Birthdays in Panama

This past week there were three birthdays in my little village, and considering how much as I love birthdays, it was great.  It seems like the biggest parties are for children under the age of 3, but the local poverty level means that there generally isn't a ton of money left over for birthday celebrations for people of any age.  But, I decided that there's no better excuse for bakin' some cake than a birthday, so this turned out to be quite the tasty week.  

Birthday #1: Virginia turns 34

my mom included sprinkles in my latest care package!

Virginia and her sister-in-law, Veronica, are two of my closest friends in site.  They frequently visit to paint nails or make goodies, and they even told their kids to call me tia, aunt!  They really won me over, though, when they told me I can use their oven any time I want.  Now that is the sign of a true friend.  

Birthday #2: Adelaida turns 11

Adelaida is my host dad's granddaughter, and she's been quite my little helper.  If I take longer than a few seconds to do a task, anything from starting a fire to machete-chopping my yard to washing my hair in the creek, Adelaida will be right there, ready to jump in and help.  She was so excited to have this birthday celebration that she wanted to wear her favorite dress for a photo and has been talking about it ever since! 

Birthday #3: Misael turns 1

While it doesn't seem like birthdays get much recognition in general, very young children are the exception.  It seems a little odd to put so much effort into a party that the guest of honor won't even remember, but it was fun nonetheless.  And an extra dose of Panamanian fun?  Adding flour to the inside of a Piñata.  

My First Medical Issue- And it was Gross

At one point during my lengthy interview with a Peace Corps Recruiter, he asked me what my biggest concern would be, should I be offered a position.  I quickly responded with, "Oh, that's easy.  I really, really hate being sick." He simply laughed and said, "Unfortunately, you will definitely be sick, but at least we have a great medical staff!" 

Since then, I've continued to learn about the ailments that plague Peace Corps Panama volunteers.  Other than the "normal" digestive tract issues, my province of Bocas del Toro is also known for other jungle ailments such as a variety of parasites and bacterial and fungal infections.  Sounds great, right? 

To add insult to injury, my site was specifically known for being medically tough because our water isn't sanitary.  The previous volunteer was sick so often that the very first thing my boss said about my town was, "This is a really neat little town... but you have to promise me you will be very, very, very careful with the water."  

After two months with nearly no incidents whatsoever, I thought my iron stomach and I were in the clear... but I obviously spoke too soon.  When I noticed that a bunch of my bug bites started to get infected I called our medical unit and got some anti-biotics to clear them up.  Two days later, most were gone, but the few that remained acted like Mount Vesuvius and swelled, turned black, and started bleeding all within a few hours.  

Obviously, this warranted a trip to the doctor, but thanks to Peace Corps careful regulations the closest approved doctor was in David, the regional capital over 4 hours from my site.  As luck would have it, I didn't start the trip until after dinner (as I didn't realize I'd be going so far) and all of the remaining busses to David were full.  After a tearful ordeal of being left behind (Their fault, not mine...) some sweet Spanish tourists took pity on me and washed my gruesome arm with some antibiotic perfumed soap before splitting the 3 hour taxi ride to David with me.  

Slightly after midnight I finally got to see the Doctor, who gave me antibiotics and some pretty strict directions to stay away from the local water sources.  

And now, a week and a half later, I'm (almost) good as new AND am moved into my house with my boss's blessing.  Thank you, silver linings.

Things that Make Me Smile

A few days ago I was having a rough day and started to write a blog post about the challenges of Panama and how easy we have it as Americans.  As I was writing, though, I felt like I was leaving out huge, important chunks of information- the things that where going well and that were making me smile and keeping me in Panama.  The more I thought about those things, the more I realized that I was writing on the wrong topic.  Sure, there's going to be rough days and challenges, but the parts that deserve your thoughts are the good ones.  So, here's to all of those awesome moments, big and small, that are making me one happy Bocatoreña (person from Bocas del Toro).

• My house.  I still have another few weeks with my host family, but my landlord is awesome and lets me use the house during my downtime during the day and a few random nights a month when I need to be in town.  I'm really, really lucky and have a huge (by Peace Corps standards) house that I can't wait to "decorate" and move into.  I even have 3 floors!
• My shower. After almost two months of bathing in the creek, fully clothed, with a multitude of children, I have just started taking advantage of the shower at my house.  Sure, the water's cold. But it's private, and I feel like a clean queen afterwards.  

• Cooking.  After a rough first few weeks of eating almost nothing but boiled green bananas, I was down- both physically and emotionally.  Unfortunately, the poverty in my region means that this is normal for a lot of families at certain times during the year, but I realized that as much as I wanted to blend in, my body couldn't handle a diet that strict.  I now cook for myself at my house, and vegetables have never tasted so delicious.  I love experimenting with recipes, so if you have any, preferably that don't require expensive or refrigerated ingredients, send them my way!
• Romero Grocery Store.  Less than an hour and a half from my house is a grocery store that might as well be Little America.  They even play Justin Timberlake.  I cannot tell you how much I look forward to grocery shopping now.  Salads? Good cheese? Brownie batter? Normal snack food?! Count. me. in. 

• Work!  What was at first my biggest stressor is starting to show more and more promise.  I pretty much begged my boss to give me a site that wanted eco-tourism, and she did!  So far my main project has been to work on an eco-tourism project which has promising potential for long term development.  I'm also starting to get more requests for trainings in personal finance, and the local store owner wants me to help him completely revamp his record keeping and product management practices.  AND a local women's group is training me how to craft local bags in exchange for my help in marketing them to tourists on the Island. I'm definitely nerding out here...
• Emerging friendships.  The first few weeks I felt like I constantly had to be in my 100% best behavior 100% of the time I was around anyone.  As time is going by, the barriers are starting to come down, and I love the feeling of comfort and trust I'm developing with my neighbors.
• Brownies.  No explanation necessary. 

• My site.  Between the mountains, ocean views, wildlife galore, fields to play in, trails to hike, and a sky full of stars, my little village is packed with natural beauty that I am so blessed to live in everyday.

• Supportive friends and family.  I have received countless facebook messages, phone calls, letters, packages, and prayers from home, and let me tell you, every single one makes such a huge difference.  Your sweet words of encouragement brighten even the toughest of days and I'm a lucky girl to have so many awesome people cheering me on!

Lessons Learned: Month One

During my first month in my village I’ve learned quite a lot; some are serious lessons while others are a little more amusing, but all have turned out to be quite useful.

• When speaking Spanish, “fake it ‘till you make it.”  When speaking the local indigenous language, give your sweetest southern smile and cross your fingers they understand your Spanish. 
• Locals will make fun of you for practically everything you do, so you might as well join them and make fun of yourself.  Or else you might cry.
• Accept the fact that you’re going to need help… a lot. 
• Don’t be frustrated when the kids want to go to the creek to bathe with you.  They know where the snakes are. 
• “And your mom?”  usually follows “How are you?”  *To my parents: Just so you know, every single person in my village now knows your ages, occupations, family trees, and that you for some crazy reason only have two kids (6+ is average here.)
• Math is not a local strong point.  I’m looking at you, local who told me 2+4=9, and then 4, and then 7, and finally 6.  Looks like my basic finance charlas are going to be put to good use after all…
• All sloths are cute, but not all are cuddly.  Also, my hair matches the fur of the mean species of sloth; Cue jokes from the locals.
• It will never rain when you want to stay inside and read a book.  Instead, it will rain when you really, really want to hike to the one hill on which you have cell reception.
• Air mattresses stop being any type of comfortable after about 3 weeks.  However, they still beat the wooden floor alternative. 
• You absolutely cannot laugh during English class.  Even when the local rendition of “pig” ends up sounding like the f word. 
• There will be some days in which nobody will leave the comforts of their hammocks.  Other days, they will work you into the ground.  So far I have yet to find a pattern to this work schedule. 
• Getting used to having down time is a lot harder than I thought.  Thank goodness for the volunteer book library!
• And lastly, but certainly not least, just when you least expect it, the locals will surprise you with little gestures of friendship and welcome.  Some days may be long and hard, but they sure do a good job of making you feel appreciated! 
• Just kidding, one more.  Get used to dreams of food, especially of brownies and chick-fil-a.  Contrary to common belief, these cravings do not seem to go away with time. 

Starting from Scratch

I think one of the mean reasons people are drawn to babies is because they’re practically helpless.  They can’t talk, eat, dress themselves, or attend to the majority of their basic needs.  Yet, somehow it’s still cute and their clumsiness just makes you want to smile and help them a long.

However, when you’re 22, not knowing how to talk, cook for yourself, or attend to the majority of your basic needs just isn’t so cute anymore.  Unfortunately, that’s where I come in. 

Though I had lived abroad before, I had never been far from other Americans and 1^st world comforts.  But now, as the only English speaker, much less the only American, in the area, I have to start over and learn everything from scratch. 

Though I like to think that I had a pretty advanced level of Spanish before arriving in Panama, the local Spanish accent and indigenous language have still thrown me a few curve balls.  The other day I was in tears because I thought I was being sent to live with another family.  In reality, they were just telling me that the other family had invited me to work with them that afternoon…

I also apparently don’t know how to cook… or eat.  Most families here cook over an open fire, and as I had started a decent amount of fires in my life, I mistakenly assumed I knew what I was doing.  A full hour into my attempt to boil a pot of water, my host family finally came to my rescue, laughing, and a huge, gorgeous fire was blazing in under 2 minutes. 

Also, did you know that Panamanian oranges are both green and too juicy to eat?  Instead you must peel the skin off and then suck the juice out of the top.  I did not know this, and it took me not one, but two tries before I was able to get more juice in my mouth than on my clothes.  In classic American form, I attempted to skip a step and just suck the juice out without peeling the orange.  You cannot do this, however, because the skin will burn your mouth and make you think you’re having the first allergic reaction of your life. 

I won’t even go into what it’s like not having an actual bathroom (on the hill where I live, we don’t even have latrines!) but instead will mention bathing and washing clothes.  There is one spring on my hill, and this is the one place that four large families use for bathing, doing laundry and dishes, and collecting water for drinking and cooking.  As such, bathing is no longer a private or relaxing activity for me.  Instead, before nightfall each day, 2-6 kids and I stomp through the mud to bathe together- with all clothes on.  Never in my life have I bathed with my clothes on, and unfortunately for those around me, it took a few tries to figure out how to really get clean. 

And when I do laundry in the creek, people still laugh at me.  Apparently I haven’t quite gotten the hang of the Scrub, Smack, Smack, Wring Out routine of the locals.  One day though, one day…

A New Name

As gringo names are generally harder for the locals pronounce, almost all of the volunteers in my region use ngabere names during their service.  Sometimes the village elders simply give you a name, but other times it can be a process.

During my initial visit to my community, it was decided that I would receive my new name during the meeting that would introduce me to my new neighbors and coworkers.  However, it was soon apparent that while they all knew I would get a new name, they didn’t know HOW I would get the name.  Some said that the man who had been my community guide should get to choose the name, while others argued that since it was my name, I should pick.  Still others felt like it should be a community effort and put up to a vote.  Like any good compromise, they finally decided that I should just draw the name out of a hat. 

So, for the next two years I’ll be answering to the name Geli Quigavo.  My first name is pronounced more like Ellie, and doesn’t have any particular significance.  My last name, though, symbolizes the town that I’m now a part of.  Interestingly, the previous volunteer also received a similar last name, so even though we’ve never actually met, some people jokingly refer to us as being brother and sister. 

I’ve answered to either Abby or Abigail my entire life, so having a new name has taken some getting used to.   The first few days of introductions were a little rough:

Village Member: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Abby!  Uh.. I mean Gelly… er.. Ellie?”

Regardless of the initial confusion (and the fact that almost nobody actually remembers my real name), I’m happy to have my new name.  Seeing the community so excited (and opinionated!) about my local name was really awesome, and using something that’s both indigenous and community-chosen has made me feel a little bit more a part of my town. 

Look Geli, your people

It seems like the smallest things are what instantly bring me to tears, yet what can also completely change my outlook and make me see the bright side of life in Panama. 

Thankfully, it’s like God knows exactly when I need one of the bright little moments. 

After a particularly trying first week in the village, I was exhausted, depressed, and having a hard time envisioning myself as being truly happy during the next two years.  Just as I was getting ready to leave the village to walk back to the secluded area in which I currently live, I noticed a large gathering of people.  My first reaction was instantly sadness.  There was a party/meeting, and none of the people I had spent all day visiting had bothered to tell me?  Then I smelled food, and decided to make the best of it and invite myself.  After all, that seems to be at least somewhat culturally appropriate here.

A few minutes later, the people I had been visiting, and who had not invited me to their house for this party, saw me and with huge smiles on their faces, waved me to the front of the food line.  Then, as my neighbor gestured to small crowd he said,  “Look, Geli, it’s your people.”  Side note, my local name is Geli.  I have a post about that coming soon.  

It was such a small gesture, and something he probably has no idea would have had such a big impact on me, but that little sentence paraphrases all of the many reasons I’m here.  Now, they’re my people.  There’s the kids who can be both incredibly sweet and pull-your-hair-out annoying, the fathers who eagerly show me their farms and homegrown businesses, the mothers who cook for me even though I’ve already eaten multiple times, and the grandparents who treat me like one of their own. 

As hard as it may be sometimes, they’re the reason I’m here.  My people.