true life planet

I walked up to the door of the Arroyo San Bol refuge, glad to get out of the inclement weather and thrilled to find the place open.

However, it apparently wasn´t open today-it´s official opening day was tomarrow. There were a few pilgrims inside who had somehow managed to convince them to let them in a day early.

Somehow or other, it turned out that there was a bed for me as  well, which made me very happy indeed. It´s amazing how these simple things, like a bed for the night, a hot loaf of bread, a bit of cheese or an actual hot shower can make your day on the Camino!

The refuge itself has had a somewhat nutty history. In the past year, it had been temporarily run by the Bahai (there they are again!), which for whatever reason did not work out. Before the Bahai, it was run by a wild bunch of people, and apparently was quite the party place. I had heard stories of these wild times, which apparently were not to the taste of the surrounding villages, who were extremely happy when the pleasure seekers left. Before this last group, the place had been run by a man who had left a religious order of some kind and was apparently quite charismatic. He was open to having volunteers stay on and work on the place, at at times hosted various people who were considering devoting themselves to lives as nuns or monks.

The two people running the place this time around were two extremely interesting characters-the main guy was a man named Francisco, who was a Knight of the Templar(a Catholic order); he was assisted by a guy from Slovenia named Jose, who had just finished the Camino the past winter.

Francisco and Jose had only been there for four days, and had been working on the place, cleaning it up. There obviously was much work left to be done, and the place was a shambles. It had been vandalized in the past year, and the windows had been broken. The very beautiful chapel, painted with a celestial scene, was falling in and the place was pretty dirty. They had been working away for several days when I arrived, making repairs and trying to get it ready for guests.

Francisco had previously worked at a refuge, and told me he had been told by God that he was to be at this refuge for ten years. He was not only to provide hospitality to pilgrims, he was to improve the place drastically(it did not even have a bathroom or electricity). He was also to build an enormous church/holy place on the property, using age old principles long forgotten. He had several books on the subject, and was going to be using them as a guide.

Francisco was espeically interesting to me. He had walked the Camino, and had been fundamentally changed by it. In fact, he had changed his entire life because of whatever happened on his walk to Santiago. He had become a Knight of the Templar, an interesting order of Knights, who are sort of like monks-except that they believe in having companions and they are not celibate. In fact, their insignia shows two people on a horse, showing the importance of duality, of two people. They are the only order that holds this belief.

Jose was more esoteric. I mean to say, he was the most esoteric person I have come across in my entire life. He walked around in a cream colored outfit, did not seem to be in need of shoes, looked at me intensely without blinking, and talked about Hari Krishnas and so on. Sometimes when I was talking to him(or someone else was) he would suddenly get up and go do yoga and stand on his head in the yard.

As if these two were enough to take in, the other guests also all had their own particular energy and take on life.

First off, there were three women, who had all arrived together before me. They were:

An Australian woman, sort of a free spirit, who twirled about  the yard and had been traveling for some time around the world;

An Canadian woman, who was quite pretty, drank cup after cup of coffee, had tons of nervous energy(perhaps due to vast quantities of coffee!), who had decided to turn her hair into dreadlocks that very day, and was busy knotting her hair into dreadlocked plaits;

Another woman, I forget where she was from, some Eurpean country, who had just returned from working in an ashram in India, where she had some sort of teacher. She listened to chanting music alot, talked about we manifest whatever we have in our life-although this only applied to the bad things that seemed to happen(interesting supposition, but doubtful), and also spoke for a few hours on the subject of ¨Cosmic Airports¨. Apparently these are the idea of her teacher in India, who has come upon the idea that there should be these places where people come to die and other people come to give birth-thereby creating a ¨Cosmic Airport¨, where souls from the dead can then enter the new bodies of the newly borne. Apparently, this would also prevent the trama of birth, which, according to this woman, we are all suffering from.The first one of these airports is going to be in Sweden, and there will also be another one in some very rich part of Colorado…

The last guest was a sweet guy named Simon, who looked like someone out of a Mad Max movie, as he had a dreadlocked mohawk and a somewhat alarming sense of style. The moment he smiled, though, he lit up the room. I had run into him earlier, and had hoped I would see him again. I was very happy when he walked in thru the door at San Bol. I had the sense that he was supposed to be there.

The dinner that night was odd-the food was excellent, but the conversation and the energy seemed out of whack. The ashram woman was especially hard to get along with, even when I nodded my head along, she never seemed satisfied. The whole cosmic airport thing seemed really interesting, and I tried to be as agreeable as I could to the idea and asked questions when I could think of them.. I had thought when I met her that perhaps the spiritual experience I had dreamt of was going to happen with her, as upon initial meeting she seemed like a very spiritual person. By the time she finished explaining the cosmic airport idea(what she could of it), I quite frankly felt like she was one of the most confused people I had ever met.

Along the Camino, one meets all types of people, believing in all types of beliefs. It´s all of interest to me-I usually like talking of such things. But one thing I have found, is that if you are a Catholic(or a person with a more traditional religion) people treat you differently, even if you treat their beliefs with respect. And, sometimes, their beliefs are so different, that you try to relate to them, try to understand what their belief consists of, but-by then, they´ve already made judgements about you and your belief, and they are closed. It´s a bit weird to be on what is a historically religious pilgrimage, but be traveling with many people who will not even visit a church along the way.

(Of course, this isn´t specific to the  Camino itself-it is an unfortunate thing in the world that people of all faiths, all beliefs, cannot decide together that God is all about love, and it´s that simple. Everyone has to bring their humanity into it, of course, or speak of blame instead of the love.)

But, I digress…

After dinner, the ashram woman put on some very creepy chanting music, and then Jose began chanting along with the music. He sort of seemed to be attempting some sort of Spock like mind meld with the other guests, and he spoke in this mysterious way that seemed to start somewhere but not end in any place in particular. I felt somewhat ill at ease and lost. The three women guests were apparently enjoying the mind meld very much, and I felt like perhaps they were having the experience there that they had come there for.

I felt somewhat disappointed in the evening-having come this far to the place, and having had such interesting dreams before getting here, I was surprised that I had felt little connection with the people here.

I decided to go to bed, and let them have the space for their chanting and so on.

Before bed, I asked Francisco if I could stay another day…I had the distinct sense that I was supposed to be here in this place, but had perhaps arrived a day early!

Francisco took me aside and said,¨Yes, good. You are a good person-I trust you. I was waiting for you. We have to go to Burgos tomarrow, so we need you to run the place until we get back in the afternoon. You will have to make coffee and tea for all the passing pilgrims tomarrow morning, and recieve the next group of guests.¨

Wow. So maybe that´s why I was supposed to stay here, I thought.

At that moment, Simon offered to stay also. We both knew that this is where we were supposed to be.

The other three guests suddenly offered to stay, but there were not enough beds for that many volunteers and the   guests tomarrow, so Francisco told them no.

I went to bed happy, looking forward to tomarrow, and wondering what guests would show up..having the feeling that tomarrow held something new and beautiful for me.

Next entry..¨How To Make 70 cups of Coffee With 6 Cups!¨

gigi

Anyone who has been reading this blog, knows I’ve developed a real love for the Ngobe, a group of indigenous people in Panama. What follows are the projects I have commited myself to working on. If you are interested in any of these projects, whether thru volunteering or what have you, contact me.

Before going into  specific details, I should say that some of these projects may take only a year, while others may take years. The Ngobe are patient and very understanding that positive change can sometimes take time. But they also understand that our world is different than their world, and they hope that if people become interested in the problems they are faced with that perhaps they will have a better chance of making some of their dreams happen.

Simple Suspension Bridge Project:

This project is a suspension bridge that will span across a river. It will be a simple, metal, suspension bridge, made for walking. It will have some additional components to make it easily accessible and safe for small children to walk across it(as young as 5 years old.) It will connect the isolated community of Cerro Iglesias with the larger, more central community of Cerro Limon.

Many people fall off the current “bridge”, a collection of tree trunks and bamboo/cane lashed together. It is extremely dangerous, and unfortunately, is the primary means of crossing the river for people needing medical attention(such as expectant mothers) and young children walking to school. Due to the fact that it is so dangerous, many families choose not to have their children go to school until they are older. When they finally are in school, they perform poorly and cannot keep up with the other kids. Additionally, because the bridge is so dangerous, it is impossible for health care professionals to cross the bridge to vaccinate children, so children die of many diseases which are preventable. Sick people and expectant mothers die without having access to any healthcare whatsoever.

I expect this project to cost about 12,000 dollars, and require tremendous manpower, as the location is isolated and the materials must be brought in by hand.

Medo, the organization I was volunteering with, is currently seeking nonprofit status, so my plan is to wait until they have nonprofit status, and then apply for grants or donations. This can be a lengthy process in Panama-or not. I think it will happen within the next year.

The local people are willing to hand carry everything up the mountain(using horses and manpower), and they are also willing to work on the bridge, build better trails on either side, and host the skilled volunteers neccessary for this type of project. 

To read more about the bridge proect and how it came to be, please read the ” Mountain Journey” series on this blog.

Partera House/Ngobe Women’s Health Center:

If you have read the previous entry interview about Dominga Palacio, you have a pretty good idea of what challenges the Ngobe women are facing in her community regarding pregnancy and childbirth. After talking with Dominga(and other midwives, as well as interviewing over 45 women about pregnancy and childbirth in the surrounding communities), I have decided to help these women by building a simple, two room building to serve as a birthing center/women’s health center.

The building will be conviently situated in the community of Cerro Limon, near a busy road that is used for the Ngobe to come up and down the mountain. It will be used by 5 midwives from the five surrounding communities, as well as any woman in need of assistance at any time.

The building will be constructed of simple wooden slats, and it will have a metal roof. It will have a cement floor, and it will have composting latrines on the property, as well as a line coming from the aquaduct. It will have two large rooms: one will have 1/2 divider, with two “private” beds for birthing and aftercare; the second room will be a waiting room for women waiting to have babies, and it will also be used a classroom for midwives and Western health care professionals to hold workshops and classes on women’s and children’s health.

The general idea of the project is to improve women’s health on the most basic level; increase awareness and improve nutrition during pregnancies;have a place where women can give birth to healthy babies; and lower the astonishing death rate of both women and newborns by implementing some very simple programs.

The cost of the building  for materials is  $1,000.

While visiting the communities where the facility will be built, I found a man who was willing to donate his land for the project. Actually, while I was there, he cleared the land and signed it over!

I also found a “foreman”, or project coordinator, who is Ngobe and lives in the community. He will coordinate the workers and materials for the project. He, and all the other workers, will build the facility for free, as volunteers.

Additionally, the surrounding Ngobe communities have agreed to build a comedor for the pregnant women, which is kind of like a open air kitchen/waiting house. They will construct this in the traditional Ngobe fashion at their own cost. This will allow pregant women and their families to have a place to cook, sleep, and wait, while they are waiting for the baby to be born. It will be near the center, but not right next to it, so that the women can have privacy while giving birth.

To understand on a deeper level the problems Ngobe women face regarding pregnancy and birth, please read the previous entry “Truelifeplanet Interview No. 5: Dominga Palacio”.

Women’s Cooperative:

This is a very simple idea, borne out of many meetings with the Ngobe women in the Cerro Limon area and surrounding communities.

The coop will be a coop of five different communities of women, who will each work at the coop during different weeks of any given month. The goal of this coop is to provide women with a sense of community and a place to meet, as well as a place to have free access to foot- pedaled sewing machines to make clothes for themselves and their children. Every woman will recieve enough fabric a year to outfit herself in one dress and each of her daughters in one dress. She will also make a certain number of dresses to be sold to other Ngobe women at a low cost, as well as one dress for a poor child who has no clothing.

The money made from the dresses sold will go to buy more fabric for the following year’s dresses, and, over time, they hope to save the money for a second building of the same style to use as a classroom. In this classroom they would have free classes for boys and girls about the customs, crafts, language, and so on of the Ngobe(which they fear will be lost).

Basically, it’s a large, rectangular, one room structure, made of wooden slats, with a dirt floor and a tin roof. Attached on to the building will be a small room for a watchman, and there will always be someone on the premises to make sure things are running smoothly. There will also be two composting latrines nearby.

The cost of the building will be $1000., which includes 8 foot-pedaled sewing machines.

The comedor(built near the women’s center) will also be used by the women’s coop.

The idea for this project is too create a self sustaining project that empowers young women and girls while teaching them simple skills(such as sewing) and encouraging Ngobe ways and crafts to be passed down to the next generation. Additionally, it will keep more girls in school-Ngobe girls often do not attend school because they have only one dress(or no dress at all).By having part of the program be about giving, and not just recieving, it becomes a real vehicle for positive change. A simple solution to a complicated social problem-and one that the Ngobe women thought of themselves.

The building will be built on donated land in Cerro Limon, which was officially donated while I visited the community 2 weeks ago.

The “foreman” mentioned above will also organize this project. The five communities participating will do all the work for free.

Computer Lab Project:

When I lived with the Ngobe, I spent alot of time in the community of Soloy, writing this blog on a computer donated by Microsoft and the Bahai. The lab itself is actually run by Ngobe Bahai ,too. Problem is, there aren’t alot of educational opportunities for Ngobe to learn about computers..and that includes the people who run the place.

As it’s the only place the Ngobe have access to computers, internet, and so on, for miles and miles, the lab has had tremendous impact on the life of the Ngobe-whether it be furthering their education or communicating with the world(no cell phones  and no electricity in the Comarca!).

Unfortunately, it’s full impact can’t be realized  since not many people know much about navigating their way around computers.

 What I would love to do is change that-get some people there, even if for short periods of time, who could clean up the software, make things run more efficiently, and train the workers(who are open to being trained, as well). Some general classes might be nice, too, just for adults.

The lab is located on a public secondary school’s property, but the lab is owned and operated by the Bahai.

What I’m hoping is that the Bahai International community can work with me on this project, partnering with the Bahai community in Soloy. Anyone interested? Computer whizes looking for adventure for a week in the wilds of Panama, this is your chance to shine!

Continuing to Help Medo:

Medo, the Ngobe organization I was working for for the past few months, has asked me to keep helping them in various ways.

I will be acting as the temporary secretary for Medo and fielding all emails and volunteer queries for the next 5 months. I’ll be doing this while on the road in various places, until the start of October (I’ll be in Calcutta, India at that point, and I don’t think I will have much time), when I’ll temporarily turn over the responsibility to someone else. Then when I return from my trip, I’ll pick up where I left off, and become their permanent secretary!

 I’m in the process of looking for other volunteers for them as well. During my visit, they experienced alot of positive changes, and they are more prepared to deal with volunteers now: they’ve got a great homestay program; they’re better trained about santitiation, water quality, and food preparation; and they are ready for skilled volunteers to come and help them in many different projects.

Working for Medo has definitely been the absolute highlight of my volunteering around the world experience. I got to live with a group of indigenous people few people know about in the world, and I learned more from them in 3 months than I ever thought possible.  I highly recommend it!

Once again, if you have any interest in any of the above, please contact me.If you contacted me before, please do so again. 

I would love to have many groups and individuals come together from all walks of life work together on these projects.

So…just changing the world, one step at a time.And loving every minute of it.

I’ll keep posting developments on this blog of any changes and blessings…

Gigi

Leaving the Comarca in Panama and flying home was crazy. Things are so  different once outside of the Comarca.

In the airports on the way back, I found myself overwhelmed at the clothing people wore, the amount of food people consumed, the bright lights, the mall-like atmosphere, the sparkling clean bathrooms, the busyness of people, the amount of stuff people were buying in the duty free shops.

On my various flights back, I found myself amazed at my ability to adapt to the opinions and beliefs of my seat mates, who were all from interesting walks of life. They included a Christian couple, who lived in Panama City, and who I ended up spending the afternoon with in Houston over glasses of wine and oysters; a cage fighter from the Southern States who was working on a land/resort deal in Panama; a woman who was returning from Central America after a failed adoption; a Wycliffe Bible translator returning from Brazil;a man who sold guns(I think you call this job “arms dealer”) ; and most interesting of all, a Bahai man who lived in San Francisco and was returning from a nice vacation with his elderly dad.

The Bahai guy was fascinating. After a four hour layover with him, I knew more about the Bahai faith than I had learned living with the Ngobe for three months(many Ngobe are Bahai). What an interesting history this religion has,and what a fascinating presence it has in the world. It seems the Bahai are up to much good in some very remote places on Earth. I’m glad they are sharing the planet with me.

Interestingly, when I was living with the Ngobe, many of the Ngobe told me they were Bahai, but their understanding of what the Bahai faith is differs alot from what I have recently learned. In Soloy, the Bahai have built a very beautiful temple, and it is so pretty it is the nicest building in the Comarca. They have, with the cooperation of Microsoft, donated and manage a large computer lab which is open to the public(the only internet connection in the Comarca!). so, there is no doubt that they are up to good things, in a community where pretty much there aren’t alot of good things happening.

However, after talking to him, and doing some independent research on my own, I feel like I have to make a correction on my blog. This is a first!

So, when I was in the Comarca I spent alot of time with Bahai folks. Probably one quarter of the people believe in the Bahai faith. When I asked about their Bahai beliefs, everyone told me they were Evangelicals. So I wrote that on my blog.

But actually, that is not accurate. I think the reason the Ngobe say this is that they have different definitions for many words than Western culture. They may say they are Evangelical because in Ngobe culture an Evangelical person is seen as a person who is good. Everything is so simple in Ngobe culture, and that is alot different than in my culture where there is a constant quest for pointing out differences which is sometimes diguised as establishing clarity.

In Ngobe culture, especially since the most recent flood of missionary activity, it has become important for people to find commonality, and people will often ask one if they believe in Jesus. Say yes, and then commonality has been established. Perhaps what you believe about Jesus is not all that important, more that he lived and so on. Specifics of your belief are not required, as most people do not read or do not have a deep understanding of particular belief systems-although, let me be clear, that this doesn’t lesson their belief. For example, visit any religious service, whether it be Assembly of God, Catholic, Manatada( a religion that was started by an Ngobe woman in the recent past), or even Bahai, and you will find many of the same songs sung. There is much singing, and not much reading from any specific text.

So basically, it’s all about just getting along for the Ngobe. Which is kind of nice, I think, especially since I am from a culture where sometimes it seems like we practically strive to point of the differences between ourselves and others.

What a nice lesson to learn from the Ngobe: all men are brothers. Strive to find what you have in common with your fellow man. Such a non Western idea, and such a difficult concept for us to grasp coming from our cultural perspective.

Try it for a day. Just walk around doing whatever you do with your life, and instead of dividing people up into categories, just approach every person looking for commonality. You’ll find yourself quickly astonished just how much you have in common with people you never expected, and you may just learn to appreciate the vast variety in the human landscape a little bit more.

A special thanks for this valuable lesson learned to the beautiful Ngobe people of Panama, and also to all my seat mates on planes and long layovers who helped my put this into practice. You are all my brothers.

Gigi

This entry is the second entry in a series of four.

Breakfast this morning consisted of a bowl of taro chunks boiled in water, and some weak, slightly sweetened coffee. I ate my breakfast under one of the ¨dormitorios¨-dormitories-sort of these large, grass roofed huts which serve as sheltered areas from the sun and have hammocks for sleeping for guests. As I ate, I was surounded by numerous children-all eating their chunks of taro with their hands.

After breakfast, I took a look around the hamlet.

Although it was only 5:00 am, people were already busy working. Rice was being pounded in a hollowed out tree trunk; coffee beans were being roasted over a fire in an iron pot; a chicken was being killed and scalded for lunch; beans were being shelled; and animals fed.

One of the most interesting things going on was the making of chicha de maiz. Although this is one of the central customs of the culture-the making and drinking of this slightly fermented drink-I had never seen it actually made.

This is how it is made:

A large plastic sack is filled with maiz kernels, and this bag has small perforations in it. The bag is then immersed in water-usually in a five gallon plastic container. It stays immersed in the water for about 1 day, but you can immerse it for longer depending on conditions. After 1 day, you take the plastic bag out of the water and drain it. The kernels will have all sprouted. The kernels are then processed using a meat grinder (if you do it the modern way), or pounded by hand, with an enormous mortar and pestle( if you don´t have money for the hand-cranked meat grinder). To grind all the maiz kernels takes many hours, and usually everyone takes turns feeding the kernels into the grinder and turning the crank.

After all the kernels are ground, it gets put back into the plastic tub with water and cakes of sugar, and ferments for one to three days. For a lightly fermented, sweeter drink-the type of chicha Ngobe drink everyday, the chicha may only ferment for one day. For a drink that will get you very drunk quickly, the chicha needs to be fermented 3 to 5 days.

Chicha can also be made with fruits-anything with a high sugar content can be made into chicha. People also use pineapples and fruits of palm to make chicha.

After my chicha class(!), Catalina´s brothers and her father invited me to see another part of their finca. What I didn´t quite understand is that this other part of their finca was a four hour walk away-one way. They said it was close by, so I grabbed a liter off water and off we went. This time, I asked for a walking stick, as the trails are either insanely steep or so uphill I feel like I´m going to fall over. A walking stick was fashioned for me along the way-a stalk of sugar cane was plucked up fromt the sugar cane patch, cracked open for the sugar inside, and then bound with a vine to keep the two halves together. A walking stick and a snack in one.

We walked for over 4 hours-crossing makeshift bridges across rivers and streams, passing thru neighbors hamlets, and occassionally, navigating our way thru barbed wire fences.

Barbed wire fencing in the mountains of Panama? Why? I was wondering this as well.

Barbed wire fencing has only existed here for about 60 years. It came along with the cattle people began to raise for food and profit. People began using the fencing to make clear property lines between members of family and neighbors. Unfortunately, what this means is that to get anywhere, you have to crawl under and thru alot of fences. Not easy in a skirt, with four men watching you. Especially when you are a tall woman, and you practically have to crawl on the ground at times to get under a fence! I finally just started telling them to turn around whenever we had to crawl thru a fence.

This is not because I am a particularly modest person-it´s because it is a very modest culture for women, and a flash of my calf causes comment-and at times, almost embarrassment to the viewer.

Thank God I was not wearing pants, they told me. I was the very first white woman some of these neighbors of theirs had ever seen in person-and a woman wearing pants would have been really shocking to them. In Soloy, you do occassionally see a woman wearing pants-but she is usually riding a horse, or doing what would be considered ¨men´s work¨. In the mountains, people are alot more conservative-polygamy is still flourishing, women do not go to school, and so forth.

Anyway, we finally got to their other finca, where they have more of the same crops, as well as grow a considerable amount of coffee. Coffee needs cooler temperatures, so it´s grown in areas deeper in the mountains. They also had livestock-mostly cattle, who all were calving. I also watched a mare give birth. This was an amazing experience-I´ve never seen anything like that before and it was certainly in one of the most pristine settings you can imagine, on a grassy hill, under a large mango tree. The colt was born healthy and was a beautiful greyish white. What was amazing is how it just got up and started walking around!

I was really fatigued, but we had to head back towards the hamlet, because I had been invited to attend a funeral at the cemetery. The cemetery was about half way home.

We started out walking and I realized I did not have enough water( Bad Gigi! Bad!). In my defense all I can say is that they told me the second finca was close by.

By the time we reached the cemetery, I was really feeling like I needed to drink something-anything. Normally I don´t drink anything that hasn´t been boiled, but there was no choice this time. I had two choices-chicha de maiz or koolaid. I chose the koolaid, figuring the sight of a gringa drunk at funeral might cause comment(and besides, I don´t like the idea of drinking something that sits around for days on end). The koolaid did the job-I felt better, and actually drank two big gourds full. I tried not to think about what was in the water it was made with and prayed I would not get giardia.

Being at a Ngobe funeral has been my most ineresting experience here so far.

However, it was also one of my saddest experiences.

The woman who had died was only 21 years old. She had died during childbirth-actually, her baby died first, without having been born, and she hemmorged soon after. It was her second child. her first child had been born by c-section in the hospital in David. She had walked down the mountain(alone) a week ago to go the clinic in Soloy, and they had sent her to david, telling her she needed to have her baby in the hospital. She stayed for two days in David, but they would not let her sleep in the hospital-she wasn´t close enough to giving birth.

She had no money for a place to stay, or for any food, and worst of all-she did not understand much of what was being said as she did not speak much Spanish and could not read. She was all alone and knew no one. I´m sure she was terrified of having another c-section(c-sections are not common for the Ngobe).

So she went back home, and several days later, died trying to birth to a stillborn child.

Strangely, in spite of the tragedy, people at the cemetary were quite social-talking in small groups, some making jokes, others saying hello to old friends. Only the girls mother and sister were crying, and they stayed to themselves under a tree close by the body. Perhaps this more casual attitude toward death is because the period of officail mourning had begun several days ago, and this is traditionally when people express deep sadness. However, I think it was more because death-particularly death resulting from problems with childbirth-are extremely common. Another woman, aged 15, was going to be buried tomarrow. She had died one day after giving birth to her 3rd child.

Due to the fact that I was an outsider-albiet, with an invitation-I did not get very close to the rituals or the body, deciding instead that it was more respectful to view the goings-on from a distance and ask questions.

First of all, after the person dies, there is a three day mourning period, where the body stays with the family. Candles are lit, family and friends visit, and the body is washed if possible and dressed in whatever clothes the person has that are the nicest. If there is money for one, a person will be paid to fashion a rough hewn casket, which will be wrapped in black cloth. If there is no money, the person will be wrapped in whatever materials are available, kind of like a big bag.

The body is carried to the cemetery on a sugar cane pallet-usually two men can do the job. If there is no cemetery close by, they still try to get to a cemetery-even if they have to walk for 10 hours.

Once at the cemetery, the grave is dug-surprisingly deep-by all the neighbors and family memebers. This is only a job for men.

Meanwhile, women have the job of mourning, as well as the more important job of bringing all of the person´s things with them to the cemetery. Ngobe are buried with their valuable possessions-all of them. Women are buried with all of their ¨naguas¨(dresses), ¨chakras¨(bags made of jute, bromeliad plant fibers, or plastic), jewelry, 2 to 4 spoons, and a plastic gallon of water. men are buried with all of their clothes, ¨chakras¨, jewelry, a clock or watch if they own one, tools, machete, and a gallon of water. Children are generally buried with little but a set of clothes and a small container of water.

Just before the burial, the women in the family of the dead women gathered around the body, and called for all the women in the cemetery to gather around them. They formed a lage close knit circle. The mother of the woman opened up the dead woman´s chakra´s and pulled out each item, telling the other women what it was and that it would now be placed with her dead daughter. With each item she lifted up, the crowd of women murmured and nodded their heads.

The women dispersed and the body was placed into the grave. Women are placed in the grave facing the moon, and men are placed facing the sun.

People then gathered for the service, which was Evangelical, and performed by a man who was not a minister, but a person of some importance in the community. He had a Bible, and the service was performed in Spanish and Ngobe. As the service was performed, the casket was covered with earth by 4 men with shovels. The possessions of the woman were not completely buried-they were added last, and only a shovel or two of earthwas on top of them.

I asked if there was a problem with robberies-the possessions of the person weren´t even really buried, and anyone could come along and take their things. It was pointed out to me that all of the graves surrounding us-both recent and old-had old chakras on top of them, and the contents were undisturbed. Occassionly, spoons and bits of fabric littered the ground close to a grave, but no one touched them or moved them. The Ngobe believe in ghosts.

The funeral ended, and a man came over to me to tell me about the grave marker he was making for the woman. He was using a nail and two pieces of wood. The wood was nailed together in a cross, and the nail using to ¨write out¨her name and date of death. He told me that they had three kinds of markers they used as headstones-one, a Christian cross(this being the most popular, as most people said they were Evangelical); a piece of wood cut into a star, for those people who were of the Bahai faith(the only radio station is owned by the Bahai); and for people who either believed in nothing or nothing was known about them, a tree was planted.

I also learned that after the funeral, they prepared alot of food for the guests-if they had no money, they prepared what they had. Usually it was a meal of rice, yucca, and so on, and of course chicha de maiz. In the past-30 years ago-chicha was drunk in vast quantities during and after the funeral, and people became quite drunk, but now, people didn´t drink until after the funeral. (Koolaid was often drunk instead. )

Additionally, all food prepared was made without using salt or sugar. In fact, family and close friends of the deceased did not eat sugar of salt for 4 days after the burial. This comes from a belief that if you eat sugar of salt after a person close to you is buried you will have problems with your teeth, and some of them will rot and fall out.

I decided not to stay for the meal, and thanked my hosts. The men of my family accompanied me on the long walk home(about 3 more hours). By the time we got home, I was very hungry, and eagerly ate an entire bowl of boiled plantains accompanied by some sort of reddish, sticky beans. I also drank alot of water-almost two liters.

At this point, my ankle that had really been bothering me the day before was somewhat improved, but it still was a bit swollen. (This is normal for me because of lymphatic system problems). Catalina´s mother asked to look at my ankle and poked it with her fingers…and then hurried away, calling for Catalina.

Catalina came over and asked me if I would like them to use the ¨clavo¨on my ankle. The clavo is basically a metal rod that is heated up, until it is red hot. They use this red hot rod to heal people of miscellaneous maladies-by touching the affected part with the rod four times on each side. It leaves small patterns of burn marks.

The clavo can only be used by either a man who has gotten bitten by a snake, and survived; or a pregnant woman. One of Catalina ´s sisters was very preganant-so she was going to be the one to give me the treatment. She stuck a metal rod into a corn cob, and using the corn cob as a handle, heated up the rod until it was hot.

I was told to sit on a rock near the fire, and place my ankle near the fire. When the rod was hot enough, she used it eight times total-four times on one side of my ankle, and four times on the opposite side. Um, yeah, it hurt alot. It basically burns you.

While getting my treatment, I was watched by all of the family that were present. It was a a big deal that I opted for their treatment method-it kind of bridged a gap that had existed before that moment. Ngobe are used to outsiders thinking that they are backward and they are very private with outsiders about some of their customs because of this. I found the treatment to work at least temporarily-the burn pain certainly dulled the other pain!

The clavo is used for pain(except for in the mouth, where they use a hot nail on the painful tooth!), and it is also used for parasites. People here know when they have parasites-they recognize the signs. When a person has parasites, the clavo is used on the arm, opposite the elbow, and in the small of the back.

After the clavo experience, I got a lesson in how to make a Panama hat. Catalina´s brother makes these hats as a hobby and was in the process of making one. It´s a very time consuming process, and sadly, for much work, he will be lucky to get even 5 dollars. makes me think about all those Panamian hats being sold in the USA for so little-who is making those hats, anyway? Probably some poor person in some impoverished community.

The way the hat is made is very interesting. First, the sisal fiber is collected and cleaned. Then, some of the fiber is sometimes dyed with natural dyes to create a pattern on part of the hat. The material is woven using a sugar cane frame. Two large sticks of sugar cane are cut, stuck in the ground, and tied together to form a triangle shape. The sisal is wrapped around the part where the sugar cane overlaps, and the weaving begins. Men usually weave standing up, and women weave either sitting down or in a crouching position. The fibers are woven into one long braid, adding fibers as the weaver goes along. After all the fibers are woven, they are sewn together. It takes two weeks of work to make one hat.

Everyone was watching how interested I was in the hat making process, and afterwards, all the men brought out different things that they had made. One man brought out a beautiful bow and arrow; another man brought out a hoilowed out enormous gourd, used a storage container; another man showed me how to make rope; and my favorite thing was a large wooden cooking dish made by Catalina´s brother in law. I liked it so much, I asked him to make me one-paying him a fair trade price of course.

What a day. I went to Ngobe funeral-something I never thought I would do.  I learned all about the food of the Ngobe and the work that it takes to make it. I got some traditional healing. I learned how many useful items are made…and I walked over thiry miles, according to my pedometer.

I wonder what will happen tomarrow?

gigi

Trying to find a quiet place in the middle of the wilds of Panama is more difficult than you might think. Sometimes, I spend many days in a row, aching to be alone, even if just for an hour or two.

The Ngobe do not like to be alone. In fact, when a person is alone, they think that there is something the matter with them. Being alone-without loads of children, babies, and family members in close proximity-would be the worst thing a Ngobe person could imagine.

As my friend, Orsonia, told me, ¨If I was alone-without my children and their children-I would feel so sad, that I would not want to live.¨

Wow. Pretty drastic difference from my culture, where we are absolutely consumed with having ¨alone time¨, privacy, and ¨personal space¨. I find myself looking at these concepts completely differently since being here. I find myself wondering why all these things are so important to me and to my culture. And, although I miss privacy and being alone upon occassion, what I really miss the most is silence.

In a community where everyone lives 10 to 20 feet from one another, and much of life takes place outside(since the homes are so tiny), it is rare not to hear all the goings on of your neighbors-and, at all times of the day and the night. You hear everything from the radio blasting the local Bahai´evangelical music (the Bahai´own the only radio station here), to domestic violence to a pig getting butchered.

 Additionally, here it is the custom for people to live all together in one family compound-or even-in one house. When you have 10 to 15 people all sleeping in a house that 12×12 feet at most, it´s never quiet.

In my house, I do have my own room. But that is where the concept of privacy and silence end. Often, people come in and out of the room, sometimes without warning. The radio blasts much of the day-and into the night. People stay up talking just outside my curtained partition untilo late into the night-and then awake very early, talking loudly and playing the radio-sometimes as early as 4 am!

Also, being one of a small handful of gringos here, I am always being watched with great interest. When I go for a swim, people watch me from the rocks, as they wash their clothes. When I make dinner, people peer into the pot, and watch me handle the knife. When I walk down the road, people stare, point, and talk about me as I walk past. Everything I do is of interest-and when I make a point of trying to be alone while doing them-well, this is seen as me being unhappy. In Ngobe culture, if I am unhappy, the solution is that I need to spend time with people! It´s kind of a vicious cycle-If I want solitude, I must really struggle for it. Then when I get it, and am enjoying it, it comes to a quick end, when I find out my family thinks I am unhappy with them. Then I have to go be with the group, or it will be interpreted as a slight.

Still, whether it´s because of my culture or my personality, I yearn for time alone-silent time alone, without the constant drone of radios and children crying, people talking, dogs barking, and so on.

I finally found the perfect place to accomplish this-the local Catholic chapel. I visited the catholic priest and nun who live near it several weeks ago, and discovered a pretty liitle chapel on the property. It´s usually locked, but for me, they leave it unlocked. I have taken to visiting it every morning. It´s painted bright turquoise and has little decor. It´s a calming, peaceful place, and being there in the mornings restores my soul, as well as starts the day with some peace and quiet.

Of course, I am a spiritual person, so I find it restorative spiritually as well. But often, I just sit in the stillness and the absolute quiet of the early morning, staring off into space, and thinking about nothing at all. Sometimes I read a book on Kadampa Buddhism I brought with me-I´m volunteering at a Kandampa Buddhist monastery in England for 6 weeks starting in July-and I find I can read several pages peacefully without disruption.

Ah, the sound of silence. Beautiful. Pure bliss.

And then, I walk the hour walk back to my house to start boiling water for drinking that day…back to the radio, the people all living close together, the dogs, pigs, cats, chickens, babies crying, children playing, people arguing…life.

gigi

Many people have been asking me what exactly my day to day life is like here, living with the Ngobe, in the Comarca. So I´ve decided to write an entry about my daily life and actiivies to give people a better picture. Before I get into the day to day details, I should say a little about the experience of volunteering here.

Volunteering here is the most rewarding eperience I have had so far in my travels. The Ngobe people, although a large indigenous group, haven´t been able to pursue political or social power in Panama(like other indigenous groups here, for example, the Kuna.). They are very poor, and the problems that come along with poverty such as lack of education, lack of food, lack of resources of any kind are very apparent here.

My classes are very well attended-and every day, more students show up. Educational opportunities are few and far between here. For example, the average boy will attend school until 18 years old, but the average girl will not. Pregnancy is not uncommon for young girls, and it is not unusual for young girls of fifteen years old to be single parents, with two or more children. There is a new agricultural school here, but at $1000.00 usd for one year-with 5 years required-it´s not something most people can afford. If a family does have the money to pay for education, it will be only for one or two of the boys-average family size being 10 or more children. Girls do not pursue education here, as their role from early on is to train for motherhood and keep the house. There are a few exceptions, but traditional Ngobe culture does not encourage individualism in this regard. English is taught in the primary school, but they only learn the basics-speaking is not emphasized.

Adults here also participate in and enjoy Conversational English classes very much. My classes are mostly men, who either come to the class to learn for applying to college, or come to learn because they want to be able to work with NGO´s that visit here. Quite a few women also attend-these are all either in the women´s cooperative, or are professionals(such as nurses or teachers). A few of the women in the cooperative must occassionally travel to represent their indigenous group-for example to the US, or to Switzerland-and so need practice speaking English.

Although I am quite tired, here´s a glimpse of what my like is life here:

Well, first off, I should tell you about the weather. It´s hot, really hot. In the USA when it is this hot, we don´t even go outside-but here, life goes on an usual. People work, eat, walk around, go to school-all during the hottest part of the day. It never really cools off-it´s often just as hot at night.

Secondly, it´s kind of like camping. It´s dirty-there are only dusty dirt roads to get from one place to another. There are bugs-every kind you can imagine and more. There are scorpions, frogs, bats, lizards…lots of creeping crawling things, who sometimes crawl on you, too. The food is sort of like camping food-not particularly appetizing, but if you´re exhausted from walking all day in the heat-you´ll eat anything, including white rice with cassava root.

My usual day starts at 5 am, when the roosters start crowing. At about this time, people are riding horses to work in the dirt road next to my window(horses or walking are the preferred transport here). People get up very early here, and it´s not unusual for people to be up and eating breakfast by 5 am.

My family ususally has relatives visiting, and they gather on the back patio in the morning. Actually, most of the eating, socializing, and living is donw on the back patio, not in the house. The first thing they do in the morning is start a wood fire, where they boil a big pot of coffee with sugar. Everyone is drinking coffee, including all the kids, by the time I get up in the morning.

By 6am, the family pig that is tethered up outside my window is grunting loudly for his breakfast-and he gets very loud and insistent. It would be impossible to stay in bed past 6 am, as even though I have my own room, privacy is not understood here.(The ususal house is of open design, made of sticks bound together, and is the size of a bedroom in the USA-except up to 15 people sleep in it, as well as the animals. ) People are already walking in and out of my bedroom by 6 am.

Getting out of bed is no easy task-I always seem to be tangled in my moquito net. It takes me a while to get out of the tangled mess I´ve made of it-and I have to be careful, because it´s hanging from electrical cords from the ceiling.

I generally sleep in my clothes-almost everyone does here. When I get out of bed, I just change into the other set I brought. I actually brought 3 skirts and 4 shirts here, but I can´t wear some of my clothes here-even though they are very conservative by Western standards, they are not conservative enough by Ngobe standards. Women here-including volunteers and guests-are expected to dress extremely conservatively, with long full skirts and loose tops. Pants and shorts are out, as are tank tops. You probably could wear pants or short skirts-but people will talk about you and think you are not a respectable woman(!).

There is no mirror in my room, so make up and hairbrushing are kind of silly to attempt. I sort of run a brush thru my hair, put it back, and that´s about it. There is a bit of mirror in another bedroom in my house, and if no one is sleeping in it, I sometimes go in there and actually look at myself. But pretty much, I have no idea what I look like most of the time.

The next thing I do is use the bathroom-easier said than done here. My house actually has two bathrooms-one inside, and one latrine outside. Most people here do not even have a latrine, and just go outside somewhere. Latrines are preferred over the traditional Western toilet. Therefore, I pretty much have the indoor toilet to myself. However, even though it looks like an normal toilet, it doesn´t work like one-you have to go outside and fill a bucket of water up, then bring it in and dump it in the toilet to flush it. As water is at a premium during the day, it doesn´t get flushed alot.

Then it´s time to prepare my water for the day. This is a somewhat ardous task, but I´m sure it´s saving me from gettin many health problems while here. The water here is contaminated, as people go to the bathroom in the river…so it has giardia and many parasites, as well as other things… So, I have to fill up a pot and boil my water. I usually boil two gallons of water a day. It takes about 1  hour.

I then make breakfast for myself-and usually, Mieko, the cat begs for some(people here do not feed their animals anything-not dog food, not kitchen scraps-nothing. Animals fend for themselves, eating trash, bugs, and…?). I usually make oatmeal. Mieko likes his oatmeal first!

Catalina works, so her grandmother comes and runs the house while she is away during the day. She usually makes me a plastic cup of boiled coffee with sugar. No matter how many times I ask for the coffee to be made a bit stronger, it always is very weak, like sugar-water. Usually the grandmother has a little girl helping her. whose name is Irina(pronounced Irein nah), who brings me my coffee and sits with the cat and I in the morning. Ireina is mentally retarded, and her mother did not want her anymore-so she lives with her grandmother, and learns how to keep the house. (this is quite common-children living with their grandmothers-particularly children with disabilities. The life in the mountains is quite harsh, and with few resources, it is doubtful children with disabilities would live into adulthood. So they often become the children of their grandmothers, or other female relative, who lives off the mountain, in the village.)

After breakfast, I pack a bag with everything I need for the day-you never know what you may need here, or how far you may have to walk. Ususally it´s alot of water, a flashlight, a pen, supplies for my classes that day, some food, a hat, sunscreen, and bug repellent. My sarong is also useful to dry off with if I have to walk thru the river that day.

My first class starts at 10 am, but it´s over 1/2 an hour away, on a steep, dusty, rocky dirt road. I have to cross  a creek to get there-and ususally I´ve got 8 or so kids in tow, from age 4 to 12. Sometimes I carry the tiniest kids for part of the way. I have to leave pretty early, because it takes the tiny kids along time to walk so far.

My first class is just for kids, and it´s taught on a grsssy hill under a tree. I have no desks, no tables, no chairs-pretty much nothing, but an old beat up chalkboard and alot of kids.

The kids range in age from 4 years old to 17 years old, and it can get quite chaotic-some know English, and some don´t even know Spanish. Some have behavior problems, some are hungry, some are mentally retarded…there is alot going on at one time.

I have to be really creative with my approach to teaching Conversational English here. I try to sing alot of songs(although I can´t sing); play games; and be inventive within the cultural constraints, of which there are many. For example, boys and girls do not play together here, and will refuse to be partners with one another in an activity.

The class ends after an hour, and then I ususually walk to wherever I am supposed to go next-or perhaps I should say, hike to whereever I need to go next. Sometimes I go to the women´s cooperative; sometimes I go to the coffee cooperative;sometimes I go to the town of Soloy for supplies or for a meeting; sometimes I go to the computer lab and check email or work on projects for Medo with Adan. When I have to walk to Soloy, it´s a very long walk, over a difficult road, and includes walking over a very scary( to me, anyway) suspension bridge!

By mid afternoon, whatever I´ve been doing, I´m a sweaty mess. It´s over 100 degrees here, unless you are near the river. I´m here in the dry season, which is HOT! The wet season is about 6 months of year, and it just pours and pours. Even if I have water with me, I always want more. People usually take a swim in the river every afternoon to cool off.

Anyway, it is so hot, I don´t eat much. Strangely, lunch, or cena, is the biggest meal of the day here, and it is served during the hottest part of the day. The lunch is large by anyone´s standards, but what they eat for lunch makes it even heavier-typically, lunch is white rice with a handful of beans mixed in; boiled taro root or plantains; and hot, boiled coffee with sugar. All I want is fruit when it is so hot-and fruit here is extremely scarce.

My next class starts at 5 pm, back at the same grassy hill as the first class. This class is for adults-some who have an understanding of English, and some who know little. My class is very big, and it is surprisingly well attended by both men and women. Once again, class activities using a partner prove impossible, as women and men do not interact here.

After the class ends at 6 pm, I start the long walk back home. But on Wednesday nights, I walk straight to the local hospital, where I have another Conversational English class for everyone who works at the hospital one night a week.

By the time I get home, I´m really tired. It ususally has cooled off a tiny bit, so I´ve got an appetite again-but it´s still too hot to eat much.

Food here, and the process of eating it, is not a pleasure for me. It´s just something I do because I have to do it. This is because of many reasons: There is a lack of refrigeration, so most foods go bad quickly due to the heat; the typical diet here is bland and heavy on starchy foods; and frankly, there is not much available here. In spite of buying some provisions in David 2 weeks ago, I still pretty much rely on what is availible in the tiendas here. My diet is pretty much oatmeal with powered milk; some brown rice I got in David; instant chicken broth; the Panamian equivelent to choclate ovaltine; canned tuna and spam(vegetarianism here is quite difficult-sometimes you just have to eat Spam or whatever, because it´s all there is);dried fruit;mint tea; emergen-c vitamin c; and once a week I buy a few tomatoes and after disinfecting them with boiled water and a tiny bit of bleach, I make a ¨salad¨of sorts. Occassionally I eat with my family, and thats usually white rice and plantains, or a sort of bread they have here that looks and tastes like a hotdog bun with hot boiled coffee. Very rarely, we have some sort of meat-usually grilled for hours in the hot sun, then deep fried. Sometimes they boil a type of banana here that is not sweet, and you drink the boiled water with the banana mushed up in it. I usually try to eat my own food, both out of concern for my health and also it costs my family alot to feed an extra person.

So dinner is usually Not to something to get excited about, even if I am hungry. The only time I love eating here is when the rare tomato or papaya shows up-and that´s only happened a couple of times!

Once I get eating over with, I walk over and visit the neighbor kids. There about 20 kids living right next door to my house, in a collection of shacks made with sticks by the river. They range in age from 1 month to 17 years old, and they love to have me come over.They are very sweet and endearing-they clutch at my skirt as I walk around. Some of them are mentally retarded, some are very sickly, some have skin diseases associated with parasites, some have the very bloated stomachs of malnutrition. When I´m with the kids, it helps me practice humility, because they don´t even have enough food, so why should I complain about lack of choice here? At least I have food to eat.

When I come back home, I usually have to wash my hands really well, and depending on where I have been and the cleanliness of the home I visited, I sometimes immediately take off all my clothes and wash them, as chiggers-a sort of tiny tick-like looking bug-are everywhere here. The chiggers are impossible to take out of your skin once they have burrowed in.

Sometimes I just hang out at night with some of Catalina´s family, or we play one of the games I brought with me. Children here generally do not have possessions or toys(Arturo, Catalina´s son, being the only exception that I know).  Actually, children are kind of seen and not heard here-and young girls, from age 7 and up, take care of the house and the other children, including cooking the meals for the family. Boys do not seem to have much responsibility here, compared to the girls.

On Thursday and FRiday nights, I tutor a local man named Franciso at the house for an hour and  a half in English. He an exceptional Ngobe, as his family is sending him to the University of Panama in the city, where he is studying to be a laywer. We study at the kitchen table-somewhat difficult, due to the not particularly bright flourescent bulb overhead. But at least my house has some solar power for electricy, or we´d be studying by flashlight!

Just before bed, I take a bucket shower-meaning, I attempt to wash my clothes, my hair, and myself with one bucket of water. We only have water after 10 pm here for 2 hours, so i fill up my bucket of water outside at 10 pm, then head to the shower stall to try to clean as much of me as possible. Needless to say, I am never quite clean. When I finally visit the USA,I look forward to a lukewarm 3 minute long shower very much! To be totally clean all at one time seems like such a luxury….

Ususally, when I finally get to bed, the family is still up, all outside, talking on the patio. I am a big topic of conversation-and they talk in detail about me, my day, what I did that is of interest to them.

It´s pretty hard to read at night-we don´t have much electricoty, and when I use my flashlight at night, every bug in my neighborhood flies into my room. My windows (cinderblock cutouts)and ¨open¨all night, so everything flies in-from bats to moths to birds to no see-ums. Geckos run around on the walls, the ceiling, the floor-and sometimes my bed, too. They make a loud, peculiar sound that sounds like a bird or large rodent.

On weekends, I have another class-this one, on Saturday, for people who work in the mountains. They all walk the four hour walk to come down to the class, which starts at 10 am. Ususally people are very late. Most people in this class have little or no education, and little opportunity to improve their lives. This class is mostly made up of men.

I also have other tasks on weekends-meeting with other groups, training families for the homestay program, or meeting representatives from outside charities that are trying to help the Ngobe here.

Sunday is the traditional day to relax, spend the day napping or hanging out on the back patio, and of course-church.

Church here is really big-generally the first question many people asked me here is if I believed in God. Atheism is not a concept understood here-so even people who visit who don´t believe in anything in particular, tell people they are Christian. There are many different churches: The Manatata, which is the traditional church of the Ngobe, and has a woman phophet; The Catholic church; The Bahai church; the Jehovahs Witnesses; and countless Born Again sects. The Manatata church is anti-western, and only Ngobe people can attend-but the others are all open to visitors. My family goes to a Born Again church, but I have yet to attend with them. I would be interested in going(as those church experiences inGuatemala were some of my most interesting experiences so far) but they haven´t invited me yet.

So I hope this answers your queries about what life is like here for a volunteer/someone living here. For those of you who emailed me, let me know if there is something else that you would like to know.

gg