Transplanted

I dropped off a couple specimens at a lab today. I passed the goods through the little window and the exchange with the receptionist went something like this:
— ¿Tu nombre?
— Janell-- her eyebrows raise-- J-a-n-e-double l, Henry.
— ¿Fecha de nacimiento?
— El 30 de mayo del 1995.
Eyebrows shoot even higher. I think. I laugh a little. I tell her I look mature for my age. I feel like an idiot. She laughs. I correct myself.

I am loosing my mind amidst all the urban stimuli of Panama City. My ankle sprain has proven persistent enough to warrant physical therapy. So here I am, finally learning to navigate the congested heart of this country (with much trial and error). I am meeting a different class of Panamanian, the well-groomed and well-spoken urban dweller. I am poorly dressed (in well-worn and stained clothes) and crude-mannered among Latinos (forgetting greetings and farewells, pulling off shoes to unveil blackened soles at physical therapy), but I am trying to redeem my redneck ways, promising to send cocoa seeds to the orthopedist and physical therapist.

Back in Bocas, cacao farmer field days continue. We have graduated from tree nurseries (one of my farmers, Dionildo, has planted over a thousand trees!), and are tackling pruning. It is a mostly new practice for my farmers and one that, if realized at all, is traditionally done with a machete, the all-purpose campo tool. Thus pruning shears and pole pruners had their debut in the community. It was love at first use for my farmers, who promptly asked me where they could buy them and how much they cost. My response disappointed some. Since $15 requires a savings plan for most in my community, we are working with a lending system.

My tomatoes, green beans, and zinnias (thanks, Janet) have become the envy of my neighbors, and the okra and watermelons are something of a curiosity in the community. Last Saturday I tried cashing in on this interest by hosting an open house/work day. I subjected the farmers that turned out (all six of them) to a day of discussing and constructing raised beds and trellises and making compost. Their creativity ran loose; one group used balsa tree bark as a container for their compost and another utilized my fence as part of their trellis design. They tasted okra for the first time, learned how to tell when a watermelon is ripe, and received a party favor: seeds. I, in turn, was introduced to two local plants to use in my epic battle with flea beetles.

Pictures to come when I locate an SD card reader.

Almost famous

Check out a posting by the lovely Bocas cocoa team on the World Cocoa Foundation website: PC Panama Farmer Field Schools

This little piggy

Greetings. Things are going great. Becky came to visit. It was fun. Been busy. Real post coming eventually.

from farmer field day. preparing cocoa seeds for planting

a little porker


playing games with my farmers, but with a purpose

finally sold it all, brought more than $250 back to the community. which translates into lots of school supplies.

fellow Bocas cocoa gurus

moth attack

Becky hanging with the neighbors and their chickens and goats

garden goodies - green beans

squash

watermelon (a fruit as foriegn as myself in Druy)

more moths, an invasion brought on by a Canadian entomologist

Cuko loses a battle

Ay, caraña

A quick recap of the past couple weeks (post army ant invasion):

Following a bit of pleading, the very recently organized artisan group in my community has been working full force crafting traditional baskets (pronounced sheen in Naso). Last week we gathered to learn, teach, and craft. We started by collecting ‘the royal vine,’ peeling off its bark, and splitting it into smaller sections to use for weaving. Some strips were dyed by cooking them with a yellowish root tuber that had an uncanny resemblance to ginger. Then the weaving experts took charge. Results were amazing. Even I managed to craft something of basket like nature, and it could probably even hold all of two eggs. Owing to my English speaking skills, I have been put in change of selling the first batch of baskets (about 40 of them) and other works from the community (necklaces, carved gourds, bracelets, wood carvings, coffee, cocoa, and caraña, a traditional medicine for sores collected from tree root resin). My first selling attempt will be at a Peace Corps Volunteer conference this week. If that doesn’t go well, I guess I will turn to haggling tourists. Everyone (including me) is nervous-excited about it.

Inspired by my foodie friend Mike, motivated by the number of rotting guavas I see daily, and held captive by a sprained ankle, I tried my hand at some fruit-filled empanadas (turnovers) on Wednesday. They were neighbor approved, but I may need to a couple more attempts before I feel that I have a satisfactory product. Pictures below.

Yes, I did sprain my ankle. There was no mud (it finally stopped raining!!!) and I was running late, so I thought I would run down the ‘hill’ (read very steep mountain side) from a recent artisan group meeting. I fell. Badly. But my ankle is getting better. And no one saw the fall.

In agricultural related happenings, my garden/demonstration plot is looking great despite the ravaging flea beetles that seem to be attracted to my organic pesticides. I’ll hope to figure that out soon. However, fresh tomatoes are days away, and green beans, radishes, peas, okra, cabbage, pumpkins, and peppers should be soon to follow. Also it is guandú (pigeon pea, picture below) harvesting time, which means lots stationary pea shelling (for the walking impaired) and tasty guandú food experiments. Friday featured guandú with rice. Today was veggie soup with guandú. Mmm mmm.

Tjä toë! (I’m leaving, goodbye!)

starting the basket base

expert Ismael at work teaching

Olmedo weaving his first basket

... with some help

a team effort

basket beauty shot

seed neckaces

for sale

bracelets

tucans carved into a gourd, a gourd that grows on a tree

guava empanadas

the start of my garden, after a bit of machete swinging and shovel digging

pumpkins (& Cuko)

an aerial view... tomatoes, green beans, and radishes

guandu, pigeon pea

The Ants Go Marching

It is lunchtime, and my water glass has run dry. I stroll into my ‘kitchen’ for a refill. There, I am met by hundreds of ants. These are not the itsy-bitsy sugar-seeking critters that are known to ruin picnics. No, these are monster omnivorous ants that make a machete-wielding scorpion executioner (yours truly) shriek in panic. The floor, walls, and roof are crawling with a blanket of six-legged trespassers. I notice my ñame, a delicious tuberous vegetable, under siege and attempt a rescue, tip-toeing my way through the trenches. As my hand closes around the prized ñame, a burning sensation explodes from my fingers to wrist. The little monsters bite! I fling my prized veggie out the window and drown my blazing hand in my glass of water.

Cuko the fearless fuzz ball cowards under my bed. I send out a frantic text message to fellow Peace Corps Volunteers: ‘Hundreds of crazy fierce biting ants have invaded my house. Appear to be holding a convention in my roof. Running dangerously low on bug spray. SOS.’ Kate replies: ‘Make a decoy trail with sugar. Throw water on them.’ However, they’ll have nothing to do with sugar, and they are undeterred by water. I decide reconnaissance is the next best plan of action.

Some ants are returning from their lofty convention with a scorpion in tow. Just as quickly as they stormed my house, their descent begins. Once on the ground they continue up the hill carrying off any unfortunate critter that was not fast enough to escape their grip. Within a couple hours, the last of the army has passed through, and my house is vacated minus the lost straggler that would bite my unsuspecting foot. In the evening, the ants go marching down the hill, over the wood pile, and through my bathroom, calling it a day. Hurrah!

Rufino´s pet capuchin, Fotín

The ants´ascent

Swarming about

sorry, you´ll have to turn your head to watch