Continued Processing - Time

I live in Panama, nine degrees north of the equator.  There's a little over an hour difference between the shortest and longest day of the year.  Supposedly, there's a wet and dry season, but in Bocas it's more like wet and wetter. In other words, today was a lot like yesterday and chances are will be a lot like tomorrow.

I live in Calante, an indigenous community about 3 hours from electricity.   The idea of commerce and calendars and deadlines is relatively new.  There's a small group of daily activities that children learn to carry out through adulthood like harvesting food from the finca, looking for firewood, or washing clothes in the river. In other words, today was a lot like yesterday and chances are will be a lot like tomorrow.

I have two years to integrate with a community, decide what work there is to be done, carry out that work,  evaluate progress, and make any final plans for the future of the community.  After my two year deadline, I will pack my bags and head back to the States.

I came to Calante with a head full of ideas about scheduling, planning, time.  I have an internal clock telling me I only have X amount of time left to make an impact on the community (it's the same clock that tells me I only have X amount of time left until I return to the US).   These are all new ideas out here.  There are no deadlines.  There is no pressure to get things done (I'll address "progress" in another blog at some point).  They will get done when they are done.

When the days, weeks, years run together there isn't the pressure to complete something.  When time is thrown out the window, you're just left with lower blood pressure and things slooowww waaaay doooowwwn. And it can be frustrating at times, trying to motivate people to work on this arbitrary schedule.  After all, long after I leave, they will still be collecting firewood, having children, and maybe getting around to that aqueduct.  But I just have to remember that I was born into a world of watches and calendars with cute puppies for each month.  Heck, even California gives a subtle nod to the idea of seasons.

The sticking point is who has it right.  It's easy for an outsider to drop in, dismiss Ngabes as lazy, and head back to their world where machines make every task easier. But they may be on to something.  I always had a bad habit of living for the future.  I was constantly thinking about the next step.  What´s next after Peace Corps?  Whoa.  I´m still here for another year and a half.  I feel like sometimes I've been so involved in the future that I forgot to enjoy the here and now.  I have to admit when I'm in my site, I spend a lot more time in the present.  Sure some days can sometimes approach monotony, but I've never lived so much in the moment.  And it helps you to enjoy it.  I enjoy my morning cup of coffee.  I enjoy my hike to a neighboring village.  I enjoy my waiting the obligatory hour after the meeting time for people to show up.  I enjoy digging that ditch to lay more tube.  I've never been so here.  I've never been so now.  Makes you think.

The Cultural Gap

My community counterpart, Felipe, has checked out for awhile because his 2-year-old son is not well. And by not well I mean that I'm probably going to take photos when I get back to have a gift for the family. I have my fingers crossed, but he's been in and out of the hospital for about two months now and the doctors aren't optimistic.

My counterpart cares deeply for his children, a quality that doesn't seem to be found among the majority of Ngabes in the region. The volunteers all share stories of what we would view as neglect, let alone a lack of compassion. A child passed away in my community a few months ago. I tried to give my support to the family asking if there was anything I could do. Could I attend the funeral? Anything. There was no funeral. The family didn't really seem to mind what had just transpired. "¿Que va?" I was appalled. Then again, this is a culture that normally doesn't name their children until they've reached a few years of age.

I wasn't sure what I was going to write about when I started this post. When I think about my time here and the things I struggle with most, my mind seems to always drift towards the cultural differences.

It's funny. When I got here I thought the lack of creature comforts would be hard. No electricity. No running water. Latrines. Insects of the extremely large variety. But that's the easy stuff. It's the cultural differences that are hard. How do you have a conversation about improving health in the home when there doesn't seem to be the same level of caring for youth? And maybe there is and I just don´t know it. That's the rub. When we were in training, we saw a picture of an iceberg. The tip of iceberg was filled with words like clothing, food, music, etc. It's the parts of a culture that are visible or at least apparent. Then there's the gigantic part of the iceberg below the surface. Faux pas´ you never knew you made. Actions that are completely lost upon you. That's where the frustration comes from.

I know my language skills could use some TLC. I speak Spanish like a six-year-old that had Spanish spoken in the home. They speak Spanish like a six-year-old that has never been to school and had Ngabere in the home. It makes for fun conversation. And as for Ngabere, that's a difficult one. It's not that Ngabere is an inherently hard language. It's actually fairly simple with it's limited vocabulary and verb forms. The problem is that since no one in the community has ever been through the American public school system, they can't teach in a way I can understand. Replace grammar diagrams with saying a phrase really fast. Replace alphabets and pronunciation with repeating that same phrase really fast even if you ask them to slow it down. Replace a written language with regional variations. Replace constructive feedback with a Ngabe thinking you fully comprehend what you're saying when you blindly repeat what they just said. After all, that's how they are learning English. But even with all the progress yet to be made on the language front, I feel like I would hit many of the same communication roadblocks from the cultural gap alone.

As I close, I don't want to leave with a feeling of despair.  While there are many moments I will never fully understand, there are many shared stories and laughs.  And those moments of frustration make for good stories most of the time.  You just take those tough times in stride.  You learn to laugh at yourself, to not take things too seriously.  Patience and humility.  Exercising both is the difference between the good days and the bad. 

Site Visit, Tech Week Photos

Visited a new community where we were the first gringos to ever visit. Also hosted a tech week with the environmental health volunteers from my training group. Toured my system, discussed aqueduct construction and maintenance, built my tap stand, and built a valve box for the water system.