Comings and Goings

Whenever I am hiking about in my community and I am spotted by someone, I can expect the same series of questions: where are you going, where are you coming from, and when will you return. Beyond me first phrase, “Rain is coming,” those were the first sentences I learned in Naso. Likewise, per my students’ requests, they formed the material covered in my first English class. As a result, I now get to talk about my comings and goings in three distinct languages.

Initially I was bothered by such an invasion of privacy. Was it necessary that I be accountable to every member of the community at all times? But eventually I caught on, and I have joined in keeping loving tabs on my neighbors’ whereabouts.

Once the traditional line-up of questions is exhausted, the conversation turns to my ‘family’ (my cat). Cuko’s name is evidently much easier than my own. When I present a mug of sickly sweet watered-down coffee (the locally preferred cup-of-joe), visitors will thank me, ‘Gisel, Janay, Janny, etc.,’ and, when the pet in question is not in sight, ask for Cuko by name.

So a few days ago, in accordance with my recent push to expand my pitiful Naso language skills, I tried responding with the best Naso I could muster: “Bor micho plï ära” (My cat hunger much).” Deep belly laughter exploded from my neighbor. I suspect something in the syntax went terribly wrong.

My neighbor may suspect that Gisel’s cat’s days may be numbered.

Almonds how I knew them before Panama (left), almonds how I know them now (right).

The ones on the right are (much) tastier.

Morning glory of the beach?

Man in canoe on the San San River