Tech Week and Cultural Event

A Boy and His Dog

Last week as a training group we traveled to community in the Comarca Noble Bouble to trouble shoot their aqueduct system and learn techniques for common construction projects. We’ll call it tech week. This community was in the mountains of the Comarca. From atop a hill the Pacific Ocean was a sliver of a view to the south. It was located in a cloud forest. I love the idea of a cloud… forest. A forest of clouds. It’s such a paradox. Forests are hard and solid and dense. Clouds are light, airy, and in motion. Around sunrise and sunset every day the clouds would rise from the hills beneath us and a fog would sweep the community. Also every day a terrible rain would occur. Most people in the community stop working, make their ways to their homes, and settle in for the evening. Not us though, not Peace Corps. 

After our work day it is still raining and I am walking to my host family’s home. I need to walk down a hill, cross the cabrada (creek), and walk up another hill. The cabrada, normally a modest trickle, is swollen by the day’s rain and proves a challenge to cross while not practically swimming. Wanting to remain relatively dry, I ponder my options. Also pondering at his options is a boy who had about 8 years and his small, wet, dog. We start shouting across the cabrada at each other in brief, tactical sentences. Turns out we both want to cross, going opposite ways. His short legs and impaired with-dog balance was making him hesitate. He points me up stream a little ways, where the cabrada forms two branches separated by a grassy island. As I tramp my way through the trail’s side brush he successfully navigates the first crossing. I meet him with the next crossing and the cabrada’s swift flow still between us. He leaves his dog on the bank and offers me a hand. I gingerly step into the creek and the water rushes up to my quadriceps. With his help I cross to the other side. He immediately asks for a quarter in return for the help. I call him crazy. Still in the water I help him cross then go back for his scared little dog, still on the opposite shore. He whimpers and backs away but I soon have him in my rescuing arms. I stumble and toss the pup ashore and go back. All is on their desired sides of the cabrada. As volunteers we say we work hombre a hombre or shoulder to shoulder with the Panamanians. Sometimes this includes crossing creeks. 

After tech week we made our way to the beach for a night. Seriously, over a month in Panama and this was my first trip to the beach? It was worth it. To relax in a cabana with the ocean in full view was heaven. 

Mas Photos

Piece Corpse.

Here is a little newsy update for my lovely friends and family.

Last Saturday we practiced working with ferrocement. We constructed the plancha or platform for a pit latrine and worked on a water tank. This week we were in our training community. We learned about aqueduct systems and basic hydrology and hydraulics. Having more than one degree in engineering helps understand those things, but our training group is diverse.

Tuesday I had an interview with the training director who will be placing us in our individual sites. The interview was to help determine what type of site would be best for our skills and desires. We will be told our sites the week after next. I hope you’re waiting in excited suspense with me! I’m pretty excited about some possible research opportunities and having a place to call home for the next two years.

Thursday was language proficiency interviews. Intermedio-medio is where I stand. I have a ways to go to eloquence but I feel pretty confident that I can communicate well now.

Next week is tech week. Our training group will be visiting the site on another volunteer to trouble shoot their aqueduct system and learn techniques for construction and data collection. Also, another shot at real-live Peace Corps living.

Still health, still happy. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers!

Photos!

Two Countries

As I was preparing to leave for Panama, almost everyone had two cents to contribute to my pre-knowledge of what it would be like. There is a canal, I know someone who went there for spring break, etc. I also tried to gather as much information as I could about the country that would be my new home. Nothing could prepare me for actually knowing Panama, however. When I graduated from college my motivation for becoming a volunteer was a desire to apply my education to the development of societies that need engineering skills for basic services that I have always taken for granted. A few times I was told about how strong the Panamanian economy was and how developed they already were. I’m sure this brought a certain level of comfort to people who care about me, but I couldn’t help but feel like my role was discredited. As a training group we were told some statistics that are not pleasing to hear, but legitimize my work as an environmental health development worker in Panama. Yes, it is true that while flying into Panama City I saw a sprawling metropolis where the latest Trump tower was constructed, but just a few hours driving outside the city 1.4 million people live in rural communities. Panama is two countries. The native population of Panama (i.e. not ethnically mixed with early colonizers) is organized onto comacas where they live traditionally. The comarca that is home to the Ngabe and Bublè groups is one of the largest. Peace Corps has a large presence in this area. Here is a breakdown of some environmental health statistics of this comarca (This is not the original source, but it contains similar statistics. For those of you interested, check out the UN Millennium Development Goals, too).

• 92% live in extreme poverty (less than $1 a day)
• 65% mortality rate for children under 5 years old
• 33% lack access to clean drinking water

These numbers only energize me. The knowledge I have and what I am gaining in training about sustainable development work gives me hope that one day these communities will have the capacity to determine and resolve their own problems having been empowered by me and other environmental health workers.  

Striking Farmers and Chile

My most legitimate Peace Corps experience yet occurred this past weekend. I traveled to visit a volunteer in her site in the region of Bocas del Torro. We spend the long weekend relaxing, cooking food with vegetables and flavor, reading, and pasear-ing (Spanish- to "pass time" socially with neighbors. An art here in Panama, done daily. There is no US equivalent that would not be imposing or offensive to an ordinary person). I took the rustic living to a whole new level by bathing and washing my clothes in the creek. I am very excited to live on my own and have time to do things like:

-build a composting latrine
-plant a garden
-build a rainwater catchment system and "plumbing"
-do general low budget home maintenance, like building shelves and digging water diversion ditches

The trip to Bocas from Panama City is about 12 hours long and is broken up by two public bus rides separated by the city of David. Spending the night in David at the Peace Corps volunteer hub of a hotel is the most common practice. At any given time you might bump into a volunteer at Hotel T, your insta-friend given the camaraderie of being a gringo. Naturally we convened in David and planned to head out in the morning... but the farmers would have none of it. It was inflated market prices, or hyper-regulation, or damaging subsidies, or who knows what that caused the farmers to block the entrance and exit to the city with their semi trucks and tractors, but there we sat. On our bus, for two hours. Things didn't get better and we eventually turned our giant bus around and got back to the terminal where we were met with a fury of confusion. The bus would  leave when the road was clear, our tickets were still good for that bus... unless they sell your seat again. Then, when there are no more seats you get to ride in the bed cubbyhole compartment like this girl (all thumbs point to me). If you ever take a 7 hour bus ride, give up the light of day for the bed underneath the bus, it's definitely only way I travel. 

As the commotion of traffic passed by the seemingly thin, windowless aluminum wall that was was side of the bus nearest to me, I pondered at each honking horn if it was an impending collision or just a friendly "hey, I'm passing you" that Panamanians drivers are so keen on. All hyped up on coffee I laid in my cozy nook and read a book, Travels in a Thin Country: A Journey Through Chile by Sara Wheeler (Thanks, Leslie!) This journalists beautiful account of an intimate longitudinal traverse of Chile felt close to me as I was, and still am, a wanderer of Latin American countries myself. I was encouraged by her independent spirit and the way she built friendships with strangers. Her writing harmonized with my sentiments about being away from home in her statement, "I could go for weeks without feeling melancholy or lonely-- months on occasion; I lived off emotional reserves like a hibernating animal lives off its fat. But a small thing could promote a fit of grief. I might look at the date on a calendar, or hear a few bars of a piece of music, or sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night with a start, imagining a close friend was in the room". 

Things that will make tomorrow morning great:

1) hot shower
2) shaving my legs
3) shameless guilty pleasure latte on my way to the office

and tomorrow night a triumphal return to my host family in the campo. Buenas!

An Insect with Eight Skins

Sometimes it takes me a while to form a good sentence in Spanish or remember a word. When under pressure, I usually choke. 

I was going to bed the other night and noticed a large spider on the wall. Already under my mosquito net, I contemplated ignoring the guy. However, I quickly imagined it crawling under my net in the middle of the night while I slept and changed my mind. I had just gone to bed and my family was in the next room. I grabbed my shoe and posed to strike with force and not display my fear to my family. Of course, I hit the wall, the spider got away and scurried out of my room. My family wanted to know what was going on. I rushed out of my room and pointed at the flood, struggling for the word for "spider". It's getting away, Erica, describe it. "Un insecto con ocho piels..." They looked at me like I was crazy. I made a scurrying motion with my fingers. Nothing. Finally my host mom saw the spider craw into her room and quickly ended its unfortunate life. Then, they all laughed hysterically because, of course, "Un insecto con ocho piels" translates to, "An insect with eight skins". Araña is spider, and I will not forget it. At least they think I'm funny. What's worst, when they told me that was actually a small spider... Yikes! 

Overdue Update... Life in Panama

Today wraps up my first full week of training. Much has happened since I left the US over a week ago; I have learned about a hundred new Spanish words (and have a million to go), I have brothers now, and yes, I use a rustic latrine multiple times a day. But I'm getting ahead of myself... 

After staging in Arlington, VA, we flew to Panama City and stayed at the Ciudad de Saber (City of Knowledge in English) for a few days. This is a former military base converted to a compound that houses many organizations including the Peace Corps Panama headquarters. This was a gentle transition to the Panamanian culture, Spanish language, and climate. We were poked and prodded (healthy and not pregnant) and language tested (intermediate level) and talked at (safety, expectations, goals, etc) for the first few days by the Peace Corps training staff, getting us safely prepared to move into our community for the duration of training. 

On Sunday we were dropped off in the community of Los Mortales. After a quick informal introduction we were left to our own limited Spanish for awkward interaction and settling in. I adore my host family. I have more siblings than I have met, brothers for the first time ever, and a cool set of parents who make me feel at home. My family does equal parts helping me with Spanish and laughing at my inability to remember words. I like it when people think I'm funny, so that is alright. We have a lush yard surrounding our small cinder block home. Our one dog, bot, is happily fed on leftover and keeps our chickens in line. The hammock on our front porch brings my happiness to a crescendo. Electricity, yes. Water comes from a spigot out back, and the toilet is a decent latrine. This is how nice my family is... Day one: bucket bathing behind a tarp in the back of the house (more than fine for me). Day two: bucket bathing behind a tarped shower structure made out of carved lumber (privacy appreciated) . Day three: PVC pipe overhead faucet (shower) constructed (no more bucket) inside the shower structure. These people are awesome! Wild hibiscus plants drape over the shower in the shadow of giant banana tree leaves. I feel like I'm in a tropical paradise every time I bath. Which is frequent because it is so hot here! I appreciate the long rainy season because when it's noon and hot and humid, an afternoon rain shower and thunderstorm is my only salvation. 

I'll give you a quick run down of a typical training day. After this I promise less logistics and more stories. 

6:30am Get up. Sun rises early, and so does this family. Most likely I'll go for a run now with Bri and/or my brother, Gabriel. 

7:30am Breakfast. Fried plantains, fried hot dogs, fried eggs, oatmeal, or sandwiches (note my need to exercise).

8-9am study Spanish on my own.

9-12pm Spanish class. All Spanish, all the time.

12-1pm Lunch. Rice, beans, chicken, beef, or plantain combination. 

1-5pm Technical class. This is where we learn everything else we need to know for eventually living in own own sites. For example, how to build a water storage tank or host a community meeting. 

6-10pm. Hang out, speak lots of Spanish, watch or play futbol, eat dinner, yoga, or whatever else. 

Today I found out that I will be traveling to the Bocas del Torro region by myself to visit an already established volunteer next week for 4 days. Loma Bonita, outside of Almirante. Someone Google it for me! A seven AND a five hour bus ride, plus a 30 minute hike will (hopefully) bring me there. 

Tonight I will fall sleep to rain on my tin roof and frogs croaking outside my window. Life is good, gloria a Dios. Buenas noches!