I often find myself questioning what the future holds for the younger generation in Buena Esperanza. Most don't speak the indigenous language. None of them wear the traditional dress, and it seems that some of the "jungle" knowledge is not being passed on.
The kids are in close proximity to the "outside" world. And the impact the western influence can have on a community is really a whole other story, maybe for another time.
I know that the kids are not going to go from playing with soda bottle caps to playing a Playstation overnight, But I do think that their future reality is going to be significantly different than that of their parents and grandparents. Even more so if the government continues with the construction of the road out to the end of my peninsula (also another story for another time).
So, what I am trying to get at is that it brightens my day a little when I see the children embracing their culture, their land, their heritage etc. I always try to make it a point to support and encourage them.
Below is short video clip of my most recent interaction with a little one, embracing and adapting to her natural environment, all on her own.
Note on video: This was very early one morning. I was out for a hike in the finca. I was not close to any homes. I was walking at a brisk pace with my gaze focused down to avoid tripping hazards. Then I hear a little voice, “Buenas dias Meti,” that stopped me right in my tracks. I spun at least five full 360’s before realizing where that little voice was coming from.
Peace from the land of plenty,
Meti
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The One About my Casita
When I was preparing to be a Peace Corps Volunteer I searched You Tube to get an idea of how PCVs live all around the world. Those videos served as a great tool for me and were essential in alleviating any worries my parents had as to the safety and security standards Peace Corps has on housing assignments. Now, it is my turn to give back. So one raining day (there have been a lot of those lately), I put together a video of my little home and posted it on You Tube. Maybe a future PCV will come across it and find it useful. Also for my faithful “armchair adventurers” who will most likely not be coming to visit me, this video will give you an idea of my life in the campo.
But first a few words:
Some recent circumstances have led me to ponder the question of what makes a house a home. Is it the security it provides? Or maybe the fact that you have something that is uniquely your own? Is it the people that live there? The memories made there? Or is it that one can find familiarity in a world of constant change? I still ponder this question, not really looking for an answer, and not really feeling like there has to be one. I am sure the answers are different for everyone. Regardless, I think we can all agree that in our society it is a monumental event in a person’s life when they acquire their first home aside from the one they grew up in.
The four years I was in college I switched houses ever year. I was always a renter, abiding to the landlords rules, and sharing the house with roommates…amazing roommates might I add. Those houses provided a setting for some of the best memories of my life, but those houses were never my home. I think you see where I am going with this… Who would have thought that my first home would be in this little Indian village in the Archipelago of Panama? But this is where life has brought me and this little house will forever be my first home. I have been living in this house for over a year now. That is officially the longest I have ever consecutively lived in one single house since I was in 9 years old.
A few months ago the community told me they will no longer accept rent from me. I see this as sign of respect, acceptance and a manifest indication to their knowledge that having access to safe and secure housing is a basic human right. I am surprised that in some countries much more “advanced” this basic right is sometimes difficult for its citizens to obtain. Even though Henry David Thoreau wrote Walden way back in 1854, I think his opinion in reference to “dwellings” is still very much accurate and relevant. Here are some of my favorite quotes of his:
“Though the birds of the air have their nest, and the foxes their holes, and the savages their wigwams, in modern civilized society not more than one half the families own a shelter.”
“If it is asserted that civilization is a real advance in the condition of man-and I think it is, though only the wise improve their advantages- it must be shown that it has produced better dwellings without making them more costly; and the cost of a thing is the amount of what I call life which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.”
“None is so poor that he need sit on a pumpkin.”
My home here in Buena Esperanza is basic, simple and austere in comparison to houses back in the states, but it is all I need. I have a zinc roof over my head that assists in providing me with the same life giving substances that it protects me from, water. I have a wooden floor, raised out of the mud, and four walls that bring it all together. One glance at the wooden boards will tell you they were cut with the steady, but human hand. The minor imperfections give them character and the crudeness remind me that these boards were actually part of a tree once. I am grateful for the trees that were sacrificed to make my ‘dwelling.’ I think in the states it can be easy to forget that your home is made out of wood…from a tree…from nature. Really if you think about it, it is not too far off to say that we all live in tree houses. So, this zinc and wood provides me with 90% of my security…. the other 10% I owe to the plastic shower curtains which cover all the holes between the siding where with the slightest breeze, rain can easily finds its way in. And for as much as I love to be outdoors, I can’t say that I like to shower when I’m sleeping.
If it is true that “Home is where the heart is,” then I would have to say that Tahoe and San Luis Obispo will forever have to share my heart with Buena Esperanza. Who knows where I will make my next home, or how many I will have after this… But one thing is for sure; my first home will always be this casita.
Enjoy the video…. Yes, I narrated it. I really hate hearing my own voice, it was nearly unbearable for me to watch, I hope you don’t find it so agonizing. But just in case, I backed it with some nice sounds of steel and wood.
-Miche
Friday, January 7, 2011
The One with the Proposal
Happy New Year!
I remember applying to Peace Corps back in 2008 and thinking wow, if I really do this whole’ Peace Corps thing’ I will not be home until 2011! That seemed like a decade away. Time cannot be stopped, and so 2011 has arrived. I welcomed the New Year in Panama City. I was in very good company with other PCV’s and it was nice.
Even though we don’t have the ability to stop time, some would argue that a photograph can do just that. This New Years Eve, I was summoned by my friend Harold for a very special mission. He was planning on asking his girlfriend to marry him, and he wanted me to be there to covertly take pictures of the moment. I was privileged to have been asked to help them document such a special and momentous moment in their lives together.
I had to hurry my travel plans from Bocas, to ensure I would be there in time, by taking the overnight bus. Let me say, if there is one thing I can tell you about Panamanian culture it is that those that are lucky enough to have air-conditioning abuse the heck out of it. It is rare, but possible, to find an air-conditioned room that is a comfortable temperature. The buses however, are hopeless. I am talking about the long distance, cross country buses. Sometimes I actually question whether we may be transporting dead bodies, it is that cold. I have it figured out by now, as do all the Panamanian travelers, and we adequately prepare ourselves. However, I feel for the unassuming tourist who I too often see boarding that bus with nothing but his Board shorts and a cut off T advertising his favorite Panamanian beer. They should really put a sign in the window warning the passengers that they are about to spend 10 hours inside of an ice box, that would be nice. Other PCVs have labeled the overnight bus, “the coldest place in Panama.” And I will admit that it is the only time where I am glad when my seat assignment is next to a very large person, I appreciate the extra body heat.
Wow, I didn’t realize I had so much to say about the overnight bus. Moving on…So with no sleep, I meet Harold for breakfast in Panama City, where he drew out his plan of attack on a napkin. We parted ways; he took his bride to be out to lunch while I fought the crowds for a taxi and waited in traffic for an hour (welcome to the city). I finally arrived, but not before the cab driver tells me that he only accepts kisses as payment (It is instances like that when I pretend I don’t understand Spanish). I then hurry to navigate my way using Harold’s handmade map. Finally I arrive at the “x” marks the spot. I am most definitely not alone. The spot Harold and chosen to propose to Joanna was directly in front of the Presidents house. President Martinelli happened to be home that day and there were armed security guards EVERYWHERE. So here I am; 30 minutes early, haven’t slept at all, still wearing dirty campo clothes, a hat pulled low over my eyes to look inconspicuous, I am carrying around a big camera, receiving and sending text messages from Harold every 2 minutes, and trying to find a good place to hide…. all right in front of the president’s house. I received a lot of attention! I explained the situation to each guard that approached me, but unfortunately there was no communication amongst themselves. So I was questioned at least a dozen times “why are you texting to much?” “you look like you don’t belong.” “What is the camera for?” “Do you have id.” I sent Harold a warning text that if they don’t hurry it up, it is likely that they only picture to remember the day would be my mug shot.
Luckily, it all worked out. Harold popped the question, Joanna said yes, there were tears, there was lots of kissing, there was lots of cheering from onlookers, and my camera successfully stopped a beautiful moment in time for them to have forever. I had never witnessed a proposal first hand before and I even got a little choked up, it was beautiful to see two people making that commitment to one another. I am very happy for Harold and Joanna. This is the 2nd engagement in my group since we arrived last year. Peace Corps is changing lives alright. Joanna told him not that they are engaged that just means he has to catch more chickens. Harold bought me a snow cone for all my dedication to getting the job done... I was entirely satisfied with that compensation.
~Miche
I remember applying to Peace Corps back in 2008 and thinking wow, if I really do this whole’ Peace Corps thing’ I will not be home until 2011! That seemed like a decade away. Time cannot be stopped, and so 2011 has arrived. I welcomed the New Year in Panama City. I was in very good company with other PCV’s and it was nice.
Even though we don’t have the ability to stop time, some would argue that a photograph can do just that. This New Years Eve, I was summoned by my friend Harold for a very special mission. He was planning on asking his girlfriend to marry him, and he wanted me to be there to covertly take pictures of the moment. I was privileged to have been asked to help them document such a special and momentous moment in their lives together.
I had to hurry my travel plans from Bocas, to ensure I would be there in time, by taking the overnight bus. Let me say, if there is one thing I can tell you about Panamanian culture it is that those that are lucky enough to have air-conditioning abuse the heck out of it. It is rare, but possible, to find an air-conditioned room that is a comfortable temperature. The buses however, are hopeless. I am talking about the long distance, cross country buses. Sometimes I actually question whether we may be transporting dead bodies, it is that cold. I have it figured out by now, as do all the Panamanian travelers, and we adequately prepare ourselves. However, I feel for the unassuming tourist who I too often see boarding that bus with nothing but his Board shorts and a cut off T advertising his favorite Panamanian beer. They should really put a sign in the window warning the passengers that they are about to spend 10 hours inside of an ice box, that would be nice. Other PCVs have labeled the overnight bus, “the coldest place in Panama.” And I will admit that it is the only time where I am glad when my seat assignment is next to a very large person, I appreciate the extra body heat.
Wow, I didn’t realize I had so much to say about the overnight bus. Moving on…So with no sleep, I meet Harold for breakfast in Panama City, where he drew out his plan of attack on a napkin. We parted ways; he took his bride to be out to lunch while I fought the crowds for a taxi and waited in traffic for an hour (welcome to the city). I finally arrived, but not before the cab driver tells me that he only accepts kisses as payment (It is instances like that when I pretend I don’t understand Spanish). I then hurry to navigate my way using Harold’s handmade map. Finally I arrive at the “x” marks the spot. I am most definitely not alone. The spot Harold and chosen to propose to Joanna was directly in front of the Presidents house. President Martinelli happened to be home that day and there were armed security guards EVERYWHERE. So here I am; 30 minutes early, haven’t slept at all, still wearing dirty campo clothes, a hat pulled low over my eyes to look inconspicuous, I am carrying around a big camera, receiving and sending text messages from Harold every 2 minutes, and trying to find a good place to hide…. all right in front of the president’s house. I received a lot of attention! I explained the situation to each guard that approached me, but unfortunately there was no communication amongst themselves. So I was questioned at least a dozen times “why are you texting to much?” “you look like you don’t belong.” “What is the camera for?” “Do you have id.” I sent Harold a warning text that if they don’t hurry it up, it is likely that they only picture to remember the day would be my mug shot.
Luckily, it all worked out. Harold popped the question, Joanna said yes, there were tears, there was lots of kissing, there was lots of cheering from onlookers, and my camera successfully stopped a beautiful moment in time for them to have forever. I had never witnessed a proposal first hand before and I even got a little choked up, it was beautiful to see two people making that commitment to one another. I am very happy for Harold and Joanna. This is the 2nd engagement in my group since we arrived last year. Peace Corps is changing lives alright. Joanna told him not that they are engaged that just means he has to catch more chickens. Harold bought me a snow cone for all my dedication to getting the job done... I was entirely satisfied with that compensation.
~Miche
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