Agua: The One About Work

As an environmental health volunteer, my main areas of work are water and sanitation. The goal of working with water is: sufficient, clean water in the homes of people I live with. Usually this means setting up a gravity fed water distribution system with a natural spring source.

Clean water in the home effectively contributes towards the development of the lives of underdeveloped people by decreasing the amount of time spent ill and concerned with the gathering of water, and frees up time for work and education.

• Sufficient water is difficult when nature's supply of water isn't conserved when necessary or when demand outreaches supply. 
• Clean water gets complicated when pure spring water gets contaminated in the home.

In the Peace Corps we realized that the initial construction of water infrastructure is usually the simpler part of water.  Appropriate behavior is what keep clean water in the home and keeps well built infrastructure maintained. Therefore we focus on training, capacity building, and modeling good practices as our main task in our communities with water committee seminars. 

When occasion for infrastructure construction or maintenance presents itself, it's sustainable if the indigenous Panamanians can either financially support themselves or agencies of the Panamanian government support infrastructure projects. Sometimes this is the case, and sometimes it isn't. Besides funds, a technically competent project manager should be available to design, advise, and supervise construction. Here is where I come in. I wander around, looking at water systems, and assist communities with projects that will improve their condition. 

Since March I have been working in two communities where water systems exist, but improvement is necessary to meet our goal for water. 

One

The first system is actually the lower half of a large system. Two tanks in series, we'll call it. There is not enough water after the first community to supply the second half of the system. 

The lower community had purchased a new water source and we've been working to connect it directly to the lower tank, choosing a route that avoids crossing hills and placing air-release valves where hills are unavoidable. 

Simple enough! But remember that all our work is done by hand. That is, over a mile of two-foot trenches though the jungle dug by men with shovels and pick-axes, tubes hand placed and glued in 20-foot sections, and everything buried. 

One of the project managers from the community, Esteven, drinks water from the tube that will soon bring it to his house!

Two

This community is flourishing with development. The people are very organized, mostly because it is home to one of the area's largest schools and one of the only 10th, 11th, and 12th grade high schools. Students walk for hours just to attend. Teachers living in the area have demanded that they have access to water to live and teach, and the community has been trying to keep up - not only for the teachers but for their families as well. The every-increasing population means additional stress on the water system. 

This is the way the system was when I arrived in the community. Water from two springs was brought to one tank and then fed three communities and a large school. 

Even if the two springs were producing enough water, the tube between them and the tank is not large enough to carry it all. As it was, the second spring source was not well made and stopped focusing the water flow into the transmission tube. 

The community members quickly went though the tank supply at peak water use times. The lower tank (Quebrada Gato, that's right - "Cat Creek" in English) always seemed to have enough water when the upper part of the community didn't. Following that trusty law of gravity, water always wants to be at the lowest point and will flow directly there as it can. 

The idea for the project was to fix up the second spring source to concentrate the water flow into one outflow tube. Then, place new tubes to connect this new water to the original tubes that went to the Quebrada Gato tank. This frees up more water for the school and upper two communities, and still maintains a sufficient amount of water for the Quebrada Gato folks. 

The work included construction of the new spring capture, construction of six cable bridges to bring the water line across deep ravines, and the laying of two miles of PVC tube. 

Whereas the first project I was involved in was located along a fairly well maintained road in the mountains, this project is located an hour or more up a road that rivals any 4x4 track you've ever seen. Feet of mud, incredible steep hills, a river crossing, and carved out ruts. Delivering nearly 400 tubes, 15 100-lb bags of cement, and other various supplies was always an adventure. 

My heroes became the Chinese couple that run the hardware supply store in town. Three trips into the mountains it took Alexis with his indestructible Toyota Hilux truck. 

And some work photos...

Carrying bags of cement, sand, and rocks up the side of a ravine to make the anchors for the cable bridges. Strong guys! 

The second project is finished and the first is a few days away from done! I'm proud of these hard working people who have coordinated with me to better their lives through access to water.

T-minus 44 days until I'm no longer a Peace Corps Volunteer (I got wide-and-watery-eyed as I wrote that). I'm going to need another blog post to describe how I feel about that.

Take your time to read this long description of my official work. If you want an even longer one, I have the reports. If you have questions - ask!  

What in the World is She Doing?

I realize that This Erica Life lately hasn't been illuminating what I've been doing with my time besides killing chickens, writing, visiting the US, and promoting other volunteers and their terrific endeavors for clean water access. 

Is this what Erica is spending two years of her life on? What about that fabulous Jesuit education? And her charming public speaking abilities? 

Well, let me tell you. Between washing my clothes (and watching them dry), battling the mange outbreak on my kitty, staying dry (or not) during wet season downpours, and drinking good coffee, I've been a busy girl learning the skill of project management in two aqueduct improvement projects. I've also been working on a little research for my thesis towards a Master of Science in Engineering degree. That's right, this hippie will come out of Peace Corps a little brighter. 

This past week I attending a "Close of Service" conference hosted by the Peace Corps office in Panama City. The theme was: two months to go, finish your service effectively and remember that in a few months you return to your responsibilities and rights in the USA. Including, but not limited to, getting a real job, not discussing bowel movements in public, and somehow trying to hold on to the simplicity I've found here while trying to operate a smart phone. 

Stay tuned for detailed accounts of my aqueduct improvement projects and my research work. 

The Good Coffee Challenge

While visiting America I remembered why I love coffee. At Cherry Street Coffee in downtown Olympia I observed the barrister lovingly pour water over freshly ground African coffee and intricate, complex, delicious coffee resulted. 

In reverie I thought about the excellent coffee beans that are produced in my backyard and, in contrast, the pre-ground monotone sludge I drink every morning. 

Challenge: Drink fabulous coffee in an excellent way.

It's a challenge because great coffee is rarely for sale here. It's available, yes, but difficult to find in whole bean. 

I obtained a coffee grinder, a ceramic cone dripper, and started with some beans from the Jansen Family in Volcan, Chiriqui. I quit adding milk to my coffee so I could experience the full flavors. 

It's a ritual. An experience. A pursuit. Melodramatic? Maybe. But everyone has hobbies. 

RE: Solar Pump Aqueduct Project

Thanks to all of you who donated to my friend Sergio's solar pump aqueduct project. He collected the necessary funds in record time, giving him the opportunity to deliver and install the pump and materials and construct the aqueduct and connect it to houses in the community. 

My friend and fellow volunteer, Bri, provided technical design assistance throughout the project, as well as a construction hand. You can read a more detailed account of the project on her blog. 

I just wanted to share some photos from the project directly with you all. Enjoy, and if you donated - thanks again! You are having a direct effect on people in rural Panama right now! ¡Se Lo Agradecemos!

Pump Delivery... 

Installation...

Water!

Photo Credits: Briana Drake

Erica Goes to America

I've been enjoying a little va-cay in the wonderful US of A, a land where hot water flows abundantly, cool summer weather (hellooo PNW!) is warmed by a cozy jacket, and trips to the store (or civilization) don't involve long, annoying bus rides.

I've been overwhelmed with happiness to see all my family and many great friends. It makes me even more excited to return to their lives when I finish Peace Corps in October. 

While home I watch my cousin graduate from high school and my sister graduation from the University of Washington.

I proudly watched Panama play the US in Seattle for World Cup qualification. 

Jones sister, reunited after three years!

Even found a little snow! 

Me: Is this enough to ski on? Melissa: No, Erica. Keep hiking!

Tomorrow is back to Panama to enjoy the last four months of hammock laying-ditch digging-exuberant hiking-mosquito swatting-sweat soaked time of my life!

If I saw you while I was home, see you again soon! If I didn't, you might want to prepare for a couch surfer and long conversations when I return.

The Indigenous Perception

I wrote this for the Panama PCV written and edited triannual magazine. Some references made might be Panama specific, and you might need to translate some Spanish, but I thought it would be an interesting Panamanian perspective.

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The Indigenous Perception

I walk through the streets of Panama and often I don’t feel very Panamanian. It might be my blondish hair, light freckled skin, and blue eyes like a muñeca. That can’t be it, because when I don a nagua and hike the hills of the Comarca Ngobe-Bugle I feel like I could be painted into the environment. My close friends and neighbors don’t stare anymore.   I’ve morphed into not one of them, but this weird creature who they’ve all come to accept. Yet I must grip every culture of Panama, as part of my holistic experience here.

The indigenous and non-indigenous relationship is complex in every formerly colonized or inquired country. The relationship is apparent in the US. Struggling indigenously identifying groups of Americans are a norm. Barely culpable latter generations of Americans of European decent offer criticism but no solutions. How do we get along in the my great-great-great grandfather killed your great-great-great grandfather and took his land now poverty and genetic disposition have you jobless and addicted to alcohol but we’re all AM-ericans as I cheer at a Chiefs or Braves or Blackhawks sporting event? Somehow we sleep.

It’s different in Panama, but with the same undercurrent. What are camposinos in northern Coclé but indigenous who have forgotten their dialecto? The dark skin is the give-away that everyone in Panama is but a few generations removed from being indigenous. Yet Latino identifying Panamanians are much more progressed in civil development.

After being here for over a half I have encountered Latinos of every school of thought concerning the indigenous. First, there was the woman seated in the rear of a car that picked me up to drive down the road to the beach at Juan Hombrón to meet a friend. The two Panamanians in the front seats and I chatted graciously during the bumpy ride. Eventually I told them what I did, working with water and sanitation in the Comarca. That is when my seat partner set into a tirade about what lazy, disgusting people the indios were. The government just gives them land, while other Panamanians have to work for what is theirs. I wanted to give her a quick history lesson about land rights, but didn’t want to spoil the free ride. She ended with, “Soy racista, no me gustan los morenos ni indios”.

Not long ago I was in the bus terminal in Chitré with a friend visiting from the states. We bumped into another volunteer a week away from COSing. I went to use the restroom and when I walked up to my friend and the volunteer after, I overheard him telling her about the Guna Yala and pointing to a woman in a Nägua. At first I was confused, and then I realized he didn’t know the different in appearance between the two indigenous groups. Granted, this volunteer worked in the Azuero – but two years in Panama and he didn’t know the difference between a fierce looking little Guna woman and a humble Ngäbe?

Finally, during a trip on the Azuero I met a young man who owned a watermelon farm (Sandy the Sandia he told me) and employed many Ngäbes. He immediately commented on what hard working people they were and had many stories about how he treats them fairly and compassionately. I told him what a relief his perspective was for me to hear, and he reasoned that many Panamanians have forgotten their true heritage.

Everyone has an opinion about the protests concerning the mining and hydroelectric projects. Some are sympathetic and say that it is right for the indigenous to protect their environment. Others think that the indigenous should take advantage of their fortunate pot-of-goal and use it as leverage. Still others think they are wild and misbehaved and nothing else.

Of course I have a soft spot for the indigenous because I understand them. I see their struggles up close. I laugh with them, they are my friends. I shake my head at their backward behavior and pity the rut that is caused by lack of education. But I also see their lucha to feed their children, develop their society and yet preserve their culture. Development has forced so many indigenous groups around the world to leave their culture behind. Sustainable development that preserves culture and makes technological advances is being fleshed out in this moment with us. I hope as the indigenous here in Panama become increasingly developed they can cultivate their strong roots and grow respect from their paisanos and the world.

You Aren't What You Eat; Revenge

WARNING: shamelessly bloody and gory photos and descriptions are included in this edition of This Erica Life. If you are sensitive to blood be ware. Unless you hate chickens, then freely read on. Thanks. 

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In college, it took me nearly a year to work up the courage to donate blood. I was compelled by a sense of responsibility and finally had enough iron in my system after a few unsuccessful and disappointing (relieving?) attempts. It wasn't easy. I couldn't watch the needle go in and one glance at the pint sized bag of my own blood left me dizzy.

A few weeks ago when Chet Hopp kicked a pickaxe while working and split his foot open, I was useless in the emergency wound cleaning procedure. After a glance at the small but deep cut I swooned, was sat down by more reliable friends, and announced, "I think I saw inside his foot!". 

I'm not a vegetarian. I love properly raised, naturally healthy, vitamin and protein packed meat. However, the process between farm and table I am not particularly keen on being involved in. At some point, though, I feel responsible to learn and participate in killing and cleaning the food I eat. The problem lies in what is suggested by the first two paragraphs of this blog; I am unable to control my fear of blood. 

When something really motivates me I can be nearly unstoppable. Over the past two years I have lived together with chickens. Chicken run free-range in nearly every middle and lower class home in Panama. People proudly say ¡pollo de patio es mas sabroso que pollo de comprar! or "chicken that run around in my yard are much tastier than chicken from the store!" I have heard that urban farming has been all the rage in the US and many have adopted backyard chickens. Living so intimately with chickens has its dramatic downsides. Contrary to the popularized belief, roosters crow at whatever time of the day or night. Unpredictable chicken sex is the most unpleasant thing to happen to see. Us volunteers use annoying roosters for target practice from our hammocks. We make plans to buy and eat the most obnoxious ones at our farewell parties. 

So when I was poised, knife in hand, the thought of blood and life draining from a helpless chicken's body - I  channeled all the annoyance and rage that chickens have caused me in my time here and let 'er slice. 

Mine is the face of someone in agony. Her's is chuckling  like  she's watching Seinfeld. 
Photo Cred. E. King 

The key is to apply pressure and never hesitate.
Photo Cred. E. King 

I had the opportunity to kill a chicken that my friends and I would eat for the celebratory last day of a water committee seminar. I learned how to kill it, then it was dunked in boiling water, then plucked and gutted. By the next day it was tasty chicken guisado and I felt capable and vindicated.

I channeled my inner rage, and then cried. 

Yep, lemme check. Oh yea... she's dead. 

At least someone gets a hot water bath around here. 

There isn't anything I can't conquer.