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.
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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.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
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.
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
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.
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.
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