist fight as well.

I saw the bulging farmers’ arms and chests.

I saw the blood flowing freely.

I saw that the fights don’t end quickly.

I chose not to fight.

We hiked home early in the afternoon.

We started off a little tipsy.

Soon the sun and hiking cooked the booze out.

I had to limp a little for a week.

Ah, balseria, we can’t wait for next year.

6 months. We’ve been living and working in our community now for 6 months, which means we have 18 months remaining in our service (if we choose not to extend). So, in terms of time in site, we’re a quarter of the way done. Now, if you choose to look at our whole service (training included), we’ve been in the country for over 8 months, although training is advertised as being a 3 month commitment, making the whole term of service 27 months. Thus with 18 months remaining, we’re one-third of the way through our service. What do all these fractions mean for us? This is flying by!

What have we been doing in our six months so far? The easy answer is – we’ve been trying to figure out what we should be doing. The slightly more detailed answer (because it is hard to know without experiencing it) is that we’ve been talking a lot. We’re talking about the culture, the people, the history, talking about their work, their needs, their dreams, their failures and dashed hopes, their knowledge, their fears, their curiosities about life in the United States. We’ve learned that only in truly knowing the people, and being accepted as a part of their community, can we begin to know where our business knowledge and work can fit in and help in the future. And we feel like we’re getting there!

Initially we thought we might spend much of our time here working on developing business plans for many groups to use to solicit funding or other necessities. As time went on we learned that actually, the first step is teaching about planning. What is a plan? Why is it important? What is the situation today – good and bad? And what are our dreams for the future? Then, how do we get there? That’s been our work so far. We could push people to develop business plans, but in truth, we wouldn’t be doing them a service by giving them anything that they don’t understand or see the use in on their own. We might, in fact, be doing them a disservice by wasting their time, raising false expectations, or producing yet another poor interaction with the developed world.

The deadline-driven, results based, “get a good grade to know you’ve done well” part of me isn’t a big fan of the slow pace of the work at times. There are days when I feel like I’ve done nothing here. That I should be planning more to do, having more meetings, touching more groups, etc. And that I can’t possibly be “saving the world” through repeated use of a SWOT analysis, and talking about a vision and goals. Luckily, I also have something inside me that is slowing me down, and reminding me that more than anything, my work is about sustainable development, and even more than that, about being a member of the community. I had a nice experience this last week to remind me of my most important work.

Last Thursday afternoon, I spent hours sitting with a group of community members under the campamento in town (a tall open structure with a metal roof), as they ground corn to make chicheme (a corn based drink). Ben was at home working on making me a door for our latrine (YES!!!! After 4 months of living in our house, I finally have a door on my latrine! No one can see me peeing, or more, anymore!) so I was just hanging out. In all honesty, I did nothing to help them work on making the chicheme, but they were teaching me about the process, and they answered my questions about the “corn with beards” (the corn kernels with sprouts) and how to make the drink. In the hours I was there though, we spent most of it just talking and sharing stories. The people had heard that Ben and I went to the balseria near our town in early April (that will deserve its own blog shortly), so we laughed as I told stories about how men didn’t want to fight Ben for me because he’s so tall and has such a big beard. We talked about all kinds of things related to life in the states. They asked me about life in the community, and we talked about pulling ticks off our husband’s asses (yes, I did this the other night too). I can’t remember everything that we talked about that day, but at the end, they asked me how my work was going. As I sat there, reflecting for a moment, I thought about SWOT analyses, and my presentations, but I also thought about sitting around with some incredible people, sharing stories, and being an accepted and important member of the community, and I answered that the work is going good. Really good.

Lisa's Parents Visit Panama

We have just seen Lisa’s parents off to the city. Chuck and Carole are heading home after a week plus here in Panama, and we had a great time. They arrived in Panama City and worked their way through customs and immigration alone because the buses running from the national terminal got Lisa and I to the airport a little late. The city buses don’t even drop people off right out in front; you have to get off several hundred yards away on the passing highway and hoof it over to the building.

The parents brought us a new computer that we’d decided we just had to buy to facilitate our Community Economic Development work; even though we don’t have electricity in our site, we can work on things offline and upload or email them when we get out. It should save us valuable internet café time. Ever generous, they also brought us an extra battery, purchased insurance for us, packed in an optical mouse, and picked up and arranged a new pelican case that will protect against nearly everything.

We stayed around the Panama City Causeway for the first couple of days. Originally, the parents had set up a tour of an Embera village on Good Friday, but the coordinator called and postponed it for the holidays. How Panamanian? Schedule a tour for the biggest day of the Holy Week of Christianity and then have to change it at the last minute. Nevertheless, we were able to set it up for a week later.

During our days in the City, we went to the Canal Museum, took a boat from Gatun Lake through the Canal’s Pacific locks, ate some excellent food, and enjoyed the comforts of a great hotel. Mostly we stuck to the Canal and Causeway side of the city. Even with a rented GPS, getting through the many construction changes and disruptions in a fast paced, rules-be-damned downtown is sometimes a harrowing experience.

After Panama City, we got on the Interamericana and drove all the way across the country to Boquete. A stay at another first-rate hotel allowed us to see much of the beautiful mountain town. The highlights for us were a tour a world class coffee farm and a walk around an exotic animal rescue center. At the coffee farm, we got to the see entire modern process from start to finish, marvel at the oldest drying/roasting machinery in Panama which is still functional, and learn about and try to cup some of their best coffee.

At the rescue center, Chuck and Carole, who are raptor enthusiasts, got to see macaws, parrots, toucans, owls, and many other large and small birds of which I cannot remember the names. They flittered and fluttered, screeched and cawed. A toucan decided to taste our toes, following us all around the bird-house enclosure that shelters many of the smaller birds. We also got to interact with several types of monkeys, see three large cat species (margay, ocelot, and puma), walk around their new picturesque Japanese gardens, and watch a baby anteater feed on some milk.

From Boquete, we began to work our way back to Panama City. In David, we picked up some food supplies and magazines. In San Felix, we got some plastic chairs and rope. After strapping the chairs to the roof of the Suzuki, we were ready to make the ascent to our site. Through hill and dale we rode, stunned by the steepness of the slopes and the rugged loveliness of the communities. For Lisa and I, it was kind of like seeing it all again for the first time, this act of showing off our new environs. We could point out things like fellow communities and volunteer sites, but much of the ride was silent.

At home, we introduced Chuck and Carole around to our neighbors and friends. We drove up to higher villages to see the eastern valleys and ridges spread out below us. We could just make out the ocean, but it was a bit hazy that day so we had to settle without it. We presented our new kitten, Felix, to them (he’s still living with Meligo). A short hike below our house brought us to a ridge where you can see all the way down the western side of our ridge. With Chuck, I hiked up a small hill outcropping to see it from a new vantage point that really opened it all up. We could even see the beach that we would be visiting later that day.

Down at Las Lajas, we stayed in the new Beach Resort that was just completed by an American ex-patriot. The Pacific was like bathwater with surf. The beach was fine sand crawling with snails and crabs. The pool was comfortable and fairly clean, except for the suicidal beetles. The food was delicious, as it was at all the tourist spots we enjoyed in Panama. I lost the room keys in the ocean, but not until we were nearly checked out.

To get back to Panama in time to meet up with Embera tour group the next morning, we had to skip out on our El Valle de Anton plan, but we had fun at the now familiar hotel by the Causeway. The next day, Vladimir picked us up and drove us out to the Chagres River National Park. The Embera village providing our excursion lives upriver and in the park, which means that they cannot farm, fish, hunt, or otherwise affect the natural environment. Panama cannot afford to have anything disrupting the natural watershed that supplies the water for the gravitationally powered canal locks.

We worked our way up a very low river, low because it is the end of the dry season here. At many places, the outboard had to be lifted to get through a shallow spot. We were delivered to a tributary and lead up the river bank to a gorgeous waterfall. Had it been the rainy season, we could have been dropped off right at the base of the waterfall’s pool. As it was, we had a short hike.

After the waterfall, the dug-out canoe took us back down river a ways to the village itself where we were allowed to wander around. We looked at their artisan crafts, thatched homes on stilts, and striking bead clothing. The people also presented us with a dance and an explanation of the works. Afterwards, we purchased a few items, ate a normal local fare of fried fish and patacones served in a rolled-leaf cone-bowl.

Back in the City, we relaxed at our hotel and had a few more norteño meals. We played some more cards, as we had done about half of our evenings (I won the last game). For our last day, we visited Albrook Mall and National Terminal. From there, after a little shopping and lunch, we said goodbye to our family. They used the GPS to work their way back to the airport and Lisa and I caught a bus west. It was a great visit, especially for us to get to see more of the country while enjoying the company of Chuck and Carole.

Buabidi - Land of Rainbows

Wow, it´s been a long time since our last post, nearly a month. We would have posted about a week ago when we were last out but the internet cafe was really slow and frustrated the pants off Lisa. Instead, we gave up and went back to site, barely getting our necessary work items accomplished. I´m down in San Felix alone today looking for concrete, gravel, and sand to make a cement floor for our house and shower. Unfortunately, the costs are prohibitive so I´ll be looking for a more complicated (and possibly manual labor intensive) way to get-er-done than simply purchasing the rock and sand. Lisa is at home doing ¨woman´s work¨: washing clothes!

First, the Saga of the Salmon has finally ended. Our boss brought the stuff to us from Panama City when we attended our reconnection training. Sort of anticlimatic but I´m sure they will be delicious when the little suckers are opened.

We recently hiked to Ñano Tugri (named Buabidi in Ngoberi), the capital of the Comarca. The Comarca Ngobe-Buglé was created in 1997 when the people living here marched on Panama City to demand some land of their own to self-govern, like the other provinces have. Comarcas are similar to reservations in the U.S. To choose their new capital, the story goes that they looked at the map, found the geographical center, and named the closest significant village to it. It didn´t have a road, though one has been built in the past several months and a second one from our town has been partially put down.

We hiked the 5 hours through hard winds so that we could attend a coffee convention. Our guide and fellow Chamí-ite Stephanie was planning on giving a little talk about a couple aspects of coffee cultivation and processing, and Andi, Lisa and I tagged along for the adventure. There was also a vote for new chiefs that we were interested to witness. Lisa and I had knee issues along the way, both of us carrying far too much stuff in our backpacks (a good learning lesson for our next overnight hike.) We carried on despite the pains, slowing down our companions more than we would have liked but it was worth it.

As we ascended the last hill before Tugri, the wind that had been whipping over the continental divide nearly knocked us off our feet, making our steps all the more painful. It carried a mist that lightly, slowly drenched us. I was wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and good boots. Lisa was more sensibly dressed in pants and a jacket. Still, the hike itself was invigorating and we were in such great company that was really enjoyed ourselves.

And there, as we pulled ourselves up the last hill, we spotted a rainbow in the direction that Steph had indicated for Tugri. Each of us hurried to share it with each other, but I think that we had all seen it at once. Since we were above this village nestled into the high mountains that receives heavy winds and misty rain nearly every day, we were looking down on the rainbow rather than up. And the end of it came squarely down on the biggest visible buildings, the school, to which we were headed. It felt like our destination was literally at the end of the rainbow, and as with most rainbows in Tugri that trip, it was a double.

We found the best path down the hill and to the school. Steph found a friend of hers and got caught up on the latest news. He offered us a place to stay in his small home, but she had already arranged another place with a different friend. We headed to the new government building in the center of town and searched for booths that lined the open space for some dinner and coffee.

We were quite an interest to the people gathered there from all over the Comarca. They were impressed that we had hike in on foot. Most of the big wigs and those who came from really far (it´s a 3-day hike over the divide) had come in by car from Tolé. Though I´m sure most of the folks walked themselves, and many from farther than us, I think seeing some Gringos trek in made it feel a little more special, like a sideshow at a circus.

After leaving the gathering place, we sought out our sleeping arrangements. The roads were a bit changed since Steph had last been out so it was a while before we found her friends home. As some strangers led us to the home, a rainbow bloomed over the man´s property. Unfortunately, the politico who had been given the building to arrange sleeping quarters for the out-of-towners was not advised that we coming and didn´t have any more space for us. Literally, every bit of space on the bed-tables and floors was taken up by other people. He did tell us that they had opened the church up the hill to take in people.

We spent a comfortable night on the smooth, concrete floor of the beautiful, austere, wooden church. It appeared fairly new and didn´t have access to the aqueduct yet. Nevertheless, we were very happy to get out of the cold wind and rain and into our sleeping bags. Andi and Steph found us some snacks from the store and Lisa broke out her usually prudent supply of extra bars and raisins.

The next morning, after going down to the open space around the government building again to see and be seen, we got back on the trail. We wanted to be home before dark. As we left Tugri, this time with the sun behind us for it was still before midday, a rainbow showed us our path toward home. There was a beautiful waterfall that we hadn´t noticed the day before (primarily because we hiked up and over it and then away from it) and the rainbow arched perfectly over it as it cascaded down into the jungle. It was gorgeous.

Of course, we took tons of pictures of our trip. And of course, I´ve left the camera behind today. When we have a chance, we´ll look into getting this post upded so that you all can see a bit of it as well. I apologize for flubbing that one up! I would also answer the questions that have been sent to us today, but the majority came to Lisa´s email and I don´t have the password for that. Next time, then.

As All-American as Apple Pie

Today, for lunch, we had a quick snack at the grocery store. Every time we come to David, the capital of Chiriquí, we pig out and eat too much, wasting good money on unfinished food by the second evening out. Today, instead, we ate at the grocery store so that we will have room for a nice steak and some wine at dinner.

We saw some apple pie behind the counter and some delicious apple soda in the cooler and figured that sounded good. Nothing better than all-American apple pie. Unfortunately, as we hope the photo shows, our apple pie turned out to be apple gelatin-y stuff on pie crust, as if they took all the juicy-ness from apples and apple pie and made it into jello. Here, take a look!



The apple soda was far better than the apple pie. I guess we shouldn´t expect something as tasty as all-American apple pie if we aren´t in America.


We have large appetites but small stomachs because we have become a bit skinnier. We got on the scale today for the first time in a long time and found that we have lost some weight. Although we pigged out before leaving the country, artificially inflating our beginning weights, Lisa has lost more than 15 lbs and I´m down more than 40! Yes, FORTY! Lisa says I may have lost more if I would only trim my beard.


What has brought about this incredible weight loss you ask? Well, I´m glad you asked. I´ll tell you what it was. Walking up and down mountains for hours in both directions to meet with our hosts in the Comarca about basic business practices. Eating rice and beans, or rice alone, or boiled green bananas for breakfast and lunch/dinner for two months straight. Then we were able to move out on our own and eat better, but the portions have remained small and the walking has become more frequent. Lisa says that bacterial infections of the intestines could be a factor as well.


How can you get on this amazing diet? What ways can you experience this phenomenon yourself? Get a plane ticket and come on down! We are looking for a few good folks to share some of our experiences first hand! Get out the map, read a little on the internet about sites you´d like to see in Panamá and shoot us an email or phone call.


Also, we´d like to extend the offer of a little Q & A visa vis this blog. We ALWAYS read the comments, often weeks later when there´s been enough time to accumulate all there are going to be, so go ahead and pop some questions in there. Or, of course, you could shoot us an email at the host email of this blog (lisafroggirl@yahoo.com) and we´ll be happy to answer them in the next blog.

Destruction.

Last Wednesday (February 4th), the rain came. It rained hard all day, which is a bit unusual in our ¨summer¨ season. That night, the winds came. Unbelievable winds. Constant, furious, strong winds. Destructive winds. We laid awake nearly all night listening to things hitting our roof, and at 3:30a.m. heard a huge crash. We turned on a headlamp and looked around, but things looked fine so we actually slept some until first light when we had to pee and noticed that the giant ancient tree that used to be behind our house was now ON our house, and part of our roof was crushed.

Luckily for us, the gigantic tree actually fell at an angle to our house and not straight on it. Otherwise, the part of the house where we were attempting to sleep could have been crushed. We got up and began chopping up the tree with our landlord and neighbors, and it took about 3 hours to get enough of the tree chopped up to get it off and away from the house, but a significant portion still remains. Our only real damage is some bent and crushed zinc on the roof and 2 beams that are cracked on the inside of the house, and Ben broke his machete while chopping up the tree.

The rest of our town didn´t fare nearly as well. Trees fell down all over the place, crushing homes and ripping up aqueduct lines. Homes were flattened by the winds and rooves, walls, clothes, possessions and other items were scattered and gone. The destruction was incredible after the first night alone, and just continued to get worse. We had to leave the community on Sunday evening to head to our In Service Training (3 months after you go to your community and 6 months after arriving here) and the winds were still blowing.

It´s horrible to see that people had nothing or next to nothing, and now have even less. Rumors keep going around about agencies arriving with help and food and water (there was no water in much of the town for 4 days), but it didn´t come. No one could start rebuilding because the winds kept raging. People moved out into the jungle because they feared that their homes would collapse, yet the jungle was dangerous too with trees falling and zinc flying. The destruction is incredible.

There are a lot more pictures on Facebook. I´ve seen to hit a limit on pictures for this blog.

Saga of the Salmon

There once was some salmon. They were born in Alaska (or maybe Canada) and swam all over the ocean. One day, they were caught, cut up, and canned. Now they are tasty.

There was a man, living in Panama and working in Peace Corps, who wanted to eat these fish. His wife and another PCV were also interested in eating them. The man requested his friends from Alaska who were planning on visiting to bring these fish down to Panama so that he could eat them. He also wanted some wood bowls from the Great Alaskan Bowl Company.

The friends arrived on Christmas Day 2008, but they were not planning on visiting the man and his wife for many days. They asked where they could put the fish and bowls because the fish needed to be kept cool. The man´s boss suggested the office of the Peace Corps headquarters in Panama City where the friends´plane landed.

The friends tried to go to the office, but when they got out of the cab and saw the building, an armed guard began quizzing them about their activities. Not knowing Spanish, the language of the guard, the friends had trouble communicating this strange task of leaving fish and bowls at the office. The guard decided to get help and an Italian passing by offered to help. He translated for the friends. In the end he offered to hold onto the fish and bowls until the man from Peace Corps Panama could come pick them up. The friends took his name and phone number.

During their travels around Panama, the friends lost the phone number, but remember the Italian´s name. They let the man know the problem, and the man asked his boss for help again. This time, all the boss could offer was to look for the Italian where he was last found, walking passed the office. The man, his wife, and the other PCV were heartbroken about the loss of the fish and the bowls, but such is life.

The friends had their visit to the man´s site and left the next day. They had a good time and the man and his wife enjoyed their visit very much. Their only regret was that it was so short a time for a visit because the friends wanted to see more of Panama and the man and his wife had meetings and work to do. They knew that the kind Italian would enjoy the fish and bowls and that these things would not go to waste.

The day the friends were to board their plane to go back to Alaska, one decided that they should look for the Italian. Another considered this a bad idea and a waste of time. How would they ever find this Italian again? Nevertheless, they returned to the office...and immediately saw the Italian walking down the street! He welcomed them back and gave them back the fish and the bowls that he was still keeping for them. He was a very nice Italian.

The friends were overjoyed. They called the man and spread the joy to the man, his wife, and the other PCV. They were all happy to hear that the fish and bowls would be theirs again. The friends dropped off the fish and bowls at the office with notes to say who they were to go to. The friends then returned to Alaska on their plane.

The other PCV went to Panama City a short time later for work that she had to do. She wanted to pick up the fish and the bowls for the man and his wife, and for herself too. Unfortunately, she could not because she got too sick to leave her hotel room except for her necessary work. She could not go to the office. The fish and the bowls had to stay at the office a little while longer.

An office staffer came out to the regional meeting of the man, his wife, and the other PCV. He could have brought the fish and the bowls, but he did not. Still the fish and the bowls are at the office. The man and his wife have begun to wonder if these fish and bowls were ever really intended for them or if fate has some other purpose for them. The man and his wife have begun to wonder if the fish and the bowls every really existed at all.

(Stay turned for the continuation of the Saga of the Salmon)