Snakebites and Such...

I'm at an internet cafe in David. I shouldn't be here. I should still be in site. Here's my story.

I woke up yesterday morning at 6am to the sound of my counterpart calling out "Oti, Oti." Dazed, I stumbled out of bed trying to act like I´d gotten up with the 4am roosters as he had. Felipe and I had planned to look for a second aqueduct source later that morning. He wanted to let me know that he would instead be helping workers with the road they are building to connect the highway to Kankitu, a larger community about 4 hours away.

As an aside, this recruitment of local labor, while great for the Ngabes, could essentially bring Jon's aqueduct to a standstill and dash any of my hopes for new projects. Why would any of the men put in some sweat equity when they could instead be earning a wage working on the road? Jobs are hard to come by. Stay tuned.

So Felipe and I will not be looking for the second source. That's fine. A change of plans before the sun crests the hills behind Calante is par for the course out on the Rio Mananti (and every other Peace Corps site in the world). Since I was already up, I had my morning brew and went to talk to the boat driver in my community about a special boat ride for an upcoming tech week. Jon and I are hosting a tech week in Calante where 15 other volunteers will be working on aqueduct construction and maintenance. I´d already spoken with the boat driver, but needed to confirm whether we were on. Naturally, he wasn't home. His wife said he was abajo. Por supuesto. I think if I had to deal with this woman everyday, I'd spend a fair amount of time abajo myself.

I packed up my water and day planner and headed down to Kwite to surprise Jon and try to finalize this boat situation. An hour later, Jon and I headed down to where the boat driver has his home away from home. He was in Chiriqui Grande. Por supuesto. This was a nice piece of information I had asked his wife about and she had simply reiterated that he was in Kwite. No worries. We're still par for the course in Peace Corps living.

Jon and I headed up to his water tank to make a few phone calls and discuss last-minute tech week logistics. On the way back, we stopped by one of his community members, who is usually good for some friendly pasearing. We talked for a few minutes, her on the balcony above, us on the trail below. As we were headed back to Jon´s house, she casually mentions the sick girl at her house that was bit by a snake. What?!

We ask to come up and start asking questions. The girl is splayed out on the floor not looking well, but also looking remarkable healthy all things considered. We find out that she was bitten on the other side of the river, which is easy to cross for lack of rain. As we set out, she remarks how my hair is different than Jon´s and wants to chit chat about such things. Are you kidding me?! Why is no one concerned?! During this episode of the "Twilight Zone", we commandeer another community member and head to the house where she was bitten to try to identify the snake.

We arrive at the house to find out that they have burned the snake, swiftly destroying any hopes of identifying the snake. Por supuesto. But they reassure us that they'´ve saved the blood of the snake if we'd like to use that.

We head back to the girl. If she gets worse, let us know.

Fast forward a few hours. I go back to check on the girl. As I approach, I hear her crying. I go upstairs to find she is in fact getting worse. Where is the family in all of this? At some point, we piece together that the father is out looking for medicine, dropped off the daughter where she is now, and we think we met the mom at the house where she was bitten. Untangling the intricate web of information a la par for the course.

I tell the caretaker that Jon and I can pay for the gas for a special trip to the hospital. The price for a special trip is $125, but the cost for gas alone is much lower. She mandars a few kids to get the ball rolling and I bounce to Calante to grab my things and money for the ride.

Two hours later we're waiting by the boat in Kwite as the boat driver readies the motor. Also, the mother (we think) has arrived with her sick baby (another one) that has had diarrhea and vomiting all day. If there's a special boat going out, they may as well be on it too. The boat driver sets the motor and gas in place and upon seeing our bags announces he only wants the parents and the children aboard. This of course puts Jon and I in a weird place. We want to help and we're paying the cost of the trip. Do we just throw down some money and hope for the best? Do we insist that we should go? There's a lot of implications of whatever choice we take as the twenty people gathered around watch intently. We tell the driver that we're paying and we'd like to at least help these people at the hospital, that today isn't about us trying to just get a special ride afuera. A few words are exchanged in Ngabere and we're told to get in the boat. We sheepishly throw our stuff in the boat, feeling like asses and completely confused for the entire ride to Chiriqui Grande. Why is it so hard to help? In a way, this afternoon felt like a microcosm of the whole experience out here. Trying to help. Stymied by cultural differences. Are we doing the right thing? Who knows? We reassure ourselves that this is a good thing we're doing.

Fast forward to Chiriqui Grande. I know the price of gas should be $60. They want $125. I tell the driver that our part was paying for gas and a little more (we had $80 out ready). His part should be a reduced price under the circumstances. Profiting from a child dying (maybe, still don't know) of a snake bite seems a bit cold.  He says he'll get the $125 from the father of the girl. I try a different tack. I know your people. I know that you'll be waiting years to get this money back. You know that you'll never get the $125 from your people. The idea of credit doesn't work out here. Here's $80 that you can feel right now. It's in your hands. He smiles. He knows. It worked. We shake hands and split ways. Jon and I and go find a taxi for the hospital.

Once we're in the hospital, the girl is immediately rushed into the emergency room. We wait with the mother and the baby with diarrhea in the lobby. After an hour of waiting, I get pissed. Other people have been seen that arrived after us. I go in to talk to the nurse. She comes out and says the women has to go to pay the nominal fee to be seen. Thanks for ignoring us for an hour. The conversation smacked of racism towards the indigenous people. For the first time in Panama, I felt defensive of my Ngabes. Even if the jury is still out on whether these communities respect me, you sure as hell better respect my Ngabes. She and her son are later seen.

At the end of the day, it turns out the girl was bitten by a venomous snake. The doctor informed us it was a good thing she had in fact been rushed to the hospital. The family spent the night in the hospital. Jon and I gave them a little money for food, made sure everything was OK, and we caught the last bus headed to David. Par for the course.

Poco a Poco

Author´s Note: You should probably read the post below this one first. I always like to end on a good note and eBlogger will have none of it. Once you're done, come back up here for the partner post on development work.

Poco a poco. Little by little. In my first 8 months out here, I've learned a lot about myself and about development work. Development work is slow. There are plenty of challenges. The easy stuff to overcome are the bugs and the heat and the amoebas and the diarrhea and the infections and the... and the... It's the language barrier, the resistance to change, the pace, the lack of education, the cultural roadblocks, the lack of appreciation for you being there in the first place.  That's the hard part.

But over time you learn more about yourself. The emotional, physical, and spiritual trials and tribulations make you stronger. You change the way you view your situation. You take another tack, try something new. It takes patience. It takes persistence. Most of all, it takes an understanding that you're only going to be able to chip away at a much larger problem. You're only going to do what you can do because you're only one person. You're going to contribute what you can in the time that you are here and you should feel good about that. Don't dwell on all that you can't accomplish, but on the small wins.

Yes. Jon and I are kicking butt. Sure we have our brief bouts of depression. We're alone in a freakin' jungle. They're questioning our contributions in a language we'll never understand. But you know what, we're still kicking butt. Let's recap:

- Over a mile of tube has been properly buried on Jon's aqueduct. Not an inconsequential task in the middle of thick jungle with only a few shovels with a community that had zero motivation until we threw down the gauntlet in January. (This project has been Jon's baby. He's been doing the heavy lifting, and should be proud)

- The said aqueduct has been surveyed and we have a (realistic) goal of bringing water to his community by the end of the year

- Two more families have water in my community

- I have a clear plan for projects to develop in my community, namely latrines and new cooking stoves. This is important because the community is finally on board, understanding their level of commitment, and wants to see these projects through

- Water committees have been formed in two neighboring communities

- One of the two water committees will be going through a formal training next week on collecting money with their community for continuing aqueduct improvements. The committee now understands the value of a committee and how less than $50 will bring dramatic results to the quality of their water system

- The water committee in my community is successfully collecting monthly payments for continued maintenance of the aqueduct. It's worth noting that most water systems fail because the community either has little involvement in the construction process (and therefore no sense of ownership) or does not have a system in place for maintaining the system (collecting funds, community members trained on servicing water system)

- Two kids in my community can read and write basic English. They can form simple sentences about what they are doing. While this may not end up being too useful, it's gone a long way in empowering them, something these people desperately need

- I built a house in an indigenous community in the middle of the Panamanian jungle

Sometimes (most of the time) it's easily to lose track of the things that you've accomplished. It's hard to see the forest through the trees. There's a huge need and a lot of work to do. It's sometimes (most of the time) overwhelming. But I can't let them be my downfall. I'm doing what I can, living, learning, failing, and occasionally, winning. Poco a poco.

The Darker Side to Development Work

I'll be honest, the last month has been a roller coaster.

Almost nine months ago, I packed my bags for Panama, my head full of grandiose visions of parachuting in and saving the world. Of course my village would welcome me with open arms. Finally, a compassionate engineer amongst us. What a great resource. He will help guide us through the change we've anticipated all these years. He'll teach us about the simple things that we can do to improve our health. He will help provide us with the clean drinking water we've needed for so long.

Cut to present. The ever present rain pounds on the forest canopy. If it rains any harder, we'll have to stop working on the aqueduct. Finally, Jon and I throw in the towel. We walk back to my community and take the opportunity to have one of our many chats.

How do you help someone that isn't grateful for your help and doesn't necessarily want your help in the first place? And part of that is culture. There's no word for "thank you" in Ngabere. The government has been handing things out for the past thirty years. If you sit back and wait long enough, you'll get another handout. Throw in the fact that I'm white and you get an expectation. This person was sent to bring us things. He has plenty of money and will shower us with gifts. I don't need to work for anything because I'm poor and entitled to my fair share.

What do you say to that? I came here to "help". You've completely deflated my idealistic notions of "saving" the less fortunate. I came here to improve health within the indigenous communities. You're basically healthy. I'm the one getting slammed by amoebas. I want to help you get organized so that you can help yourselves when I leave. Organizational skills and education is not some big infrastructure handout. Why are you here again?

Sigh.

Babies are still dying from water-borne diseases. They're developmentally delayed. Life is hard for these people. Most are illiterate. Try asking for help from your government when you're an illiterate, uneducated indigeno. There is a definite need here. We can do good work.

I'm a middle-class American male. I'm richer than most of the world. I received a world-class education. And all the opportunities that I've had in my life basically mean that I can hike into the middle of the jungle and know exactly how to help improve the lives of these people. But they don't know what they don't know. How do you value an engineer when you don't even know what that is? How do you become an agent of change when they don't know what the better alternative looks like? You can explain that diarrhea is not normal. You can explain that it's not normal to not name your child until after a few years in based on infant mortality rates. But that's all they know.

It's like me explaining to you all the wondrous things on Mars. I've been to Mars. It's a wonderful place with flush toilets and hot water. We wash our hands on Mars to reduce disease transmission because that's what you do on Mars. We wash our plates with soap. That's what we do on Mars to improve our health. We take our children to the hospital when they're sick because doctors on Mars can help. We eat a varied diet because there's vitamins on Mars. These vitamins make our immune system stronger. The aliens on Mars eat these invisible things to improve this other invisible thing to prevent this other invisible thing from making you sick. Eyes glaze over. Say what?!

Needless to say, there´s been a certain amount of disillusionment. I wrote down my goals for service when I arrived. I've since scaled back a touch. But in all the frustrating moments, the language issues, the cultural road blocks, the education disconnect, has emerged an inner resolve. I´ve learned to concentrate on the little wins. It's poco a poco out here.

At Long Last, More Photos

My camera died, officially. Luckily, I'm able to use my dad's for now. Thanks Dad!

Some of the photos are from my hike up Volcan Baru, the tallest point in Panama. Exhausted and cold, a group of volunteers arrived to watch the sunrise over the Atlantic. At the top of the volcano, it's one of the few places in the world to see both the Pacific and Atlantic ocean.

Other photos include a GPS survey of the aqueduct in a nearby community and general campo living.

Worlds Colliding

I just saw my parents off after spending a little over a week with them here in Panama. I don't think I fully appreciated the itinerary until it was all over. I met them at the airport and we spent two and a half days exploring Panama City. Panama City is sorta like a third-world city in the trappings of a developed city. There are fancy hotels and fine dining. There are shopping malls and parks for recreation. There are also open sewers, congestion and a lot of dysfunction. It was a good launching off point physically and mentally for the rest of the vacation.

After checking out the canal and a few other tourist to-dos, we headed off to my site. It takes over a day of travel. Two buses, a taxi, a 3.5 hour boat ride, followed by an hour long hike. My parents are the oldest gringos to have done it as far as I can tell (though there might be some competition from one of the members of Waterlines, the group that funded my community's aqueduct). Needless to say, my site serves as a stark contrast to the few days before in Panama City.

After a few days in site, we traveled to Bocas del Toro, a gringo haven and major Panamanian tourist attraction. Signs are in English. I have better Spanish than the realtor that I asked for directions. Food is expensive, but catered to an American crowd. A far cry from Comarca living.

In seeing Panama through my parents' eyes for the past week and a half, I've come to realize how much I navigate between these worlds. I'm blogging, about to embark on the said boat ride up the river in a dug out canoe.

It's also worth noting how interesting the dynamic in Bocas is. Bocas represents a major tourist destination. Families of Americans, Canadians, and Europeans come to see the turquoise waters and dine under charming thatch roofs. But what Lonely Planet doesn't mention is the extreme poverty a 20-minute boat ride would reveal. There are volunteers that have to come in and out of Bocas to travel to and from their site. Constantly living in that dichotomy would put my head in a tailspin.

And then there's the topic of encroaching development. Ngabes on cell phones, etc. Good or bad, it's inevitable. The world is getting smaller. Remote places are less and less remote. In trying to figure out my role as a developer, I've taken up the camp that I'm doing ''good work'' if it improves the health of those around me. If I'm playing both the roles of educator and of listener, then I'm doing well in a world where worlds collide.

Author's Note: I know this post was a little scattered. Running out of internet cafe time... More cohesion in future posts. Promise.