My host mom watches as I empty the ten grains of rice off my spoon into my mouth, chew by default, and force myself to swallow. I can already feel the turbulence brewing within. Just one more bite, Janell, it’ll make her happy, and then you can let the spoon rest. But my head says, “Stupid, stupid girl” and my tummy is shrieking, “Oh, no you don’t! There will be revenge.” And sure enough within a few hours, my belly swells up like a balloon, full of air, very foul air. Trying to pull my tummy in hurts. Bending over induces vomit-laced burps from the pit of my stomach. Why on earth did I try eating? And what kinds of reactions are taking place within my abdomen? After weeks of inflation, deflation, and other err, other discomforts, I finally admit to myself that maybe my body needed a leg up with some modern medicine. I go to the clinic in Changuinola, and am given a prescription to treat the amoebas that had been ravaging my intestines for weeks.
A couple days later, after many pills and nursing my stomach with an oranges and oatmeal diet, I am back in town and have celebrated the amoebas’ defeat with a pint of ice cream. Flavor of choice: cookies and cream. Oh, and I really did mean to share with a fellow volunteer, but after a couple of spoonfuls those silly thoughts melted from my mind. So cold (yea! for electricity!), and so creamy (yea! for daily products!). Oh, what bliss! And the cherry on top: no bloating!
Despite the recent health issues, I have managed to get myself to be at least mildly productive in my community. Which means that I have been reading a lot and fielding questions about the price of a can of tuna in the U.S., which I use some help in answering. However, through the bloating and cramping, I’ve continued my weekly English classes against my community’s protests for my health. I tried convincing them that I was going to get bed sores if I spent one more day in bed, and the issue was settled. We worked on numbers this week, having board races with the promise of candy for the winners. Mind you, the majority of my students are over 30.
For weeks my two oldest host sibling have watched me with curiosity as I practice my swim strokes that I learned in my last quarter in the university (I was going to be a college grad, but I still couldn’t swim!). After many shy refusals, I have finally convinced them to also give it a try. Things are going well. Of course I am no Michael Phelps, but not only have none of my students been lost to the river currents, my class has more than doubled in size to include my cousins as well. And the best part is that class usually ends with crayfish hunting among the rocks. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive the first time that these little guys appeared on my plate with their itty bitty fried eyes staring up at me. After observing proper consumption etiquette, I popped a whole one into my mouth and chewed, timidly but steadily. Not bad. Perhaps not a delicacy, but not bad.
In addition to the deep fried variety that graces my plate weekly, I’ve had many other critter sightings lately. The most novel that presented itself was a 3-toed sloth. The farmer that I was with at the time graciously cut down the tree that the small bear-like animal was happily feeding upon to show me the very slow-moving, rather defenseless creature. There are also sloths of the 2-toed variety, which this same farmer sighted, but failed to kill with his sling shot, so it got away. Apparently having fewer toes allows them to move faster. Scarcely a week ago, my host dad heard a strange noise not far from the house. He left with his flashlight and shotgun, and within minutes came back with two dead cat-like animals (name I forget, but picture is below). He and my host brother subsequently charred the animals over bamboo and hacked them up to feed to the family’s dogs. I have also seen my first toucan that was not on a cereal box. It had also fell victim to my host dad’s shotgun and was then fried for lunch. My last new animal exciting was just as exciting, but in a rather frightening way. It was a coral snake, but luckily I had my handy host mom to impale it with rocks.
A couple days later, after many pills and nursing my stomach with an oranges and oatmeal diet, I am back in town and have celebrated the amoebas’ defeat with a pint of ice cream. Flavor of choice: cookies and cream. Oh, and I really did mean to share with a fellow volunteer, but after a couple of spoonfuls those silly thoughts melted from my mind. So cold (yea! for electricity!), and so creamy (yea! for daily products!). Oh, what bliss! And the cherry on top: no bloating!
Despite the recent health issues, I have managed to get myself to be at least mildly productive in my community. Which means that I have been reading a lot and fielding questions about the price of a can of tuna in the U.S., which I use some help in answering. However, through the bloating and cramping, I’ve continued my weekly English classes against my community’s protests for my health. I tried convincing them that I was going to get bed sores if I spent one more day in bed, and the issue was settled. We worked on numbers this week, having board races with the promise of candy for the winners. Mind you, the majority of my students are over 30.
For weeks my two oldest host sibling have watched me with curiosity as I practice my swim strokes that I learned in my last quarter in the university (I was going to be a college grad, but I still couldn’t swim!). After many shy refusals, I have finally convinced them to also give it a try. Things are going well. Of course I am no Michael Phelps, but not only have none of my students been lost to the river currents, my class has more than doubled in size to include my cousins as well. And the best part is that class usually ends with crayfish hunting among the rocks. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive the first time that these little guys appeared on my plate with their itty bitty fried eyes staring up at me. After observing proper consumption etiquette, I popped a whole one into my mouth and chewed, timidly but steadily. Not bad. Perhaps not a delicacy, but not bad.
In addition to the deep fried variety that graces my plate weekly, I’ve had many other critter sightings lately. The most novel that presented itself was a 3-toed sloth. The farmer that I was with at the time graciously cut down the tree that the small bear-like animal was happily feeding upon to show me the very slow-moving, rather defenseless creature. There are also sloths of the 2-toed variety, which this same farmer sighted, but failed to kill with his sling shot, so it got away. Apparently having fewer toes allows them to move faster. Scarcely a week ago, my host dad heard a strange noise not far from the house. He left with his flashlight and shotgun, and within minutes came back with two dead cat-like animals (name I forget, but picture is below). He and my host brother subsequently charred the animals over bamboo and hacked them up to feed to the family’s dogs. I have also seen my first toucan that was not on a cereal box. It had also fell victim to my host dad’s shotgun and was then fried for lunch. My last new animal exciting was just as exciting, but in a rather frightening way. It was a coral snake, but luckily I had my handy host mom to impale it with rocks.
the rooster slaughtered for my brother´s birthday 
A picture worthy feast complete with crispy crayfish eyes (10 o´clock)
eventual dog food
chocolate cake perfection... my host mom is now selling cake in the community
the recently deceased Toucan Sam
the kittens brought into the world in my room between 2-5 am,
which means I am going to be a cat mom... but first I have to build my house... and then adopt :)
3 comments:
Oh, I hope you are feeling much better after treating the amoebas! That sounds quite debilitating; those darn single-cell organisms!
I can't believe you ATE toucan, although this update would be better with some photos :o) Take care!
baby kitties!! They are so adorable and and multi-colored! And an upbeat change from the pictures of dead critters...
ha, leave it to tammy to say what i was about to say. you can only imagine the distraught expressions on my face from the previous pictures, then the large grin that the kittens brought. so happy panama has potential sassys!
Post a Comment