12/27/2012

Dear folks back home,

        (Before I begin my holiday shoutout, I want to address some of your
comments regarding the last email- for those of you who responded,
thank you for doing so-  I apologize for not having enough time to
reply to each of you individually because you've all expressed ideas
that merit a personalized response, and I wish I had time to sit down
with a good cup of coffee and hash it out with each of you. Obviously
I can't do that though...soon! (perhaps?)
        For those of you who were concerned, I will just say- - yes, the head
and the heart can become very heavy in this place, and there are many
hard questions to ponder and difficult days to endure; however, the
relief is in the good days, and those good days give so much levity to
the weight of this life that it is, without a doubt, worth enduring.
I could not imagine anywhere in the world I'd rather be right now, nor
anything that I'd rather be doing.  At times it is a challenge to
accurately convey to you the story of my life here, and it is
challenging on your part to be able to relate to it.  I will continue
to do my best to paint a realistic picture, which includes both the
dark and the light- the good and the bad- and I hope you stick in
there and try your best to see it. This email, however, will be an
easy and upbeat one, pinky promise :) Here we go....)

Happy Holidays, everyone!

        This Christmas I have decided to spend “estilo americano” after
having a wonderful panamanian experience with my training family in
2011.  As you may remember, my community does not celebrate Christmas
and so, in search of the holiday cheer I am migrating north to the
mountain town of Santa Fe to spend a few days with other homesick
volunteers, peppermint schnaps’s with hot chocolate, and a climate
that does not induce quite as much sweating.  :)

        Afterwards, it's back to the village for a traditional new years.
“The boys” are coming home for a few days, and I'm excited to see
them-  “the boys” are Darinel, Yovani, and Hevi.  They are some of my
closest peers in the community, though all of them moved away shortly
after I moved in.  They work as migrant laborers on the other side of
the country now, visiting home for just days at a time every few
months.  I miss them terribly and know that my chances of seeing them
again before I leave are slim, so I've promised to put together a
straw man for us.  The straw man represents the old year, and we light
them on fire on New Year's Eve to signify the passing of the old year
and birth of the new one.  Then we eat delicious food at midnight and
drink (clarifico- the men drink, and Alison drinks only if “the boys”
sneak her something when the women aren't looking) and be merry.

        I look back on this year and am astounded by the variety of
experiences I've had, by the growth I've made, the relationships I've
built.  It's hard, nearly impossible, to fathom how one year seems
like a thousand years and yet feels like a blink of the eye.  I guess
a typical holiday letter would elaborate here about the highlights,
but I figure you can gather all of that from my previous emails, and
besides, the list is just too long.  So let's talk about 2013....

        I have 6 months of service remaining!!  How I will ever accomplish
everything I aspire to accomplish is a mystery, though not as great of
a mystery as that nagging question at the back of my head...  “What's
next???”  It's hard to plan for tomorrow, let alone a new chapter in
my life that may or may not  involve something as adult as a real job
(ideas anyone?), or paying off student debt (dios mio!), or maybe I
take advantage of my freedom from owning and obligation by boarding a
plane and exploring this world until I'm too broke to continue (this
sounds more enticing) or maybe I will stay here as a third year
extension, working on gender and development issues, or gardening and
nutrition.  So many possibilities.....I'm letting the universe decide
at this point, submitting resumes and making tentative travel plans
all at the same time, not looking to find anything in particular but
looking to be found by something wonderful.  At this point, Solo Dios
Sabe.

        No matter what path I end up on, however, I have a feeling that I'm
on the brink of great life changes, a sort of re-birthing.  I have
absolutely no idea what that new me will be like but I'm super excited
to meet her- I hear she's a pretty awesome cook nowadays and lives
with electricity and isn't riddled with skin infections.   As for the
first half of 2013, however, I'm still the same old me- eating oatmeal
for breakfast every day, keeping my kitchen well-stocked with cans of
tuna, lentils, and powdered milk, and more than willing to eat a black
carrot that's been sitting on my counter for a week (you just peel
that layer off and it's still delicious on the inside.  well,
nutritious at least.  Maybe delicious is an overstatement).  Complete
with skin infections, bug bites, a thin layer of dirt and soot coating
my skin.  Trust me- all of this is actually very easy to overlook,
especially now that the end is nearing.  Why?  Because I've got my
amazing gente, a sense of purpose, a lot of work ahead of me, and a
second wind that is refreshing and entirely necessary.

        This second wind means finishing our stoves project (we'll be
building 11 fuel-efficient wood burning stoves before january is
over), taking some of the star students on a long-awaited field trip
(thanks to a small grant we were awarded last month- yessss!) with my
best boy Elys, conducting a domestic violence and communication for
conflict management seminar at my school (this has a fascinating back
story that I intend to share in a later email), improving my girls'
leadership and nature program,  finishing the series of nutrition and
cooking classes I've been doing with the garden group, and of course,
following up with everything that has to do with gardens (including
eating the kale, broccoli, amaranth, chard and arrugula that is so
growing so beautifully at my house- that's right-this year i've gone
experimental with my garden.  The panamanians of course continue to
plant their veggies of choice in their gardens, which is how it ought
to be, seeing that a) they have no interest in eating these strange
leafy things, and b) those seeds aren't available anywhere in Panama
except at the “cricket's” house- aka MY house).  As for the bread
shop, I can happily say that I'm starting to work myself out of job,
which is great!  We had a very successful and unique training the
other week in which my friend Emily visited with 3 women from her
community's bread shop, and Emily and I observed while the women
exchanged knowledge and skills, giggled and made new friends.  That's
decidedly the best training session I've ever given- and all I had to
do was make rice!!   So you see, things are winding up to wind down,
and I feel great about it.  In my extra time, I'd like to continue
supporting the HIV/AIDS prevention education and life skills seminars
that we've been doing all around the country, reach out to other
volunteers looking to promote gardening and nutrition, and most
importantly, cherish every moment of my time in the campo (ex. sit
around in hammocks, entertain the children at my rancho with books and
coloring activities, go swimming in the river, be a good neighbor,
live the dream, etc.) Whew...this second wind better be a good
one...sounds like I'm going to need it!

        Lastly, before I let you all go on with your festivities, I just want
to add one more little thing (you already knew I wasn't going to be
able to write a whole email without at least something of
philosophical rambling, so just buckle up and hang on- it's a good
one).  It is this:  After having a fantastic conversation with a very
dear friend of mine (you know who you are), I realized that there was
an important paragraph missing from my last email. It was the
paragraph about- what should we do about the inevitability of the
changes that development will bring?  Should we, accepting our
smallness in the grand scheme of things and be content to stand idly
by, recognizing that negative changes will be a part of a country's
progression just as much as positive ones will?  Or should we, as the
Peace Corps and other development entities and “progressive”
individuals do, try to be a part of these changes, knowing full well
that by being a part of the development process we risk being (or at
least feeling) partially responsible for unintended consequences, such
as cultural costs?  I don't want to tell you where to stand on this
issue, but as for me, I have decided to accept the two-faced nature of
development. I think that most things in life (like development, or
capitalism, or my daily oatmeal) cannot be categorized as exclusively
positive or negative.  While opposites exist- good and bad, sadness
and joy, birth and death-- most things fall somewhere along the
spectrum.  If it weren't a spectrum, if life was just joyous, for
example, then joy would mean nothing.  It is the sadness that gives
joy it's value, the inevitability of death that makes birth so
special, it's the existence of poverty that makes wealth so desirable.
 No, I don't think we can ever “fix” this world; I don't think we can
ever hope for a day when there is no poverty, no sadness, no death, no
despair, no gluttony.  To eliminate one end of the spectrum would be
to eliminate the value of everything which falls on the other half of
it, and from a practical standpoint it would be entirely impossible
because this dichotomy is innate.
        That being said, it seems to me that I have a few choices: I can sit
back and watch the world unfold as it will, for better and for worse,
and attempt to remain unemotionally involved with the process of
development; I can become disheartened and sulk as I focus on what I
cannot change; or I can choose to be a part of this process, focusing
my energies on the helping myself and others actively participate in
desirable changes and trying to ease the turbulent transitions that
will present themselves as negative changes take place.  So as I said
in my last email, “there's no saving the world going on here or
anywhere else- just a lot of interference,” but interference is not
entirely bad nor entirely good, and personally I would rather accept
my place in this interference by directing my actions towards
everything which falls on the positive side of life's many spectrums
than by sitting idly or by succumbing to a sense of futility.  I may
small, but while I'm here occupying space and time in this world, I
choose to take a part in it.
        You don't have to agree with me on any of this, but I do want you to
know that I believe your work on this earth is equally as important as
mine or anyone elses' (and I don't just mean your job, I mean your
daily actions).  I believe that you, Luis, and I- we are all capable
of taking the reigns of our lifeboats, small as they might be, and
directing ourselves towards a better future through our daily actions
and encounters with one another. We might not be able to change the
world, but do change each others lives as we mutually navigate it.
And the more of us who choose to actively participate in the changing
world, the more readily we will see and feel those positives changes.
As for the negative ones, they'll appear, too, but each of us will be
better equipped to stay afloat through the turbulent patches because
we'll have the experiences, knowledge, and perspectives of fellow
riders to hang onto for support and guidance.
        So as this year (and email) closes, I leave you with a little more to
chew on (you know, after the christmas treats run out)....but then
again if you take nothing else from this "snack for thought," just
know that regardless of whether or not you intended to do so, you have
each helped to keep me afloat and on-course at various points during
my time down here.  So thank you.

 I appreciate you and love you all so much, and I wish you a great
2013.  Have a happy and healthy holiday season, and think of me each
time you inhale that frosty air- it's hot down here!  (send me some
snow!)

Big hugs,

This is not a story about Luis

When a stone falls into a pond it creates a series of ripples that propagate through the surface of the water, displacing and carrying floating leaves, sticks, and other small particles. When two stones fall, however, the ripples from one pulse collide with the ripples of another, and energy is redistributed as either constructive or destructive interference. Constructive interference is a type of interference that occurs where two interfering waves produce a displacement in the same direction, whereas destructive interference occurs where two interfering waves produce a displacement in the opposite direction. In the latter case, the effect of one pulse on any given particle is destroyed, or canceled out, by the effect of the other pulse- but the interference is only temporarily. That is to say that two waves will collide, produce a new ripple resulting from their net effect, but eventually each will continue on propagating as it was before the point of interference.*

One stone to represent the developing world. Another stone for that the so-called developed one. Me, a particle, riding out the interference between the two of them. To promote development, to foster progress- this was my noble mission, but these waves are big, and I'm far under-qualified to navigate such a monumental collision. I want to be clear- as a Peace Corps Volunteer I help my community to address its needs, absolutely I do- but I am not capable of fostering progress in the developing world, let alone defining it. 

 

Progress for you or me might running water, a new bridge, or a lower infant-mortality rate, while for Luis it might mean getting a season job as a migrant laborer that earns him more money than he's ever earned- a whopping $14 a day. And with that $14 he can buy a few cement blocks each week to upgrade his family's mud hut, some milk for the kids, a bus ticket home every weekend, and a handle of moonshine to accompany him as he catches up with friends and family. I'm walking with him the other day when he looks at me and says, “you know, with all the projects and government programs that come through here, there's still no progress. There's still no one getting any richer.” Progress, Luis implies, means money. How can I argue with that definition, knowing full well that I, too, would prefer a comfortable life with such conveniences as clean water, health care, accessible education for my children, and some clean clothes to wear when I go to town. I would be a hypocrite to judge Luis, the subsistence farmer, for wanting to send away his daughter to a middle school that she doesn’t have to hike 3 hours to get to. After all, wouldn't I want for my own mother, who has sewn and hammered her flip flops back together multiple times, to be able to afford a new pair? Wouldn't I like to eat until I'm full? Yes, of course I would; and you all would, too. So no, I can't disagree with Luis' definition of progress, but I don't entirely agree with it, either. 

 

I do see that progress, by another definition, has come as a result of projects and programs in my community. I see that our water supply is clean and easily available, I see that the cooperative is handling a hefty UNDP grant to jumpstart a kidney bean business. I see that people in the younger generation are almost always literate, and that families have food to eat (although it may be less than enough or less than nutritional). But the lenses through which I interpret this situation are tinted. Luis sees it differently, and there's probably a whole lot of other people in other developing countries around the world who agree with him. 

 

Then what's my role in the developing world as a Peace Corps volunteer? If I'm supposed to be promoting progress, whose definition of progress should I promote? Should I be helping Luis to get what he most wants- money- by infusing him with skills and knowledge that will enable him to acquire a paying job? By doing so, I will also be encouraging him to leave behind his bamboo house, his dogs and pigs, and his crops, so that he can move to the city. There, he and his family will rent a small room in a shared complex with other migrant laborers, they'll have electricity, the school will be on the same block, and once all the food is purchased, there might even be a few bucks left for those new flip-flops- you know, the nice $4.00 ones. Never mind that he'll lose a perfectly fertile, valuable tract of land that will probably be abused by someone else who will leave it fallowed within 10 years; that he'll throw out his favorite sombrero pintado to rock a Playboy baseball cap; that he'll forget about that good ol' campo courtesy that I find so endearing and beautiful; that instead of pasearing his children will binge on tele-novelas and in doing so become obese and disconnected from their neighborhood peers; that his 6-year-old daughter, Gissell, might infer from mass media that her body is neither the right size nor color; that his son, Ariel, will be more likely to get involved in drugs as an adolescent; that the stories his grandmother spun late at night by the glow of the guarricha will be replaced by enthralling Disney plots- no, never mind any of that. What's important is that their lives will be more convenient, right? Another day, another dime towards a pair of Nike's, and Nike's mean you're not poor. Nike's mean progress. 

 

It's hard for me to feel good about advocating that kind of development. Capitalism has a shiny side that's all too easy to become fixated on when you're looking at it from the underneath, like Luis. But you and I and most everyone we know, we're looking at it from a privileged place, and from here it starts to look a little like a beast. I've seen the adverse consequences it's had on the richness of culture and natural resources- neighbors whose names we do not know but whose cars we recognize from a distance, black Fridays, oil spills and oil wars, for example. In the developed world, we work to buy, buy to live, then live beyond our means. There are men and women who've become slaves to credit-card debt, others who are so gluttonous and indulgent that it's repulsive. Everything, even progress itself, has a price, and at such a steep cost, I'm not willing to front the bill.

Acknowledging this reality, I accept that my job as a development worker is neither righteous nor prestigious. Please don't get me wrong- I am certainly not suggesting that the “capacity-building” part of being a PCV is immoral; most of what I do is beneficial and all of it is well-intended. What I am suggesting, however, is that while I may be a helping hand in Luis' pursuit of a better life, I am certainly his friend. 

 

This means that the stress, and the sacrifices, and the lofty expectations that accompany my culturally-embedded obsession with efficiency and results- they're not necessary. I can let go of my frustration with meetings that start late, or never at all, with failed projects and dwindling community interest. I can indulge in good foods, get plenty of exercise, take mid-day hammock-naps, and attend volunteer gatherings. I can tend to myself before tending to my work, and I can do so without suffering the guilt that so many volunteers force themselves to endure. Because to me, the product of my work is not nearly as important as my presence in the lives of Luis and others, and my ability to be present is directly related to my own well-being. When I'm healthy and happy, my front door, like my heart, stays open.

Two stones fall in a pond. I did not throw them, and I do not know which is more righteous, but my life here revolves around their overlapping waves. Maybe there's no saving the world happening here; maybe it's just a lot of interference, and whether it should be considered constructive or destructive, I don't know. What I do know is that the natural pattern of development, like ripples from a stone, will eventually continue in the same direction no matter what actions I take. After all, I am just another particle suspended in this turbulent place- but I am not alone. For just this one brief moment in time, I am here alongside Luis, and that's what matters most.

*http://www.physicsclassroom.com/class/waves/u10l3c.cfm

Inhale, Exhale, Repeat

Dear lovely folks back home (and around the world),

I apologize, as I often do when starting these emails, because it's been a while since I've written everyone. I have had trouble finding words lately, so i'll do this reporter style and stick to the facts--at least that way you know i'm alive down here.

The rainy season has begun in full force, which means transportation is harder and harder to come by. The trucks don't like to travel in the afternoon because they're afraid to cross the stream, of which there are 3 passes.  This week, no joke, the driver stopped the car in the middle of a stream and had the passangers (just the 3 of us) move rocks to make it easier for the car to pass.  He wouldn't take us home until the work was done, then complained the whole time about how it wasn't worth the money to take us home.  He's like that though, Maestro Him. He's my least favorite driver-  pisses me off most every day but i'll probably miss his incessant bitterness and negativity when I leave.  He'd be a great movie character, the sour old grump.  One good thing about the rain, however, is that I (generally) have water to bathe in and my garden is finally growing (thank you, seed donors!  i'm super excited!!!!) And I admit that it's lovely to spend an torrential downpour reading or doing yoga or exercising....or napping!! Oh man do I love rainstorm naps.  Tigre likes them too. We nap together sometimes--so much for keeping him off my bed.

As for work, things are moving along at lightning speed, which is really just too fast for the rainy season, but it's good for me.  The stoves committee I've been supporting with got funding to build fuel-efficient wood burning stoves over the next few months- I painstakingly dragged them through the grant writing and group organization process, and it actually paid off big- $1600 from the Energy and Climate Change Alliance of the Americas--Thanks, Obama!  We're ordering all the materials and starting the training sessions this week- Si Dios Quiere we will finish building all the stoves in the summer (December/January). 

More rewarding, however, is the progress with the bread shop.  I was pleasantly surprised to return from the united states and find out that the women, in my absence, have self-organized and sculpted the business into a much smooth(er) running machine.  They made a weekly work schedule that's posted up on the wall, they've upped the quantity of bread they make each saturday, and between the president, secretary and treasurer they are tracking all their ingoing and outgoing costs.  They've got their funds separated into "maintainance" and "savings," and they are buying new ingredients as necessary.  All of this without me looking over their shoulders for nearly 2 months, all of this when they told me not all that long ago that they were at the point of giving up entirely.  it's quite remarkable how much can be done when you pair 8 strong-willed women with a mud-oven, a $60 dollar investment, and a brief business management course..... and I've started to wonder if this will not be the most successful aspect of my service when all is said and done. After all, building stoves and planting trees and growing vegetables is important, but there is nothing quite like having an income.  And not just an income, an income for women who have never before had their own spending money.  I asked the women yesterday at what point they would like to divvy up some of their money (they have already saved over $100) and they said they want to keep building up the "seed", and then all take their share and go to the city and buy themselves something nice.  Here in the Panamanian campo women have to ask permission to access the family's money (if there is any), and they tell me that if they save money little by little in the house it's sure to disappear, which is why it's better to wait until they can take a good chunk at once and spend it quickly.  I'm so proud of them- and admittedly, proud of myself.  I hope to help solidify the business before I go, and to see that each woman has the pleasure of pocketing and spending her own money.

What else????  The organic gardens are still up and going, though the extended dry season was rather brutal for those of us without running water.  Most everyone has finished harvesting their first planting and are starting to turn the beds, or have already done so.  The rice harvest has delayed all other work quite a bit- it's hard work and long days for everyone right now, and many nights of drunken calls (salomas).  The drink of choice here is Chicha fuerte- it's basically fermented corn beer.  Rather than water, giant jugs of this juice are hauled to the fields and drinken throughout the day (and what is left over is quickly downed throughout the night).   Someday I will film the men salomaring for you and send a video-- it's quite a site to behold and words cannot do it justice, but you absolutely must see this drunken spectacle at least once (though it's not very fun to see every night...). Which leads me to the health stuff....

This week I will be giving the second health and cooking class with my friend Bianca- we're making collard greens (mustard leaves), habichuela and egg salad, and rice, and we're going to teach about diet-related diseases and how to prevent them (diabetes, high blood pressure, cholesterol, and liver problems, to be specific--these are extremely common ailments here).    I was awarded a small grant from the peace corps to continue giving these classes and have been seriously considering developing them into a "traveling seminar" to give in sites around the country that are doing garden projects. Ideally I'd like to integrate other health topics too (like ALCOHOLISM among men, women/children's health, sexual health, etc), as well as permaculture and more "hands-off" methodologies for gardening.  The possibilities are endless really...we'll see how far I can get in these next 9 months..  Time is a lot like water.

Inhale....

July 2011

Crecer. To Grow.

Growth is a cycle, not a continuum.  It begins with birth: think seedlings, think rosy red infant cheeks, think squeeling newborn kittens on a rice sack in the attic, think the very first day I stepped foot on the Isthmus. Maduration follows: ripening mangos, ripening minds, hormonal young boys and wiser (sometimes) old ones. And then death.  Think Tio Amado, a good man who passed away this last week, brittle brown tomato stalks, think of those same kittens, cold, stiff, and silent. Add time, add heat, add earthworms. Repeat. 

So much has happened in the year I have now been serving in the peace corps.... (Yes! One year has come and gone!) So much has happened since my last blog entry, since last week, since yesterday.  How do I even begin to catch you up on what has been, what is, the story of constant growth.

In the last few months our community, as well as a few neighboring communities, have sprung alive with organic home gardens.  First there was one (my own), now there are 27.   Supporting and promoting the vegetable gardens has become a cornerstone of my service.  Somedays, usually Mondays, I walk for hours, from dusk to dawn, visiting the gardens.  If I dont make it to all the gardens in one day, I do it again on Tuesday.  Those visiting days are the best days. Sometimes I do it just to pat backs, give a thumbs up, and keep the excitement alive--(you should see how excited people get when they show off their gardens.)  Other times folks ask me questions about problems theyve been having and we pick a day of the week for me to return and work with them.  And I do.

I love everything about gardens. I love planting them, I love talking about them, I love the look on peoples faces, that beautiful beam of pride and natural wonder when they finally have get to harvest something or see the first flowering tomato plant.  I love the dirt in my fingernails and in my hair and under my toenails. I love the smell of compost.  I love hiking for an hour to help make an insect repellant in five minutes.  And of course, I LOVE eating from the gardens.  Right now we are just begining to get the first of the tomato and cucumber harvests.  Our gardening group is done with their training (a FAO program) and now we have been left to our own devices.  Im taking advantage of the momentum and enthusiasm, and this week I will be doing my first nutrition and healthy cooking class.  We are going to talk about the health benefits of these veggies and healthy, diverse ways to prepare them.  This weeks menu is...... Bean Burritos with Pico de Gallo and steamed corn on the cob.  Delicious, no?  My one rule for cooking class is that nothing will be fried. ever. period. and no ingredients will come from the city (which is 2 hours away), and everyone will learn that rice and macaronis and fried meat is not a complete or delicious meal no matter how much grease and MSG you throw on it....Sooo heres to gardens, to better health, and taller children, ie. heres to growth in the physical sense.  But theres oh-so-much-more growing here in Panama.... its not all physical, nor is it not all external.

Im growing, too.  I play back memories of myself, my life before this life. I see myself in the mirror and on the outside its mostly the bugbites and sunburns and gnarled hair and sweaty everything, but when I look at my eyes staring back at me from my ductape-rigged mirror I see inside myself, too, and I know that Im not the same there, either.  I wonder if others can see it, or if Im seeing what I believe and feel rather than what is visible.  I think Ive gotten older here. I look at photos from before I arrived and I see a young college girl, smiley, giggly, part girl-part grown up, happier among children than among adults, blissfully naive and pretentious.  And now?  Probably still just as pretentious and smiley, but a lot less naive, a lot more like a woman than a girl.  In fact, I feel like I lost something of the child in me while Ive been here. I dont want to say thats a sad thing, because there is a magic in the world of women that is different from that of the childs world.  I really enjoy working with women here.  I love their silent power and their hugs, the way they take passerbyers under their roofs and nurture them. I love the quaint things they do to bring beauty into their lives and imminent surroundings, they way they love children and one another, the constant sacrifices they make to bring serenity and comfort to others, the comments they make to one another when men arent around that leave them giggling like a bunch of little girls.  For the first time in my life I find that I enjoy being among the women than among the children.  Could it be that Im really becoming one of them or is it just cultural? (Afterall these campo children are a lot crazier than our well-groomed, well-trained kids back in the US....and there are a lot of them!)  Its hard to tell from here, but the fact is that Im happy to be one of them.  Im happy to be growing.

What is strange is to think I am officially ¨over-the-hill¨ of my service.  The realization of this fact has led me to speculate about what is to come...My next life.  I suppose I should get a masters degree, pay off some debts, and echar pa delante, but I fantasize that  I will sustain this momentum forever.  Continue to travel, live in a foreign land, promote gardens and health and harmony with nature.  When the light is just-so I can see myself someday working for the FAO or USAID, and when it changes I see myself just as clearly as an artist promoting social and behavioral change, or a photographer for National Geographic, or a journalist, or a farmer.  I wont stay here, though.  As much as I love my home here (and I do LOVE this life so much), like any living entity, this experience, too, must come to its dying day.  And on this day, I feel like I will be ready to move on from Latin America, to start fresh.  After all, growth is a cycle.


 -------------------




P.S.  Some exiciting news.  Si Hay Pan! (Yes, there IS Bread!) I should really send out some pictures of the mud oven we built for the bread shop (yeahhhh woman power!  hauling sand and packing mud like you wouldnt believe we could...it was AWESOME).  We finished a business seminar recently and now make two hundred breads two days a week and sell them for a nickle a pop.  Our goal is to have 2 recipes down-pat by mid august and to start trying cake recipes in September.  Fun, eh?  Just wait till we get zucchinis from the garden.  Im about to rock their world with zucchini bread....hehehehehe.

P.S.S.  Will send photos the next time I get internet access.

P.S.S.S.  I love you folks.

June 2011

Hey friends and family,

Hope this email finds you all well.  I am just heading back to my community after an amazing vacation with my mom!...Tomorrow I´ll be back in the thick of the campo life but while I still have internet I´ll take a second to tell you about our trip..  It was only ten days but it felt longer....We spent the first night eating delicious fresh ceviche in the city, then headed over to the beach in Guarare to enjoy the beautiful pacific ocean.  After that we dove right into the peace corps life (or should I say we rode into it, in the back of my overly crowded pick up truck) and spent 3 nights in my community.  On two of the days we were there we did an environmental youth camp with a handful of excited elementary students, which they LOVED and I´m sure that I will never stop hearing the ram sam sam song now that they know it. and mom had the kids come up with chants for our camp slogan, which was Yo Cuido a Mi Comunidad....they were soo excited to present their chants in front of the group.  adorable! :)  we went and visited most of my community members during the afternoons, and bunked up in my little ranchito at night.  Of course my latrine was not finished by the time we arrived and the water kept running out, but hey, the latrine got down in a flash and every morning i filled up the shower buckets at the crack of dawn, so we made it through alright. (And now I have a composting latrine!!  Thanks, mom!)  After adventures in Ciprian we headed to a mountain town to rest up for a day, take a hike, swim in a river, and wash the campo funk out of our clothes.  We got a car at this point (wow!  such freedom!  i forgot how cool that is)  and we drove over to my friend Kendras community in the indigenous reserve Ngobe Bugle.  We went to the cacique´s house but she was on an important mission, so we didnt actually end up meeting her, nonetheless it was awesome to see kendras village and learn about the ngobe people.  Our next adventure was an archeological dig in Nata which was totally random and unplanned and absolutely amazing.... here´s the national geographic article about it. http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/01/nata-chiefs/williams-text      seriously the coolest thing ever....words dont even describe it. (marcy, you might have a heart attack if you saw it) all of you should totally go before it blows up into a huge tourism attraction. 

anyway, the same day we went hiking in gamboa rainforest reserve in panama and saw monkeys and trogons and toucans and frogs and probably a lot of other things that were well camoflauged :) and our last day was spent checking out another volunteer´s site in an indigenous embera wounaan community on the banks of the river gatun, followed by a stroll through the spainish ruins in the city. oh and did i mention, a microbrewery.  that´s right.  REAL beer.  and all along eating GREEN things and CHEESE and WINE and APPLES.  ;) yesssss what a life.

it was such an awesome trip...i cant believe we managed to do all of that in just 10 days...i feel so well fed and well loved and lucky to have had this vacation with my mama. we will get some photos out to yall soon (sweet new camera!!  thank you to all you who helped me to get it.  i LOVE it, and my other one is officially muerto so it was perfect timing. )

i love you all so much and miss you and wonder which of you will be my next visitor....come on down! 

xoxo

May 2011

 

First of all, I miss you.  It has been over 1 year now since I left the united states, which has me in a nostalgic place.  It´s crazy to think how quickly time flies, how much I have or have not accomplished.  It´s hard to keep track of all this, to be honest.  The concepts of time and accomplishment are very relative things which I have not yet learned to measure accurately.

 

In short, all marches well here.  I am working and growing and experiencing all of the pains and pleasures that come with each.  It´s a constant rollercoaster ride, this peace corps life, but I am loving it just the same.  To be honest  I struggle most when I leave and then come back again--it´s hard to readjust.  The modern world has some strange affect on me, and when I re-settle at home I always pass a few days dazed and confused and jetlagged.  After a few rough mornings I sink back into the comfort of village life, complete with green mangos, nonstop social interaction, dirt from my head to my toes that never seems to wash away, a million giggling children that never grow bored of me, and all is great until my next interruption. 

 

Instead of telling you about all the work and the water and the scenery and whatever else I usually tell you about, this letter, I´m going to tell you a story... it´s not a happy story, so don´t get your hopes up.  it´s a true story though and i´d like to share it with you. hope you enjoy.

 

 

Maria de la Cruz.

 

A new day and little Yeli is waiting for me outside the door again.  It´s 6:30 in the morning on a school day.  I can hear her water tanks clinking, though she doesn´t say a word.  It doesnt matter how many times I tell her to just go check to see if there is water in the faucet and if there is to go ahead and fill up with asking-- she still waits silently outside my door.  Most days there is no water, but she comes anyway, and in the event that there is, she fills the tanks and then waits for Maria de la Cruz to come haul the tanks up the hill on her head. 

 

Maria de la Cruz is her mother, and she is also my neighbor.  On Tuesday two of her 9 children showed up on my patio with a slice of papaya and that look they always give me when they really came to ask for something but are too shy to just say it.  I ask Yeli what she wants and she tells me it´s her mom´s birthday, and could she please use my colored pencils and some paper to make a card.  Of course I give her a big sheet of red construction paper and I cut it in the form of a big heart for her, and she goes to work.  Maria de la Cruz is 42 years old and has 7 grandchildren.  Her children and grandchildren are at my house almost daily, which at times can be inconvenient but I don´t have the heart to send them home.  I know what home means for them.  For one thing, everyone in the community knows that Isaiah beats Maria de la Cruz.  Yelizabeth tells me about the times when he has hit her with liquor bottles, leaving enormous egg-sized welts on her body.  One night, Yeli says casually as she washes her baby sister in a bucket on my front porch, they both grabbed machetes and threatened to kill each other, so Yeli took the baby out to play by the mango tree.  I tell her she did the right thing, and that it´s not okay that her dad hits her mom, and then I continue washing my clothes, but my mind wanders and my heart sinks. 

 

Crucita, the older sister arrives and stands over me, her belly swollen although her breasts are still not fully formed.  She is 15 years old and pregnant with her second child.  I don´t want to make hasty assumptions but I cannot help but to speculate as to how Crucita first became pregnant at the age of 13 in a culture where young women are not allowed to go out with men alone.  I don´t want to make hasty assumptions but I find it odd that Crucita lives unmarried in the neighboring community of Las Playitas with her sister rather than at home.  Could it be the father again? I dont want to speculate anymore.  I continue washing clothes.  Maybe if I scrub harder these terrible thoughts, too, will wash away.

 

I´d like to think that I could talk to Maria de la Cruz about all this.  In the US I could tell her that she has the right and power to report this, that there are agencies and people who can help her.  But here, metido in the campo of Panama, I know that we are too far in the thick of it for anyone to save her.  And she knows it.  Here without cell phone service, with a road that is only passable for certain months of the year, what agency would possibly be able to help?  And what would become of the 16 children who depend on her for food and shelter and safety?  And what would become of her extended family that stays behind to deal with the fury of Isaiah?  And what would become of me, the neighbor who enticed her to escape?  It´s not only a bad idea, it´s an impossible one. 

 

All I can think to do is fill the water tanks for Yeli and carry them up the hill when I have time, let her and the rest of her siblings stay late at my house to read stories (especially on the nights when Isaiah is drunk), and give them left over vegetables to take home when I leave town.  It pains me to know I cannot fix this family, nor can I make their lives any safer, but there´s something to be said for being a good neighbor, so I do my best.

 

------------------------

The Eleventh Month

Sun, wind, water, love.

Dear family and friends,

It's been a while since I've written. Honestly I can't even remember the last time I wrote, or what it was about....I hope nothing I write today is a repeat offender, and apologies if it is. What can I say? The last few months have been jampacked. Mostly it's been an amphibian's life, between the city and the campo, travels, visits and visitors, birthdays. Currently I am out of site, just finished helping with the training of the new group of environmental volunteers. I was asked to be part of their training, which is pretty cool and an honor, really. All this week I've been in a small town called Pilon, another volunteer's site- there's a schedule and a plan and a dress code and a boss again. It's fine and good to be working, but to be frank I'd rather be sitting by the river with friends cracking open palm nuts with a rock and looking for crawdads to roast over a campfire under the shade of the flowering mango trees, which is exactly what I did last saturday.

This is summertime in the campo....

By 9am the wind is usually quite strong, though not as strong as the heat of the sun. The days are filled with sunshine, the air is filled with the sweet smell of warm pine needles, and river is filled with children. They've dammed a portion of the river with sticks and logs and rocks and palm leaves to make a great swimming hole. It's location next to the road and the kiosk bring it to life as the local pool- kids spend the afternoon jumping in, climbing out, sunning themselves, checking out the cuties, struttin their stuff, buying candies and juice.

In the mornings there are kidney beans to be picked and cleaned and sorted, at midday there are hammock naps, in the heat of the afternoon there are more kidney beans -this time to be beaten with sticks (this is how you deshell them). Every evening there is baseball. While the parents are beating the hell out of the beans or napping in a hammock, the kids go into the monte to find gacho- it's a soft and flexible vine. They wind it up in a ball and wrap a rubber band and an old sock, and bam! We have a softball. Our bats are sticks- mostly balsa wood because it is so much lighter but any old stick of a certain length and thickness will do the trick. A base is a shoe, or is a pile of cow poop, a big leaf, or maybe just a dirt patch scratched out among the weeds. And the game is on! The sun sets, it rises, and repeat.

Today, when I return, all will have changed, sadly. School will have resumed session, the beans will have been cleaned and stored away. The men will have begun to chop down the monte to prepare for the planting of rice, I will begin to harvest more tomatoes and cucumbers and onions and carrots from my garden (and more!), and the children will be disheartened by afternoons filled with homework rather than games and rivertime. The water might run out, things will get drier and hotter still, and the work, I anticipate, will pick back up.

Ah yes work..... Im still fighting for a stoves project- not with the community but with red tape. Paperwork and indifference on the part of the companies are my current battles, but I'm not giving up. Looks like it may be a long struggle, and I will probably have to bribe some powerful people with cookies and other baked goods before I see any movement....should the rainy season arrive before this thing gets funding, it means we will have to wait until next summer.. Just like the electricity project which has still not seen any movement since August, it will be yet another long wait.

In other news, I've been working with a youth group....my friend mirna is actually in charge of it, but she went back to finish up highschool in the city, so I'm filling in. We learn about being a good person, morals, values, the environment. We pick up trash and play games and have fundraisers. It's good for them, and it's good for me, too. I look forward to it every saturday afternoon...I do, however, worry about what will happen if Mirna does not come back. Most young women in this part of the country get out and stay out, and I would not be surprised if Mirna follows the same pattern. (I would not hold it against her either. Life in the campo is duro, and the waiting game grows tiresome). In the next few months I will be doing a lot with the school garden and my awesome friend Raul, I'll be amping up to do semester 2 of the girls' leadership and environment program, and I'll be helping 5 families set up an organic farm project. I'll also be working to teach basic business skills to the women's group so that they'll be able to move forward with their bread business- I'm starting with the president, taking her to a leadership and project management conference in April. (She used to be my host mom/sister, and her and her husband are by far some of the most progressive and hardworking people I have ever met in my whole life, so im very excited to take her on this 4 day conference)

Changing the subject...

Let's be frank about work. I don't believe that all of this work is sustainable, nor do I believe I have found the true purpose of my being here....Would it really be any different were I not here? What do I have to offer? I wish I could say that in my 9^th month I have figured all of this out, but it's not so simple. True, some of the youth will catch on to new ideas and grow into individuals touched by the thoughts and habits of an outsider, and there is certainly some sustainability in this. True, business skills will benefit the women in my community, whether or not the bread business fails or succeeds. The stoves project, though? Yes, there is a direct and enormous benefit to be gained for the entire community, but I am building stoves, not skills, which makes it my least sustainable and least fulfilling project (it was the #1 priority for the community, though, which is why I am so dedicated to pulling through).

In considering the role of the volunteer in development, I honestly believe the best “aid” I can offer is my heart first and foremost, a pat on the back to those who deserve it, a little peptalk when the going gets tough, some free labor, and my public recognition of a job or idea done well. Perhaps that's exactly what we as volunteers ought to be doing, though. It's about leadership, sure, but that does not mean that we are or should be The Leaders, and to think otherwise is a rather egotistical and sadly, promotes an already prevalent belief in racial hierarchies that I find quite disturbing. It is equally, perhaps moreso, important that I be a follower. That's the true key to sustainability. Without a follower, a there are no organic leaders, just progressive but invisible individuals. So here I am, honing in on a mission to make the invisible visible, to being not the firewood but a microscopic spark. There is a quote from the Tao te Ching that puts it perfectly. It says, “to lead the people, walk behind them.”

So there you have it. i will try to write again soon- I realize I've left a lot of blanks in the picture, but use your imagination (and the photos which i will send momentarily) to fill them in. In the meantime, I have a visitor coming to visit from peace corps ecuador, which will be fun, and I have a lot more walking to do....

Lots of love to each and everyone of you,

Until next time.