At last, HAPPY HOUSEWARMING! During my time in the city for the lesch escapade, my host dad and architect put the finishing touches onto my little jungle “chosa”, including a small walled-in bedroom addition and a little table. Traditionally, Embera houses don’t have walls, and families eat meals cross–legged on the floor without tables or chairs. Needless to say, I was incredibly touched to come home to such a surprise.

I was able to persuade my boss to use his site check-up as a move-in opportunity. I brought a double mattress, an oven and a stove 45 minutes upriver and into the jungle by canoe. He called me “ye-ye” (Panamanian slang for comfort and luxury), but I don’t much mind. Little comforts, like a real mattress and an oven in which to bake cookies, will make me the happiest little gringita in the jungle.

My welcome home also coincided with my first full-body jaguar paint! Below is my picture. I think it’s pretty spectacular. Unfortunately, I agreed to the painting without remembering I had to go into Panama City the very next day. I was quite the spectacle. I caught many perplexed stares, commentaries from wide-eyed kids (“Mira la gringa, mama!”), and I also noted that as I sat on the bus one man shifted away from me for fear I would rub off on his nice, white button-down. Yeah, definitely “bien pintada.” But to anyone outside of my village, “bien ridículo.” Que va!

Back to work! I started back up with my English classes after my medical time-out. Three weeks in the city left me with a good amount of time to lesson plan, and I came back energized with new ideas and handouts. I was impressed by my adult students’ enthusiasm in starting back up, and I was so proud at their retention of our first three months’ lessons.

Luckily, I was able to meet with IPACOOP (the Panamanian agency that supports cooperatives) frequently during my stay in the city. We just put the finishing touches on our feasibility study, and it should be ready for submission next week (end of November). Fingers crossed that all goes well. After we find out if we’re approved, it will be a long process of trainings and implementation. Cooperatives must work very transparently, and submit reports and financial statement to IPACOOP. I’m excited to be involved in this (that’s my inner analytical finance geek talking), but I’m also very worried about my community infrastructure. Our tourism group leaders (including our treasurer) are smart and incredibly hard workers, but most have not gone beyond the 6th grade and have never been given the skills needed to run a business. IPACOOP will provide trainings to new cooperatives, but I hope that we can devise a good system internally for making sense of our operations and money. Currently, I’m fervently exploring options for a community laptop, as there’s a good amount of money that moves from tourism in this little village and it would be such an asset in improving the ease and transparency of their day-to-day book keeping and record retention.

Another huge issue that we’re making headway on: cost analysis and pricing. In the past, prices have been rather arbitrarily set. They also haven’t been raised in sync with the rising cost of gasoline (about 60% of the cost to get to our little jungle village). In late September, myself and our tourism president attended a Peace Corps tourism seminar in Bocas del Toro, arranged by my boss (see pictures below!) It was a fantastic experience for all of our community members; my counterpart asked my boss to come to our village and give a similar seminar to all Embera communities in the canal area. On November 13th, Pablo came to the community and put on a fabulous seminar, focusing on cost analysis and determining appropriate pricing. He also did a fantastic section on group work and leadership. All of the canal communities are currently working on creating new tariffs, and we hope to present to tour agencies before this coming year.

LESCHMANIASIS

No Peace Corps experience would be complete without a crazy, tropical disease, right?

3 months into service, and I’ve got mine. I have Leschmaniasis, a parasitic infection transmitted by sand flies, which manifests itself in big, ugly open ulcerations on the skin. I can remember when the little bugger bit me, and I few weeks later my itch turned into a big red sore on my inner upper arm. Gross. At first, our Peace Corps doctor was optimistic, and sent me back to site with topical crèmes and antibiotics. Then when it didn’t go away, she sent me to a dermatologist to be biopsied. The doc shot me with anithesia, cut a little piece out of the sore (real creepy) and put it in a bottle. A few days later I had my answer: LESCH.

My community cures leschmaniasis, like all health problems, with plants. When I began to ask around the village about the sore on my arm, everyone proudly showed me their own leschmaniasis scars on their legs, arms and face. Needless to say, this being an everyday occurrence in my village made it quite difficult to explain to everyone why I had to go into the city for PC mandated, Western medicine.

Now I’m in Panama City, wishing I had been more receptive to plants in lieu of needles. My treatment is 20 straight days of Glutamine IVs. It’s not bad, I just don’t much like being pricked with needles on a regular basis (and who does, right?) But besides constantly having an IV strapped to the back of my hand, being here in Panama City is somewhat of a vacation. I’m enjoying the indoor plumbing, electricity and internet. Luckily, there’s been some PC volunteers trekking through the city for regional meetings and medical checkups, so I’ve had good company. And I’ve actually even managed to make some new friends by bumming around the cities cafes.

While I’m in the city, I would love the chance to catch up with as many friends and family as possible. I am reachable on my cell (a huge plus versus my community phone where it can be rather difficult to communicate with and/or entice small children to come find me), so I hope to do some catching up with many of you!

HOME SWEET HUT

Amy’s HOME SWEET HUT is just about done! A few weeks back, my community organized a big 2-day junta, and we cut just about everything needed for construction. On Day 1 we cut penca (the palm leaves that make up the roof), and on Day 2 we cut the jira (wood from a certain tree here that makes for a strong, yet very flexible floor).

So I don’t know much about constructing houses or huts, but I do know how to throw a party. And nothing makes people work with more “animo” than food and booze. To feed everyone, I bought 12 GIANT chickens to make Panama’s traditional dish, sanchocho (which is more or less a glorified chicken soup). Luckily, I well overbought, so men, women and children were all able to eat.

As much as I had enjoyed going to the mountain to cut the frame of my house, for the junta I stayed at home with the ladies. There’s only so much defying of gender roles an American gal can do here in rural Panama. But what an experience my days in the kitchen were! At first, I was very timid in the kitchen. Anyone who knows me well can vouch that a combination of my impatience and love for dining out has always kept me from really learning how to operate a stove or oven. But the ladies of Embera Drua were fantastic teachers, and I think they had a lot of fun telling me what to do. In a few days, they had me slicing and dicing chicken carcasses and even cooking over a fogon. Not sure if either of these skills will be of use in downtown Chicago, but now I sure know how to cook for a small army in the jungle.

As you can see from the photos, the junta was a great time. I did have some frustrations with some of the muchachos of my community drinking too much and conveintently disappearing when the booze was gone and it was time to hoist the pencas and put the roof together (note my rather unamused face in one of the shots below). But all in all, it was such a great experience to watch my community all work together to accomplish something. I nearly cried on the morning of Day 2 of the junta. I came out of the house from counting nails, and saw my host dad AND mom, in the rain, aligning penca to finish off my roof, and I got all teary. It was then that I realized just how much I love this little village.

The house should be all finished off this coming week! My architect (as I like to call him), fell very ill for a bit and we held off on finishing touches. I still don’t know quite what ailed him; he’s afraid of hospitals and our traditional medicine man thinks he just has “viento,” or gas. Regardless, he’s now doing quite well and all that’s left to do is close in a little room for me to sleep in. I can’t wait. As much as I love my host family and love living with them, I’m a grown woman used to living alone, and I need my space. That, and I’m so ready to cook for myself (I’ve had about all the fish and plantains I can stomach), and I can’t wait to decorate. Jungle motif, perhaps? ;)

First pasos...my pile of wood, first cut, framing out the house, and proof that Embera have incredible balancing abilities...

A couple of my favorite workers take a rest :)

Making sancocho with the ladies, and serving it up to the hungry gente!

Carrying palms STRAIGHT uphill for my roof!

Yup, that's me! Hard at work, hoisting penca :)

Embera roofs are put together bottom-up, and then you've got to slide your way down!

Junta fun!

At last....HOME SWEET HUT! My architect Auristo, me, and my host dad Adan.

RELIGON

I have single handedly witnessed all that is wrong with organized religion. I debated long and hard on whether to post this entry, but eventually decided I'd ¨go to post¨ with my thoughts on one of my most difficult experiences thus far in site.

Our community church, set high at the top of the village hill, was recently donated by an elderly gospel preacher from Oklahoma. This preacher has been coming to my community for nearly 20 years, trying to convert the Embera people into good Christians.

Not too long ago, this preacher paid us a visit to look after the church and give a guest sermon. Our of respect for our visitor, and as my host father sings at church services, I attended his service. After several songs and dances, our American guest gave his sermon (through the help of a translator). The sermon was full of the expected evangelical “do nots”: do not smoke, do not drink, do not have pre-marital sex. But this sermon also fervently condemned bodily exposure, repeatedly stating the shame in exposing our skin. Shocked, I thought, how ridiculously out of context is this sermon is in a culture where women do not wear shirts and traditional menswear is loin clothes. I looked around, and noticed that all those Embera in attendance at the sermon had put on shirts and long skirts, and listened to the preacher with heads bowed to the ground.

Frustrated and confused (I actually had to leave mid-sermon), the next day I spoke with my friend Andrea in the community. She explained that this preacher constantly tells community members, especially women, to cover their bodies, and that when she’s painted with the traditional Embera “jagua” (paint) he tells her that she’s ugly and God does not love her.

Good Lord. Does this man, who claims he loves the Indians so, have any regard or respect for their culture? I don’t care your religion or your personal beliefs- how can you spend time amongst a culture as beautiful and natural as the Embera, and tell them to cover who they are? And after a 20 year history visiting our little village, shouldn't this man know that these practices rob them not only of their identity but also of the economic substance on which they now successfully self-sustain; by covering their bodies, their tradition and their culture, they lose the very ESSENCE of who they are, and further, that unique people who tourists from around the world pay to see. Ridiculous. Ignorant. Sad.

Thankfully, our little church is a source of inspiration for so many community members. For one family, it embodies hope for eventual release after years of family sickness; for my host dad (previously an alcoholic), a steady reminder of faith in his own abilities and in something bigger than him to pull through his tougher times. Beautiful, and all that relgion should be. But how sad that all this good has to come in a package as ignorant as this gospel preacher from Oklahoma? Because what good is this hope, and this “Dios” that they’ve come to know from this revered white man, if it makes them feel so bad about their culture and who they are as a people?

The reality of this relationship breaks my heart. And amidst my own struggle with God and what faith means to me, I clearly don’t have the answers to this complex intertwining of religion, culture and human beings. But someone I hope that in growing closer to my community that I can help rekindle the cultural pride and self-confidence that so many have lost at the expense of this gospel message. Recently, some visitors to our community explained to the village their idea of a just God who loves ALL people. When people recount their visit to me, I see such relief in their faces as their shame fades away, and it nearly brings tears to my eyes.

My community, and all Embera people, hold such a deep connection to their family, culture and ancestors. It is a relationship that continues to amaze me the more time I spend here. I dearly hope that amidst these changing times, and moving forward in their years, that they can protect their beautiful cultural identity, sense of community, and sense of sense.

About a month in-site, work is really starting to take off! Just 2 weeks ago, I began my English classes. From Monday- Friday, I teach 3 different classes: Level 2 for those with some (although limited) knowledge of the English language (mostly self taught!), and Level 1 for women and Level 1 for men (so that the kiddies are never home alone). So far, it has been a fantastic experience. I never would have thought I’d enjoy teaching so much. The first few classes were a bit shaky, with my 40 plus students starting right at me, propped forward in their seats with shiny new notebooks open, eager to learn. Intimidating? Yes. But now I love the energy of the classroom; it allows me to share my love of languages with others interested. I love the concentrated stares on my students’ faces as they struggle with English sounds, and the look of complete satisfaction when they can finally wrap their tongue around the funny new words. My heart just melts every time I go to the river in the morning to bathe, and kids greet me in a dozen little voices with “Good morning, teacher!” And I seriously think I teared up the other day when I hear our boat captain confidently ask a tourist “Where are you from, sir?”

It’s still incredibly early in my service, but I am absolutely amazed by the perseverance of my community members. Most of my students haven’t even made it to 6th grade. And Embera is everyone's first language, so most people barely even understand the workings of Spanish.

Other than teaching, I have been keeping busy with other projects. Our tourism group is currently in the midst of forming a cooperative, so I’ve been meeting often with the government co-op agency, as well as a professor from a local university who’s volunteering his time to put together a feasibility study for us. Our treasurer has given me his archives from the past year, and I have been sorting through our incomes and expenses. I’m impressed, with just a pencil, paper and basic 10-key calculator, our treasurer does a darn good job. But we’re hoping that in the near future, from various inquires to NGOs, we’ll eventually be able to secure a computer. This would be fantastic. Not only would make our co-op’s accounting so much easier, but those few, strong-willed students who continue their studies past 6th grade could have access to the programs as well.

What else? Ah! Construction on Amy’s jungle hut is nearing. The past week was a full moon, therefore a good time to cut materials, bug-free. As all the men in the community were going up river to do some cutting, I felt I had to try my hand as well. Heck, I wasn’t going to sit on my “trasero” while the rest of the world was working on MY house. Most of the women in the village thought I was nuts, but I set out on a cutting trip the other day. And it was great! I live in a National Park, so the primary jungle that surrounds us is absolutely picturesque. I did have one HUGE scare though, when all the men had me absolutely CONVINCED that a far off brustling in the trees meant a tiger (yes, tiger) was nearing. I nearly wet my pants. And after catching my breath, yelled fiercely in the only Embera I know. Another reminder of my trip: the mountain is STRAIGHT UPHILL, and 3 days later, my body is still aching in ways it’s never ached in all my years of sports and physical activities. But we proudly came back with 2 “palos” for the cross section of my roof, and I couldn’t be happier. In just a few weeks, when all materials are collected, a construction “junta” should follow. I can’t wait.

Below are some pictures from community life: my mother and I at home making some chicha de maíz (corn drink) and fishing up river with my host family.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

I was incredibly hesitant to take my beloved laptop out of hiding, but I think the benefits of my journaling thoughts, experiences and emotions far outweigh any surprise that my host family may have of an over-connected “gringa” living amongst them. It’s now a huge relief to be able to chronicle freely, what I’ve been doing and thinking since I first arrived in Embera Drua.

My site visit a few weeks back was fabulous. Yes, the jungle stills scares me. But I’m very influenced by first impressions and that has been fantastic; I can’t even explain how welcomed I felt in my first week here. My first canoe ride up the Chagres River and to my community intimidated me (it was also storming, and the canoe shook wildly as the men pushed our way upriver). The other community members laughed at my nervousness the whole way up. Finally, we rounded the last curve of the river, and I saw the community for the first time. Embera Drua is positioned high up on a hill over the river, its little thatched huts peering down over the edge. Carrying my luggage, the men in the boat led me up the steep mud staircase, across the open cuadro and to my host family’s house. Before I had even set my bags down, I was greeted by my host dad, Adan. He’s an older gentlemen, with a perpetual ear-to- ear grin that shows off a mouthful of gold teeth. He immediately pulled a plastic chair across the palm wooded floors and instructed me to be sit down beside him. Sonia, my host mother, curled up in a chair beside him. They proceeded to discharge a laundry list of questions, not the intrusive kind, but of the welcoming “can’t wait to get to know you” nature. I instantly knew I would like living in their house.

I now share a bedroom with Adan and Sonia’s two teenage daughters, Yamileth and Yarisel. They’re lovely. And I feel incredibly lucky to have a host family that actually has an enclosed room, as most Embera houses are simple, one room huts. All my meals are now with my host family, which usually consist of some version of fried fish from the river and sliced, squashed and fried plantains called patacones. I pay my rent to my host family in food instead of money; when I first arrived I brought with me some staples that are harder to find in the river and jungle: rice, oil, lentils. I also keep a stash of granola bars at all times, for “emergencies” as I call them, but really just relief from grease overload.

My community seems thrilled to have a Peace Corps volunteer. On the second day of my site visit, our chief (Noko) introduced me at a community meeting, and then himself and various members of the tourism board explained how long they’ve waited for a volunteer and how much work there is to be done. First and foremost, they’re incredibly enthusiastic about learning English, as they have boatloads of tourists, mostly from North America and Europe, arriving each day. Additionally, the community has many different tourism projects in mind and even underway; examples include an artisanry cooperative, use of a newly donated computer for accounting, and even a solar panel project. Everywhere I’ve gone my first few weeks here, someone is bringing up another different community needs and/or project ideas. Although a bit overwhelming (how many of these are actually feasible/needed/or even real), I’m so thankful there’s such strong work ethic and forward-thinking in my community.

Highlights of my site visit included:

-Helping my host family to unload a canoe full of supplies to stock their small, community store. It was storming (yet again), and my host father parked his canoe at the point in the river with the steepest incline up to the community. And my host father gave ME the large carton of eggs to carry. Seriously, was this a joke, or some kind of test to see if I could really be their adoptive daughter? I made it safely, but my host mother watched me teeter on the way up, and followed directly behind me, a box of oil over her head, making sure I didn’t fall back down.

- A visit up the mountain, with host brother Joel and host cousin Johnny, to learn where the villagers usually can catch cell phone signal. After a half-hour uphill trek, muddy from the rain (and stupidly attempted in Reef sandals), I began to check my messages. No sooner had I begun, when I hear this deep, vibrating hooting all around me, which nearly knocks me back down the monte. Yes, there I was, checking my messages amongst the mountain monkeys. I quickly finished, and attempted to head back down the monte, but my Reef sandal slid straight ahead of me in the mud, carrying my legs straight forward and sending me down the monte on my back. Joel and Johnny lingered up at the top of the hill, dying of laughter. When we arrived back to the village, Johnny has to tell EVERYONE about how the “gringa got scared and fell down the monte.” (Note: Instead, I now catch a boat down to the port to check messages, or if it’s sunny I can sit on the aqueduct’s water tanks, tilt my head to the side a bit, and SOMETIMES catch a bar or two).

-Bathing in the river when the aqueduct dried up (which happens a WHOLE lot). Funny that when my host mom first told me there wasn’t water, I just about died. I asked where I could bathe, and she pointed "pa 'alla" and down the river. But after making my way down that muddy staircase, and then down onto the sandy beach and the perfectly calm, undisturbed river, I realized I was in my own, private National Geographic special. And bathing in the river is a fantastic excuse for an early morning swim. Until the tourist boats show up, that is. From then on, I prefer faucets and water jugs.


Below are some photos from my community, including my counterpart, Johnson, the head of the tourism group, our chief, some women traditional dancing, and some little Embera wera (girls).

SWEARING IN

As of this past Thursday, I am officially a Peace Corps volunteer! Our swearing-in ceremony was fantastic. This year was the 45th anniversary of Peace Corps Panama, so our swear-in was a very formal and festive occasion at the ambassador’s residence in Panama City. Over 80 returned Peace Corps volunteers flew in for the ceremony, including those who served when Peace Corps first entered Panama in the 60s. It was incredibly exciting and inspiring to meet with returned volunteers. Many even brought their spouses and children with them on their trip and traveled back to the site they worked at over 40 years ago. The Worldwide Director of Peace Corps, Ronald Tschetter, came to the ceremony as well. It was such a special occasion, and I think all of us swearing-in were re-motivated and inspired from the energy of the event.

Below are some pictures from Swear-In: myself and some fellow TEA-ers, Ron Tschetter, and various shots from the ceremony. I gave the speech on behalf of the Tourism and English Advising group. It was a huge honor, and although intimidating to follow the speeches of the ambassador and Worldwide Director, I think it went really well.

CULTURE AND TECH WEEKS

Culture and Tech weeks have left me little time for internet, but I’m finally back up and running.

Our Culture week was at the Embera Village of Parara Puru. Coincidentally, this community is only about 20 minutes down the Chagres River from Embera Drua, the site where I will soon be moving! I can’t tell you how hard it was to spend the entire week, at just a short canoe’s distance away from my future home. Numerous times I considered bribing someone to take me upriver to check it out :)

Myself and two other aspirants spent the week with a current Community and Economic Development (CED) volunteer, Deborah, who is working in tourism development. There we spent the entire week learning and exploring all aspects of Embera Culture. We learned traditional dances, basket weaving, coco bolo carving and even how to prepare a traditional Embera meal of fish and plantains. And each day we also had four hours of Embera language training. I’m still finding Embera rather difficult. Correct pronunciation is quite nasal, and my being such a visual learner, I’m finding it rather difficult to a mostly spoken (not written) language.

I absolutely loved my experience in the Embera community. Admittedly, when I was first introduced to the Embera culture, I was incredibly hesitant as to if I could adapt into a culture so distinct from Western cultures: palm thatched huts, traditional (and often scarce) clothing, and a new dialect entirely different from a Romance language. But the Embera are such warm, fun-loving people that I'm slowly finding myself feeling right at home amongst them. And after spending culture week in an Embera village, I'm completelymesmorized by their art, music and way of life. It's truly reminiscent of a time when people just lived a lot simpler.

Below are pictures from the Parara Puru: Deborah's (tree) house, and myself and 2 other PCVs learning all things Embera: from traditional dances and music instruments to coco bolo carvings and fish scaling.

Our technical week was spent at Isla Canas, an island off the Pacific coast of Panama’s Azuero peninsula. There we visited a volunteer who is working in ecotourism surrounding the many species of sea turtles who visit the island’s beaches. During the week we put on a tourism workshop (taller) for all community members involved in tourism endeavors. This included everyone from families willing to rent rooms in their houses to sea turtle tour guides. By the end of the workshop, we were able to put together a basic, but comprehensive, brochure of tourism information pertaining to her island. I think the community was very impressed by their finished product, and I think this project really served as a good learning example for our group.
Below are some pictures from the week: the workshops, teaching in the schools, and even the beach and sea turtles!

Also below are some shots from our Cross Sectorial training (translation: TEA does Agriculture and Environental Health training!) Here's some shots of me swinging a machete, gardening and playing on an acqeduct:

It was also my 25th birthday just last week! After our morning tech session, the TEA group surprised me with a cake and piñata (in traditional Panamanian fashion). It was so thoughtful of them, and it really made it feel like my birthday even away from home. At night, the kids who live next door to my host family made me a cake (complete with icing spelling out "Feliz Cumpleanos Eimi, which is how they spell my name). They then proceeded to organize a "tipico" dance party on their porch. As you can see from the pictures below, these kids know how to have a good time :)

After my second cake (and tipico warm-up), I went to our town’s baile to hear a tipico band called Las Plumas Negras with some other PCV aspirantes. It was a blast! As of yet, I still haven’t really taken to traditional Panamanian "tipico" music. I find it a bit redundant and circus-esque. But who knows, I felt the same way about reggaeton when I moved to Puerto Rico, so perhaps there’s still hope!

The last few pics are from some between training weekends away with other PCVs. The first is of a beautiful beach, Santa Clara, on the Pacific Coast, and the last two are from El Valle. El Valle is a mountain town known for its hot springs (note my mud mask!) and its beautiful hiking and riding trails.