Trip to Nurra

We emerged out of the jungle on horseback and decended to the small Kuna village along the river. The Kuna are an indigenous group in Eastern Panama steeped in tradition. This community is especially cut off from the outside world. We'd traveled nearly five hours on horseback from the nearest volunteer's house. As we approached the community we could see a soccer game in progress, but were immediately cut of by the Kuna welcome commitee, which consists of 5 grumpy looking men asking, "What are you doing here." A fair question.
Orlando is a successful cacao farmer from the Bocas Del Toro region, he was invited to come share his knowledge to with the community as they begin a reforestation project using cacao. Domingo, who bears a striking resemblence to Jackie Chan, is a Kuna naturalist, born in the San Blas region and well educated, he is our interpreter. The three Americans that tagged along didn't have nearly as concrete reasons for being there. Mateo is the closest Peace Corps Volunteer to the community, and was asked by the UN to assist with some of the paperwork for the project down the road. Alan had come to help survey for an aqueduct project in another town, and I was there to learn about reforestation with cacao, to see if it's a method that can be used in Maje, where I live. You'll notice that 2/3 of the Americans are named Alan, which became a little confusing for everyone involved.
Though we'd called ahead and told the only guy in town that speaks spanish we were coming, they still seemed a little suprised by our presence. The chief said that after the party that night, we'd have a meeting, and get everything sorted out.
That was all appartently accurately translated, because sure enough, there was a party that night. They had an awards ceremony for the soccer tournament, skits complete with acrobatic stunts, and karaoke, all of which was in tule, the Kuna language. Midway through the karaoke, we got word that the meeting wouldn't be until the following morning. So I decided to call it a night and went and laid down in my hammock.
The next morning I was awoken by three gorgeous young women standing in the doorway. They were talking amoungst themselves and giggling. "Como te llama?" we asked... giggles. Finally Mateo found his paper with phrases in tule "Beikeni ginika" They finally responded with their names. They weren't being flirty, or difficult, they just didn't understand a word of Spanish. Here we are, three single Americans, in an exotic place, with now way to communicate with the local women. Mateo asked "Bei igi birga?", or "how old are you," They said 16... it's probably best that we weren't able to communicate.
That morning, we had the first meeting to decide what exactly we were going to be doing there. The meeting house was basically a larger version of the regular houses, with palm thatch roof, strips of palm bark as walls, and hammocks hanging everywhere. There were benches to sit on along the sides of the hut, In the center hung several hammocks with benches towards the foot and head of the hammocks. This was the "throne" of the chiefs. The chiefs laid in the hammocks, and asked questions, and rested his eyes while we explained our mission there and how we would go about working. We sat on the bench at the foot of the hammocks, and other community leaders sat on the bench at the head. The benches along the walls were filled with other spectators. As we exited the meeting to go out to the fields. Far off in the distance, I heard beating drums. The music was captivating, though primitive. The melody was simple but, catchy, even familiar. It was as if this song spoke to the most primal part of my soul, identified with what makes me human, and called for me to dance. Little by little I began to hear the words... "I got a feeling, that tonight's gonna be a good night." The Black Eyed Peas, had followed us to the middle of nowhere.
I tried to avoid the house we were staying in as much as possible. The owner was a nice enough guy, but he was a chief, and wasn't around much, and when he left his wife yelled at me in tule, and there was rarely anyone to interpret, so she'd repeat, getting louder, until it was like a chant, getting closer and closer to me, sometime shaking hammocks, or slapping her thighs, it was terrifying. I felt like an evil gypsy was putting a curse on me. We brought all our food, but needed a place to cook it. So they let us use their fire. We cooked mostly pasta, because it was easy, whenever possible I shared what I could with our hosts, but we didn't bring enough to feed the 13 neighbor children who were also part of the family, and our food was gross to them. One time as I was boiling pasta, the mother in law of the chief started chanting at me, slapping her hips, then she started slapping my hips, and finally I was able to pick out some words of what she was saying. Chanting "Mani, Mani, Mani". The tule word for money. She was slapping my hips saying that I have money, I'm an american, I should give it to her. Mateo told her "Mani Sate" or we don't have money, and she backed off. This continued to be the trend whenever we were in the house. At one point, Alan was cooking and asked for a rag to pick up the pot. The women started yelling something at him, and the teenage son finally translated, "they want you to buy the rag." I let him borrow my towel, and spent as much time as possible outside the house.
Part of our time outside the house was visiting fields, part was interviewing community elders, to find out which trees are native to the area, and which were brought from other areas. It was custom to pay a few bucks for the interview, which seemed odd to me, because it was for a community project directly benefitting them, but it was the most effective way to get information. When we tried interviewing the oldest woman in town she wanted $10, and she would give us her entire life story, which I'm sure was very interesting, but wasn't the information we wanted. Then her son came in, he did know quite a bit about where the native trees were, and how to get there, but then he wanted to show us his dolls. We went into another hut, and there were tons of dolls carved out of balsa wood. We asked about them. He's a medicine man, and uses the dolls in healing rituals. Orlando pointed out that some of the dolls were as tall as me, and I pointed out that they white too, and that makes me very nervous.
Next to the the dolls were several airplanes and helicopters also carved from balsa, though given the setting, much more puzzling. So we asked what are the airplanes for. He said when someone's sick he uses the airplanes to hover above them collecting the bad spirits.
All in all the trip to Nurra was an interesting look at a starkly different culture. Though I never felt comfortable in the house we stayed, there were glimmers of hospitality. They were very generous with the corn drink they made. The first time they offered it to us. they gave us one glass for the three of us. So Mateo took a sip, and passed around Alan sipped and passed it to me. When it was my turn the women started yelling again, and Alan tells me they want me to chug it. Out of fear, I chug the glass at once, and they went to get more, and give it back to Mateo to chug the whole glass. It actually went down smooth, and so whenever they offered us corn drink we'd all chug the whole glass at once, because that was apparently how you are supposed to do it. When they'd yelled at us earlier, they were just trying to say, "We just have one glass, so go a head and drink it up so we can serve your friends." All the yelling just added to the confusion and made it a more stressful situation. Us not feeling comfortable in the house, wasn't because they were bad people, or we were bad people; more than anything, a failure to communicate.
So said Domingo our Kuna translator who looks like Jackie Chan. He said that the Kuna are a very misunderstood people. They have been used and mistreated by the Spanish explorers, and then the panamanian government, that they have put their guard up more than any other ethnic group. They've also organized themselves much more than any other ethnic group. For us Peace Corps volunteers, it's so different from anything else we've experienced in Panama. Everywhere else I've gone in Panama, they people treat foriegners like royalty, but the Kuna are very suspicious of foreigners. Jackie Chan continued to tell a story about a tourism student, who had recently graduated. He asked her what region of Panama she wanted to work in. She said she doesn't care, as long as she doesn't have to deal with the Kuna. He asked why she said that. She replied, "They're unfriendly, and plus, they make their corn drink by chewing up dried corn in their mouth and spitting it into a big pot."
So misunderstood or not, I will not be going back anytime soon.

One Year Update

So... I've been in Maje almost a year, and it's been several months since my last blog update. Sounds like it's time for an update. Many of you are probably curious as to what I'm doing for work, and it really depends on the day.

My main project right now is building latrines. This may seem like something pretty basic idea, and it is, but it's complicated by the fact that if one simply "digs a hole" the hole floods with water during the rainy season and makes it much less pleasant to swim in the river. So as an alternative to having a really stinky lawn, a lot of the people just head to the jungle to do their business. Having a sanitary "facility" to fulfill ones necessities would be high on the priority list when building a house. However, people get accustomed to doing things a certain way, and won't change unless someone show's them a more attractive alternative. Enter Peace Corps volunteer.

I've been promoting a composting latrine. The Peace Corps model here in Panama is basically 2 cement boxes side by side above ground. This makes it a much larger latrine, the basic hole in the ground. The user uses one box for a year, and then the other box for the next year, adding sawdust, rice husks, or ash everytime they make unkaka. As one side is used the other is composting. If done properly, by the time it's time to use the first side again, the contents are completely processed, parasites have been killed and you can shovel out the "fertlizer" to feed your crops. In explaining this to the people of my community, this is where I lost them. You want me to "take out the unkaka". Thinking about it, this is a very reasonable reaction. So I built myself one to prove to the community, and myself that this isn't gross. I changed the design however. I built a wooden "box", On top of this box I have my a platform with a "seat". When this box fills up, I will simply build another box. The platform and walls disassemble to be moved to the new location, and the box is covered for compost magic to happen. When it's ready, a tree is planted in the box and the latrine is converted to planter filled with rich organic fertilzer.

This model

-requires less material "mine was built completely with used lumber, costing me a total of $8 for the nails and toilet seat."

-allows fertilizer to be used in a safe manner providing nutrients for a fruit producing tree.

-will not contaminate the local water

-minimizes handeling of unkaka

-complements the seminomadic lifestyle of the embera

-is designed as a cradle to cradle system

I know pictures would be helpful in a post like this, and I'll see what I can do, for the next time I post, but with updates on other projects I'm working on.

Chao pescao!

-

Matrimonio Santo... o algo asi

Well, I talked to my sister Laura for the first time in awhile, and had the privelidge of being the last person to congratulate her on her engagement. Though I´m happily moved into my house, I still have yet to put the finishing touches on my Coconut telephone. But I´m in the city for a couple days running errands, and had a chance to call and talk to her and she let me in on the big news. I´m extraodinarily happy for her and Cody, especially in the context of the culture I´ve been living in.

Upon hearing the news of my sister´s engagement, I thought about how I can now point out all the photos I have of Laura and Cody, and tell my friends hear about how their engaged now, but after thinking about it, ít´s going to be a little difficult to explain.

Traditionaly, marraige doesn´t exist in Emberá culture. It´s a concept introduced by the evangelical missionaries, and it still isn´t very popular. The pastors and a few other families that are involved in the church tell me they´re offically married in the church, but the majority of men show little interest in getting married to their partner any time soon
(Maybe because the spanish word for wife [esposa] is the same word for handcuffs).

As was described to me, the they unite, or move in together. From my own observation, this is how this works. When a woman is between 13-15 years old she moves out of her parents house into another man´s house. They have a couple kids, and the man gets bored and finds another woman and repeats the process, until he´s to old to find another girl to live with. The woman moves back in with her parents, who´s job it is now to take care of their daughter and grandchildren. The woman waits for another chance to move in with another man, usually the children stay with the grandparents. I´m generalizing a bit. Some girls leave to go study and in doing so, put off having children for a few years, and sometimes it´s the woman that leaves the man. But Í´m hard pressed to think of anyone in my community who has been completely monogomous their entire lives, even among church leaders.

It´s easy to do I´m told. A lot less complicated than how I was taught to do things. My host brother Carlos (the one that hunts monkeys) is probably going to be united with a girl pretty soon. They were introduced over the phone, and have apparently had some serious conversations. Her father says he wants Carlos to be her man because he´s a good Christian man. Carlos´s parents who are leaders in the church are very happy for him.

They tell me I could do the same. I tell them I have to leave in two years, and they don´t really see any problems with that. All I have to do is find a girl I think is cute. Tell her dad I think she´s pretty and she´s mine. I´d have my own cook, dishwasher, and laundry maid. Though the idea is enticing in some respects, I can´t help but think of my friend Magnolia. Magnolia has a 6 year old daughter named Estephanie, who´s the daughter of an American who refuses to recognise that she´s his daughter. Occasionally, she tells me about how she almost moved to the United States to be with the father of her daughter, but she decided not to go because in the United States, we don´t have tilapia (the freshwater fish that makes up half their diet), as she laughs to hold back the tears. In short, every conversation about me moving in with a girl ends with me saying. The girls are pretty here, but it´s better if I sleep alone a little bit cold for a couple years.

When I decided to joined the Peace Corps, everyone told me about much more appreciation I´d have for American things, like air conditioning, hot water, chocolate bars, and pizza. It´s true I do appreciate all those things a lot more, and dream of the day I can eat pizza in a hot shower. However this pales in comparison to the appreciation I now have for marriage, and the stability it gives to our families, our culture, and our lives. With this I wish to congratulate Laura and Cody for their decision to enter the covenent of marriage.

The Long awaited "Tree Fort"

So I've officially been a Peace Corps Volunteer for 3 months now and the question on a lot of people's minds is "What's Alan been doing?" Obviously keeping up with the blog is not the answer to this question. The actual answer, is working on my house. I wanted to wait til I was "done" with my house, but I am now convinced I will never be done, it's a work in progress...

So I know the burning question in a lot of people's minds is;
How do you build a sweet house in the jungle?
For this I've made a simple easy to use guide for everyone who would like to build their own.

Step 1) Find a community of highly skilled indigenous people, and tell them you'll take pictures of them building a sweet house.

Step 2) Sit back and watch

From Mi Casa es Su casa

Merry Christmas From the Isthmas

Feliz Navidad, hope the holiday is finding everyone doing well, I'm spending the day in the city internetting, and taking a break from jungle life. Other than the ability to say Feliz Navidad without breaking into song, it doesn't feel a lot like Christmas. The weather here, is about the same as when I arrived in August, giving me the feeling that time has completely stood still during my time here in Panama. It also doesn't feel like Christmas because I didn't eat bacon wrapped water chestnuts last night, and I didn't eat a fruit filled butter braid this morning. I'm not going to grandma's house this afternoon to eat entirely too much food, and when I wake up tomorrow, I don't have any shiny new gadgets to play with, (except the toothbrush mom sent me.)

All this brings up the question, what does Christmas feel like? It maybe because I'm away from home, or it may be because I've had little to read in my site other than postmodenist essays from the college textbooks I brought, but for whatever reason I'm confronted by the question.

It may seem silly, but for the first time I'm beginning to feel like I live in a poor community. It's been hard to distinguish the differences in culture and the differences in economics. They don't live in tree forts because it's fun, or interesting, they do it because they can't afford concrete. They don't eat monkey because it tastes good, they eat it because it's available. I was first made aware of this fact as visiting with people in the community, as their holiday plans changed. From the excitement of visiting family, in other communities, to staying at home hoping for a Christmas dinner. So when there's no money, does Christmas still exist? Because the traditional things associated with Christmas are gone. There's no money for decorations, no money for presents, no money for food, no money to visit family, what is left? How do you celebrate?

I don't no, because I can escape, and go to the city, pretend I'm rich, eat delicious food, talk to family, relax. However, I'm haunted by the thought that Christmas is just another day for most of my friends here.

I really didn't set out to create a depressing Christmas blog post, and I don't mean to bring down my faithful blog readers. I guess the silver lining on this cloud, is that I'm feeling very blessed this Christmas. I know that the care package I opened today from home, isn't the Christmas I'm used to, but it helps me remember home, and is more than any of the kids in Maje will get. I know the phone calls to loved ones can't replace being able to talk face to face, but it's more than a lot of people have. A trip to the city isn't a trip home, but it's a blessing that I am very grateful for.

So that's how I'm celebrating. By being grateful, but I can do that, because I didn't have much of a Thanksgiving.

What's for Dinner?

Whenever you emerse yourself in a foreign culture, the common question arises... how's the food.

In general I'm very lucky. I have both carbohydrates and proteins represented in every meal in my community. While for many americans, 2 for 6 on the food pyramid doesn't sound all that balanced, but the majority of volunteers here have the options of boiled plantanes or rice. I am very lucky that I get meat or eggs for every meal. Though the meat I get isn't the high quality beef I'm used to. Generally it's fish, which I thought I'd have trouble with. I've never been a fish eater, and now I'm living in a community where the main source of income is fishing, so I've gotten used to it... three times a day... for a week in a row. I was happy when my host mother said that she brought home some beef. My enthusiasm wained however, when she pulled a hoof out of a plastic bag and began to hack at it with a cleaver. I had no idea how to find meat on cow hoof, so I watched my host father. You apparently don't find meat, you just pick it up and gnaw on the ankle fat. After I gave it my best shot, he asked me if I was done, as he picked up my piece and cleaned up all the good bits I had missed.

Occasionally someone will go hunting in the jungle and bring in some wierd animal from the jungle. I've had saino, which is kind of like a wild pig, and tastes like one too. However, everyone tells me when I get the chance I have to try conejo pintado which is apparently a protected species. They tell me though there's a reason it's not that abundant, because it's delicious.

I arrived home one afternoon, and my host brother greeted me with an awkward smile. He'd gone hunting that day, and got something, it's in the sink. I looked and saw an unrecognizeable body, i examined it a bit more and... is that a human hand, and arm, it looked like a small child was chopped up and in our sink... monkey.

They warned us in training that we were going to have to make boundaries for ourselves, how far would we be willing to go to be part of the community. I hadn't had to think a lot about those boundaries until this moment. I might be eating monkey for supper. On one hand, it's just an protein from another animal. It's not any of the gross parts (I hope). On the other hand, it's a monkey, looks a lot like a person, I remember the fun I'd had playing with a monkey, and how much person-ality it had. Could I eat my friend... now might be a good time to scroll down and play the monkey video for giggles and grins.

I went to my room, IF I was going to do this, I had to know as little information as possible, I already knew too much. I read a lot, and sketched, and wrote. I cracked open the Bible; strangely enough it was the passage were Jesus is lecturing the pharisees that it's not what you put in your mouth that's good or bad, but what comes out of your mouth. So I guess I have God's permission, but I still don't know if it's something I can do. My host mother tells me my foods ready, I go outside to wash my hands, and go back inside. I'm going to do it, I'm going to find out what monkey tastes like. I sit down at the table, and for the first time look at my plate... of chicken. wheeww that was close. It was the most delicious chicken I'd had, during the meal, my host mother asked me If I eat monkey, I said no. She replied "I didn't think so." My host brother had gone of to sell the meat in the community, I was saved, for that day.

Majé

So the other day, I was hiking through a jungle stream after a long morning of harvesting rice with my friends Pedro and Yuni, (Indigenous fishermen who rent a small farm to subsidize their income). Rain was pouring down through the rainforest canopy, as they pointed out a neon green and black frog that their ancestors had used for poison darts. This led into a conversation about the many natural remedies available in the rainforest. It was at this moment, that I realized I wasn´t in Iowa anymore. I am a Peace Corps volunteer in rural panama

This feeling snuck up on me... After all the preparation that went into the application process. The doctor´s visits, the signitures, and proof of signitures, the goodbyes, the hellos, and nice to meet you´s in staging, he apprehention of whether I could learn a new language, meeting host families, and sitting through lectures, and not to mention all the run on sentences.

Everything leading up to this has happened in a way that made it feel as if being a Volunteer was still some lofty idea that I was considering, and didn´t seem real until this hike through the jungle. I still have just a week left of training, before I head back to my jungle hideaway to build treeforts, eat fish from the river, and learn dirty words in a language that less than 30,000 people in the world speak.

Mushy sentiments aside, Majé, the community I´ll be living in, is a beautiful place to live (or visit if you get the chance). As mentioned before, it´s the best primary rainforest I´ve been able to see in panama. There´s mountains, rivers, jungle, and caves all close enough to keep any outdoorsperson busy. The people are very hardworking, friendly, and motivated.

If you´ve been keeping up with my blog you´re probably wondering when I´ll have a chance to do work. Well soon, very soon, as there is a lot of work to do in the community. The aqueduct is new (1-2 months old), andlooks very well built, but the real test will come in march during thedry season. Trash is a huge problem for a community an hours boat ridefrom the nearest garbage can. Many people burn their trash, and the rest throw it in a creek. Neither option is ideal, but if nothing else I will become very aware of everything I consume as a person living here.

Also, few in the community have access to latrines. The watertable is very high, and a traditional pit latrine would be floodedright now. This sounds like the perfect opportunity for a composting latrine that Peace Corps has been endorsing in Panama. The onlyproblem is the composting latrines Peace Corps has been buildinrequire cement blocks, rebar, and concrete, not exactly materials thatare cheap or easy to get to the community that is on the opposite side of the world`s largest man made lake. This provides a great opportunity to redesign composting latrines in a manner that uses locally available resources.

The other work that I am really excited about, but a little overwelmed by is working with the local women`s artisan group to find a market to sell their work. I was really impressed by the baskets thewomen made, I may just be bragging, but I thought they were the bestbaskets I`ve seen in panama. Also, I was shown a large marlin and dolphin jumping from the water carved out of cocobolo, one of theworld`s most exotic woods, (which I`m told my house will be built outof). It`s gorgeus, and I can picture some sports bar paying well over 1000 dollars for it, but here it sits in the middle of the jungle. I brought up the possiblity of selling artisan work on the internet,which was hard, because my Embera dictionary didn`t have a word for upload, and the man interpreting the meeting didn`t seem to know either. But after explaining that it`s potentially a way to sell their work directly to people around the world for top dollar, they seemed pretty excited.

All these possibilities, I´m very excited about, and can´t wait to get started. I appreciate you staying with this post for long enough to get to this point, I know it´s been a little long, but I´m not sure when the next chance I´ll get to update will be. So hope it keeps you going for awhile, and if not, I have a monkey video to watch...