Volcán Baru

During the visit of my dad, John, and brother, Ryan, we went on a nice hike turned grueling march up and down volcán baru. All in all, it was about 18 miles roundtrip with a vertical gain and drop of almost a mile... atleast the pictures are nice.

Transitioning Toward Productivity

It's been almost six months since my last blog post, wow... and sorry. Hopefully that's not the trend as I'm scheduled to leave Panama in five and a half months. Que va (oh well). Anyway, I'll try to sum up these months and where I am now, while scrambling to explain that there are fewer crazy things to write about, so you're not missing much anyway.

First, I've gotten used to things (kind of). I guess this means that I have fewer moments of awe for things I see and experience down here. The bats, rats, spiders and scorpions are normal for houses in my neighborhood. A 3 hour, 15 mile trip in a hot, crowded car is better than walking. The occasional trip to a tropical beach or river is just a nice break from the grind. It's become harder for me to see things with the same excitement as before. That sounds kind of sad as I write it, but I'm remembering that it's actually one of the reasons I came down here. I wanted to see things from another perspective, I have, and now I have no one to blame but myself. The bright side of the whole thing is this, no matter where I go next I'll be blown away by all crazy newness. For example, while I was in Portland in December I visited a German deli with dozens of different meats and cheeses (none of which were Kraft). Now, that's incredible!!

Another excuse for my lack of blogging is that I've been busy. As I've gotten used to things down here I've also acquired the habits and responsibilities that go along with a "stable" life (routines, schedules, favorite foods, etc.) I've been working, or feeling like I'm working. Partly, I'm doing more of what most people would consider work. I've also been able to adjust my own definition of the word "work". Together, they've really allowed me to up my own feelings worth and accomplishment.

The first part of that has to do with a project I've begun which will bring rainwater catchment systems and latrines to the school, as well as individual families in my community. There have been various obstacles along the way, including: convincing my community that these things are worth paying for, convincing myself that these things are worth buying for people, punctuality, and rain (too much and too little). At the moment the project is going well and it looks likely that I'll be able to take my picture next to something I built for my community before I leave.

The other part of the "work" equation has to do with learning that not all results are tangible and that I'm allowed to consider a lesson in avoiding unfortunate events a job well done. So, contrary to what I previously thought, I've been producing non-stop since I arrived in Panama.

Since it is at least possible that I'll forget to blog again for a while, here's how the final months and post-peace corps plans are shaping up. I'll finish up this rainwater/latrine thing and potentially host a series of aqueduct management seminars (it turns out that aqueducts are really hard to manage). I'll spend the rest of my time hanging out with my community, thinking about the future, and trying to cram as much fun as possible into the rest of my time.

As for the future, you may have thought while reading this, "Wow, finally, Danny has realized that life is not meant to be eternally exciting, maybe now he'll be able to live a normal, non-ADD-nomad life back home in the U.S." Well, I sure hope that's the case. But, it's also possible that rush of culture shock when I return will just jolt me back into my old ways. It probably won't help that I've gotten progressively better with experience at finding ways to avoid what I perceive as threats to my freedom to not be bored. Who knows, maybe someday that will actually be a marketable skill. Only time will tell.

Kusapin: The Ngobe Paradise

Just in case you thought I was working too hard down here. I´m adding some pictures from my recent trip to the Kusapin peninsula, in the Comarca Ngäbe Buglé. I also live in the comarca, but Kusapin is on the carribean, a long way from my town on the pacific side of the mountains which divide the isthmus.

If you´re wondering how your tax dollars could pay for such a trip, rest assured. We were working on a compost latrine evaluation. My friend and fellow olympian, Whitney, decided that we should get some feedback on the dozens of compost latrines Peace Corps has built over the years. How are they holding up? Are they being used properly? etc. If you are wondering, the success rate is about 50%.

So, here are the pics:

Crossing the Bahia de Chiriqui.

Jen in Joanna´s kitchen.

Cayo Paloma

The tree I´m about to try and climb.

It was, a good trip.

Ngäbe kid helping me test the waterproof camera.

Cute Ngäbe kids who think I´m an officer.

At 2500 people, Kusapin is a Ngäbe metropolis.

The morning of our departure, the weather was, uh, bad.

Niños, Bolsas, and the Fight for a Way of Life

This is another story I wrote for La Vaina, although it was never published.

I was sitting on a bench with Ricardo, a 13-year- old who has become one of my best friends, just hanging out talking, when he said to me, “Nobody’s told you yet, have they?” "Told me what?" I asked. Ricardo sipped his soda and smiled. “Why things are the way they are here.”

Long before Columbus landed on the shores of the future Comarca Ngobe-Bugle, Ngobe society was connected by a complex system of communication and transportation that also served as a rite-of-passage for every niño and niña. This Niño System was the thread of the Ngobe social fabric, relaying important messages and delivering goods. It was the backbone of the economy for centuries.

Later, of course, globalization, roads and telephones sparked a monumental shift for the Niño System and changed the way rural people lived. According to the System’s team of word-of-mouth statisticians, by 1960 messages were down 30% and medium-to-large sized packages over 80%. The niños, recognizing the threat to their livelihood, decided to act. That same year, a group of 40 niños gathered high in the cordierra and created the Sociedad de Ngobe

Transportistas, or SNgoT. Membership expanded exponentially, and within a year SNgoT´s influence was visible in every Ngobe town, impossible not to notice on the faces and clothes of every niño in the Comarca.

The union quickly grew in power and influence, supporting and promoting any pro-system cause they could find. In 1962 they threw their weight behind a young women promoting an honest life off the land without influence from the outside world. Mama Tata´s religion spread rapidly and the trend of decreasing business for SNgoT was reversed.

For the niños, the late sixties and early seventies were a time of hope for the future, for the return of their ancient way of life. But it wouldn’t last. The forces of afuera were too strong, and the niños were forced to admit that this would be a fight for generations.

To this day, SNgoT has played a role in every major Ngobe happening. Every one of today’s Ngobe leaders earned their stripes in the system. "Give me any name you want," Ricardo said confidently as we sat on the bench. "I guarantee they were SNgoT."

The fight for a sovereign Comarca was stagnant until the Niños encouraged participation in demonstrations and marches. Even the bono, which is rumored to be a Canadian program, would be non-existent without the support of the Niños. "We realized we needed to change our strategy, identify our core values" Ricardo explained. "What we really wanted to protect was our access to snacks."

The union knew it had to fight economics with economics, and the bosses turned to two industrial heavyweights, the makers of salty, air-puffed crackers and warm soda. But it wasn’t until they got the plastic baggy lobby that things really got moving. "Without Big Bolsa, there would be no bono," Ricardo told me.

These days, most niños are content with their situation. Marias, Colosos Chitos, and Kist are widely available, and the Niños haven’t forgotten who gave it to them. A union bylaw requires that the plastic bags that carry these delicious treats be displayed everywhere, as a tribute to their old allies.

When I asked Ricardo about SNgoT’s plans for the future, he said they were laying low, enjoying their successes, and looking for the next opportunity. The greatest strength of the system is their ability to adapt and the element of surprise. No one suspects that, hidden among the casitas and tiendas of the Comarca, exists one of the most formidable forces in Panamanian politics.
As Ricardo put it, "They think they know, but they have no idea."
(None of that is true)

The Epic of Patricio

This story of my friend Patrick was published in the Panama volunteer magazine, La Vaina (the thing), and other than the adjectives is completely true.

Sometimes the Apple Eats You: The Epic of Patricio

Sometimes there´s a man for his time and place,
this much we all should know;
and for this convergence of circumstance,
that man was Patricio.

Patricio´s ambitions brought him to Panama,
and risk he was ready to take;
a Peace Corps volunteer he was going to be,
one of the few, the proud, the EH.

He chomped at the bit for a chance to display,
his impressive power and skill;
that chance came as a pit latrine project,
a worthier cause, there isn´t still.

The work began and Patricio surged,
soon the project was almost complete;
the crew took a well deserved rest from the charge,
to enjoy something fresh to eat.

But for Patricio fate was cruel that day,
his knife inexplicably missed its mark;
instead of the flesh of the apple he held,
it was his own the blade tore apart.

Patricio was not a dramatic man,
but he knew how to influence emotions;
face flushed white, he yelled "I just seriously cut myself",
to control the inevitable commotion.

Thanks to his grit and some well placed napkins,
they were able to save his hand;
but it would take more than four flimsy stitches,
to shield training´s rigorous demands.

A week later in a David examination room,
a surprise that wasn´t so unexpected;
within the gaping wound upon his thumb,
an infection had manifested.

The horror of the site proved to be too much,
even for a giant like Patricio;
and when his friends and doctor saw him start to fall,
all they could do was watch him go.

Some have said it was a miracle,
that when he dove into that floor;
his face was spared all except for his teeth,
and only the top front four.

The next day Patricio defied all the odds,
he wouldn´t abandon his mission;
he embarked for two weeks with the rest of group 60,
for tech, culture, and werewolf impressions.

The journey was long for Patricio,
though it did eventually end;
but its the ability he now goes without,
that made Patricio a legend.

Of the modest pleasure of cutting his fruit,
Patricio´s teeth were robbed;
Dental adhesion hasn´t come far enough yet,
so he needs a knife to do the job.

From this courageous tale, comes an opportunity to learn,
a lesson Patricio wishes that he knew;
sometimes you eat the apple,
and sometimes the apple eats you.

Agua Hunting

In the last year, since arriving here in Panama, I´ve done a lot of things. I´ve swam in the Pacific and the Caribbean, eaten chicken feet (too many times), learned Spanish (mas o menos), and gotten tired of what passes for beer here. I´ve also made friends with indigenous people living in the jungle, tried to teach them English, helped with organizing local coffee producers, and explained things like intestinal parasite transmission and basic economics. But what I hadn´t done, until recently, was do what I thought I was coming down here to do, work on aqueducts and latrines.

In the last couple months I´ve slowly seen, or maybe allowed myself to see, potential water and latrine projects in my site. But, I had pretty much written off the town´s main aqueduct. It´s a 10 km long system that serves 25 houses. It´s 13 years old, and 2 or 3 months ago it stopped working all together. The thin tubes are old and cracking and the aqueduct committee has no funds because no one ever pays the maintenance fee, so not surprisingly, not a lot of maintenance happens. The situation had deteriorated to the point that the committee, other than the president and plumber, only existed in name, and the rest of the town had pretty much given up hope in the whole concept. Over time I had joined the side of the cynics. I couldn´t get people to take me seriously about working together, probably because I couldn´t speak their language and didn´t really understand the aqueduct myself. So how did I expect to teach my community to maintain a system if I didn´t even think I could do it?

In the last month or so, things have been changing. I took the committee president to a training seminar which went really well. I also surveyed the system with GPS, which made it a lot easier to visualize the whole thing. Well, finally, last week, two of the town´s teachers and I were talking about the water situation. After some complaining about the committee, I asked them what we were going to do about it, which eventually led to us walking to the committee president´s house to ask him what we could do. We worked out some money for a plumber to work the next day, paid by the teachers. And so we started working.

After one full day, we fixed some broken tubes and walked a lot, but still hadn´t gotten any water into the storage tank. The plumber and I were in disagreement about what we should focus on and I was getting frustrated, wanting to solve this problem, but not wanting to ¨G.I. Joe it¨ as I like to say.

Yesterday, we went back up, this time with the president. Carrying shovels, tubes, a saw, etc. we followed the line, crossing creeks and crawling down rabbit trails, looking for holes in the tube. I knew from the last day of work that we had water backing up to the spring boxes (where the water enters the tube from the ground) which signaled that something, either air or random sticks and dirt, was blocking the tube. But I wasn´t gaining much ground convincing my friends. We fixed a tube and continued up to where the pressure was high. At this point I was able to get the president on my side and we decided to go to the low point and cut the tube, hoping the the water would push out whatever was stuck in the tube. Nothing came out, but the flow was much lower, telling us that the block was somewhere in between. We followed the line, knocking on tubes and trying to determine how much water was in them. Then, I heard a yell from the president, Tito, and ran up. He had dug up the tube and told me to listen. I could hear a sound like a leaking tire. We dug up enough tube to cut it open and when we did, instead of the trickle we had below, we had the flow of a fire hose. We pulled out a two foot long piece of tube packed with everything from pieces of broken pipe, to sticks, rocks and grass. The sense of success and hope was visible in our eyes, and we continued working with a new confidence.

We fixed that tube and followed the line back down, feeling validated every time we crossed the tube and heard the water gushing inside. We stopped to fix a break caused by the newly increased pressure and continued. We crossed a big valley and climbed a hill, almost running with the anticipation of finding water in a tube that had been dry for months. The tube was empty. They told me it was normal, that it usually took time to fill the tube that crossed the valley, we just needed to wait. I had my doubts though, there was so much water coming, it wouldn´t have taken long. There must be another break somewhere. It was getting dark and without a flashlight I didn´t want to walk the steep muddy trail at night. I left, they stayed waiting.

The happy ending will wait. This morning, on my way out of town, I stopped by Tito´s and the plumber Francisco´s houses and learned that the water hadn´t come, they had gotten hungry and decided to come home and look for the break another day. Smiling, they both told me they wanted to go back up and fix it as soon as possible, a new energy was noticable in their faces and attitudes. The hesitancy that had regrown in me through the night, that the system was too old, too big, to be maintained by a town of poor indigenous Ngobe, was stomped out by their contagious enthusiasm, which is so rare where I live.

The last year has been a rollercoaster ride, the highest highs and lowest lows are almost always related more to the impressions I get from my community, than to a specific project. I´ve spent so much so much time trying to inspire a sense of pride and faith in what is possible in the community´s future. Playing the role of development worker, it´s easy to pretend that I´ve got the right solution and the best plan to achieve it. Then some seemingly small, almost spontaneous event will do more for the cause than months of planning and banging my head against the wall, reminding me that the real goal, the real plan, is somthing far more complex than I had ever imagined.

It could happen to anyone

You wake up wound kind of tight. It´s your first day without plans in a while. Kicked back in the hammock you read Henry Thoreau, Hermann Hesse and that Freakonomics book. You eat left over Spaghetti and drink two pots of coffee. You write a poem inspired by a brand of peanut butter. The furthest you walk from the hammock all day is to the latrine. It´s been a good day, a day of thought, a quiet day, a rainy day.

Night rolls around and even though you´re satisfied, you still feel the need to ¨let go¨. You get an idea, a stupid idea, a weird idea. You dare yourself to do it, because why not? But then you think of a couple reasons why not, they´re not stupid reasons. But you decide you don´t like them, they´re not good enough, and so you double dare yourself.

And then, you do it, you take off your clothes, walk out into the muddy grass, and lay down. You stare up at the clouds and the moon, and watch the bat flying around above you. You feel the grass poking you, and you tell yourself that its not bugs, it´s just grass. You remember the snake a kid told you he saw across the yard a couple days before. You get up and scoop some water out of your bucket to clean off.

You feel better. You also feel crazy, but you know you´re not, because it could happen to anyone.