My early morning Naso studies on the Fourth of July were interrupted by new voices in the house. My host dad and brother had just returned from an overnight hunting trip. I came out of my room to see my host dad open up his son’s book bag and reveal the bounty: one wild chicken (Spanish: perdiz, Naso: srun) and a rodent-like animal, ñeque. While he proudly posed for a picture (see below) he told me about the conejo pintado (another rodent animal, possibly endangered, that sells for $2/lb in the city) that got away. They also returned with some wild tomatoes and rabo mono, tender fern tips. After cleaning the animals we sat down for an amazing holiday feast.
I have been afflicted by a new round of skin ailments. Sixty-four little red mounds from the bite of a little black bug cover my body. My feet have been sampled so much that they have swelled up and I now only take my socks off to shower. I also think I have athlete’s foot. But I think I have had it for a long time and just didn’t realize what it was. Initially, I thought my toes were weird because I had been walking with sand between my toes, but the itchy peeling continued long after the sand was gone. At least I now have a use for all the anti fungal cream I received for my rash in training. And then there is the blister/rash from stinging nettles, a tropical version that I earned cutting brush in my host family’s banana grove.
My feet are more sure on muddy hilly terrain. I am still far from navigating with the skill of the Naso and my boot are still destroying my feet, but my steps are lighter and my body less awkward. Falls still happen, but my third paw has been temporarily retired. Two teachers that live in my community have taken me under their wings. They have taken me to nearby Guabito for ice cream and grocery shopping and invited me to lunch in their house. They prepared a meal of smoked, fried chicken drumsticks, potato salad, white rice, fried ripe plantains, and lemonade. My culinary expectations are not what they used to be, and it was a treat to see so much variety in one plate of food.
The tight rope I had been walking was yanked upon in a community meeting this past week. A very outspoken community member made an ultimatum that I and the Peace Corps state which king we support. While my regional leader offered a diplomatic response, the subject will be settled in the coming weeks with the PC Panama director, the two kings, representatives from the 11 Naso communities, the agriculture group I am working with, and various others. While I am hopeful and confident that the conflict will be resolved happily, I still am still a bit fearful that I may be asked to leave my new home.
The evening after the meeting, my host dad tried to cheer me up. The conversation went something like:
Host dad: “Everyone has to confront obstacles in their lives. A long time ago there was a man named Jesus Christ, and he had to overcome many trials. Some people even wanted to kill him. And then they did.”
Me: “I am not sure I like this example. What are you implying?”
Host dad: “Just that there are some bad people, but a lot of good ones, too.”
Anyways, things are going well. The food and work are abundant. So is the recreation. I am developing my own extreme sport from harvesting oranges. Because my host family has all of their citrus trees planted on the side of a very steep hill, I am becoming practiced in trying to grab the fruit as it rolls full speed down the hill.
I have been afflicted by a new round of skin ailments. Sixty-four little red mounds from the bite of a little black bug cover my body. My feet have been sampled so much that they have swelled up and I now only take my socks off to shower. I also think I have athlete’s foot. But I think I have had it for a long time and just didn’t realize what it was. Initially, I thought my toes were weird because I had been walking with sand between my toes, but the itchy peeling continued long after the sand was gone. At least I now have a use for all the anti fungal cream I received for my rash in training. And then there is the blister/rash from stinging nettles, a tropical version that I earned cutting brush in my host family’s banana grove.
My feet are more sure on muddy hilly terrain. I am still far from navigating with the skill of the Naso and my boot are still destroying my feet, but my steps are lighter and my body less awkward. Falls still happen, but my third paw has been temporarily retired. Two teachers that live in my community have taken me under their wings. They have taken me to nearby Guabito for ice cream and grocery shopping and invited me to lunch in their house. They prepared a meal of smoked, fried chicken drumsticks, potato salad, white rice, fried ripe plantains, and lemonade. My culinary expectations are not what they used to be, and it was a treat to see so much variety in one plate of food.
The tight rope I had been walking was yanked upon in a community meeting this past week. A very outspoken community member made an ultimatum that I and the Peace Corps state which king we support. While my regional leader offered a diplomatic response, the subject will be settled in the coming weeks with the PC Panama director, the two kings, representatives from the 11 Naso communities, the agriculture group I am working with, and various others. While I am hopeful and confident that the conflict will be resolved happily, I still am still a bit fearful that I may be asked to leave my new home.
The evening after the meeting, my host dad tried to cheer me up. The conversation went something like:
Host dad: “Everyone has to confront obstacles in their lives. A long time ago there was a man named Jesus Christ, and he had to overcome many trials. Some people even wanted to kill him. And then they did.”
Me: “I am not sure I like this example. What are you implying?”
Host dad: “Just that there are some bad people, but a lot of good ones, too.”
Anyways, things are going well. The food and work are abundant. So is the recreation. I am developing my own extreme sport from harvesting oranges. Because my host family has all of their citrus trees planted on the side of a very steep hill, I am becoming practiced in trying to grab the fruit as it rolls full speed down the hill.
piggies eating pifá, a plam tree fruit that also graces my plate 
my host brother, the dwarf
My host dad and brother with the night´s catch
wild tomatoes with rabo mono
cooking the ñeque and perdiz
my host mom grinding corn 
neighborhood kids 
the biggest pot I´ve ever seen in a home
2 comments:
Hmm, that Jesus story seems very you, not sure why. I hope that whole situation gets resolved for the benefit of you and everyone else involved. Glad to hear you're enjoying all your work, not so much on the getting eaten alive bit. And your extreme sport would be so much cooler if while the oranges rolled down the hill, you had to jump off a small cliff to catch them in mid-air before landing in a pool of water.. come on, how extreme would that be?
Wish you the best,
:)
oh! i love swimming holes! according to folkloric chinese medicine, boiling the local dirt in some water and then straining out the dirt and drinking the water helps one's body acclimate to a new area...I don't have any personal experience with this; i chose to just wear gloves when playing with local plants and abide the allergies until i leave. i was having near anaphylactic responses to fire ant bites, but that appears to have resolved itself with the aid of some homeopathic stuff...
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