Lost in the Woods

I’ve decided that I never want to be lost in the woods again. When I say the word “woods”, I actually need to correct myself. Woods are in New England, Michigan too, maybe even in parts of Delaware. Fresh, clean, wooded. Area on the ground to put your feet. That is not the case in Panama. Aqui, we live in the jungle, dark and dense and unfortunately possible to get bizarrely lost in.

This is my story.

I left the large, somewhat densely populated town of Kusapin to hike to Punta Valiente. A simple, up the mountain down the mountain 2 hour trek I’ve navigated before. There was no fear in my eyes leaving Kusapin, “I know this terrain.” I got there in good time, at about 2:15, drank some water and asked for directions to Punta Allegre, the closer town to where I live and could hitch a boat ride across the bay home. The people told me “over there”, ok I thought, a normal response from Ngobes.

The school teacher lead my towards the trail mumbling something in dialect to a young, curious girl who was headed in the same direction. We made it down to the creek where some women were washing laundry. Typical. At no point in this journey had I felt questionable about the next three house that were about to depart.

The path I was looking upon was a direct staircase up the side of a mountain. I thought it was a hill. It was not. It was a large mountain. I knew this when after an hour straight uphill climbing I had not arrived at my destination of Punta Allegre, a town a bit down the coast that the people of Valiente had told me was a 30 minute walk, direct.

“No big deal, I can handle it.” The area that was supposedly the trail cleared into an area that was obviously used for house building wood. “So I’m on the right track, I just walked through a lumber yard”, this is not not normal out there on the peninsula. The trail went down, I went down, the trial went up, I crawled up.

Finally the trial diverted. Up, was an overgrown mess of a trail that looked like no human foot had touched it in a deathly amount of time. The other half of the trail severely drifted to the right towards the ocean, and down. “Well that makes perfect sense now doesn’t it”, the trail in my mind then couldn’t be going anywhere but Allegre. So down I went.

Ngobes like to swing there machetes as they walk down paths in a dreamlike sequence that clear the way of ungodly items likes vines or brush that tangle the path from their forward moving bare feet. I agree with this strategy, and moved forward with the rusty blade that still seemed to cut at least half of the underbrush that was beneath me.

It was only until about 15 minutes below the divide that I realized I was no longer cleaning a trail but cutting my own. No good. This is where I should have turned back, but believing that I was in no danger what so ever and stubborn enough that I believed the trial would reappear, I made the decision to continue down the valley towards the river cause I was parched, and had ran out of water way before.

Not even five steps down, the ground beneath my feet fell and I went down with it about 10 feet in a mini landslide in rocky, loose dirt, that was impossible to recourse. “Welllll shit!”, I attempted to climb back up to the quasi-trial I had slide down, but the dirt was so lose and the area lacked anything significant to hang on to. It was a feat far too grand to achieve with a thirsty throat and an attitude that rejected turning back. “Whatever.” I’ll go down to the creek, drink what I need to drink, and the trail will become obvious.

When I got down there it was obviously the wrong choice. With no way back up, and nothing but a creek guiding my path I stared to cut my way down the valley in attempts to make it to the ocean and stroll along the beach to Allegre. After 20 minutes I had made it through jungle so dense I may as well have walked across my kitchen floor. I started to get nervous.

Machete flying, I came across a waterfall that was a good 30 foot drop into the jungle, with a rock covered crevasse of a landing pad. “So I can’t climb down it, and it’s sheer on the right side, may as well crawl across the vine coved slope on the left”. About ten feet out on the horizontal slope, ants biting and crawling up my arm I grabbed onto a less than attached branch that snapped and sent me tumbling a good 20 feet in the muddy dirt, landing on a log that was barely hanging onto two boulders atop the creek. I held my own breath until I found root that was actually rooted, pulled myself up to safety and then blessed myself while I welled up in tears.

The waterfall was above me, I was back down to the creek, and not in a good mood. The next part of this lil adventure of mine got really viney. There were times I had to swing my machete 20 times to take one step forward; the jungle was that thick. After another 30 minutes or so, I saw up on the left side of the valley a 150 foot landslide remnant, sealing the deal on the idea that this area got wrecked last November when we were flooded and evacuated.

The next part, and only way down, was to climb up onto a fallen tree. Now, this tree was at least 75 feet tall when it was alive and standing and now in its entire 8 foot diameter glory lay across the river as a bridge. I jumped from a rock onto the tree landing on my stomach and crushing the Ski sunglasses Dad used to wear in Killington. I got really mad, and then left the busted trinket on the huge tree.

Then I walked down it about 30 feet until I could lower myself back down to the water. At this point I had thought I would have been at the ocean an hour ago, I was tired, hungry and my bare feet hurt so much that my knees were buckling every time I took a step onto the rocks of the creek. Walking in sort of a delirium kinda made it all ok. As long as I didn’t come across a snake I would be fine. And I think the whole situation would have been worse if someone was with me, besides God of course. With a friend, we would have turned back way before the first semi landslide never getting that far into the jungle to begin with. If we hadn’t, we would have been freaking each other out the whole time, and possible being in more danger.

By myself, I was moving slowly but carefully, and steadily. I wasn’t thinking about anything but following the creek and not worrying about “what ifs”. Simple fight or flight. I fought and kept moving out of the jungle towards the ocean. Even trying to remember all the events that went on in those three hours is hard to remember because my mind was in a cloud from exhaustion and nerves. It was really only three hours but felt like days.

Then I saw it, a coconut tree! I reached the beach! On more little hill to pull myself up over, shifty dirt and all, and I would be there. Wrong-O. At the top of the hill I had reached the ocean, but not a beach, a 40 foot cliff drop into the water was in my way. Soooooo off I went to the left, following the cliff line until I found another landslide area that I could scoot down, kinda like sliding down a sand dune. Finally at the ocean.

I walked for another 30 minutes in the water. There was no beach, just rocks, and my feet were killing me while the sea lice made me itch from the knees down. It was slow progress. I had to scale across a rock face around a point that was too deep to walk. I didn’t want to swim because I had my camera and other important things in my bag. Unfortunately, cause of my trip to Tobobe the day before, my camera had no batteries! So I couldn’t document this wretched journey once I realized I was in the thick of it.

I made it back to the second part of the beach walk and there was finally some soft sand for my achy feet. I hit the next rock face and realized it was impassable, too sheer and too dangerous. Then I really started to cry because I had only about an hour left of light and I realized I’d have to go back into the jungle and cut another path since I couldn’t stay on the coast. I started to walk into the forest when I heard a boat motor!

Running to the beach screaming “Ayudame!” (help me!), the boat driver, and my buddy Ronhelio, saw my waving machete and pulled a U-ie. I flopped into his boat and he crossed the bay bringing me home, and listening to my tale. I hit my beach and couldn’t be happier to be home. It was almost 6pm and I had left Kusapin at 12:30pm.

I got a lecture from my neighbors about walking alone. They were all really upset with me after I told them the story and said that there are a ton of dangerous snakes up there in the mountain. The scary part, well one of the many, is that my neighbor told me the trail I was originally on, was not a trial for the people to pass through from one town to the next, but instead it was a trial that the men used to hunt wild boar! “Great.” So the people in Valiente sent me on the wrong path. A bruha then confused me and lead me down an even wronger path. But since I was walking with God and due to the fact that “I’m guided by a force much greater than luck”, I made it out, says my trusted neighbor friend.

Apparently there was a beach trial that does only take 30 minutes, only the sent me up the mountain and into the jungle. I’m not going back to that town.

Now, I don’t want you all to be mad or scared for me after reading this. Nothing happened on purpose. I really thought that the trail was gonna end soon, and lead me right to the town. And, people from my community use these trials all the time, regularly. The commute I was making was nothing different than the normal hike to the big city for a Ngobe. It was a series of unfortunate events that lead me astray, but eventually to safety.

After this, I have no desire whatsoever to take trials without a guide. It’s not worth it. The entire time throughout my hike I was gritaring, or yelling for another person, and there was no response. A sprained ankle, twisted knee, or worse, and I would have spent the night in the woods. I honestly don’t know what would have happened if a snake had bit me. I think you have like 6 hours or something to get the antivenom, and that’s if you can walk to get to a boat to take you to a hospital. Not cool.

But it all ended well. A friend of mine who’s been in Peace Corps for 3 years says that this tale is maybe one of the top three he’s heard in his time here. It was scary, and I thank God I made it out.

I never want to do it again, but it was a hell of a journey.

So this is what i'm thinking....

Tomorrow a group of 5 engineers, a TA, the program director and 3 PCVs come out to my site for the Michigan Tech International Senior Design Program. I’m thrilled to work with the students for a week assessing and talking about what can be done in Punta Sirain to improve the quality of life. I’m lucky to be a part of this project and my community feels even luckier.

The students will be sleeping with host families and eating typical Ngobe food. I think this will be somewhat of a challenge for them, as it was with my parents, but it should be a blast too.

Last Thursday I went up to Kusapin for a goodbye party Johanna hosted for her English class once it ended. It was such a good time! Johann, Jamie, and our new addition to the peninsula family Audrey and I were all there with the English students, whom in this case were Panama high school teachers in the school up there. Even almost a year in, I still love my trips up to the capital of Kusapin to hang with the other girls, in what we jokingly call the sorority house, since it is a bunch of chicks up here!

In October hopefully we’re getting another EH volunteer. I’m really excited about this, to have a person in my group out there to work with. Since my sector is a lot different from the tourism sector, the group the other 3 girls are in, it’ll be nice to have some sanitation input on our side of the bay.

The community of the new volunteer has requested a guy, but in sort of an obnoxious way. They want a guy so he can play baseball with them, go fishing, work in the finca, and physically carry out the construction process of the EH sector work. I almost want to cry since even though I am completely capable of these activities, the gender roles of Ngobes still puts men over women. The other day a good friend of mine in the community even told me she wished I had been a guy so that I could actually do something to help them. Even though I’m able to prove myself to them with these tasks, it’s like they don’t accept that I’m doing them. This is the sort of thing I’ll never change, none of us women will, and we have to deal with it. Hear them complaining and hearing even the women telling me what I can and cannot do, REGUARDLESS of what I’ve shown them I can do, is the most frustrating.

I responded to this with some harsh words explaining that men and women are equal in the states, and my women here don’t know what they’re missing. It doesn’t matter to me if we get a girl or a guy, as long as the new volunteer loves surf sand and adventure and has passion for the ocean. In one sense I hope its girl to piss them off. But we can’t be like that. We have to just be strong and take the Ngobe gender roles with a grain of salt….. They call this the developing world for a reason.

Work related, I got in touch with a local agency to build rainwater tanks in the schools without running water on the peninsula. Right now our goal is to construct the 1000 gallon tanks in three schools. Could it be that I might have something to show for myself at the end of year one??? That is, besides choreographed dance routines, a killer tan, and a superior ability to braid hair?

In all seriousness though, I think I’m on the right track. Tim Allan and I got a lot of surveying done in July, before the Caymans, and I almost have all the information I need to so some prelim pump design. As much as these people want this “said aqueduct”, and as much as I’m humoring them by going though the design legwork, I’m really hoping they see the light with rainwater collection once we get the school’s tanks up and running. Only time will tell.

As for the latrines, you guessed it, not one is in use yet, and unfortunately I see it staying that way. A combination of ignorance, cultural norms, laziness, thinking they’re dirty, what have you, they have come up with excuses why they don’t want to poop in the concrete block. I’m almost bored of asking.

Tomorrow I will have lived in Panama as a Peace Corps volunteer for a full year. Freaking scary. Time is flying but I’m having a great time. Time of my life? Those of you who know me well, know that I’m almost always smiling and having fun, so to think that these will be the best two years is an understatement….they’re all good years to me, each in their own way. Knowing that, I’m in no way ready to leave. I have a lot more to do here, and a lot more to experience here.

But I’m coming home f or Christmas so get excited.

Amanda and Niki were down in July before Caymans. A breath of fresh air. Friends are amazing. I love the people in my life but nothing compares to friends from home and college and of course family. We had a ball spending time together and parading around Panama. Their visit, and seeing my fam in the Caymans, gives me the strength to push forward, dealing with the idiosyncrasies of my community and pushing for projects and development I know I’m capable of making happen.

M.I.A. Paper Planes Panama Ngobe Version

this is what we call cultural exchange

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLiocjLm0YE

A joke, meds, and final notes

Today in site I understood a joke in Spanish. This is huge.

Pedro, had on a printed tee. One you might find for $7.99 at old Navy . It read ….
Expert
Experience
Trust
BLUE

While hanging around the store, Manuel, Pedro’s buddy, asked me what yhe shirt said since they don’t understand English….so I translated….

Expert = Profesional (with an accent)
Experience = Experiencia
Trust = (shit, I forget the word for trust in Spanish).

Now, when you say the word “trust” outloud in English it sounds a to like the word “atras” in Spanish, which means, in English, “behind”
So then, this harmless tee from the states, to Manual and Pedro, sounded like: Professional experience behind., aka, gay joke of the week. The guys got a good laugh out of the tee shirt due to my own lack of a Spanish vocabulary. (please don’t take offense to this story)

Trust, btw, in Spanish is confianza, I had to look it up.

Now it’s time for the medical update:

Amoebas-my gut instinct was correct. I’ve been living with amoebas in my stomach for the past 5 months. Be thankful you live in a country that treats its water. Antibiotics in. Bugs out.

My legs are still gross. My daily routine involves scrubbing them with surgical and a sponge that is meant for dishes, the rough kind. I then rub them down with alcohol followed by witch hazel. Powdered sodium infused anti itch powder is next, from the knee down, and I now sleep with my to the knee ski socks to prevent the “while sleeping scratching,” the silent killer.

I’ve been getting a little worried about my sun exposure but thank you grandma I now have face cream to cover it. For now, I’ve got a wicked tan and I’m wearing my visor in the sun.

Eyes= good, use glasses most of the time
Hair= long, sun bleached, split endy
Skin= see above
Teeth= could use more flossing, but whoever wins that battle?
Tummy= at the moment without parasites.

Sad note: two volunteers from my group, another EH PCV a year a ahead of me, and a hilarious SAS dude all got kicked out this month for a too much beverage intake situation. We also lost Ray from Bocas who had to go home and Judy left our province and changed site. Moral is a bit down and were all pretty bummed people in our PC family have moved on. I’m really sad that they’re gone.

Dzagie, blue bob is still hanging in there, but he’s starting to smell.

Bachi, I hope you’re doing well recovering, I think about you all the time.

Grandma, I hope you’re leg feels better! Thank you so much for al the goodies in the care package, I think of you all the time too.

Bub, you’re 21. Oh. My. God.

Ohoh, please don’t die at Bonoroo.

Auntis, how I wish we could sit around with a lemon drop ( or 5) and talk about boys.

Uncles, Yeshhhhh, football, and redsox. I miss my fill of that.

M+D, its been over 4 weeks and my neighbors still ask me “ so your parents left huh?” no, I've been hiding them under my bed for the past month, really what do you think? They have jobs!

Cousins, holidays are not the same without you.

Commons Crew, I feel like a part of my soul is missing since I missed Preakness and Dewey. But it’s really cause I’ve missed seeing you fools. Text I received today from my friend Piper who is a Bocas Volunteer living close to me: “Having one of those days where no one will leave you alone and all you wanna do is drink the emergency box of wine…but there isn’t one!” (Note: box, not bottle, = you guys would love this chick, is sure do.)

Peace Up, A-Town, talking to Bagash today I got real nostalgic for Boston. Miss you biddies.

Suz, so it’s been a year since the infamous Celtics bar crawl. Can I get a lil tribute man?!?! Why aren’t’ more people doing this?!?! Ummmm, they have jobs.

10 months down, 17 to go. Don’t know if I’m happy, sad or scared bout that. Looks like all 3.

I’m right where I wanna be.

After culture week in Kusapin I returned home for a 2 week stint in site. Haven't done that many days straight since February and it’s been a joy.

The first week was a gathering of resources, if you will, as I prepared my first project management inspired water aqueduct meeting with all the big shots in town. I had 21 people show up including 5 women! We started the meeting with an activity that compares and contrasts our 3 options to the water problems in town. These included …a new aqueduct with a solar panel pump and tank, rainwater tanks, or simply fixing up the one we got.
I prompted this activity to visually and interactively show the community the difference between rainwater and an aqueduct to hopefully get them thinking that rainwater is the best option, without me directly telling them (that it is!)

Next, I had drawn a map of the town and handed out little pieces of paper to everyone in the meeting. The people then wrote the number of ages +12 and -12 people living in their house, then came up to the map and had to find their house and stick the number on it. This allowed them to visually see their house and family clusters, how far they are from resources like our water source and the school, and allowed me to see who came to the meeting from the 5 different sections of town. At least one member from all five sections came!
We then discussed the 3 hills that could be the possible location for an aqueduct tank and (if it’s even possible I'll know after I survey) and set dates together for surveying. Finally, to get them to use their latrines, I attempted to bribe them with English classes. I will not be un-hopeful, but in general, their response: no dice.

We also agreed to finish the cement sidewalk pathway from the dock to the school and health center.

Overall mood of the meeting: joy, productivity, and fulfillment. I felt this durring and once the meeting was over. Note to readers who forget, this entire meeting was run in Spanish! In a few weeks we're having another on to discuss the results from surveying. Stay tuned.

Saturday after the meeting I took a boat ride south down the peninsula to Bucori with my neighbors to pasear, or go visit some friends. We paddled for 2 hours, straight, and thank god for my swim team past cause that chore is no joke!

Reason # 73 to join the Peace Corps= buff upper body.

I’ve now shown my face in every town out here except Tobobe.

The 2nd of the 2 straight weeks in site included digging a drainage ditch below my elevated outdoor shower, summarizing the info I gathered from my meeting and planning the next one , planning my July calendar to survey with the help of some other awesome EH volunteers/friends who live on the other side of the country, eating lobster, running on my beach, making homemade Malibu with rum and fresh coconut juice, teaching little native children dances to M.I.A. and Prince, and decorating, aka nesting, in my (still new to me even thought I’ve been in for 2 months ) house.

Whew. Life is so fun.

Next, the end of May happened. In Changuinola. For Regional Meeting.

Got meds for the swine flu even thought that was so five minutes ago.

We met the new assistant country director. A former MI volunteer like me. Another red flag only good people come to Panama.

Discussed PC related issues.

That night, went out dancing.

I won a dance competition.

Prize= $19.

Next…Culture Week.

We got 7 new volunteers communing to Bocas in July. 1 married couple, 2 dudes, and 3 biddies. Audrey, new lil chica whose gonna live in the town across the bay from me, also enjoys surf, sand, sun and adventure. Aka, we’re bound to get along just swimmingly.

Among the many, get to know your local Ngobe activities in Culture Week in Kusapin, I taught the new kids an hour charla (lesson) about my group, Environmental Health. Since they’re in the other groups consisting of tourism, agriculture and conservation, the idea was to give them a kinda “what you need to know to protect yourself” heads up, related to our wet province of Bocas del Toro. I’m very happy with how it went being the first somewhat professional charla I’ve given down here, that's not in Spanish. Yeah!

What else?!?!

Oh yeah, apparently, there was a boat strike in Kusapin so we all had to leave a day early.

Seeing the new kids reminded me of what my own culture week was like, (remember Valle Risco blog where I peed my bed, lived with a very LOVING couple, and learned the ways of NgobeLand?) and how I’ve grown since then. They, as we were, were all so bright eyed and bushy tailed. I hate to think that the first 3 months of isolation is ahead of them. Its miserable; the best and the worst time all at once. Looking back, at November, December and January, its amazing how strong we turned out in the end.

Now, I have a lot more self value in my skills and capabilities, as well as a lesser degree of concern for people who don’t and shouldn’t affect my life.

I’ve thought about this before and to friends. I went out a lot in college, absolutely every weekend and a lot of week days too. A big reason for that was that staying in, either by myself or with a few friends would make me feel like I was missing out on something or that something fun and exciting was going on without me. Regardless of what my closest friends were doing, if I wasn’t in the public eye, I felt out of the loop and that that eye might forget me if I wasn’t seen.

3 months in isolation will change that. You can't stress over communication or commings and goings out here. You're gonna miss stuff. The truth is, your real friends don’t forget about you, and include you always, the other people, the scene, they crazy on goings, they don’t matter and they’re always there. It’s a weird concept that I’m sure not a lot of people fall into that self conscious trap, but I think its an indirect action of an insecurity I had and now can see looking back with a little more confidence.

On the other hand, to hell with it, home girl just liked loud music and a gin and tonic after a long full of mundane engineering classes.

Ok tangent, my point is, I have way too much time to analyze and think….but I like it that way.