Adventures to a Sustainable Future: May 2015

The last week in March I ventured out to the Comarca Ngöbe-Buglé (CNB) to assist a few (non-agriculture) volunteers with agricultural related doings. I also got to see a different part of the country, not only geographically but also culturally. The CNB is one of (and the largest) Indian reservations in Panama. A large portion of PCV serve in the CNB in Panama. I visited three Environmental Health volunteers whose main projects are building aqueduct systems or latrines with their communities. It was fascinating to see such big cultural differences between their Indigenous sites and my Latino site. Women in the CNB wear traditional naguas, colorful dresses with embroidered details. They also speak their own language, but the majority can speak Spanish as well (Spanish is taught/used in schools). A lot of the CNB has been disforested due to population growth and unsustainable clearing practices. Each volunteer I visited, did not have an aqueduct (not surprising because that’s why they are there), which meant my showering experience was very different from at home in my community. Either out of a bucket or a “stream” a small cup was used to trickle water over myself in vain attempts to feel cleaner. I put “stream” in quotations because I visited during the dry season. Meaning it hadn’t rained in upwards of four months (very different from my site, it rained every three days or so during the dry season) and these “streams” were no more than a dribble of water that slowly filled up a small rock pool in the streambed. The water was not crystal clear or plentiful, it was like bathing in a puddle. If I had a site like this it is safe to say I would no longer have long hair.

One of the biggest work days was helping one volunteer prepare his garden space. It was sweaty, gratifying, painful (my hands were covered in blisters), and productive.

Tripping and stumbling and turning my ankles is a pretty standard occurrence, but actually falling thankfully doesn't happen that often, but on the last day of my travels I fell straight on my knee. I got it taped up to help with the massive amounts of bruising and all was well.

For two whole weeks in March my mom came to visit it me. We spent time in Panama City, my site, a small mountain tourist town near my site, and off the Caribbean coast. There was A LOT of hiking involved throughout the two weeks which was an adjustment on top of coming to the tropics from a freezing tundra. My mom was a trooper.

The day had finally arrived! I got up early to hike out and head to Panama City because that night my mom would be arriving at the airport. I was just about to leave my house and therefore was moving my pack to my porch so I could lock my door. It was about 6am and just getting light outside. I pick up my pack by the back handle and almost immediately feel something hard and claw-like attach itself to the top of my hand. I then almost just as immediately shake my hand to try to get whatever it was off my hand. It was still pretty dark, therefore I couldn’t see anything (probably for the better). As soon as a shake my hand I feel it. A shooting pain. The claw-like attachment is gone but now there is a sharp shooting pain jolting down my hand that causes several profanities to expel out of my mouth, mostly expressing dislike at the current feeling in my hand but also distress and curiosity as to what the heck just stung me. I grope for my headlamp trying not to move my feet (pain in my foot like the pain in my hand would most definitely put a damper on my 45 minute hike to the road. My light illuminates the floor as I franticly search for something wicked. I can’t find anything. (Just for the record my house is tiny. Tiny tiny. About six by ten feet. (My bed touches three of the walls...) It’s not like there’s that much floor space.) I’m searching all over my floor asking (out loud) “what the heck was that?” and “could that have been a scorpion?” and alternately saying “holy crap this hurts.” I had never been stung by a scorpion, I had no idea what it felt like. And then I shine my light towards my bed. And I see it. Clung to the side of my mosquito net. Huge and black with a thick curled tail and staring at me. As I reach for my machete I say to it “oh you about to die.” With a little trouble I get it onto the floor and proceed to chop off its tail and then just continue chopping until it’s in small enough pieces to make me feel like I’ve thoroughly revenged myself. Fast forward to that evening. I pick my mom up at the airport unable to move any fingers on my left hand because they have swollen to the size of sausages, or “club hand” as my friend put it. “Hi mom, no I’m fine, just got stung by a scorpion this morning in my house. Welcome to Panama!”

The following photos are in order of occurrence.

Visiting Miraflores Locks, one of the three sets of locks in the Panama Canal.