I thought I'd share a little about what last week was like for me since it's somewhat representative of the Peace Corps experience.
It's December, which means copious amounts of rain. It also means I read two and a half books the past couple of weeks in site. Atlas Shrugged and The Path Between Two Seas are great by the by. But this past week wasn't just about reading in my hammock in sweat pants with cinnamon tea with a touch of honey and powdered milk.
I also went up to Altomono to discuss potential work on their aqueduct. I've had a bunch of fruitless meetings and this wasn't really an exception. But there are a few people that really want to work so I keep finding myself in Altomono. Plus a 3-hour hike through the rain forest and scenic vistas isn't a bad way to spend the day.
I collected money with the water committees in Solaite and Quebrada Grande. Attendance left something to be desired, but it's a process. Poco a poco.
I held a water committee training with Gualaca. They learned how to use receipts and manage community funds. I was supposed to collect money with them last week, so I crossed the river only to find the whole community was at a funeral. I rescheduled for a few days later. Then it started to rain and rain and rain. The river rose and I couldn't make the new date because the river had risen and crossing would have been dangerous.
We started building a new house for the administrator for the Red, essentially Panama's welfare system. Unfortunately, the house is about 25 feet from my own. No one bothered to ask me about it and I don't know if I'm really allowed to complain. Instead, I woke up to the sound of the machete outside my house. Shhht... Shhht... Shhht... They were clearing the grass where we would bury the posts for the house. I know it will mean people trampling through the flowers in my yard while they visit the administrator (based on past experience with crowds). But there wasn't much I could do. I sucked it up and helped. One thing about my time here is it's given me a better sense of humor. I just laugh at these things now. It's much less effort to just go with the flow.
The kids came over as they do everyday. Reading books. Making bracelets. Coloring. Talking about what animals live in Africa and Asia. Making bets on whether it will rain in the next two hours. Those are the major activities with the kids.
I left through Kwite as I always do, although this time it was without Jon. He had already left to visit his family for the holidays. So I hung out with his counterpart, Paulino, and his family. I ate dinner with them and spent the late night explaining to Paulino and a few others about inflation. This naturally turned into an explanation of the solar system, what stars and planets were, how we orbit around the sun, how the moon orbits around us, eclipses, seasons, gravity, sending a man to the moon (news to Paulino), Mars rovers. Needless to say it was quite a night. I have to say it was also one of my favorite Peace Corps experiences. To see the faces light up as questions were answered and pieces falling into place was extremely rewarding.
So that's a typical week. A little bit of everything with periods of nothing sprinkled throughout.
Monday, December 20, 2010
San Jose, Costa Rica
I know it's not "life in Panama", but I figured I might as well blog about San Jose since I'm here (in transit back home for the holidays). San Jose is the launching off point for every foreigner's Costa Rican holiday. As such, there isn't a whole lot to see in San Jose itself. The people are friendly. The food is great. They have one of the coolest pedestrian walk signals I've ever seen. The little guy runs in a fairly fluid animation. As the clock counts down its final seconds, the little man continually speeds until he's sprinting in place. Our walk signals seem so boring in comparison.
There are a few large markets, one of which was founded in 1880. The markets are busy with Costa Ricans and the occasional gringo buying meats, cheeses, produce, spices, grains, and household goods.
I found a more rundown establishment to take lunch and sat down to a plate of frijoles negros, tajadas, arroz, pollo con salsa, ensalada verde, y algo mas que yo no sabia, pero lo fue mas sabroso que todo (warm squash salad maybe?). The locals on the bar stools on either side were joking with eachother. From what I could gather someone's team lost miserably yesterday. I'm guessing it was soccer since they said it was a 90-minute slaughter. The food was both cheap and excellent.
San Jose has areas with a definite Spanish feel- pedestrian thoroughfares like La Rambla in Barcelona, colonial architecture, people conversing in Spanish. ;)
I wouldn't want to spend a week here, but it has its charm for a 24-hour layover. Tomorrow is off to San Francisco for a few weeks to celebrate the holidays with family and friends.
There are a few large markets, one of which was founded in 1880. The markets are busy with Costa Ricans and the occasional gringo buying meats, cheeses, produce, spices, grains, and household goods.
I found a more rundown establishment to take lunch and sat down to a plate of frijoles negros, tajadas, arroz, pollo con salsa, ensalada verde, y algo mas que yo no sabia, pero lo fue mas sabroso que todo (warm squash salad maybe?). The locals on the bar stools on either side were joking with eachother. From what I could gather someone's team lost miserably yesterday. I'm guessing it was soccer since they said it was a 90-minute slaughter. The food was both cheap and excellent.
San Jose has areas with a definite Spanish feel- pedestrian thoroughfares like La Rambla in Barcelona, colonial architecture, people conversing in Spanish. ;)
I wouldn't want to spend a week here, but it has its charm for a 24-hour layover. Tomorrow is off to San Francisco for a few weeks to celebrate the holidays with family and friends.
Climate Change - A Relevant Analogy
Over the past few months I've been trying to define the essence of why development work is so hard. If it were easy, well, the developing countries would have already developed. On a macro level there's a slew of issues from poor governance to the educated workforce leaving for greener pastures to poor allocation of aid. But seemingly, on the community level, these factors shouldn't really come into play. Why is my personal development work so hard?
In essence, I'm tasked with implementing behavioral change. I'm trying to rally a community around completely foreign ideas. It's one thing to organize and motivate around something that everyone believes in. It's quite another when they've never heard of the ideas you're proposing.
That brings me to climate change, a good analogy to illustrate this point. Let's imagine that it's 1998. The Y2K crisis is still off the map. Dot coms are booming. The economy is doing well. Seemingly America has hit its stride. You're working for a small outfit lobbying for better environmental policies. Your role is education. You travel all over the US meeting with people on college campuses, coffee shops, etc. But it's 1998. Green buzzwords haven't drifting into the collective conscious. Times are good. People are complacent. For all your competence in listing off the problems on the horizon and what we need to do to change course, you have this feeling it's all falling on deaf ears.
Let's fast forward to today. While people know more than they did twelve years ago, we're still not exactly storming the halls of Congress. We're in a crisis folks. This isn't just about saving obscure species of butterflies and villages you read about in National Geographic. Entire species are going extinct every twenty minutes. Over two million people die every year from air pollution. More than 80% of the world's natural forests have been destroyed.
But how do you mount a green revolution? How do you bring climate change to the forefront? It's so abstract. Temperature differences of a degree or two? Ocean rises of maybe a foot in the next century? The statistics seem almost palatable. There are dire consequences for inaction, but it seems so far off, so removed from daily life.
So that's life on the Rio Mananti. People are dying from totally preventable health issues. But it's hard to tease those deaths out of the white noise of life where people come and go. People acknowledge that sicknesses come from drinking contaminated water and there is a basic understanding of disease transmission. It's just not quite enough for action. So for now, I keep on keepin' on with the idea that eventually these ideas will stick, that behavioral change is just around the corner.
In essence, I'm tasked with implementing behavioral change. I'm trying to rally a community around completely foreign ideas. It's one thing to organize and motivate around something that everyone believes in. It's quite another when they've never heard of the ideas you're proposing.
That brings me to climate change, a good analogy to illustrate this point. Let's imagine that it's 1998. The Y2K crisis is still off the map. Dot coms are booming. The economy is doing well. Seemingly America has hit its stride. You're working for a small outfit lobbying for better environmental policies. Your role is education. You travel all over the US meeting with people on college campuses, coffee shops, etc. But it's 1998. Green buzzwords haven't drifting into the collective conscious. Times are good. People are complacent. For all your competence in listing off the problems on the horizon and what we need to do to change course, you have this feeling it's all falling on deaf ears.
Let's fast forward to today. While people know more than they did twelve years ago, we're still not exactly storming the halls of Congress. We're in a crisis folks. This isn't just about saving obscure species of butterflies and villages you read about in National Geographic. Entire species are going extinct every twenty minutes. Over two million people die every year from air pollution. More than 80% of the world's natural forests have been destroyed.
But how do you mount a green revolution? How do you bring climate change to the forefront? It's so abstract. Temperature differences of a degree or two? Ocean rises of maybe a foot in the next century? The statistics seem almost palatable. There are dire consequences for inaction, but it seems so far off, so removed from daily life.
So that's life on the Rio Mananti. People are dying from totally preventable health issues. But it's hard to tease those deaths out of the white noise of life where people come and go. People acknowledge that sicknesses come from drinking contaminated water and there is a basic understanding of disease transmission. It's just not quite enough for action. So for now, I keep on keepin' on with the idea that eventually these ideas will stick, that behavioral change is just around the corner.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Site Photos
- Random Calante wildlife
- Quebrada Grande, where your donated Cub Scout uniform ends up (Author's Note: Jon and I were first white people to visit Quebrada Grande, as in... it's remote)
- Seco bottle in "preparation" for a Mother's Day baile
- Kids helping out around the house
- Dos Tigres coil burning to keep away the mosquitoes
- Jamming out with Polo
- My favorite old man (in Panama, don't worry Gramps), Ignacio, wailing away on a dead coconut tree in preparation for building a house. As an aside, Ignacio is amazing. He's late seventies and has the muscle tone of a teenager and seemingly boundless energy. He took the ax over from the younger guys to show them how it was done
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Monday, November 22, 2010
Aqueduct Theory 101
Author's Note: This post is my most viewed post on the blog. Due to the popularity, I've created another website with a ton more information about aqueduct design, construction, and maintenance. Check it out!
---
I realize that much of what I blog about is "the volunteer experience" and yet I haven't really talked too much about what it is I actually do around here.
My life is aqueducts.
Admittedly, before Peace Corps I knew nothing about gravity-flow water systems. I'll go out on a limb and guess that most readers don't know much either (you don't count other PCV's).
Turns out not much has changed since Roman times, including the physics. Replace your open-channel structures with PVC tubes and you've got the basic idea.
Panama is blessed with abundant rainfall (most of the year in the Bocas region). The water falls into your neighborhood watershed where springs feed streams, streams to rivers, and rivers to oceans. This water is collected and distributed to provide water to a community using gravity instead of pumps.
Here's an overview of a typical gravity-flow water system in Panama. I'll take extreme liberties in painting a picture of how easy it is to design and build your very own water system.
Intake Structure
Normally those in the community are intimately aware of where the nearest spring is to the community. As long as that spring has good flow all year long and isn't located close to any livestock, it may be a good potential source for your gravity-flow water system. Build a concrete box or dam to collect water into your PVC tube. That's your intake structure. You'll also need to do a study of the topography to determine the size of your PVC tubes and the route from the intake to the storage tank.
Storage Tank
Most likely your source (spring or stream usually) won't be enough to provide around-the-clock access to water. After a careful study including flow, a census of the community, and the projected growth you can determine whether or not you need a storage tank to buffer the daily swings in demand. Most of the time you design a tank to fill at night when demand is low to provide water for the community during the day. The tank is a big concrete structure that holds about 5,000-15,000 gallons depending on the size of the community (about 250 people average).
Distribution System
Now you need to bring that water from the tank to the community. Again, a topographical study is in order to make sure pipes are size correctly and placed in the right locations.
Each house will have a connection to a main line, just like back at home. There will be shutoff valves for lines to do maintenance work. We'll stand around to shoot the $#!% and watch the one guy dig the trench just like home. It's all the same, just without pumps and heavy machinery. Easy as pie...
Yes, I'm being facetious. Part of the challenge is doing it with your community, which had a whole life they were living before you ever showed up. People will be away getting firewood or food from their fincas. You want them to come along on the journey because that sense of ownership is the difference between an aqueduct that works and one that falls into disarray. Then there's funding and the complexities of design and building something in the jungle and social engineering and... you get the idea. Easy as pie.
---
I realize that much of what I blog about is "the volunteer experience" and yet I haven't really talked too much about what it is I actually do around here.
My life is aqueducts.
Admittedly, before Peace Corps I knew nothing about gravity-flow water systems. I'll go out on a limb and guess that most readers don't know much either (you don't count other PCV's).
Turns out not much has changed since Roman times, including the physics. Replace your open-channel structures with PVC tubes and you've got the basic idea.
Panama is blessed with abundant rainfall (most of the year in the Bocas region). The water falls into your neighborhood watershed where springs feed streams, streams to rivers, and rivers to oceans. This water is collected and distributed to provide water to a community using gravity instead of pumps.
Here's an overview of a typical gravity-flow water system in Panama. I'll take extreme liberties in painting a picture of how easy it is to design and build your very own water system.
Intake Structure
Normally those in the community are intimately aware of where the nearest spring is to the community. As long as that spring has good flow all year long and isn't located close to any livestock, it may be a good potential source for your gravity-flow water system. Build a concrete box or dam to collect water into your PVC tube. That's your intake structure. You'll also need to do a study of the topography to determine the size of your PVC tubes and the route from the intake to the storage tank.
Storage Tank
Most likely your source (spring or stream usually) won't be enough to provide around-the-clock access to water. After a careful study including flow, a census of the community, and the projected growth you can determine whether or not you need a storage tank to buffer the daily swings in demand. Most of the time you design a tank to fill at night when demand is low to provide water for the community during the day. The tank is a big concrete structure that holds about 5,000-15,000 gallons depending on the size of the community (about 250 people average).
Distribution System
Now you need to bring that water from the tank to the community. Again, a topographical study is in order to make sure pipes are size correctly and placed in the right locations.
Each house will have a connection to a main line, just like back at home. There will be shutoff valves for lines to do maintenance work. We'll stand around to shoot the $#!% and watch the one guy dig the trench just like home. It's all the same, just without pumps and heavy machinery. Easy as pie...
---
Yes, I'm being facetious. Part of the challenge is doing it with your community, which had a whole life they were living before you ever showed up. People will be away getting firewood or food from their fincas. You want them to come along on the journey because that sense of ownership is the difference between an aqueduct that works and one that falls into disarray. Then there's funding and the complexities of design and building something in the jungle and social engineering and... you get the idea. Easy as pie.
Comites de Agua
The second blog in my series on "what the heck Austin is doing down in Panama" focuses on water committees, another big part of the work I do as a volunteer.
Imagine a main line breaks around the block in the middle of the night. You're without water, but you don't even know it because you're sound asleep. Meanwhile, a crew works feveriously with flood lights to restore water. You wake up, shower, enjoy your morning cup of coffee unknowingly. Easy enough.
We don't really think about where our water comes from and the many people employed to make sure water always comes out of the tap. You pay your bill every month and that's about the only time we really think about water.
Cut to an indigenous community in Panama. Camera zooms from above into a ranchito where a few men gather to discuss the upcoming work day, how much money is in the account, and when the next collection will be.
That group of men is what keeps water coming out of the tap for the people of Calante. They are why the aqueduct is a success story under a backdrop of so many failed development projects.
Merely dropping in a water system is not enough. It could be the most tricked out aqueduct on the block, with the most thoughtful engineering. That aqueduct could still fail. It happens. And when it does, you need a community ready to respond. That takes training, or capacity building. You train a team to be able to fix the system and manage funds from within the community so that long after the NGO or Peace Corps or local government aid leaves, that community is equipped to fully operate and maintain their water system.
Truthfully, I think I prefer committee work to actually building and designing aqueducts. The process is slow. Training adults with an equivalent education to about second grade back in the States takes time. But during that time, I get to have conversations about geography and what type of animals live in the US. While teaching community members how to fill out receipts, I get to explain why I'm here and that I have a brother back home. While we discuss the process of maintaining a water system I get to learn about what's important to these people. We talk about what I would see if I climbed over that ridge while we create a notebook for managing funds.
That's committee work. That's building capacity. And at the end of the day, I feel more hopeful about both the future of the water system and that of humanity.
Imagine a main line breaks around the block in the middle of the night. You're without water, but you don't even know it because you're sound asleep. Meanwhile, a crew works feveriously with flood lights to restore water. You wake up, shower, enjoy your morning cup of coffee unknowingly. Easy enough.
We don't really think about where our water comes from and the many people employed to make sure water always comes out of the tap. You pay your bill every month and that's about the only time we really think about water.
Cut to an indigenous community in Panama. Camera zooms from above into a ranchito where a few men gather to discuss the upcoming work day, how much money is in the account, and when the next collection will be.
That group of men is what keeps water coming out of the tap for the people of Calante. They are why the aqueduct is a success story under a backdrop of so many failed development projects.
Merely dropping in a water system is not enough. It could be the most tricked out aqueduct on the block, with the most thoughtful engineering. That aqueduct could still fail. It happens. And when it does, you need a community ready to respond. That takes training, or capacity building. You train a team to be able to fix the system and manage funds from within the community so that long after the NGO or Peace Corps or local government aid leaves, that community is equipped to fully operate and maintain their water system.
Truthfully, I think I prefer committee work to actually building and designing aqueducts. The process is slow. Training adults with an equivalent education to about second grade back in the States takes time. But during that time, I get to have conversations about geography and what type of animals live in the US. While teaching community members how to fill out receipts, I get to explain why I'm here and that I have a brother back home. While we discuss the process of maintaining a water system I get to learn about what's important to these people. We talk about what I would see if I climbed over that ridge while we create a notebook for managing funds.
That's committee work. That's building capacity. And at the end of the day, I feel more hopeful about both the future of the water system and that of humanity.
Turning the Corner
I've gotten some feedback that my blog can be a little dark. While I'd like to think that it's just an exploration of very real themes - poverty, environmental degradation, development - I fully appreciate the truth in that statement. This is easily the hardest thing I've ever done. While I feel my life before Peace Corps had been more stressful, I would say that never since I got to my site have I been pushed so hard emotionally, physically, or philosophically. In other words, living with a group of people in poverty (extreme according to some economists' metrics) that don't exactly buy into the quixotic ideals of development work, that usually resist your weird ideas about health and disease transmission, that usually are just looking for a handout because it's easier than getting to know you as a person is... well... a big mind f$%#.
Add to the list your increasing insecurity about your own effectiveness, your value to the community, or even if you should be there in the first place and you've got yourself a fun mental journey. Let's review the last year:
Not exactly a pillar of motivation. Their lack of motivation became a millstone around my neck. After awhile I think I gave up on failing. I was going through the motions, doing volunteer work, but my heart wasn't really in it.
Then I hit my one-year mark and a whole set of neurosis that I had been sowing and watering over the past year came into bloom. What if I don't accomplish anything while I'm here? I thought the community liked me, but wouldn't I get more traction if that was the case? Do all they want is my stuff? Am I not trying hard enough? What could I be doing differently to be a better volunteer? Am I a bad volunteer? All my friends back home are doing exciting, important work that's really having an impact. I'm suffering and for what?
So yeah, I would say that's "fairly dark". Then I went back into site... and stayed there for over a month. The first couple of days were rough, treading water in a sea of doubt. Then, coincidentally, on the eve of my one-year anniversary, I took a deep breath and just... let... go. Be here now. And slowly but surely I turned the corner.
Over the past month, I've regained the wind in my sails. I got my second wind. I have the wind to my back. OK, I'm making light of a liminal moment in my service. But in all seriousness, it has been a sea change.
I'm getting traction on water committee work in three other communities, including successfully collecting dues in Solaite. Calante's water committee initiated their first work day without my prodding. In addition, we now have enough money in the coffer to justify opening up a bank account in Chiriqui Grande.
I had a great meeting with the community to discuss the status of the latrine funding (which is fully funded. Big thanks to everyone) and to discuss other project ideas. They are extremely excited about computer literacy classes I'll be starting in December as well as a world map mural on the wall of the school.
In my free time, I've learned how to make a chacara (woven bags that are indicative of Ngabe culture), earning campo cred from the ladies. I helped haul creollo (dense hardwood) in a junta, earning campo cred from the men. I finally solved some nagging pressure issues on the Calante aqueduct and taught four kids about their aqueduct in the process.
My muchacho English students called from Costa Rica to wish me well and share how things were going. We had half the conversation in English.
And, maybe most importantly, I've had a lot of really great conversations with community members, conversations that have transcended asking for regalos and have led to hopes and dreams, family, and the things we share in the human experience.
And I have seen a shift in them, a new comfort and ease around me, maybe even signs of respect. I may not speak much Ngabere, but a smile is pretty universal and that's enough for me to feel good about this next chapter in my service.
Add to the list your increasing insecurity about your own effectiveness, your value to the community, or even if you should be there in the first place and you've got yourself a fun mental journey. Let's review the last year:
| English Classes for Community | FAILED, interest lost after six classes |
| English Classes on Individual Level | PARTIAL SUCCESS, students left to pick coffee in Costa Rica |
| Health Promoter in Community | FAILED, interest lost after two meetings |
| Math Classes for Tienda Owners | FAILED, lack of interest |
| Health Charlas on Using Soap | FAILED, would rather spend money on other things |
| Health Charlas on Disease Transmission | IN PROGRESS |
| Reforestation of Creollo | FAILED, can't get seeds from agencies |
| Building a Sidewalk | FAILED, would rather go through local government (which I support) |
| Gardening | IN PROGRESS |
| Trash Cleanup | FAILED, "will only do it if I get paid" |
| Water Committee Work in Odabate | FAILED, no interest after two meetings |
| Water Committee Work in Notente | FAILED, no interest after three meetings |
| Water Committee Work in Altomono | FAILED, "will only work if I get paid" |
| Earthen Stoves Program | FAILED, children destroyed all stove prototypes by using them as target practice |
Not exactly a pillar of motivation. Their lack of motivation became a millstone around my neck. After awhile I think I gave up on failing. I was going through the motions, doing volunteer work, but my heart wasn't really in it.
Then I hit my one-year mark and a whole set of neurosis that I had been sowing and watering over the past year came into bloom. What if I don't accomplish anything while I'm here? I thought the community liked me, but wouldn't I get more traction if that was the case? Do all they want is my stuff? Am I not trying hard enough? What could I be doing differently to be a better volunteer? Am I a bad volunteer? All my friends back home are doing exciting, important work that's really having an impact. I'm suffering and for what?
...
So yeah, I would say that's "fairly dark". Then I went back into site... and stayed there for over a month. The first couple of days were rough, treading water in a sea of doubt. Then, coincidentally, on the eve of my one-year anniversary, I took a deep breath and just... let... go. Be here now. And slowly but surely I turned the corner.
Over the past month, I've regained the wind in my sails. I got my second wind. I have the wind to my back. OK, I'm making light of a liminal moment in my service. But in all seriousness, it has been a sea change.
I'm getting traction on water committee work in three other communities, including successfully collecting dues in Solaite. Calante's water committee initiated their first work day without my prodding. In addition, we now have enough money in the coffer to justify opening up a bank account in Chiriqui Grande.
I had a great meeting with the community to discuss the status of the latrine funding (which is fully funded. Big thanks to everyone) and to discuss other project ideas. They are extremely excited about computer literacy classes I'll be starting in December as well as a world map mural on the wall of the school.
In my free time, I've learned how to make a chacara (woven bags that are indicative of Ngabe culture), earning campo cred from the ladies. I helped haul creollo (dense hardwood) in a junta, earning campo cred from the men. I finally solved some nagging pressure issues on the Calante aqueduct and taught four kids about their aqueduct in the process.
My muchacho English students called from Costa Rica to wish me well and share how things were going. We had half the conversation in English.
And, maybe most importantly, I've had a lot of really great conversations with community members, conversations that have transcended asking for regalos and have led to hopes and dreams, family, and the things we share in the human experience.
And I have seen a shift in them, a new comfort and ease around me, maybe even signs of respect. I may not speak much Ngabere, but a smile is pretty universal and that's enough for me to feel good about this next chapter in my service.
A Few Favorite Albums
After spending over a year in site, I thought doing an album review would be appropriate. Without access to iTunes, Rhapsody, or Pandora, you come to appreciate, skip over, or realize gaps in your nearly static music library. That being said, two albums surface to the top. One being my "Best New Music" (new being relative) and the other being my "Oldie but a Goodie."
Arcade Fire
The Suburbs
From Pitchforkmedia.com:
Arcade Fire never aim for anything less than grand statements. That quality has played a huge role in making them very, very popular; it's also their greatest weakness. Funeral was wracked with agony and grief, but what made it one of the transcendent records of the 2000s was that it avoided easy answers. It proposed that the fight of our lives is just that, a fight, but a winnable one. But when they turned that same all-or-nothing intensity outward on Neon Bible, otherwise propulsive and elegant songs were sometimes bogged down by overblown arrangements or pedantic political statements. You'd figure an album bluntly called The Suburbs that focuses on The Way We Live might repeat some of Neon Bible's worst tendencies. Instead, it's a satisfying return to form-- proof that Arcade Fire can still make grand statements without sounding like they're carrying the weight of the world. More...
Paul Simon
Graceland
I can't cop out and link to someone else's review since this album was released in 1986. The short of it is the album combines incredibly catchy melodies with thoughtful lyrics and worldly sounds. It's got just enough edge to never fall into the chasm of most pop, where music mainstreams for a spell and than dies a quick, painless death. Instead, I keep coming back. Rainy day, throw on Graceland. Not sure what music I'm in the mood for, throw on Graceland. It's a solid album and it doesn't hurt that I grew up listening to it, so there's a certain nostalgia attached as well. For those reasons, Paul Simon's Graceland will forever be in my "rotation."
Arcade FireThe Suburbs
From Pitchforkmedia.com:
Arcade Fire never aim for anything less than grand statements. That quality has played a huge role in making them very, very popular; it's also their greatest weakness. Funeral was wracked with agony and grief, but what made it one of the transcendent records of the 2000s was that it avoided easy answers. It proposed that the fight of our lives is just that, a fight, but a winnable one. But when they turned that same all-or-nothing intensity outward on Neon Bible, otherwise propulsive and elegant songs were sometimes bogged down by overblown arrangements or pedantic political statements. You'd figure an album bluntly called The Suburbs that focuses on The Way We Live might repeat some of Neon Bible's worst tendencies. Instead, it's a satisfying return to form-- proof that Arcade Fire can still make grand statements without sounding like they're carrying the weight of the world. More...
Graceland
I can't cop out and link to someone else's review since this album was released in 1986. The short of it is the album combines incredibly catchy melodies with thoughtful lyrics and worldly sounds. It's got just enough edge to never fall into the chasm of most pop, where music mainstreams for a spell and than dies a quick, painless death. Instead, I keep coming back. Rainy day, throw on Graceland. Not sure what music I'm in the mood for, throw on Graceland. It's a solid album and it doesn't hurt that I grew up listening to it, so there's a certain nostalgia attached as well. For those reasons, Paul Simon's Graceland will forever be in my "rotation."
A Few Favorite Books
I'm certainly better read than when I arrived almost 16 months ago. The truth is that it's hard to work during rainstorms, which Panama tends to have a lot of. Couple that with a life free of office email, Facebook, cell phones, and TV and what you're left with is a huge expanse of time. Lucky for me, the volunteer lending library is awesome. I've been able to completely bypass Nora Roberts and tackle some 50 books ranging from development work to the intricate histories of bananas, coffee, the Chicago World Fair, and Mormonism. Below are a my favorite or "must-reads" in fiction and non-fiction.
From New York Times September 4, 2007:
Junot Díaz’s “Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” is a wondrous, not-so-brief first novel that is so original it can only be described as Mario Vargas Llosa meets “Star Trek” meets David Foster Wallace meets Kanye West. It is funny, street-smart and keenly observed, and it unfolds from a comic portrait of a second-generation Dominican geek into a harrowing meditation on public and private history and the burdens of familial history. An extraordinarily vibrant book that’s fueled by adrenaline-powered prose, it’s confidently steered through several decades of history. More...
I don't want the other great books I've read (or reread) in Panama to slip through the cracks, so here are some other books to check out:
Development-Themed
Stones into Schools, Greg Mortenson
The End of Poverty, Jeffrey Sachs
The Bottom Billion, Paul Collier
Power Politics, Arundhati Roy
Other Non-Fiction
Natural Capitolism, Paul Hawken & Amory Lovins
The Devil & the White City, Erik Larson
Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer
Banana - The Fate of the Fruit the Changed the World, Dan Koeppel
The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell
Outlier, Malcolm Gladwell
Fiction
The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Persig
The Power of One, Bryce Courtenay
My Ishmael, Daniel Quinn
Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
Tinkers, Paul Harding
From New York Times September 4, 2007:Junot Díaz’s “Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” is a wondrous, not-so-brief first novel that is so original it can only be described as Mario Vargas Llosa meets “Star Trek” meets David Foster Wallace meets Kanye West. It is funny, street-smart and keenly observed, and it unfolds from a comic portrait of a second-generation Dominican geek into a harrowing meditation on public and private history and the burdens of familial history. An extraordinarily vibrant book that’s fueled by adrenaline-powered prose, it’s confidently steered through several decades of history. More...
From New York Times October 5, 2008:
The environmental movement reserves a hallowed place for those books or films that have stirred people from their slumber and awoken them to the fragility of the planet: Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring,” Bill McKibben’s “End of Nature” and, most recently, Al Gore’s Oscar-winning documentary, “An Inconvenient Truth.” Thomas L. Friedman’s new book, “Hot, Flat, and Crowded” may lack the soaring, elegiac qualities of those others. But it conceivably just might goad America’s wealthiest to face the threat of climate changeand do something about it. More....I don't want the other great books I've read (or reread) in Panama to slip through the cracks, so here are some other books to check out:
Development-Themed
Stones into Schools, Greg Mortenson
The End of Poverty, Jeffrey Sachs
The Bottom Billion, Paul Collier
Power Politics, Arundhati Roy
Other Non-Fiction
Natural Capitolism, Paul Hawken & Amory Lovins
The Devil & the White City, Erik Larson
Under the Banner of Heaven, Jon Krakauer
Banana - The Fate of the Fruit the Changed the World, Dan Koeppel
The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell
Outlier, Malcolm Gladwell
Fiction
The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Persig
The Power of One, Bryce Courtenay
My Ishmael, Daniel Quinn
Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
Tinkers, Paul Harding
Independence Day, Flag Day
On November 3, 1903, Panama declared independence from Columbia. They had actually declared independence once before from Spain in 1821, but it was more of a separation than independence given Columbia's occupation in Panama. (Some could say that Panama wasn't really off to the races until the US handed over the canal and all military bases in 1999, but that's outside the scope of this blog).
In Calante, Independence Day celebrations were surprisingly similar to back home. A big meal was prepared for everyone. Kids spent the morning doing sack races, relay races, and musical chairs. At the end of the day, it was the adults' turn for fun. Calante hosted a baile, or dance, at the Casa Comunal with music blaring until 4am.
Flag day was basically rinse and repeat. The kids participated in more races. Meanwhile, the adults had their own competitions including tug-of-war and climbing up a greased-down log stuck in the ground. The prize at the top: a bottle of rum and a few bucks.
In Calante, Independence Day celebrations were surprisingly similar to back home. A big meal was prepared for everyone. Kids spent the morning doing sack races, relay races, and musical chairs. At the end of the day, it was the adults' turn for fun. Calante hosted a baile, or dance, at the Casa Comunal with music blaring until 4am.
Flag day was basically rinse and repeat. The kids participated in more races. Meanwhile, the adults had their own competitions including tug-of-war and climbing up a greased-down log stuck in the ground. The prize at the top: a bottle of rum and a few bucks.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Continued Processing - Genetics
I live with superheroes.
Sure there are no buildings to leap in a single bound, no bullets to catch in your teeth, but I know. I know I live with superheroes. Wounds heal with a startling alacrity. I've been put to shame in physical strength by 75-year-old men. Having never touched a toothbrush, there are folks with straight, shiny teeth. No need for expensive hair products when you already have straight, thick hair that will never recede, never turn gray. You get the idea.
The young children seem to be the only ones that show infected bug bites like myself. But by the time they are a few years old, they're good to go. At this point in service, I've basically opened up Clinica Calante for the children's machete cuts or abrasions from hiking miles carrying firewood through the forest barefoot. Every time, I am completely amazed by how little attention they really need. So many times I say, "You should really get stitches for this," and two days later that laceration is closed.
Sometimes I'm frustrated by my surroundings. My community suffers from an inexcusable infant mortality rate. I try to help as a health worker, as a fellow human being. But I also know that there is something larger going on. As much as it saddens me to admit it, this is exactly why they are superheroes. Only the strongest survive. Generation after generation the gene pool remains pretty much like it always was. Everyone has good vision, able to talk walks into the monte without a flashlight. Sometimes I feel plain silly with my band-aids and ointments and sunscreen and and and...
Even Superman has his Kryptonite. Unfortunately, the youth are starting to suffer from rotting teeth. Sodas and candies are filling the tiendas. I guess Kryptonite is a good analogy, a material coming from a world away, but from Superman's birthplace (sorry to geek out on this for a sec). In the same way, we take the sugarcane found naturally in the area, that the native people have been eating for generations without issue. Then we refine it and send it back to the very same people to wreak havoc on their teeth. And like many outside influences, the indigenous haven't had any exposure to the dental hygiene component we've necessarily coupled with our refined-sugar lifestyle.
So here we are. Our culture is busy looking for the fountain of youth. There's nutritional advice abound, pills to make us thinner and live longer. We think technology is the key to unlocking genetics. Technology brought us refined sugar. Technology brought us Kryptonite. Shoes made our feet soft. We continue to be seduced by the red herring of creating perfection in a lab when it had already been perfected through a hundred thousand years of evolution.
So where do we go from here? To be honest, I'm not sure. What I do know is that it's important to recognize how people get by without health care and WebMD. It's important to know that we can't bottle and market the genes of a Ngabe, that we can't get something for nothing. It's important to see that as "behind" as the indigenous may seem, they seem to be doing pretty well without all the products that define our everyday lives.
Sure there are no buildings to leap in a single bound, no bullets to catch in your teeth, but I know. I know I live with superheroes. Wounds heal with a startling alacrity. I've been put to shame in physical strength by 75-year-old men. Having never touched a toothbrush, there are folks with straight, shiny teeth. No need for expensive hair products when you already have straight, thick hair that will never recede, never turn gray. You get the idea.
The young children seem to be the only ones that show infected bug bites like myself. But by the time they are a few years old, they're good to go. At this point in service, I've basically opened up Clinica Calante for the children's machete cuts or abrasions from hiking miles carrying firewood through the forest barefoot. Every time, I am completely amazed by how little attention they really need. So many times I say, "You should really get stitches for this," and two days later that laceration is closed.
Sometimes I'm frustrated by my surroundings. My community suffers from an inexcusable infant mortality rate. I try to help as a health worker, as a fellow human being. But I also know that there is something larger going on. As much as it saddens me to admit it, this is exactly why they are superheroes. Only the strongest survive. Generation after generation the gene pool remains pretty much like it always was. Everyone has good vision, able to talk walks into the monte without a flashlight. Sometimes I feel plain silly with my band-aids and ointments and sunscreen and and and...
Even Superman has his Kryptonite. Unfortunately, the youth are starting to suffer from rotting teeth. Sodas and candies are filling the tiendas. I guess Kryptonite is a good analogy, a material coming from a world away, but from Superman's birthplace (sorry to geek out on this for a sec). In the same way, we take the sugarcane found naturally in the area, that the native people have been eating for generations without issue. Then we refine it and send it back to the very same people to wreak havoc on their teeth. And like many outside influences, the indigenous haven't had any exposure to the dental hygiene component we've necessarily coupled with our refined-sugar lifestyle.
So here we are. Our culture is busy looking for the fountain of youth. There's nutritional advice abound, pills to make us thinner and live longer. We think technology is the key to unlocking genetics. Technology brought us refined sugar. Technology brought us Kryptonite. Shoes made our feet soft. We continue to be seduced by the red herring of creating perfection in a lab when it had already been perfected through a hundred thousand years of evolution.
So where do we go from here? To be honest, I'm not sure. What I do know is that it's important to recognize how people get by without health care and WebMD. It's important to know that we can't bottle and market the genes of a Ngabe, that we can't get something for nothing. It's important to see that as "behind" as the indigenous may seem, they seem to be doing pretty well without all the products that define our everyday lives.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Becoming a Change Agent
During our Peace Corps training over a year ago, we learned about the different "roles of the volunteer". It was a touchy-feely session on how a volunteer is a learner, co-trainer, co-facilitator, project co-planner, mentor, and lastly, a change agent. The excessive use of "co's" in the descriptions indicate we should be working side-by-side with the community members, empowering them to implement their own projects, etc. At first blush, it could seem like a lot of BS handed down from on high, but I guess I'm towing the company line on the softer side of Peace Corps training. I really do feel as a volunteer, you wear all of these hats, and, that having a vocabulary to define those roles, is a helpful tool during service.
The role that seems most controversial is that of the change agent. The whole idea of the gringo rolling up and trying to convince a group of indigenous of a different way of life seems like history repeated. Maybe that's not fair. Peace Corps certainly has a different mission statement than those in our history books. But at the end of the day I am a change agent. What change is good? What change is bad? Who am I to say what is right or wrong, what should and should not be done? And maybe that's why Peace Corps is a two-year minimum commitment. It takes a long time to figure out what change really is a good thing.
Being a change agent has been hard. Development work is hard. Finding the distinction between helping and hurting takes awhile. Example. The government is building a road connecting the main highway to a Ngabe metropolis, Kankintu, tucked away in the river basin adjacent to mine. The road will mean better access to employment, health services, and bringing goods to market. It also means they've cut a path through virgin rain forest. There's also talk of the road being used for future mining. So do we forgo environmental stewardship to help build infrastructure to raise the standard of living of the region? What development truly raises the standard of living? Luckily, the scale of Peace Corps is so much smaller that volunteers can sleep well at night. Most of the work we do involves education, building capacity within the communities so that they can help themselves long after the aid has left.
As with all my thoughts, I think about what the context will be when I return to the States. Being a change agent back home is just as important. Culture is fluid. Look where we were on civil rights just 60 years ago. That wasn't something that happened just because. It has been a movement. A collection of change agents have decided the course of history, have caused a cultural ebb and flow. I feel like the two years away from my culture and my home will have made me a more informed change agent. This time peering back through the looking glass makes me excited about change back home. What does being a change agent mean in the context of being home?
The role that seems most controversial is that of the change agent. The whole idea of the gringo rolling up and trying to convince a group of indigenous of a different way of life seems like history repeated. Maybe that's not fair. Peace Corps certainly has a different mission statement than those in our history books. But at the end of the day I am a change agent. What change is good? What change is bad? Who am I to say what is right or wrong, what should and should not be done? And maybe that's why Peace Corps is a two-year minimum commitment. It takes a long time to figure out what change really is a good thing.
Being a change agent has been hard. Development work is hard. Finding the distinction between helping and hurting takes awhile. Example. The government is building a road connecting the main highway to a Ngabe metropolis, Kankintu, tucked away in the river basin adjacent to mine. The road will mean better access to employment, health services, and bringing goods to market. It also means they've cut a path through virgin rain forest. There's also talk of the road being used for future mining. So do we forgo environmental stewardship to help build infrastructure to raise the standard of living of the region? What development truly raises the standard of living? Luckily, the scale of Peace Corps is so much smaller that volunteers can sleep well at night. Most of the work we do involves education, building capacity within the communities so that they can help themselves long after the aid has left.
As with all my thoughts, I think about what the context will be when I return to the States. Being a change agent back home is just as important. Culture is fluid. Look where we were on civil rights just 60 years ago. That wasn't something that happened just because. It has been a movement. A collection of change agents have decided the course of history, have caused a cultural ebb and flow. I feel like the two years away from my culture and my home will have made me a more informed change agent. This time peering back through the looking glass makes me excited about change back home. What does being a change agent mean in the context of being home?
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Thoughts on Ngabe Parenting
It wasn't long after I unpacked my things that I realized the style of parenting is drastically different here. Children cry into the night, only feet away from their sleeping parents. The parents yell and hit their children. Two-year-olds play with machetes. Eight-year-olds take care of the three-year-olds while their parents are in the finca. Madness, right?
What has initially been disturbing is starting to make more sense. So it goes. I came with all my ideas about what is right and wrong only to have them broken down, reconstructed. Life is hard here. Most days involve carrying heavy things long distances, whether that's firewood or food from the finca. Perhaps the lack of coddling is part of a necessary hardening. Young girls taking care of their even younger siblings makes a certain sense as well. Most girls have their first child in their teens (there is no career track out here) because that's when it biologically makes sense. If you do the math, you need to start learning how to be a mother pretty early on in life.
It's all too easy to judge those that are different. In a world of piano lessons and ballerina classes, we can be a bit softer. Our lives, while hectic, are cushy. We've traded in the manual labor for schedulers and post-it reminders stuck to the bathroom mirror. Furthermore, we have cultural cues that change over time guiding us as to how we should be parents. It wasn't long ago that corporal punishment was OK in our schools (and still is in some places). Now there is more of a cultural shift away from that style of parenting. And while I don't condone leaving young children alone in the house for hours on end, it makes more sense in the context of a community of eyes watching those children.
In other words, I don't know if I'm necessarily witnessing bad parenting. Everyone grows up able to function in their world. Our world needs a different set of skills and social norms, so the parenting style adjusts accordingly. At the end of the day, what seems like madness begins to make more sense.
Author's Note: Despite the blog entry, the author fully intends on buying Baby Einstein tapes and wrapping his future child(ren) in organic cotton blankets
What has initially been disturbing is starting to make more sense. So it goes. I came with all my ideas about what is right and wrong only to have them broken down, reconstructed. Life is hard here. Most days involve carrying heavy things long distances, whether that's firewood or food from the finca. Perhaps the lack of coddling is part of a necessary hardening. Young girls taking care of their even younger siblings makes a certain sense as well. Most girls have their first child in their teens (there is no career track out here) because that's when it biologically makes sense. If you do the math, you need to start learning how to be a mother pretty early on in life.
It's all too easy to judge those that are different. In a world of piano lessons and ballerina classes, we can be a bit softer. Our lives, while hectic, are cushy. We've traded in the manual labor for schedulers and post-it reminders stuck to the bathroom mirror. Furthermore, we have cultural cues that change over time guiding us as to how we should be parents. It wasn't long ago that corporal punishment was OK in our schools (and still is in some places). Now there is more of a cultural shift away from that style of parenting. And while I don't condone leaving young children alone in the house for hours on end, it makes more sense in the context of a community of eyes watching those children.
In other words, I don't know if I'm necessarily witnessing bad parenting. Everyone grows up able to function in their world. Our world needs a different set of skills and social norms, so the parenting style adjusts accordingly. At the end of the day, what seems like madness begins to make more sense.
Author's Note: Despite the blog entry, the author fully intends on buying Baby Einstein tapes and wrapping his future child(ren) in organic cotton blankets
Monday, September 27, 2010
Who Was I Then?
During training (more than a year ago), one of the volunteers in my group had a brilliant idea to answer a few simple questions, a time capsule of who we were before service. As a year in site approaches, I thought opening the capsule to take a peek would be apropos. All in all, I feel like I'm getting what I bargained for in the personal growth department. I also feel like I'm tracking towards the idea of who I would be when all was said and done. Here is what I wrote over a year ago.
I used to be...
A manager with a high-paying job and power. People respected me for my knowledge. I used to be uncomfortable in new settings and somewhat uncomfortable with myself. I was introverted. I used to be concerned with how people saw me instead of channeling that energy into projects to improve myself and the lives of those around me. I lived life for the future.
I gave up...
A great relationship with a girl I loved.
I regret...
Not spending enough time with my sick grandmother.
I am afraid...
Of not being successful. Success for me is measured by making a lasting impression on the community and being fluent in Spanish. I am also afraid of all that I'm going to miss back at home.
I hope...
That I end up getting back together with Daphne. I hope that I conquer my fears: Spanish, success in the community, living in the moment.
I expect...
To be comfortable in my own skin. I expect to make a difference. I expect to be a better person.
Who Was I Then?
I used to be...
A manager with a high-paying job and power. People respected me for my knowledge. I used to be uncomfortable in new settings and somewhat uncomfortable with myself. I was introverted. I used to be concerned with how people saw me instead of channeling that energy into projects to improve myself and the lives of those around me. I lived life for the future.
I gave up...
A great relationship with a girl I loved.
I regret...
Not spending enough time with my sick grandmother.
I am afraid...
Of not being successful. Success for me is measured by making a lasting impression on the community and being fluent in Spanish. I am also afraid of all that I'm going to miss back at home.
I hope...
That I end up getting back together with Daphne. I hope that I conquer my fears: Spanish, success in the community, living in the moment.
I expect...
To be comfortable in my own skin. I expect to make a difference. I expect to be a better person.
My First Week in Site
In recognizing the halfway point of service, I've turned to my former self to see where I was and how I've changed. In thumbing through old journal entries, it's obvious that I won't be the same person when I return. I'll be a little more jaded, a little less naive, and yet a lot happier and whole. It's true that there has been disillusionment about my time here. It's true that I see the world differently. But there's still a fire that burns and I feel like I'm learning the true context for setting that energy into motion.
Instead of devolving into a diatribe about humanity, I'll cut to a journal entry about my first day in site. While I would say it's unhealthy to dwell in the past, don't discount looking in the mirror as a means for personal growth.
10-22-09 The First Day
I'm sitting on the porch of my counterpart's house trying not to freak out about my situation. Part of me is wondering what I got myself into. Two years of this is a long time. I'm leaving a lot back at home. All these thoughts came crashing as I walked from Kwite to Calante last night. I was tired and it was sad saying goodbye to the other volunteers. Training had felt like a vacation and I had made great friends. Now the experience has shifted to something individual and a lot more solitary. I can't communicate very well with the community. I know I need to put myself out there and meet people but I just want to sit and read as a coping mechanism. It's all so clear in my mind and yet I'm paralyzed. I'm going to sacrifice today. If I feel this way tomorrow, I'm going to choke it up and just get out there.
Thursday is my reunion. We'll be discussing why I'm here again along with my housing situation. I can't get a clear answer on how much a house will cost, and I don't want it to spiral out of control where people think they can take advantage of me. We'll see...
------
OK, so my first day in site was pretty dark. Real, but dark. Take solace in the fact that I CAN communicate with my community. My housing IS great. I ENJOY being a volunteer. Things ARE good.
In my application for the Peace Corps, I listed a reason for joining as wanting the challenge because I knew through struggle comes growth. A year later, I'm giving my former self a high five. It's true. We grow from those moments where we are pushed the most. That liminal moment is the genesis of change.
Instead of devolving into a diatribe about humanity, I'll cut to a journal entry about my first day in site. While I would say it's unhealthy to dwell in the past, don't discount looking in the mirror as a means for personal growth.
10-22-09 The First Day
I'm sitting on the porch of my counterpart's house trying not to freak out about my situation. Part of me is wondering what I got myself into. Two years of this is a long time. I'm leaving a lot back at home. All these thoughts came crashing as I walked from Kwite to Calante last night. I was tired and it was sad saying goodbye to the other volunteers. Training had felt like a vacation and I had made great friends. Now the experience has shifted to something individual and a lot more solitary. I can't communicate very well with the community. I know I need to put myself out there and meet people but I just want to sit and read as a coping mechanism. It's all so clear in my mind and yet I'm paralyzed. I'm going to sacrifice today. If I feel this way tomorrow, I'm going to choke it up and just get out there.
Thursday is my reunion. We'll be discussing why I'm here again along with my housing situation. I can't get a clear answer on how much a house will cost, and I don't want it to spiral out of control where people think they can take advantage of me. We'll see...
------
OK, so my first day in site was pretty dark. Real, but dark. Take solace in the fact that I CAN communicate with my community. My housing IS great. I ENJOY being a volunteer. Things ARE good.
In my application for the Peace Corps, I listed a reason for joining as wanting the challenge because I knew through struggle comes growth. A year later, I'm giving my former self a high five. It's true. We grow from those moments where we are pushed the most. That liminal moment is the genesis of change.
Insert Some Witty Title for More Site Photos Here
A description of photos in no particular order...
- Bugs of the large variety
- Beautiful surroundings
- Ngabe life
- Obligatory reading of War and Peace
- Kwite aqueduct water crossing construction
- Cute kids in Kwite
- Water committee training in Solaite, an hour upriver from Calante
- Make sure you get to Punta Peña to get your pet dog, cat, or MONKEY vaccinated
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