The Black Bull

**This is post 2 of 8 regarding my month of “solitude.” You can find the previous posts below. **

Please remember that the contents of this page, and all links appearing on this page, do not represent the positions, views or intents of the U.S. Government, or the United States Peace Corps.

There is a man my community calls the “Black Bull.” He is notorious in Buena Esperanza. He works for the Panamanian government. He represents the needs of the people in Bocas Del Toro on a national level in Panama City. He comes to Buena Esperanza once a year.

October 20^th, day one of my solitude, word spreads that Black Bull was coming that evening. The community is filled with excitement. We all wait in the community center at the time of his expected arrival. The hours pass. The sun sets. No one has eaten dinner. All the children are crying. We still wait. 3 hours late, the Black Bull arrives. The women get busy cooking the rice and chicken he brought while the men try to figure out how to hook up the light bulb to his gas powered generator. We all sit in the dark until they figure it out.

Let the show begin…..

The Black Bull tells my community that he has brought them what they need. The community is giddy with anticipation. I brace myself for what is sure to be just another government handout... I was right. But the Black Bull’s handouts were of a different magnitude than what I have seen in the past; New Machetes for every man, a bottle of cooking oil for every woman, one pound of rice for each household, rubber boots for kids under 5, a bag of cookies for the young girls, a lottery ticket for each mom (“because you never know who has the luck”), Coca-Cola for the young boys, and for the community he brought, a 20 foot fiberglass boat, a 25 horsepower engine, 5 gallons of gas, a chainsaw, 25 bags of cement, a lawn mower, 4 gallons of paint, zinc roofing, and more. There was nothing for the school, nothing promoting education, nothing to sustain their farming practices, nothing to help with economic development and nothing for their overall livelihood, no latrines, no clean water, no health education, no medicine, no doctor, no sewing machines, no tree saplings or seeds for their farms. Nothing sustainable. I was not happy. I excused myself from the meeting and went to lie in my hammock, where I could still hear and see everything, but I didn’t have to act like I was ok with it.

I thought long and hard about the role the government plays in the development of small communities like mine. Is this “aid” really helping my community? Or is it just making them dependent on the government. I agree that the government should be helping communities like mine, but the type of handouts the Black Bull brought along with the frequent cash handouts from private organizations I think is doing more harm than good.

If you remember about 10 months ago our community dock fell. Everyone wanted to wait until the government (Black Bull) would come to fix it. It took me months and months of explaining and convincing my community why they should rebuild the dock themselves. Eventually they got it. We pulled it together, everyone donated some wood, the men all worked together, and after 2 days we had a new dock. They are all so proud of that dock, they put their sweat into it and they have ownership over it. The same goes for anything they have to purchase or work for on their own. You can bet a pair of new boots that they buy will last ten times longer than a pair that that is given to them… I had such animosity towards The Black Bull. These handouts from the government are exactly why my community is the way it is; I have always wondered why my people seem to hide anything of value. It is because if it starts to look like they have money then one day the handouts may stop. It was heartbreaking for me to see how dependent my community has become, and how easily their praise can be bought. There is no doubt that The Black Bull now had the vote and support of each member in my community because he brought them a bag of rice and a boat.

Frustrated, I stayed up most of the night thinking about this. I know that government aid is something that has been debated over and over. Each has their own opinion on the way it should be approached. I wasn’t even certain on my views. I knew I was annoyed and bothered by what had taken place the night before, but the next morning I started to see it in a new light. Maybe my feelings were a bit hypocritical.

Am I not the same girl that got my own car for my 15^th birthday? For my community members birthdays the get chicken feet soup… Black Bull day they get a new boat. Some of these men and women have been waiting there entire lives to get a fiberglass boat, finally they get one, granted they have to share it with 250 other people and it has “Black Bull” written in large letters on the side, but nonetheless it is theirs. I should be happy for them.

Anything I ever needed (ok, or wanted) was handed to me… I am reluctant to say “on a silver platter,” but to be honest, in comparison to my community members; it most definitely was on a silver platter. I don’t have guilt for the way I was raised and the gifts I was given and the opportunities I had, but gather gratitude. That is after all why I joined the Peace Corps. And I don’t think these gifts deterred my development or made me 100% dependent on the giving hand. True, we are talking about two completely different worlds here and some comparisons across cultures just can’t be done, but I guess what I am trying to say is….. What does it matter if the handouts come from your parents or straight from the government? Plus, there are plenty of people in the US who live on welfare their whole lives. This kind of thing happens in every country. These handouts in my community have been going on long before I came here, and they will continue long after I am gone. I do not need to let it affect me, my work, and my efforts in Buena Esperanza. Even though I don’t agree with it being the best way to develop a community, there is absolutely no sense in me fighting it or dwelling over it.

So the next day, I joined in their celebrations. It reminded me of Christmas morning. I took pictures of all the school kids joy riding around the bay, I laughed at all the little toddlers running around with their brightly colored boots and I spoke with the woman about what they hoped The Black Bull would bring next year. Everyone seemed genuinely happy…. And I was happy for them.

I came to peace with the whole situation; it was like The Black Bull is their Santa Claus.

It still bothered me however that their Santa Claus didn’t bring one thing for the school, nothing at all to promote education. I convinced myself that maybe that isn’t the Black Bulls job; maybe the government run MEDUCA (Ministry of Education) was in charge of that… In fact, they were scheduled to come the very next day… Just wait until you see what they did to promote education in Buena Esperanza… you won’t believe it, I still hardly can.

Hasta Manana,

Meti