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).
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