Cry, the Beloved Kingdom

It has been days since I have been in site, and I am eager to return, but I have a few hours before my chiva (i.e., pickup + tarp-covered metal cage in bed = my jungle taxi) comes, so I am back to posting my thoughts. I left my site almost four days ago, and Saturday I was sent to David to a clinic/hospital by the PC medical unit. I apparently celebrated victory over the parasites too soon because they are (or something else is) still lurking around in my colon. I now have more medications against the little buggers, and I am also being treated for anemia. On the advice of my ever wise oldest sister, I have also started my own herbal warfare against these bloating-inducing terrors. I am bombing them with entire cloves of garlic. Last night I managed to chew up 5 cloves before my tongue was blazing and the tears began to roll. This morning I woke with the most glorious garlic breath. Panama apparently has vampire bats, but I suppose my risk of being bitten is now null.

In my parasite and anemia-induced lethargy, I have been reading a lot lately. Thanks to my other (but also wise) older sister I have had plenty of reading material to keep my mind occupied. (Warning: I may start to get philosophical soon). And while I’ve enjoyed all the books I’ve read in the last couple weeks, I cannot stop thinking about one in particular, Cry, the Beloved Country, which is a novel set during the apartheid era in South Africa. The social landscape of South Africa in the 1950’s in the novel parallels to my own community here in Panama. I by no means am implying that Panama has a racially suppressive government. However, when author Alan Paton emphasizes the dissolution of native African tribes: ‘The tribe has broken,’ I can’t help but think about the conflict between the two Naso kings, the conflict within my own community over land that prevented the arrival of a new school in the community years ago, the Naso fight for government-recognized tribal lands, the breaking up of families as men leave the community to find work, and the increasingly evident loss of the Naso language, customs, and values.

To add to my agony, Paton described the once-fertile valley which is home to his protagonist:

There were too many cattle there, and the fields were eroded and barren; each new field extended the devastation. Something might have been done, if these people had only learned how to fight erosion, if they had built walls to save the soil from washing, if they had ploughed along the contours of the hills. But the hills were steep, and indeed some of them were never meant for ploughing. And the oxen were weak, so that it was easier to plough downwards. And the people were ignorant, and knew nothing about farming methods. Indeed it was a problem almost beyond solution. Some people said there must be education, but a boy with education did not want to work on the farms, and went off to the towns to look for more congenial occupation.

I try not to despair. My community has fertile hills; it has young men and women who know how to harvest from the earth, and they are eager to learn more sustainable techniques. My community also has a willing teacher (me). However, as I was explaining to my parents over the phone the other night, I have also been agonizing over how much am I really doing to help my farmers. When a farmer asks my why her tomatoes are dying, and I share with her the pictures in my books of the culprit disease and tell her that it is a fungus, that there is nothing she can to do to save this harvest but remove the infected plants, and that she cannot plant tomatoes in the infected soil for another three years, I feel like I have don’t but nothing to help her. But my Dad was quick to raise my spirits. He (a dairy farmer) explained that when he has a sick animal that he knows is going to die, he still is happy to learn why she is dying and what he can do for prevention. He also takes comfort in knowing that he isn’t the only farmer that has had such a problem, that it isn’t a reflection of his work.

Thus my spirit is renewed, I am armed with garlic, and I am ready to get back to my community.