Vamos a Bolivia!

por Michael Aumack

Bolivia, tierra de sueños, el Tibet de Sudamerica, South America's land locked country that boasts the world's highest city, navigable lake and (supposed) most dangerous road. Most of all it's probably the least expensive country to visit south of the border. Enough said, Bolivia is an adventure lover's dream vacation and the reason why many PCVs have gone or will visit during or after their service. To give you, our beloved Vaina subscriber, the low-down on traveling in Bolivia I have compiled information from fellow PCVs and the Lonely Planet. I hope to write the same kind of guide for Peru in the next issue.

Travel Facts: Visa: U.S. citizens can stay up to 30 days. MasterCard & VISA: may be used in the larger cities. Health Risks - Altitude sickness (mentioned later), chagas disease, don't drink the water, plus the plethora of illnesses we are exposed to here in Panama (typhoid, malaria,etc). Time: two (2) hours ahead of Panama (universal time + 4 hours) Currency: B$ - the Boliviano, but US. dollars are welcomed. Costs: Bolivia is cheap. The budget PCV traveler can get away on $10 per day. A budget room: $6 - 15, Meals: $2 - 5. Airfare is expensive to Bolivia - it is recommended to fly in/out of a neighboring country like Peru and travel overland to Bolivia. Getting around in country: buying an in-country LAB air pass (less than $200) will allow you to fly to four cities (but, they give you five flight transfers) to be used within thirty days. Learn more and buy the LAB pass from the LAB office here in Panama. In country flights are highly recommended between distant cities because of the poor road conditions. Many overnight bus rides are miserable, bumpy, cold 14+ hour trips from hell. The more adventurous can catch day rides with trucks (half-price of bus fare)- remember, safety first. There are two rail networks: one in the west and one in the east (somewhat unreliable and slow). Climate: it is COLD..You will be above 3500 meters most of the time so it's always cold. It is recommended to layer your clothes. Hats, gloves, scarves and fat sweaters can be bought cheaply down there. When to go: generally, the dry season runs from May to October and the rainy season from November to April. Although, now the La Niña phenomenon has made weather unpredictable.

We will start from your arrival in the capital La Paz. As soon as you arrive in La Paz (4,082 meters) you will start feeling the effects of altitude sickness. It is suggested that you should go to the Yungas region just north (4 hours) of La Paz. Take the more secure trufis (minivan) transport to this area as the route is the supposed "most dangerous" due to the average (2 per month) camión that goes off the road. The Yungas region (Sorata and Coroico) is considered one of the most beautiful settings in Bolivia. In Sorata (2,700 meters) you can slowly adapt to the high altitude and enjoy the easy day hikes in the area. One word about altitude sickness before we go on: your body will have a hard time adjusting to the lack of oxygen at the high altitude. The symptoms are: headache, listness, exhaustion, nausea, and general respiratory distress. The cures are taking it easy, not drinking alcohol, aspirin, and in distress - to drink tea made from the coca leaf. You should not plan on doing anything strenuous until after a couple of days of rest and acclimation. In Sorata there is a great hostel called Residencia Sorata located at the corner of the main plaza. It's clean, shows free movies everyday, and has a beautiful garden Ask for a room facing the courtyard, for a buck or two more you won't regret it. Sorata, and nearby town Coroico,

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Vamos a Bolivia! (pg.2)

are in the main production area for coca so there will be plenty should you need some. From Sorata there is a mostly flat six mile hike to Gruta de San Pedro where you will find a cave and underground lake (bring your swimsuit and flashlight). In Coroico, stay at the Hostal Sol y Luna, it's about a half-hour walk from town but worth it. Alternate trip to Coroico is the three day Inca trail hike down.

Rurrenabaque is in the Amazon River Basin and is an excellent place to visit during the dry season. Forty dollar flights to/from La Paz are available. Otherwise it's a 24 hour bus ride or big adventure via camión. You can stay at Hotel Tuichi (which has adjoining Agencia Fluvial) for trips into the jungle and pampas. Check out other agencies if you want, but the pampas trip is recommended if you can only do one. You can get fun boat trips through the Amazon tributaries, see lots of birds, alligator viewing at night, anacondas in the day, jungle walks, monkey spotting, pirhana fishing, sloths, etc... For any trip to the Rurre be prepared to get dirty, and take lots of mosquito repellent.

Back in La Paz, you can stay at the PCV hotel "La Paz City Hotel" near the Plaza San Pedro. You can meet PCVs and get their travel, restaurant and activity suggestions. In town you can get around on trufis , or trufi-taxis that post different places on their windshield in and around the city where you'd want to go. Artesanía: Buy all of your altiplano artesanía in La Paz. It's the cheapest and has the best selection. It is sold on Calle Sagárnaga behind the Iglesia San Francisco. Also, it's cheaper than the same stuff they sell in Peru.

Bars: Luna's is popular with PCVs (just behind the main post office on Calle Oruro, knock to get in). There's also Café Montemarte and Mongo's. One word about alcohol at 4,000 meters; a little goes a long way! Learning to open carbonated beverages at that altitude is its own special art. Meals: lunch is the best meal of the day, for a couple of bucks you can enjoy a four course meal at most restaurants. The soups are wonderful and don't forget to try the llama steak. Good luck finding a good breakfast though. Attractions: Iglesia de San Francisco (c.1549) with its arresting blend of mestizo and Spanish styles. Behind church is the Witches' Market that is a bizarre bazzar. Around La Paz (11 km east) is the aptly named Valle de la Luna, which is an eroded hillside maze of canyons and pinnacles. The Zongo Valley (50 km north) has ice caves and turquoise lakes.

Lake Titicaca is an immense lake that has 36 islands and clear sapphire-blue water. Travelers should wear protective head gear and sunblock due to the high altitude sun radiation. Titicaca is revered by the Indigenous people and was the base of the pre-Colombian Tiahuanaco culture. The Isla del Sol and Isla de la Luna are the legendary sites of the Inca's creation myths The main town on the lake is Copacabana. Stay at the Alojamiento Emperador hotel (cheap and clean) behind the Cathedral. The other recommended place to stay is La Cúpola. Don't miss climbing up to the top of El Calvario for an amazing look over the lake. Take the boat ride to the Islas del Sol y Luna. Stay on the Isla de Sol in Chálla, a 20 minute hike from the Chállapampa on the north side of the island. Posada del Inca is the place - tranquil and beachside. There are Pre-Colombian ruins to explore just above Chálla. Don't stay on the south island where all of the tourists are. Bring sunscreen

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Vamos a Bolivia! (pg.3)

and extra munchies, as not a lot is available on the island.

Salar de Uyuni is amazing and not to be missed. Comparable only to the Salt Flats in Utah, this is a salt plain at 5,000 meters. It is a surreal landscape that seams to have popped-off an easel that Salvador Dalí was working on. A cactus covered island in the middle. Very blue skies, smoldering volcanoes, blue lakes populated by pink flamingoes, and la laguna colorada. The laguna colorada is reddish color and is also populated by lost Floridian fowl. Take the 4-day trip to the Chilean border. Uyuni is most easily reached from Oruro, Sucre or Potosí. Stay at the Hotel Avenida and pick any tour that fits your needs. Four day tours cost around $70 to $80 per person including transport, food and accomodations Bring lots of film, very warm clothing, headache pills, snacks and about 5 liters of water. Tour groups: Brisa, Olivos and Toñito are recommended. Pick the company that has a good vehicle - it's worth it. One word about tours: most of the tour agencies tell you half-truthes if not outright lies. Insist on the following: No more than six tourists in a jeep + driver and cook (8 people total). Stay at the better more expensive of the two hostals at Laguna Colorada. Try to meet the driver before you commit to see if he's friendly - don't expect a tour guide, just make sure he's not a dour mute sociopath! Try to make friends with other travelers before you sign-up and sign together as a group of six - so you are comfortable with the people you will be spending with both night and day. Ask around to make sure that your travel agency has a good reputation for its equipment and spare parts. Also, tours to Tiahanaco are not really worth it because the ruins are not that impressive.

Potosí: is the highest city in the world (4,200 meters) and was a famous silver mine town. It is beautiful with lots of Spanish colonial archetecture to marvel. Stay at Maria Victoria (get a courtyard room). Visit the Casa de la Moneda or any of the mine tours. At the end of August / early September you can see the Chu'tillos festival for the traditional flavor. Go experience the hot springs outside of town too. Sucre is recommended but not a must unless you're into textiles and related artesanía. Cochabamba is not really recommended to visit either unless you're there in mid-August for the Festival de Urkupiña in Quillacollo.

This is all I can fit into this edition of La Vaina (Peace Corps/Panama newsletter), so I hope it has wet your taste buds for a trip of a lifetime. Other notables: the Peace Corps has regional offices in La Paz, Sucre, Cochabamba and Tarija, but PCVs don't necessarily go to these places to hang out. Try to hook-up with a PCV if you find one. Visiting a PCV's site would be an experience to remember. The chagas disease is a serious problem if you're staying in the campo houses (but not in the altiplano); PCVs probably could lend you a mosquito net for protection. If you're in Bolivia in February (carnavales), go to the Festival de Oruro for a water-fight, foam-fest like none other and the parades are fabulous. Last but not least: ALWAYS have your own toilet paper!

Sources quoted and paraphrased in this article: "Kuatia Ne'e" Peace Corps/Paraguay newsletter Nov/Dec 1998, PC-Panama PCV Yaron Glazer and "www.lonelyplanet.com".

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

A Day of Heaven in the Peace Corps - Part I

by Andrea Aster

Heaven in the Peace Corps (in the big city) is a day when you are so sick and lonely and missing your Mommy-womy thatA Day of Heaven in the Peace Corps - Part I you decide to enter a health-shake place to spend a whole dollar on a fresh squeezed orange juice to get some Vitamin C into your system. Even though you live in a tropical country with a lot of fruits and vegetables, you are hard pressed to find a raw living one on your plate, so you are bruising constantly and your

fingernails have ridges. You splurge!!

You look across the street at the internet cafe, and you see a blond head in the window. You hope that it is another volunteer, you go over to check it out and it IS!!! But not the one you thought it was. Who cares, itís another volunteer!!!! You invite her to your new apartment and she is loving it, and within 5 minutes, you see another pretty blond walking up your street. ANOTHER VOLUNTEER!!!! The one you originally thought it was in the internet cafe!! You apologize for only having one broken chair, and they say, "Donít worry." And they just sit on the floor of your hot apartment. Everybody starts complaining about the Peace Corps life, and about homesickness.

At this moment, you realize that even though you live in a city with a lot of conveniences and distractions, nothing can help when you are homesick! And you have a new-found respect for your co-volunteers who are living in thecampo in conditions much more difficult than yours. If you are feeling isolated in the city, what are all those other volunteers experiencing (all over the world) out in the middle of nowhere????

You start thinking about opening a chair business to subsidize your incredibly high

rent. Then your daddy leaves and you remember that today, you decided to indulge yourself and you bought yourself a pair of speakers to hookup to your diskman. But because Today Is Heaven in the Peace Corps, you didnít just buy any old $20.00 speakers. You bought $20.00 speakers that KICK ASS!!!! The lady gave you like a 70% discount (or maybe she misread the pricebut you kept your big New York City mouth shut!!). So you and your friends are all sitting around (they are on the chairs, you are on the floor but who cares) listening to Lauryn Hill on your excellent new speakers, and you are trying to figure out all the different things that the speakers can do.

Just then, you remember that today you went to the post office. And therewere two, count 'em, two, packages. One from your Mommy who loves you forever and one from your great friend Christine who also loves you. You decide to open them in front of your friends, because even though the stuff is not for them, they still like to look at anything that comes from the United States.

You have a lovey dovey note from your Mommy and a tape of music in Spanish. You think, now everyone can hear the tape because I HAVE KICKASS SPEAKERS!!! You also have a new MAC Lipstick, soaps with suggestive words impressed on them, bracelets with inspiring messages, and HAIRGEL HAIRGEL HAIRGEL HAIRGEL from the only other female in New York City that understands the frizzies, Christine. You have 2 new thoughts; (1) how much can you charge other volunteers to use your new MAC lipstick to help pay for your incredibly high rent; and, (2), for what can you use the pretty paper that Christine threw in the box to pack the stuff. A table cloth? Wallpaper? Or just look at it?

Right about then, one of the co-volunteers tells you that another volunteer is coming into the city tomorrow to watch a football game in an air-conditioned hotel that his parents are paying for. Youíre invited to partake. And just when you thought, I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!! you realize that you just had a day of Heaven in the Peace Corps.

Are you getting the idea??

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Cultural Pride

by Erika Boehm

Slowly but surely people in Coclé seem to be losing their knowledge of the culture. The younger generation seem ashamed to recognize the traditions of the past. Teachers in many schools have stopped teaching things such as típico dances and have almost completely transformed or left out entirely the traditional activities and celebrations such as the Reinado or Semana de la Campesina.

After experiencing my first Mejorana in Guararé, I realize how good it must feel to have a sense of pride in one's culture, and how much my own community of Matapalo is losing out by not recognizing the importance of practicing traditions. I feel that if these smaller communities could only see that their cultural history could be a source of pride rather than a source of ridicule from others, it would be such a good way to maintain confidence within a community. One can't help but wonder if the lack of motivation or interest one sees within a town, is partially created by the negative attitudes campesinos have learned to accept about their traditional way of life. In Coclé, unlike the Azuero, I don't see that sense of pride in one's past.

There are many things a PC volunteer might try to do to motivate the sense of cultural pride in one's town. Encourage teachers to begin incorporating típico dance and activities into the curriculum.

A few weeks ago I held a Tarde Criolla or my version of a Mejorana at my site. Nothing but traditional acts and music were allowed. Rather than being ashamed and forced into remembering their traditions, people wanted to participate and therefore actually enjoyed it.

I feel that the Brisas Noteñas could not only be an entertaining and social activity for PC Volunteers, but also an educational demonstration that could benefit many of the communities here in Panamá. It could be an important tool for those communities in which típico originated,

but now is lost.

Pride and confidence in one's self is an important key to achieving one's goals. So, perhaps cultural pride is more important than one might assume. It could be the root behind many of the problems a volunteer may notice within their communities, and by touching on this issue a volunteer may not only boost the sense of pride within a culture but also the pride within an individual.

Just a Reminder

by Erika Boehm

Being here in Panamá for two years and finally accepting the fact that my efforts usually appear to be taken for granted, I began to realize why I am truly here. Some join the Peace Corps thinking only of how great an experience it will be, what a great way it is to touch-up your resume, or all of the non-competitive governmental positions that will be available. Some even think how you might gain a few extra brownie points for being "soooo good".

Whatever your reason may be, I have found that helping out a person or an entire community, usually means accomplishing projects or goals that go more or less, unnoticed. You usually don't receive much gratitude. These accomplishments are not material objects easily written onto a resume. They are success that a volunteer can see because they can feel that they have made an actual benefit to their community. Sharing ideas, knowledge, and just showing people that there truly are alternatives to what they may have now.

Sometimes I notice that volunteers forget the true reason for coming to another country through Peace Corps. It's to put yourself behind for awhile, to remember that your only putting aside your "world" for two years, and that two years of your life could positively influence a community for years to come.

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

why you should volunteer to live

in an indigenous site

by dawn jones

based on a meeting at the all volunteer conference, a group of us volunteers living in indigenous sites got together, and among other things agreed to write some articles for the vaina about our lives in indigenous communities. so i'll suggest right away that you might find yourself being subjected to a kind of propaganda in this vaina. not propaganda because there is an absence of truth in our words, but propaganda because there is an agenda behind them.

the reason we want to write about our experiences is to address what we view as a stigmatization of indigenous sites. this apprehension is something i can perhaps understand, but never claim to have felt. offered the chance to live in a ngäbe site during training, i was completely enthralled. (and now, if anything, i'm probably a little bit prejudiced against non-ngäbe siteswhich is a horrible admission on my part, but maybe it gives you a different perspective.) and through time and some rough spots, i have maintained my love affair with nance, the town where i live, so it would be quite easy for me to write a piece delving into the many marvels of my precious time here. however, i realized that this is a mighty task, probably equal to the novel any volunteer could write about the

complexities of bending and breaking ourselves into the life of a volunteer.

so then, instead, i thought that i could tell you straight up, with a wide open agenda, why you should spend two years of your life in an indigenous site. (disclaimer: each indigenous group clearly shares unique cultural traits and personalities, as do individuals within that culture, but among these groups there are certain commonalities which will be used for the below)

first question: ask yourself why you've come here. whether you're seeing the world, getting away from it all, or idealistically trying to make your difference in the world, indigenous sites in general can offer something to you, the incoming volunteer.

the first two i can get out of the way in a few sentences. you want to see the world? you want to get away? what could be more exotic and more remote (ideologically if not physically) than living amongst a group of people still managing to retain their unique cultural perspective as globalization paves it's way over the world? personally, i've never been made to question so many of my cultural

foundations and i'm so intrigued. personally, i've never been so removed from the clutter of my previously hectic life and i'm enchanted.

for me, the above are excellent bonuses to accompany my idealism which not only brought me here, but is driving this article. in fact, i'm so idealistic that i think i can speak to your sense of social responsibility in the world and tell you that there is no better place to act on it than in

an indigenous site. it's not for everybody; i know. but the truth is there is a greater need for any type of assistance in indigenous communities. looking at statistical data (which i'm sorry i don't have in front of me to quote here), you would see the highest rates of infant mortality,

malnutrition, and poverty in general. and environmentally speaking, indigenous people, particularly along the caribbean and in panama este, tend to live in areas with the highest remaining forest cover and subsequent need for protection/management.

the reasons for these bitter facts are complicated. it's a messy system of racism, poverty,

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

...why you should live (continued)...

and cultural differences. and indeed, ask any of us who live there, it is quite messy.

being completely honest about their situation, i can't romanticize or guarantee yours. we have all had tough times adjusting to what is probably more of a cultural stretch for our american minds. frankly, some of us have moved or gone homethereby creating opportunities for peace corps panama to learn and improve itself. but, even better, some of us have found satisfying and life changing experiences. whatever the case, i want to tell you that we must always remain willing to stick our hands in that mess, and yes, risk being confused or making mistakes because in the end, that is the sort of

gumption that can truly change the world.

=======================3D=========================3D======================

For those of you who might be interested

by Molly McCracken

It would be impossible to describe the experience of living in Ustupu, Kuna Yala even if I had all the time, paper and patience in the world. Since I don't have any of those, I think I will do my best to give the brief overview. "Why?" you may ask. Well, some people may have never had any experience with an indigenous population in Panamá. Granted these few words will not answer all questions or end all doubts, but maybe a bit of my experience will give a new perspective. As I said too, these experiences are limited to Ustupu and Ogobsucun, Kuna Yala working with Kuna (or Dule as they call themselves in their language).

Everyday here I learn new things about the Kuna culture and language as well as about myself and my culture. I realize the importance of laughter. The Kuna have wonderful senses of humor and laugh all the time. It is nice to hear that kind of happiness on days when I miss my family and friends from home, and since the walls are cane, I hear when anyone laughs.

I find that people here are very proud of their culture. This pride confuses me sometimes because while some people are willing to teach their traditions and stories, other are very protective and jealour about outsiders learning. I also clearly understand the intense frustrations that come from learning a new language. Thank goodness for the patience and willingness to help (on most part) of the Kuna people. Now that I am actually getting better at speaking and understanding (after 9 long months) my friends here are proud of me because I actually speak more than some of the Colombians who have been around for 5 or 10 years. Of course, they still love to make fun of me when I make mistakes but I guess I must sound pretty funny to them.

Like I said earlier, I guess this is more for those of you who have never had a Kuna friend or spent time in the Comarca. Their culture really is so different from the Latin culture or the other indigenour cultures that I have briefly experienced here in Panamá. From what I know the Kuna are outgoing, intelligent, spiritual and fun-loving people who have a beautiful culture to share and protect.

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Where Isolation Ends

por Chime, a.k.a. James Potts

Where I live is called bien metido lejisimo, far out there, mas alla de mas alla, or the most isolated site in Peace Corps Panama. None of these connotations comes close to the reality of my Bugle home, Dbi Jutre. They focus on a walk across a short distance which can easily be enjoyed, not just endured. They leave out the river, the scenery, and most importantly the people.

Such connotations only isolate Dbi Jutre from a limited view of Panamanian reality. I wish to broaden this view and end the isolation of Dbi Jutre.

First of all isolation has more to do with attitudes than with physical distance. Basically, it's one's perception of loneliness. For example, there was a volunteer in Chiriqui that lived a similar distance from the Panamerican as I do. Unfortunately, she felt extremely isolated from her family in Los Estates and ETed after two months. Despite the distance, I have rarely felt isolated from my family. My isolation seems to be greatest when I'm among the crowds in the provincial capitals, or worse, Panama City. In the beginning of my service, I felt isolated from other volunteers (i.e., those facing similar challenges), so I sought out the nearby JICA volunteer and the monthly promotor program in Tole to end my isolation.

Secondly, as foreigners, we all bring expectations with us to Panama. Many of these expectations lead us to disappointment because they aren't realistic in our new Panamanian context. Expectations regarding isolation should be left at home boxed up in a dark corner collecting dust. If you expect highway access, public transportation, a telephone, and other chec [sic] here, you limit site possibilities and ignore the important criteria, the people that you'll live and work with.

Conversely, if your main interest is an inaccessible, isolated site, you run the same risks. Either way, expectations about isolation lead to eventual disappointment.

Thirdly, as Peace Corps volunteers, we come to Panama to learn about another culture. Daringly, we speak their languages, don their naguas, dance their dances, drink their chicha fuerte, etc. Why don't we walk their walks? I'm not suggesting a superhuman two-day journey in rugged terrain with a 100 pound chacara on your head. However, a walk within one's physical abilities would be a real eye-opener. We come from a highway-bound car culture in the U.S.A. When we get beyond the Panamanian version of this highway-bound culture we'll discover more facets of Panamanian cultures and broaden our view of this small nation.

Finally, our highway-bound culture means that we underestimate our physical ability to walk and need to expand our horizons. Some volunteers (e.g., myself) who are experienced at walking distances could easily and safely handle a five hour walk to their site (i.e., the hours of daylight before the torrential afternoon rains). My walk to Dbi Jutre only takes two hours. By passing the Peace Corps physical, all volunteers should be able to handle at least a one hour walk. At first, the walk may be difficult because we aren't used to the climate and don't know all the shortcuts and practices to make the walk easy. However, soon the walk will be easy and enjoyable and will lead to freedom, not to isolation. And when Peace Corps Panama frees itself from the highway, it will have a much better understanding of Panama and will end the isolation of villages like Dbi Jutre.

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Bridge Crossing, Ngäbe Style

por Belle Kiga a.k.a Tia Schlaikjer

At home in Long Island, New York, I am always crossing busy streets with rushing traffic. I generally like to cross with others when possible, because group crossings sometimes makes the cars stop.

A veces near our public library in town one can find elderly people with canes and groceries braving the crosswalk with cars wizzing by non-stop. It is at these times that I enjoy crossing the most. I bravely grab the groceries and politely help the person cross, putting up my hand at the on-coming traffic.

Things have changed quite a bit in my life since then and to be honest I think I might be the one needing help crossing those busy streets now.

Here over in Ngäbeland in Kuerima, Chiriqui the life of the average pedestrian is nothing like New York style. We walk on dirt and rocky paths everywhere usually with overflowing chakaras on our heads and at a slow pace sin zapatos. The alquitrán (that's asphalt) hasn't yet made it anywhere near my community, gracias a Dios!

Getting in and out of my community is always a little challenge because of our lovely bridge. A few years ago this "Stand By Me" type bridge was built over the rushing San Felix river which flows through my site. It is made of cables, metal and wood. Horses, people, pigs and cows cross the bridge in the rainy season and let me tell you it looks like it wouldn't hold a flea. En antes, there was no bridge and people bravely crossed through the rushing river, many unfortunately meeting their demise. Now most of us cross the river like it was nothing, others try crossing the raging waters in cars (Frank and Mark).

A few months ago I was hiking back into my site after working in the monte on the other side of the bridge. I met up with a forlorn looking bijo (abuela) and her bün (nieta) and huge chakara. When she saw me coming she lit up and nearly started jumping with joy. Now the bijos here don't speak much Spanish, if any at all so she started spewing all this Ngäbe at me; "Belle Kiga! Belle Kiga! Nañtore derre. Ñü kri, ti ta hawgiriede. Ti nigi ñü de ta ti bün. Ti bigen puente dibta ka ni täre ti ogwade mä rikaba weena kude bidi."

Well, out of all the words at the time I understood my name and the fact that she was trying to get home by crossing over the scary bridge. So of course I jumped at the chance to help her cross the bridge and get home. Little did I know what I was getting myself into. She gave me two bärän (gineos) which to her must have been like giving me some extra strength for the crossing. She hauled the strap of the bulging chakara onto her head, grabbed my right hand and her bün's left hand and off we stepped onto the bridge.

The bridge isn't very wide so we were really smooshed together. It was all going fine till we got closer to the middle of the bridge. My hand started loosing circulation. I looked down and realized she was shuffling along squeezing my hand tighter and tighter as we went. I was praying I would make it to the other side and still have a functioning right hand.

We finally made it across, my hand throbbing, and we continued the journey on the well known dirt path back into our community. She was so grateful and acted like we had just conquered a feet that required a purple heart. She and I talked in Ngäbe (as much as I could at the time) till we finally reached her hawgiriede (casa).

Our parting words were, "Ngöbö rikaba mawbe, Ngöbö rikaba mawbe arato". May you walk with God and have him keep watch over you. I had an extra spring in my step returning to my own hawgiriede. I conquered a bridge crossing, surely a Peace Corps Moment.

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Fast Times in Agua Buena

by William Woodfield

Author's note: Before we get started, I'd like to get one thing straight: Agua Buena doesn't really have that many fast times . (*collective gasp*) Yes, it's true: the now infamous title of this column has been nothing more than a big exercise in sarcasm. Just me being facetious.

Although Agua Buena certainly is "a cool and awesome place" (to quote Lic. Christopher "Slow Times" Kindschi), it probably has more in common with Marta than with Ridgemont High (by Marta, I mean the town of 600 friendly souls in the Cordillera Central of Coclé, not anyone named Marta, such as Marta Cabrera).

And, judging by Lic. Kindschi's article, Marta sounds like a cool and awesome place too, just in a different sort of way. At any rate, diligent readers of this column will have long-since concluded that, in fact, Agua Buena is just another sleepy rural Panamanian town , albeit with a lot of furniture makers, a lot of bailes, a dash of panache, and a certain je ne sais quoi. These keen readers saw through the "fast times" smoke and mirrors long ago. But just wanted to clear that up for the rest of you, including Mr. Kindschi (unless he too was being sarcastic, in which case: hot damn! La Vaina is becoming a hotbed of seditious sarcasm! Naive young trainees will become hopelessly confused. My God, someone's got to put a stop to this!

Anyway, here's some more ...

My house sits in front of the most frequently used U-turn in Agua Buena. Running by the left side of the house is an asphalt road going up to El Tute, the high hill where, as previously described, "cool zephyrs, redolent of sawdust, soothe the sweaty brow on even the hottest of days." Cars, and more often, gear-grinding trucks, love to charge up, like Teddy Roosevelt on San Juan Hill, or even better, come barreling down, like bats out of hell.

Directly in front of my house, intersecting this bustling, vertiginous thoroughfare, is a smaller dirt side-road, leading to the Agua Buena School. Motorists often come tearing up the hill, blaring típico or blasting reggae, realizing belatedly that they really didn't want to go up there after all (or that their crappy vehicle can't make it up), go suddenly into reverse, lunge backwards into the dirt road, screech to a halt, sending up billows of dust that drift into my house, and roar off to where they came from, raising more dust clouds.

This , combined with my front yard being an exemplary Santeño front lawn (that is, an expanse of bare, eroding earth, with a few blades of grass hanging on tenaciously, despite being mercilessly uprooted if they dare grow, or spread, or generally threaten to turn the "lawn" an actual shade of green instead of a much more aesthetically-pleasing chocolate), makes me feel, especially during the summer, like a Steinbeckian Okie during the Depressional Dust Bowl. And with the layers of dust that settle on my floors, walls and furniture, I can sympathize with the homemakers of Pompeii when Vesuvius was starting to show that she meant business.

There is an official Toad Crossing , although there is no nice yellow sign to label it as such, right below my house. The lack of such a warning to motorists means that every morning there are several new hit-and-run victims squashed flat on the road. These tend to dry out in the angry sun, and soon blow away, usually right into my front yard, where, if I neglect my yard work for a few days, they collect in toad-drifts.

But being so centrally located does have its advantages. For example, I get to spy on all the neighbors. Not spy, per se, but at least be privy to all sorts of family affairs. Swinging in my hammock on my spacious front porch, I witness squabbles, borracheras, adulterous slinking around, and

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

...Fast Times (continued)...

all sorts of fun and entertaining stuff.

What amuses me most is when a kid is being travieso and his parents attempt to punish him. For example, there's this kid, Jason, a green-eyed little punk, who be 11 or 12 but struts around like a 30 year old tough guy. He tries to lower his voice so that it's more manly. He's one of the few that I kicked out of my English class (see other article); he never came back. (One time, I was speeding by on my bike, when my front wheel hit a pothole. The bike stopped, I went over the handlebars, and there was Jason, pointing and laughing a Butthead laugh: "uhu-uhu-uhu-uhu-uhu!" on and on. That little ...)

Anyway, one day, Jason must have been even more tremendo than usual, because I was jerked from my hammock reverie by shrieks of "¡Te voy a pegar!" Jason was running for his life, with his mother in angry pursuit, brandishing a leather belt. I was impressed: Jason's mother never struck me as being in the best of shape, yet there she was, in her dress, pudgy legs pumping furiously, veins in her forehead standing out, face turning an alarming shade of red, keeping up with her little spawn of a son. She chased him into the road, they ran up one hill, then down, then up another, and disappeared behind it. I never inquired to see if she'd caught him. At any rate, it made my day.

Then there's the wildlife. In addition to the toads, from my porch, I have an excellent view of my neighbor's chickens, trespassing on my plot of dirt for forbidden grubs. Jack and his canine companions, too, as previously described, are ubiquitous. And when the twain shall meet: a cacophony of crazed barking and clucking. No permanent damage done, just the loss of puffed-up poultry dignity and a few tail feathers, but those cheeky chickens learned their lesson that time! Nevertheless, while I have no sympathy for the chickens either, I make sure to lob a rock at the perro perpetrator, just to maintain the natural order of mild abuse of lesser animals by greater ones, and to ensure that Justice is preserved.

And then there was that unforgettable day when Mr. Piggy came to Agua Buena. I was in my hammock, reading The Economist and trying to sort out the rational behind the E.U.'s discrimination against American bananas, when I heard a snorting sound. A largish pig was shuffling by, snout to the ground, snuffling joyously, perhaps sniffing out that prized delicacy, the elusive Agua Buena Truffle, or maybe simply breathing great draughts of the sparking air of freedom. With the big smile on his face, he was obviously an escapee from some maximum-security sty somewhere in Agua Buena Abajo, on a hooky holiday, the Ferris Bueller of pigs. "That's odd," I said to myself, watching him disappear down the hill below, and went back to the $520 mil. worth of bananas in question.

About 10 minutes later, back came Mr. Piggy, at a brisker canter this time, still smiling, despite being chased by a barking Jack and Jack's evil little relative (brother, father, who knows, but definitely another little wiener dog with an attitude), Roberto. "Looks like Mr.. Piggy's in a bit of a tiff," I said to myself. Sure enough, soon they came by again, Mr. Piggy running now, with a little kid in pursuit, whacking him with a stick, with the two little dogs in tow.

After they passed by, silence reigned for a while, I finished The Economist, and then from stage left entered Mr. Piggy once more, running at full speed, chased by a small group of scruffy urchins, all with sticks. Oddly enough, he was still smiling (but then I realized that, to me, pigs always look like they're smiling, even when their balls are being cut off) But despite his

(continued in back of this issue )

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Good Morning Teacher: An English Maestro's Survival Guide

by Will Woodfield

On Nov. 19, 1999, the Peace Corps Adult Basic and Intermediate English Courses of Agua Buena held their graduation ceremony. A substantial number of family members, friends, gawkers and alcoholics filled the local jardin, gathered to watch the unfolding spectacle of the students receiving their official-looking, much-coveted diplomas ( signed by the illustrious Lica. Janice Jorgensen, Director of Peace Corps, Panama, and by their very own maestro, Lic. William N. Woodfield, Volunteer, P.C., Panama), waiting for the food and discoteca promised on the fliers around town, or simply there to partake of Herrera's most successful product (and I'm not talking Samy y Sandra).

After being introduced, in somewhat shaky English, by an exemplary elder student, the maestro, doubling as M.C. for the evening, gave a flowery speech, extolling the importance of English in this global economy, stressing the values of hard work and commitment, and highlighting the progress of the graduating students. He ended with the ultimatum that all the female students had to dance with him that night or they wouldn't get their diplomas. The Corregidor lisped his congratulations and a gift was provided to the maestro ( A daily planner! They got me pegged as a gringo, all right.)

And then, came the formal deliverance of the hallowed diplomas, to the cheers of each particular student's personal fan club, complete with a snapshot of the happily smiling student receiving his or her diploma from the maestro, who at this point was half blind from the flash repeatedly going off in his face, in contrast to the poorly lit jardin, and stumbling to read names like Yanileth del Carmen Barrios J from the little squiggly print on the diplomas. Special little hand-lettered ceramic prizes from La Arena followed, going to especially distinguished students, such as the old guy who had gone to both courses at the same time.

It happened to be the birthday of a younger student, named Nobdier, and the maestro took this moment to announce this to the throng. A mass "Happy Birthday" was sung, to Nobdier's happy embarrassment. But he was not out of the public glare yet: the maestro had a present waiting, a medium sized box wrapped in blue paper. As Nobdier, a roly-poly good-natured kid, waddled up to get it, the maestro announced to the crowd that the gift was something special, something to last forever, something to put on the wall and cherish, and when it was gleefully opened, at the crowd's insistence: cookies! (Nobdier will never forget his 12th birthday.)

A brindis followed that was enjoyed by all- all the students, that is; there wasn't enough to go around for the rest of the crowd, who were advised to visit the restaurant across the street if they were hungry- followed by a rousing piñata bash-a-thon. Then came the moment all had been waiting for: the big speakers roared to life, and the dancing lasted long into the night (Aguabueneños don't need much excuse to dance). And indeed, all the female students did dance with the maestro. It was the easiest time he's ever had getting Panamanian women to dance with him...

This graduation, the second of its kind, marked the culmination of a long series of English classes, in which crude and unformed beginnings evolved into the unforgettable night described.

I'm writing this article because I think English classes are a great thing for a Volunteer to offer, not just for their intrinsic value to the students, but also as an excellent way to make inroads into your community. After more than a year of teaching such classes, I feel I have learned enough

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

...Good Morning Teacher (continued)...

to share with you some of my experiences and ideas that might be helpful, especially to you newer Volunteers. Of course, these are only my own ideas, and I'm sure you guys have a lot more ideas that are worth hearing, so please, write in and share! As the one-and-only former SBD capo di tutti capi, Lic. Dorian Stone, used to ask rhetorically: "Why reinvent the wheel?" A wise man, that Dorian.

I was a naive, idealistic young Volunteer, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with one month in my site when I started offering English classes. I was initially overwhelmed by a horde of more than 40 would-be students crammed into the little schoolroom the first evening of class. I was thrilled- the streets of Agua Buena would echo with English!

Unfortunately, that initial surge dwindled rapidly, due to a combination of boredom (this wasn't a romp in the daffodils), discouragement and heavy rains. Even worse, those students who hung on would stroll nonchalantly into class increasingly late. After a month and a half, my shining utopia of a clean-burning, non-greenhouse gas-emitting English course had suffered a slow meltdown, leaving a smoking Chernobyl of corrosive, insidiously leaching toxic waste of indolent, surly students. (Does this grim scenario sound familiar to any of you PCV veterans? I bet it does).

I decided that extreme conditions demand extreme responses. As I polished my brass knuckles and tightened my Rambo-style headband, I vowed: "no más Señor Tipo Amable." Radical restructuring was in order. After a month's moratorium, I launched in. I declared from this moment on that this was a totalitarian English Course, and I was in Supreme Martial Command. The course would consist of 24 one-hour classes: students who missed fewer than 5 classes would receive a special diploma. Regardless, missed classes would have to be copied and ready for the next class. Homework would be assigned almost every class: up to five homework assignments could be temporarily waived, but to graduate, by God, they'd better all be done by the end. There would be a final exam that needed to be passed, and there would be quizzes every three classes. (although these wouldn't be graded).

All this was summarized on a sheet of rules that was passed out to the every student, along with the following restrictions. No eating or drinking in class (except what the Supreme Martial Leader gives you). No talking while I, (that is, the Supreme Martial Leader) am talking. Coming to class more than 10 minutes late counts as missing a class altogether. Bad weather is not an acceptable excuse to miss class. Habeus corpus was suspended: students could be booted out of class for any infraction of the rules or at the teacher's whim, and some of them were.

I took up the habit of striding around the classroom with a long wooden pointer, and when the inevitable occurred- the same two girls whispering, giggling, and generally oblivious to the class around them- that's when I would slam down the pointer on one of their desks with stunning force, to their utter surprise and shock and to the amusement of the rest of the class. It seemed to work, too- they would usually keep quiet after that for a good 5 minutes.

But I could be a real softie. I often dangled the carrot. Every student who volunteered to write a homework answer on the board (to be judged by the rest of the class) would receive a Chiclet. Chiclets were also re-partitioned during quizzes, and to the winners of such games as Memory (in which each upside card on the table has a verb, either in English or Spanish, and has its translingual twin somewhere else on the table; each student gets to pick two cards and hopefully picks the pair of verbs- if not, the next student gets a chance). On my birthday, I bought my English class a special cake, which was

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

..Good Morning Teacher (continued)...

brought in by my little neighbors halfway through the class. The usual riff-raff was hanging out outside, trespassing on school property, talking in loud voices, sneaking glances through the windows at the female students, and generally being a distraction. When they saw the cake come through, they all inevitably sidled up to the door, like hyenas to the lions' kill. I told them, apologetically: "Lo siento mucho, pero este dulce es solamente para mis estudiantes de inglés" and gently but firmly closed the door in their expectant faces. My students cheered, and we ate cake and danced to cheesy techno music. Of course, the graduation ceremony itself was the crowning recognition and reward for the hours they'd put in.

What kind of stuff should you teach? I mean, hell, we gringos never really learned English, we just talk it pretty good. There is a guide available in the office, written by a former PCV, which is somewhat useful- it gave me a general framework. However, unless your students are English-learning machines, and can soak up information like MP3s, I feel the pace and scope of the guide might be a little over-ambitious. So I came up with my own syllabus- starting with greetings and common expressions, then basic verbs, such as "to be," "to go", "to have", "to want", etc., with associated vocabulary, suggested in an open format by the students themselves. Where do you go? tienda-store, escuela-school; what do you want? dinero-money, a car-un carro, etc. The meat of the course was verbs and their conjugations- vocabulary was less of a concern, since it can be found in any Spanish-English dictionary. Nevertheless, certain blocks of vocabulary were visited, such as family members (every student had to draw his/her family tree), parts of the body (for Simon Says) and vocabulary of the house (the students had to imagine their "dream house" and present it in front of the class).

Pronunciation, however, is not something easily learned from a dictionary, but something we, the gringos, can do better than anyone else (except those bloody Brits; Aussies and Kiwis don't even count). Every word I taught, I spelled phonetically in Spanish- "house" = "jaus"- and made the students practice saying it. Questions were asked aloud by one student and answered by another: "Juat du llu juant?" "Estee...Ay juant a...esteee... a car." I wrote dialogues and had the students practice and learn them. All these exercises, in addition to improving pronunciation, help to overcome the natural timidity in speaking a language that you're just starting to learn.

So that's what English classes were like; they had a definite structure, 3 new verbs a class, things like that. But occasionally I shook things up with games and creativity. "OK, today we're going to play Hangman" or "¿alguien reconoce cualquieras letras de esta maldita canción de Cher?" (and proceeded to play a song that's been way too overplayed already...) When teaching a separate kids' course (12 years and under), the format became even simpler with even more "fun stuff," such as, upon learning that one little boy "juantes" more than anything else in the world a "motorsaical", making engine-revving noises and running around the classroom, upper body bent forward with arms extended in standard Kawasaki Ninja position, to shrieks of delight. A lot more "fun stuff" is suggested in the English guide found in the office.

After the first graduation ceremony, many of the graduating students expressed interest in continuing their English studies, so I started teaching an intermediate course. It's main focus was a series of about 10 dialogs, which always involved the same cast of clichéd characters, culled from innumerable sitcom reruns. There's goofy but well-meaning Dad, imminently practical and sensible Mom, teenaged daughter Kim, kind of prissy but beginning to taste the elicit thrill of living vicariously on the edge, and, of course, young Bobby, the little hellion. These tried-and-true characters get into all kinds of scrapes, with humorous (if predictable) results. In Driving (Dialog #4), Dad's

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

..Good Morning Teacher (continued)...

giving Kim driving lessons: it starts to rain, they nearly hit a truck, a policeman drives by (false alarm!), and, finally, they run out of gas- ol' Dad forgot to fill up the tank. Or In Class (Dialog #5), Bobby's whispering to his little friend Matt about how boring the teacher is and drawing a goofy picture of her on his desk- when the teacher catches him red-handed, and makes him stay after school, despite his howls of protest ("Oh man!"). Or who could forget, in The Party (Dialog #3), Kim and her friend Lauren's encounter with the lecherous drunk guy ("Wanna dance? *hic*"). The point was to make the dialogs entertaining to learn and perform. The characters spoke in relatively idiomatic English with the occasional mild vulgarity (Yesterday, Dialog #8, (practice in the past tense): Dad: "Hey kids! How was yesterday?" Bobby: "Yesterday sucked." Mom: "Bobby! Watch your language!" All part of a well-rounded English course). I would write the dialogue in English on the left side on the board, sentence for sentence, and have the students translate it as a group, with my help, sentence for sentence on the right side of the board. After it had been translated, the class split into groups to practice saying it, with me going around addressing individual problems of pronunciation. Then, at the end of the class, the group that wanted to perform it did, with many theatrics (swerving cars, stumbling drunk guys, etc.). We would do two or three dialogs like this, then I would summarize in lists all the vocabulary, verbs, and expressions that had appeared in the previous dialogs and ask them to study it. Then there would be a quiz. Once in a while, students would have to write their own dialogs. In this way, students with an English background could explore more situations in depth and learn how Americans really talk.

Final exams, whether for the kids', adult basic or adult intermediate courses, were something I hyped up as their ticket to the diploma, so some of the students got all nervous and studied their butts off (which was my objective; of course, some didn't crack open their notes once). I offered special, optional review sessions a few days before, for any students' questions and a general review of the less-obvious stuff. The exams themselves varied: the easier kids' ones were mostly connecting matching columns of English and Spanish words, but the harder adult exams had more free translation of words and sentences. (all homework assignments involved translation from Spanish to English; the exams, on the other hand, involved translation from English to Spanish, a welcome relief) All exams were quite heavily padded, and had easy, generous extra-credit sessions. To fail, you'd really have to make an effort to not learn anything during the whole course. (Of course, several students, the ones with the dusty notebooks, barely squeaked by). There were two students that actually failed, but they were special cases: one had an anxiety attack and his mind went blank, and the other had a slight learning disability. I worked with them especially, one-on-one, for a few days, then let them retake an easier version of the test. This time around, both passed, to their great relief and happiness. On the other hand, one student who didn't bother to show for the exam and made no effort to approach me later automatically failed and did not receive the diploma.

The diplomas themselves are very easy to make, and I recommend them highly, as Panamanians tend to be mad for tangible, glossy proofs of participation. The Resource Coordinator in the office has a Zip Disk with various certificate templates (with Peace Corps and other logos) and a supply of special thick paper. Make sure you confirm this beforehand, though. A few hours in the office and voila! beautiful, professional-looking certificates. Janice will sign them if you ask in advance.

My students were excited by the prospect of a large, public graduation, and it definitely served as a good motivation. Organizing something like that takes advance planning and some effort. In the Azuero, at least, the students are expected to pay for their own food during graduation, so I didn't feel weird asking them to pay $1.00 each. (I also asked the students who wanted photos

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

..Good Morning Teacher (continued)...

for $0.50, for film costs.) I had a local señora cook up industrial-size quantities of arroz con pollo.

I applied for additional funds from the alcalde, through the representante, to cover costs of soda, piñata, candy, prizes, and other miscellaneous needs. I made sure to invite the representante, the director of the school, and the corregidor to sit at the mesa principal. I wrote a speech. I scavenged up a PA system. I put up signs inviting the community to attend. I invited some PCVs to help me out with logistics the night of the graduation (thanks guys! You know who you are) I was scurrying frantically for a week beforehand.

Was it worth it, all this time spent away from my primary project, devoting myself to the secondary goal of teaching English?

Definitely. I have shared unforgettable experiences with my good friends, my students: kids, teenagers and adults from all over Agua Buena and its neighboring communities. And their families and friends know me and what I can offer. Grateful parents tell me their child has received straight 5s in English since taking my course. The furniture makers (my primary project members), seeing their kids graduate, have been inspired to attend a similar "business course" for themselves that I am currently teaching. And maybe some people even learned some English, too.

...Fast Times (continued)...

distress, I could tell that deep down inside, Mr. Piggy was still enjoying himself.

"I'm being run ragged and abused by dogs and small children with sticks, but this is still better than that smelly sty!", I could hear him thinking.

All the scene needed to be perfect was music, perhaps some banjo-picking "escape music" a la Dukes of Hazard. The whole affair was like an episode of "The Monkees", towards the end, when the 4 lads are being chased on a beach by the mad Professor's crazed creation run amok, with the Professor's beautiful daughter close behind, all to the tune of "The Last Train to Clarksville." Further adding to the eerie resemblance, one of the kids tormenting Mr. Piggy had a sandy, bowl-shaped Peter Tork haircut.

Mr. Piggy made no further encore performances. Apparently he was rounded up and deported. No one seemed to know from where he came from, nor to where he went. One thing's for sure: no one will forget, for many years, the day Mr. Piggy came to Agua Buena.

Author's note: Aside from the Mr. Piggy incident, you'll have to admit that Agua Buena is still pretty boring. No amount of literary embellishment can change that stark reality. Still, perhaps I am better off than most. After all, I do have a front porch , from which to watch the world go by. If all of you could be so lucky. But my porch is spacious and the hammock has room for two, so why not come down to visit, and together we'll preside over the not-so-fast times like Zeus from the halls of Mount Olympus.

Till then, see you next time!

Ed. note: This article is one in a series entitled"Fast Times in Agua Buena".

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Life in Ngäbe-Landia. Indigenous Artisans' Seminar

Held January 14-16, 2000

by Ana Fazioli

Maybe it was just coincidence, maybe not, but just about one year to the exacy date that I arrived here in Panama to start my adventure as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I had one of those "Peace Corps Moments". As cliché as it may sound, it's very true. With the support of WID-GAD Panama, I have been able to realize a series of product diversification seminars with my Ngäbe women's arisan group in El Piro, Veraguas. Instead of having other non-indigenous speakers or myself give the seminar, I thought it might be more interesting to have experienced indegenous women teach other indigenous women. That way the women would be more apt to relate to one another, and see that what type of work other indigenous women in the country were doing.

Also, I hoped that the women would be able to exchange stories about their cultures, traditions, etc. Three female associates from the Cooperative de Productores Molas, Molly McCracken's principal project in San Blas traveled to my site to five a seminar to my Ngobe women's group. Never did I imagine what would happen when 3 Kunas stepped foot on Ngäbe territory...Friday afternoon the special guests arrived from Panama and Bocas del Toro. We spent the afternoon in a room full of timid, indigenous women trying to "sacar las palabras" from each one of them. It tood a lot of time, patience, an ddinamicas, but slowly but surely the seminar began to get moving in the direction I had anticipated. I suppose the precise PC Moment hit me when, after running around like a maniac trying to coordinate everything just so (you guys know how I am!), I finally had the chance to sit down to listen to one of the charlas. Just then one of the Kuna women stood up to begin a talk about a business-related subject, but first took a moment to let everyone what an emotional moment it was for her since, although she had worked with the Kuna Cooperative for many years, she had never attended a mixed tribe seminar like the one we were doing. We were also to find out that the majority of the Ngobe participants had never even been in the same room as a Kuna woman.

It was wonderful to see that the Kuna women did not have the usual pena and were bold enough to go up to each one of the Ngobe participants to greet them with face-to-face, take their hand and say "Soy Kuna, tu hermana indígena". So I guess that's why if was one of those moments, when I just sat back, wiped the tears from my eyes and said to myself, "Wow, this is why I'm here!" We also had the suerte of having present Carmenza Cespedes' president of her women's aritsan group in Bocas del Toro who, just in the ick of time, took over for on of the male associates of my group to translate from Spanish to Ngäbe and vice versa.

Josefina's confidence within herself to translate to a group of women, from a different region of the indigenous reserve as herself, was remarkable. Just having her help the women inderstand what the Kuna women were saying was as important to them as it ws for her. Never mind if the women heft after the weekend ready to market their diversified products via the Internet like their Kuna sisters. To me, just seeing sich a variety of women in one room, sharing experiences as indigenous women in Panama was enough to make all the preparation worth it. And a special thanks goes out to my crocodile friend, Molly, Carmenza and Wendy for supporting me during the weekend, Adriana, Rosa Flor and Josefina for sharing their expertise and expereinces, and to Janice, Raul and Karen for participating in the seminars with is, it made it that much richer. Also, I would like to thank the WID-GAD committee for supporting my product diversification project, my women from the Mesi Kwira Association are forever grateful.

______________________________________________________

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Life in Ngäbe-Landia, Women's Regional Congress

Held January 20-23, 2000

By Ana Fazioli

I would like to share with you a recent expereince I had which all began as a dare, in other words, could the gringa endure the adventure? I was recently invited to the 5th Annual Women's Regional Congress in the Ngäbe- Bugle Indigenous Reserve by my women's artisan group. The meeting, held in the Community of El Naranjal, District of Agua de Salud, in the Ngäbe-Bugle Indigenous Reserve, was attended by over 100 women and men in the region, members of PROAPEMEP (an organization that supports small and medium sized producers in the area), James Potts and myself. Being new to these types of events within the Indian Reserve, I really didn't know what to expect. But the artisan women that I work with in my site invited me, so I couldn't pass up the invitation.

I've visited the neighbor community of Tierra Blance before, where James Potts, an Agroforestry Volunteer lives and works with Bugle Indians. But never had I passed the small village of Tierra Blanca, nor the Cobre River, to reach the village of El Naranjal. What an incredible sight to see when over 50 of us, traveling from as far south as Chibrital, a village about an hour south of the Interamerican by chiva, arrived to El Naranjal. We were escorted in trasport donated by PROAPEMEP, from the Interamerican to Buenos Aires, a 2 1/2 treacherous ride, then embarked on our 41/2 hour adventure to make it to the meeting. Needless to say, with a caravan of 50+ women, men, children, baggage, and other odds-and-ends, the walk was anything but boring.

The highlight came when we had to cross the Cobre River to reach our final destination. As our trip had delayed itself a bit, we arrived at the river at 7:30pm, when the sun had already set and the moon had not risen yet. What a sight it was; women balancing themselves, naguas (traditional Ngobe dresses) hiked up so as not to get wet, and babies hung in chacaras from their mother's foreheads. ALL IN THE DARK!!! I, not being use to these types of situations, was a little bit nervous. But fortunately everyone crossed the river safely, everyone except for me who slipped on a rock and got very wet! We reached El Naranjal at about 9pm, with hot food and coffee waiting for us. (Definitely the best meal I've eaten in months!) and even were able to enjoy the full eclipse in the evening with a blanket of stars in the sky.

The Congress itself went surprisingly well. You must remember that the Ngäbe-Bugle Indigenous Reserve as a legally organized entity is relatively young. This was only the 5th annual women's regional congress and to see over 100 participants from the region attend was a great feat in itself. Although timid at first, the women quickly opened up to give their opinions, suggestions, complaints, etc., and the few men that attended were very supportive. A variety of subjects such as: women's rights, the Ngäbe-Bugle culture, artisan work, family planning, the new board of directors and the future of the region were presented and discussed.

Although the meeting was held up in the mountains, where the wind blows strong 24 hours a day, and the Cobre River has that icy feeling to it in the madrugada, I couldn't have enjoyed it more. We danced the chicharia, ate hojas de "no se que",saceos full of juicy, sweet oranges, and incredible amounts of strong, hot coffee to keep away the cold. Our hosts were incredible (and all men, since the women were busy in the meetings!), the area was remarkably beautiful, and I was able to better understand the lives of the Ngäbe women in my region.

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Triple-Catastrophe

por Christina Dollhausen

From Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

"The population Reference Bureau predicts that the world's total population will double to 7,000,000,000 before the year 2000."

"I suppose they will all want dignity," I said.

"I suppose."

As of December 31st, the canal is officially Panama's and only Panama's. The celebrating was continuous across the country. People rejoicing in the reversion of the Canal, celebrating the New Year and the new prospectives on the horizion for the New Milenium. Panamanians celebrated the solidarity of the country...Panamá...Un Pueblo para todos, no? Or is it? In the corners of Coclé, and Colón, I doubt there was much celebrating going on for the reversion of the canal. If there was, they won't be rejoicing for long.

On August 14, 1999, the Panamanian Legislature approved Ley 44 which enlarges the boundaries of the Canal Zone by 213,112 Ha., called the "Cuenca Occidental." This combined with the "Cuenca Tradicional" gives a grand total of 552,761 Ha. Great, more protected area where the biodiversity of Panamá will survive into the next milenium. According to "Communidades: Noticias de la Cuenca del Canal de Panamá", a pamphlet distributed by the Canal Commission, this increase is necessary to modernize the canal. They predict a doubling of the population in the canal area and an increase in the number of boats going through the canal over the next 30 years, which will create a need for more potable. This water is to be brought in from 3 new dams in the provinces of Colón and Coclé. The rivers "suggested" to be damed are, the mouth of Río Indio, Río Caño Sucio, and Río Coclé del Norte. Three large lakes will be created in these areas from which the water will be channelled or tubed to the Canal. The pamphlet states that these dam projects will assure the existence of potable water for the greater population, the continued efficiency of the canal in the future, and will generate hydroelectric power for all Panamanians. In addition, for the affected communities they promise the following; new job opportunities, more roads, new sources of water for farming and drinking, new sources of electricity, programs of technical assistance, economic development in the form of businesses and tourism. However, the dam project is not finalized, "communidades" claims, that studies are still being undertaken in the area of the three rivers to decide if they indeed will provide a sufficent amount of water and what will be the socioeconomic and ecologicalconsequences. The Canal Commission intends to propose the plan to the affected communities for discussion.

A section I found particularily interesting is the FAQs (frequently asked questions), found on the back. Paraphrased here, they are-

Q: When and where will the new dams be...A: we don't know.

Q: How can we live if we don't know what will happen to our lives...A: Just keep living the way you have been.

Q: Will only people with titles to their land be retributed for their losses...A: We will come up with a just solution when the time comes.

Q: Have you considered alternatives to daming and flooding...A: Yes but this seems to be the best so far.

Q: How long will it take to build the new dams...A: Five years to work with the communities and five years to build and flood.

For as short as it is, the pamphlet provides a decent base of information about the canal expansion proposal. But, what the pamphlet doesn't state, for obvious reasons of not wanting to cause alarm, is that if these dams are to be built about 8,000 campesinos will lose their homes and

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Triple-C (pg.2)

their land, they will be flooded out. The people who live on the other side of the dams will lose their rivers, their source of food and their via of transportation. (Hence the proposal of new roads). Also no addressed is the question of where these 8,000 campesinos will be relocated to and will campesinos elsewhere lose their land to the relocated?

Internationally, these type of projects have been undertaken for years. Paraguay built a huge hydroelectric dam this decade and flooded pristine forests and communities in the process, the U.S. is constantly moving people from land to expand highways, mine rock, raise old buildings housing hundreds of families to build new condos housing a dozen. The international community has accepted these types of grandiose projects as part of progress. In order to justify them, they (we?) have come to an accord that if people and families are to be displaced off of their land, they should be relocated to a place of equal or better quality (in terms of transportation, education, health and other social services available).

Enter TRIPLE-C. Some of you living in the areas of Coclé, Capira, and Colón may have already heard of this program. Approved by the legislature during the last assembly, it is a large scale community development project for the three areas mentioned above. The funding partly comes from the Panamanian government and partly from FIDA, an international fund (rumored to be of European origin , mostly French according to a Mida Ténico). TRIPLE-C is designed to sustainably develop these areas by putting in roads, giving technical assistance to small farmers and cattle ranchers, providing more health services, improving potable water systems and helping small farmers title their lands by speeding up the process and absorbing some of those costs. All projects which TRIPLE -C requires the communities to initiate themselves in the name of sustainability. I haven't yet read anything official about this program, but this comes from the mouth of a Mida Técnico who is being trained to administer the project in my area. Mida will be in charge of administering the community development and agropecuario work, ANAM will administer the reforestation portion, and the Ministerio de Salud and Educación will each have their parts. The program which is beginning this year in Colón, and I believe has already begun in Coclé, will last for 6 years.

Is it just me or do these two programs seem to have something to do with one another? The area of the possible flooding is Colón and Coclé, the TRIPLE -C program takes place in the same areas...concentrating mostly in the areas not being flooded. The "Communidades" pamphlet states there will be about a 5 year preparation period to finish the studies of the rivers, work with the communities, and build roads, TRIPLE-C is schedueled to last 6 years to do just the type of community development work needed to satisfy the international community that those being relocated will be moving to quality places. If there is to be flooding, 8,000 people will have to be relocated. The TRIPLE-C program plans to give campesinos titles to their lands but only up to 15-20 Ha. Assuring that here will be land to be taken away and given to the relocators?

If I put 2 and 2 together in my head, it seems to me there are no if, ands, or buts about this program, they are already on the ground and running with it, as we say. This program was never discussed with the communities that will be affected by it until it was approved by the legislature. Now they are trying to say that nothing is set in stone and they are open to discussion...I beg to differ.

As my friend Maximo said, "Los pobres siempre sufren, ahora parece que los barcos son más importante que la vida humana." Moreover, as stated in an open letter from the Obispo of Colón and Kuna-Yala to Presidenta Moscoso printed in the Panorama Católico December 12, 1999, " El Canal no es un dios o un ídolo ante cuyo altar se deben inmolar víctimas humanas y la historia cultural de pueblos. Si bien el Canal es un símbolo nacional y una fuente importante de riqueza, no es argumento para el acaparamiento ni para fomentar el 'capatalismo salvaje'." I have to agree with that.

So what does this all mean to the future of Panamá? ; to those that will not only lose their

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000

Triple-C (pg.3)

land but their homes, their neighbors, their communites, cultures, traditions, and way of life?; to those that will lose part of their land to relocators. Land their families have given their blood, sweat and tears to for generations, who have set aside portions for their children and grandchildren to eek a living off of? What will it mean to the animals and plants living in the pristine forests where the roads don't reach in Colón and Coclé, life we may not even know of that will be underwater in 10 years? Panamá...un pueblo para todo, one canal for all...but not for them.

What does this mean to the future of Peace Corps Panamá? Will volunteers now working in Coclé and Colón have to rent SCUBA gear if they want to visit their sites 10 years from now? ("Look mom, see where that big mouth bass has made its' nest? That's where I used to sit with my neighbors and play dominoes...gurgle, gurgle.") Should volunteers in those areas forget everything else and start fishing techniques and how to build kayukos classes? We'll have to change the saying...give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day, teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a lifetime, to, teach that man to fish cause we're gonna flood him out of his home. If this dam project is inevitable (and I say it is unless those 8,000 campesinos chain themselves to the bulldozers) should Peace Corps then stop working in the proposed flooded areas? No point in teaching sustainable living if their isn't any living to be done. Should Peace Corps then concentrate work in the areas where people are to be relocated? Should Peace Corps volunteers chain themselves to the bulldozers? Or can we placate ourselves with the benefits for those of us working in what I call the "relocation zones." We get to reap the benefits of internationally funded community development projects in our sites, making it easier for us to do our work. Maybe we won't have to fight tooth and nail to get a pick or a shovel out of Mida anymore. And if TRIPLE-C is truly about sustainable development as we strive to be, we get to sit back, smile and be proud to be part of it all. That is if Ms. Moscoso doesn't kick us out first.

I now live in an area of Colón which I believe will be the center of relocation for many of the displaced campesinos. TRIPLE-C is due to arrive in our community in February, this summer this month we will be receiving a solar-powered computer with internet access for the school (an internationally funded program), the Ministerio de Salud arrived this week to tell us how to apply for funding (from international funds) for a new aqueduct system with a pump and the works. Our road is on the list to be repaired this summer by MOP (a 10,000 proposal for an area of only a few hundred pople). My neighbors tell me they had never seen a government reprentative in their community before I arrived. I believe they are all somewhat releived to see that assistance is finally arriving, but it seems to me it comes as a double-edged sword. It comes in preparation of those who are going to be relocated from the flooding. TRIPLE-C will come in and promise them a title for 15 Ha of their land, the rest of their sweat and toil they will have to turn over to their new neighbors. They will come in and show them new ways of farming and living because in 10 years they will be part of the Canal Zone and will have to change their ways of living by law. My neighbors tell me now how the land is tired, how it doesn't produce rice and corn like it used to, how they are giving the land fewer and fewer years to rest in between slashing and burning. Now the government and the international community is going to take away land causing more people to live on less, all of whom will have to learn to farm in completely new ways in 10 years or less. All (COSing) PCVs know how realistic that is. Or does this be goodbye to the wilds of the Darién and hello to the Calcutta slums of Panamá?

This is beginning to sound apocalyptic. Panamá has become un pueblo para el mundo, not just for Panamá. With all these internationally funded programs arriving it is clear that the globe is willing to pay to keep the canal up and running and to pay to enlarge it to meet the demands of the growing world population. It is also clear that Panamá and the world are willing to sacrifice the lifestyle, culture and history of 8,000 plus of its' own people to make that wish a reality.

But let's take a step back and take a look at the state of Panamá today outside of the canal.

La Vaina "May we do justice to the trees that died for these pages" February/March 2000

Triple C (pg.4)

Panamá is a country of relative wealth, despite its' "third world" status. Mercedes Benzes and SUVs crowd the streets of the cities and motor through the country on well paved highways. There are buses and chivas that run to all major centers of population and then some. Potable water and literacy rates are relatively high. On the other hand children with bloated stomachs due to malnutrition and parasites are a common site, children in Colón play in drainage ditches flowing with human excrement, on a good day Panamá city reeks with the stench of open sewage canals draining into the bay of Patilla, trash flows through the streets of the cities like rivers and fills the corners of every community in the country. Campesinos poision themselves with 3-day old meat due to lack of proper refrigeration Solutions abound to these problems. Humanity has come up with so many alternatives to to these conditions that it is hard to decide which to choose. Even so, Panamá, a government with no frivolous military expenses, and its new sovernity has decided to spend its' money on flooding people out of their homes and loosing valuable natural resources in the name of progress and growth?? The world has closed its eyes, we have sentenced ourselves to blindness. We have turned our back on our livelyhood which is the earth and given it a new name- progress. Why does no one see this connection? We have become lost, afraid, closed. Progress now takes a precident over everything, even LIFE.

What disturbs me the most is how distorted the pure and saving idea of sustainable living has become in all this. If Panamá was truly concerned with sustainable development we would be praising their efforts to provide truly sustainable alternatives to the "water problem." Solar water purifies for one water catchment systems to name another. In a land where it rains more than 3000mm per year why are we talking about water problems? And hydroelectricity? A system which kills rivers turning them into less than irrigation ditches, that destroys the habitat of fish, crawdads, raccoons, manatees, iguanas,etc, takes away the livlihood of families and the playground of children.Whose idea of sustainability is that? What happened to solar energy, wind energy? Renewable and undepleated sources of energy? When will this maddness end? When is enough enough? How many countries do we have to flood before we open our eyes and see we have gone to far? I never asked to live in a world like this and I refuse to see it slowly buried in greed and selfishness. So what can be done to change the course of things? To start - questioning technology, this thing we have let become omnicent, all powerful, something that always was and always will be. As Jerry Mader suggests in the Absence of the Sacred, it is not a question of how we use the technology but should we be using it at all. Before we begin to use it we need to decide if the benefits outweigh the harm it may cause our one and only world.

Instead of talking about alternatives to flooding Panamá, lets talk about curbing the growth and consumption that neccessitates a Canal in the first place. The growth that necessitiates 37 football-field sized ships carrying cars, oil, electronics and lumber around the world and back again.

Let's open our eyes and our hearts to the real state of things and put humanity before progress where it once was and where it still belongs.

Pero que sé yo...Chris

La Vaina lavainaPCPF@pa.peacecorps.gov February-March 2000