Peace Corps Panama: October 2007

The past two months have brought a variety of changes and experiences for me here in Panama. The most visible has been the change in climate as Panama is currently in the heart of "winter". Located fewer than 10 degrees off the equator, the temperature rarely deviates from the year-round 80 degrees F. Consequently, seasons are not defined by a changing of temperature or colors but by the amount of rain that falls.

Taking materials into my site in January.

September and October are the two wettest months of the year for most of the country. Right now it's not unusual for my village to get five hours or more of rain everyday. A considerable amount considering that by January we will go almost four months with no measurable rainfall.

Diablo Rojos (Red Devils)....old american school buses that end up in Panama

For the people in my village this season is a period of rest and conversation. With the crops in the ground but not yet ready to harvest there is little work to do in the fields. The afternoons are defined by pounding tropical rain which leaves the ground too wet and muddy to do many construction projects with the morning sun. Even looking for firewood is something that needed to be done last month as now everything exposed is too wet to burn.

Black Christ Statue, Portobelo, Panamá

One evening not long ago the temperature dropped down to a staggering 66 degrees after the rains had finished and the breeze picked up. Everyone in the village was wearing their warmest clothes (some with old ski jackets on), drinking hot coffee, and talking about how cold it was. One man made a comment to me about it being cold enough to snow. I have a picture in my house of my grandfather shoveling snow off of his roof in Alaska. This picture, along with one of elephants and another of the San Diego skyline, prompt many questions and raise much confusion.

Black Christ Festival

To these people snow is a myth. The concept of ice falling from the sky is just not comprehensible. Much like buildings taller than two stories and the ability to leave a message for someone if they don't answer their phone. It seems that nothing I say can convince them otherwise. Writing this is a reminder to me of a boy living deep in the Arctic Circle of Alaska who heard about ice cubes for the first time as a teenager and struggled with the concept of making ice to keep things cold. (A fabulous read: Seth Kantner's Ordinary Wolves) A stark contrast, yet not really, to the Ngäbes' perspective of the world.

Health fair in Laguna.

The incessant rain has put my primary project of latrine building on hold due to the difficulty of putting holes in the muddy ground and the river overflowing the sandbar: our source of rock and sand for concrete mix. As a result I have been afforded the opportunity to visit neighboring villages to design and troubleshoot water systems.

Kids will be kids, all over the world.

As much as I enjoy working with water systems and visiting some incredible remote places, I find it increasingly difficult to explain to people that they simply chose a bad place to live (never put quite so bluntly). Read: to the people of Ngäbeland, you are correct. I am an engineer. I was educated in a prosperous nation. However, that does not make me omnipotent. I can neither make water flow uphill (without the use of an outside medium - not economical in your cases) nor can I create water. I apologize, I wish I could. I can say that living on a ridgeline only complicates your water situation and should be avoided no matter how sweet the view.

Fresh rice drying in the sun.

In addition to exploring other villages around the comarca, I took some vacation to celebrate my mom's 55th birthday with her on the Dutch Antilles in the Caribbean. If I may say, there's nothing like a vacation while in the Peace Corps to drop your stress level in life from a zero to something far lower (if that's possible).

Children waiting for food.

We had a wonderful time exploring the islands of Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao. Many of the pictures here are from our trip. Happy birthday Mom! Additionally, there are some pictures here from Bogotá, Columbia, on a stop I made back to Panama. A fascinating city, vibrant with culture and history, it made me even more excited to travel after my two years here in Panama are over.

A truck ride down from my site to the city.

I'll leave you with two stories that have left me pensive about the delicacy of life and differing philosophical approaches to development work.

Ngäbe Twins

First, I was working in my house not long ago when a community leader, Eladio, came by to ask me to take a picture of a "phenomenon" that had just taken place. A premature baby had just been born in the village.

Health Fair in Laguna

Without thinking twice I went with him to see the baby. As we approached the hut I saw several men sitting outside showing no emotion and was reminded of the cultural taboo here for men to be involved in or even discuss a woman's pregnancy.

My great-hostmother. Depending on who you ask, she's anywhere from 45 to 186.

Eladio and I entered the hut and I quickly realized what I was about to witness. While having second thoughts about entering I knew it was too late to turn back. The hut was full of elderly women who had helped deliver the baby on the mother's bed. Heavy smoke from the stove lingered to the point that I had to cover my mouth and squat to keep from coughing. It was too dark to see anything without a flashlight. I was show the newly born child, which I later found out was born several months prematurely. The baby, underdeveloped and disfigured, was a heartbreaking sight. After inquiring about the mother's physical health I took Eladio outside and stressed the urgency for proper medical attention for the mother and particularly the child.

Hiking into Laguna with some friends.

I don't think I've ever felt such a strong appreciation for life as I did in that moment, seeing something so new to this world struggling so much to live. I thought about the conditions under which the child was born and how lucky we are in the developed world to have the infrastructure and education to address many of these issues. I imagine that there are far more babies born in huts like these around the world everyday than the clean hospitals we are accustomed to.

A snake my hostdad killed outside my house.

Two days passed with no effort by the community to get either the mother or the child to a doctor. Eladio came to tell me that the "creature", in his words, had died and once again said that it was a phenomenon. I stared and the ground and replied, "No, if that baby had lived it would have been a phenomenon. That baby died. That's a tragedy."

The view from my porch...notice the grass roof hanging down at the top.

The second, less somber story is about a health fair that recently took place in Laguna, my village. A Canadian owed company that manages much of the country's electricity came in to hand out food and presents as well as give basic medical attention to anyone who would come from around the valley. I spent the day helping where needed and talking to the natives.

Please! I just want to hold it.

As the day came to a close I sat on the porch of the school, watching the last of the group climb into their trucks and drive off. I could see the garbage pit overflowing with medical waste and used syringes, children playing nearby. I thought about how the natives had benefited from the day. They had some new clothes and full bellies, and plenty of tylenol for the month's headaches. But in talking to them they learned very little. They learned that outsiders think they are poor, and if they wait long enough help will come. But to me this type of help is not sustainable. Tomorrow it will all be forgotten and little will have changed.

Aruba!

A little girl sat down next to me and said,

"Choi, are you going with them?"

"No." I replied.

"That's because you're one of us, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Choi, I hope you never leave."

I smiled.