Community Culture

I just got back from spending a few days in a good friend's site.  Dan lives in the Comarca Ngabe-Bugle, but on the other side of the continental divide.  As we climbed through the mountainous landscape in the back of a chiva, I thought about how it would be cool to blog about the differences between Chiriqui and Bocas Ngabes.  After spending those couple of days in his site, I came to realize that the differences between communities has more to do with culture than location.

Communities relatively near geographically can vary wildly.  One community can be organized, healthy, happy, and passing the day tsk-tsking their neighbors.  It happens and with frequency.  So why do some communities kick butt and take names while others seem to pass the time wondering why they've been left out?  While some communities are thriving, leveraging the resources of government agencies or NGO's, some seem to be caught in a holding pattern of complaining about their lot in life.

Most communities seem to have at least one strong leader. They may be the one that has traveled or worked abroad, is more educated, has had exposure to more ideas, or just plain works hard.  They are usually the reason behind a Peace Corps volunteer serving in that community.  But usually the one leader is not enough.  There needs to be a critical mass of leaders, of change agents that seize opportunities, that motivate and empower the community to seek out positive change.  In general, only a few leaders aren't enough to implement community cultural change.  There's just too much cultural inertia to overcome.

Of course that are many other aspects to the culture of a community and many factors influencing those cultural traits.  But as a volunteer trying to implement health-related projects in the community, the role of its leaders and the community's willingness to work comes to the forefront.

What has really been interesting is seeing how these work-related issues aren't boxed neatly by geographic location or race.  Instead, every community seems to have their distinct culture.  A few passionate leaders can move entire communities.  A few strong characters can define the culture of their community.

Guilt and Selfishness - Part 2

I've wanted to write another blog about guilt for a long time, but it's been one of the harder posts to write.  I've been mulling over how our culture tends to elevate the idea of sacrifice and charity and enforces those ideals with a heavy dose of guilt. The truth is it's hard to write about our cultural traits without sounding patronizing. I wish I could say I succeeded in this post.

My trip to the US over the holidays involved a lot of conversations with friends, family, coworkers, and a few strangers about my chapter in Panama.  While topics ranged from diet to Ngabes to my current projects,  I could tell that some people felt guilty that here I was, out "saving the world," while they were still in the States.

While it's true that I've sacrificed a few things, I don't think I've necessarily been sacrificing much for others.  I joined the Peace Corps to have my adventure and helping others was just a part of the decision to join.  (Remember, I passed up the local soup kitchen to live in a hut in the jungle.)  And while I felt a certain smug satisfaction of having a lower carbon footprint than the hippies at Rainbow Grocery, most of what I felt when I was home was how amazing everyone else's lives were.

I'm blessed to be surrounded by remarkably dedicated and interesting people.  Everyone is immersed in cool projects.  My trip was a good reminder of how good I had it.  My only regret was that I didn't have time to hear more about what everyone was doing in their lives.  I felt there was a tendency to downplay what others were doing because jungle boy was in the room. The truth is, everyone back home is doing much more than they realize.  Incidentally, I'm doing much less than they realize.

So why are we consumed by guilt? We flog ourselves instead of appreciating what we have.  We live our lives feeling guilty for not living at the lowest common denominator. We continually benchmark ourselves against those that seem to be sacrificing more.

Like many previous posts, again I don't have an answer.  Yes, there are poor people in the world.  And yes, we should acknowledge and do something about it. And while it's good that feeling guilt is a symptom of acknowledging the discrepancies of the world, it also doesn't do much for addressing those discrepancies.  Somewhere in there is also a balance, a recognition that the idea of unadulterated happiness is important too.

Carnaval

Below is a basic guide on how one can best carnavalear.

1.  Rent house with other volunteers in Las Tablas, one of the Carnaval epicenters in Panama.
2.  Give some thought as to what ridiculous hair and clothing choices you should make over the next few days.

3.  Start your day with a good breakfast, preferably with a Mohawk.

4.  Once you've eaten and dressed, be sure to take a quick photo to put up on your mom's fridge.  After all, it will be a proud time for all.

5.  Disfruta Carnaval!

Typical Ngabe Questions

About 95% of my conversations with Ngabes are centered around me telling them the following:
     - I am no longer taking photos
     - I don't lend people money, but would be glad to buy food from their finca in exchange
     - I don't give things out from my home, but will have a lottery for a few things when I end my service
     - I can't buy you something when I'm in David because then everyone will want one

This 95% makes for a really good exercise in patience and emotional fortitude.  The other 5% makes for a good social study as to what my community members are thinking about.

Let's make the 5% represent 100% of the questions that people ask.  Here's a breakdown to show how much certain types of questions are asked:

There are some interesting trends.  About 80% of all questions deal with money.  Only once in a blue moon do people ask personal questions.  Here's a summary of each section of the pie chart from most asked to least.

Cost of Things (50%):  Most people want to know how much something costs.  This could be the cost of something I own that they don't have like my headlamp.  Almost every man I've had an extended conversation with has asked me at some point the cost of visiting the US.  I usually respond with prices that are about 50% of the actual cost to take away some of the sticker shock.  They already think I'm flush, so they don't need any more encouragement.

Printing Money (20%): The general understanding that all Americans are rich is due to us having the factories where they print money.  Most Ngabes think that bags of money are carried off from the mint and distributed to the general public.  I'm not making this up.  Remember that Panama uses US currency and their Red Oportunidades program is basically just that.  Someone shows up at a designated place with a bag of cash and hands out $100 to each family.

This question is always followed up with an explanation of inflation.  A fun afternoon can always be spent trying to explain inflation to someone with no formal education.  Sometimes the light bulb clicks on and that's always a proud moment in service.

Visa, Working in the US (10%):  Many times the men in the community want to know about working in the US.  What type of work is there for a Ngabe?  Do they need a visa?  How long can they stay?  I explain how the US has immigrants from all over the world, but finding work would be hard because they would be competing with all the other immigrants, many of whom speak English and have a college education.  I explain that they could only stay for a short time and, that as enticing as our minimum wage may sound, the cost of living would leave them with little to no savings to bring back to Panama.

Distance to the US (5%):  Most of the people in my region have not been further than David, fewer than 50 miles away.  Many of the older women have never left the immediate area.  The idea that Panama is the same size as one of our smaller states (South Carolina) and that we have 50 of them is mind blowing.

It's interesting that when I explain that it's about 8 hours in a jet to my region, they are shocked.  It's as if they are doing a quick calculation, taking from memory the flight that they had never been on, extrapolating out to eight hours, to converge on yes, the US is very far away and the world is very big.

Some of my fondest memories are taking out a world map and showing people the world.  I can't begin to imagine what's going through their heads.  Maybe it's just a confusing piece of paper.  But I hope it's like the first time I learned about the solar system.  Recalling the latter still gives me goosebumps.

The War in Iraq (5%):  I hate to say it, but there is a whole demographic of people that think all Americans are war-mongering soldiers who engage in warfare for the thrill of the sport.  It always pains me to hear this impression of Americans, but maybe that's the composite image of scattered news reports and campo gossip surrounding American's involvement in Iraq and more recently Afghanistan.  My response is usually to point to the Americans they already know, past volunteers that brought water to nearby communities.  Do these people seem like soldiers?  I also put it on the shoulders of the US government, that a small fraction of the population is involved in wars abroad.  This seems to resonate a little more with their own discontent with the current administration in Panama.

As a side note, I can't help but point out that these conversations do much for "the war on terror."  Imagine a convoy of Americans conversing with those in the Middle East.  What would that do for our image abroad?

Comparing Flora and Fauna (5%):  Many are surprised to find out that the US doesn't have any bananas or yucca.  What do you eat?!  They are equally surprised to find out that we do have rivers and mountains just like Panama.  This conversation usually spills into a discussion about imports and exports.  I like these discussions because I can see the pride in their faces that us gringos want coffee and bananas, things that are growing in their own fincas.

Knowing Other Gringos (2.5%):  Much like finding out how big the world is, many Ngabes are surprised that I don't personally know all the other gringos in Panama and that Jon and I didn't know each other before Peace Corps.  I explain that it would be like them knowing other Panamanians from the Darien, the province on the other side of the country.

Questions About Me (2.5%):  More often that not, it's women that care about this type of information.  This line of questioning usually begins with whether I have any kids and is immediately followed up with asking my age.  In other words, the fact that I'm almost 28 and don't have any kids is confusing to say the least.  Many men are on their fourth or fifth kid by my age.  The next logical question is whether or not there is a woman in my life.  I explain that there is, but it's complicated.  Out here some men have more than one family, so my status is of little import.  They usually joke that I need to find a Ngabe woman, especially since I do my own cooking and laundry.  I explain that, in my experience, one woman is more than enough.


So that about does it.  It's a pretty interesting window into the Ngabe's perception of the boy next door.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Every year Peace Corps Panama puts out a calendar to raise funds for small volunteer projects like world maps or instructional seminars in the community.  The calendar is full of photos taken by volunteers during service.  Photos range from the skyline of Panama city to the white sands of San Blas to campesinos relaxing after a hard day's work.

My kids love the calendars.  I took last year's calendar and cut up the photos so that they could pick one to take home.  In doing so, something very interesting happened.  I got to see what type of photos were the most sought after by the children.

The kids passed up the photos of sloths and toucans, mountain vistas and tropical sunsets, and went straight for Panama City and photos of Latinas in their traditional polleras.  And that makes sense.  If I were to take a calendar photo, I'd probably pass up an image of a lighthouse or the Golden Gate Bridge for an image of coconut fronds falling into crystal clear waters.  In other words, we all appreciate what we don't have.

When I talk with community members about how beautiful it is here, they seem puzzled.  They nod and smile, but I can tell their heart isn't in it.  When I ask what they think is beautiful, they list off Panama City or Kankitu, the nearby jungle metropolis.  To them, the buildings and sidewalks are beautiful.  And as as strange as that first seems, it makes perfect sense.  We want to escape to the countryside for a break from the noise and concrete.  Here the trees are buildings, the river the highway.

This is an interesting dynamic, our discontent, the endless quest for the greenest grass.  In our pursuit of happiness, why is it all too easy to ignore all that we already have in front of us?  Maybe I'm taking license in projecting my own tendencies in looking for trends between Ngabes and Americans, but I can't help but feel like we sometimes overlook the beauty of the here and now.  Appreciation is interrupted by keeping up with the Joneses.  Contentedness is clouded by a desire for something more.

I'd love to have some closing paragraph that ties this mental vignette with a neat little bow, but I think this idea falls into a growing list of unanswered questions.  I guess the takeaway is acknowledging this tendency and striving to appreciate all that we have with the same verve and panache as our longing for what we don't have.

Recent Flooding in Kwite

The weather had been hot and dry for weeks.  I was worried that we would soon have homes without water in Calante.  Then it started to rain... and rain.... and rain.  Here are some photos of flooding in Kwite.

More Thoughts on Development and Charity

The weather has improved.  Aqueduct construction is in full swing and I'm hauling materials for composting latrine construction.  For my latrine, I need about 20 sacks of sand, 25 sacks of gravel, and 10 sacks of cement. Suffice to say, it's a lot of work.  To speed up the process of building my latrine, which will serve as the example/talking point for the community, I decided to pay community members, something somewhat taboo for Peace Corps development philosophy.

I've been trying to organize a work day for quite some time.  I thought if I provided food for the workers that that would be enough, but people kept flaking.  So I started asking around and found out some startling news.  The going rate to carry a 5-gallon bucket (1/2 sack) of sand from the river was $0.75.  Mind you it is hard work, but it's also only 15 minutes of hard work.  To haul a bag of cement from Kwite would be $5.00.  People were making up excuses because they wanted me to pay them.

Last week, I had a work day that I'd been planning for weeks.  The morning of my counterpart said he couldn't help.  Sticking to the Peace Corps idea of a community contribution, I told him I would not pay for the labor for anyone else's latrine.  However, I would pay for people to help build my personal latrine.  Suddenly, my counterpart was free for the day.

Even though we only worked the one day, word spread.  Now people are stopping by all the time not to ask for photos or money or gifts.  Instead, they're asking if I have more work for them.  It's relentless.  Suddenly, there's an overwhelming enthusiasm to work, something lacking for the last year and a half.

I should back up a bit and add a little more context.  The Panamanian government every once in awhile makes its way out to the Rio Mananti for a project.  A health post was built in Calante three years ago (still without staff and locked up).  They paid community members $1.00 per bucket and $10 for each bag of cement hauled from Kwite.

Projects like that set a precedent.  When a worker earns about $5/day from Chiquita Banana, in an urban setting, what dynamic is created when someone can earn $30/day hauling cement in a place where people live on less than $1/day?  On top of that, the government doles out $100 to each family every two months, which for many is their only source of income.  In other words, people learn to wait for the easier money and have an inflated sense of the cost of labor.

Amongst less-than-ideal purchases, that money also helps provide a better diet or supplies for personal hygiene like soap.  If community members earned as much as the average Panamanian, the overall heath would improve.  Cooking over a fire would be replaced with cleaner-burning stoves.  People would be able to better fight of infections and water-borne diseases with the improved diet that comes with a higher socioeconomic status.  But handouts may not be the best way to get there.

In America, we have a culture of meritocracy and pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps.  Our lore is of frontiersmen and immigrants, people who struck out on their own and made something out of nothing.  That mentality simply does not exist out here.  What is the price of creating a culture of dependency?  What is the true cost of aid?

For now, I'm playing (or paying) along with my latrine project because I'd rather kick back a few bucks to my gente and be able to show people the composting latrine rather than stand by an empty patch of dirt with my paternalistic principles about aid.

To be honest, I don't really have an answer to the best approach with aid.  I'm certainly more confused on the issue than when I got here.  I think the penny drives to UNICEF certainly have their place.  There are starving children and people are dying of preventable diseases.  Like the commercials say, thirty cents really can save a life.  When I return to the US, I fully plan on donating to charity again.  But I will do so knowing that charity is a much more complex issue than I once thought.