Carnaval

Carnaval is a giant celebration that happens every year during the
four days leading up to Lent.  Saturday through Wednesday are
typically days off and provide an opportunity to spend time with
family, eat food, dance, and get drunk.  Think of Mardi Gras, but for
four and a half days and with water.  I say four and a half because
the fiestas typically get kicked off Friday night and can last until
Wednesday morning.  And I say water, because during this time period,
people have the right – and some would say obligation – to splash
anyone and everyone with bucketfuls of water.  We were advised to wear
quick-dry clothes that we didn’t mind getting wet and bathing suits –
though really, when it comes to clothing, anything goes.  Women wear
really short shorts and more than a few were sporting the mosquito-net
tank tops over a bikini top.

Every town has a little celebration, though the biggest Carnavals, I
am told, are in Panama City and Las Tablas, where there are parties,
coronations and culecos (big trucks filled with water) all four days.
In my training community, while people can splash you anytime, the big
celebration and coronation was held on Sunday.  Padres de Familia, the
Panamanian equivalent of a mandatory PTA, planned an all-day event
that included food and drinks, culecos and decorations, queens and a
dance.  Since my host brother attends the local school, my host mom
was obligated to help with the event, so I decided to contribute as
well.

In the center of town is the Casa Comunal (Communal House), a large
structure that can be used for pretty much any event.  It is a large
slab of concrete, half of which is covered by a roof, and has an area
that can serve as a bar and another area where people can prepare and
serve food.  In the week leading up to Carnaval, I helped the members
of Padres de Familia had to make colorful streamers and other
decorations, and on Saturday after dinner we all gathered to decorate
the Casa Comunal.  I suppose the theme was Pirates of the Caribbean 4,
because there were large paintings of Jack Sparrow and friends.  One
of the members of the community had taken palm leaves and woven the
individual leaves of the palm in on each other to make a really
beautiful fan of sorts.  We placed these around a constructed stage
where the queens could stand and be seen, and hung streamers from the
stage.  We also hung streamers from the rafters, a job I was given
because I was the tallest and could reach the higher parts of the
ceiling.

Sunday morning, 6am before the sun rose, people started setting off
fireworks and playing loud típico music from the Casa Comunal.
Carnaval had begun!  I managed to sleep in until 7:30, but everyone
was up and about and splashing each other with buckets of water.  At
10am, a culeco arrived.  This is a truck that typically carries
gasoline, but had been cleaned out and filled with water.  They had
fenced off the uncovered section of the Casa Comunal and for a dollar,
anyone could enter and dance to music while being sprayed with water.
Members of Padres de Familia brought food to be cooked, and 4 to 5
women were preparing the food and selling it.  They made hojaldres
(fried bread), carne asada that resembled thick beef jerky, chicken,
and chorizos that are basically chopped hot dogs cooked in a red sauce
with onions and peppers, all prepared over an open fire, and stirred
and served with two spoons that were indiscriminately mixed between
raw chicken and cooked bread.  The food and drinks were wickedly
overpriced, but the profits all go to the school.

As the day went on, more and more people arrived.  Friends and family
from other towns came to visit, and there were even PC Trainees that
live 15 minutes away that came.  It was really nice to all relax and
hang out with each other.  It was my first time to dance, and even
though I could feel my skin burning, the water was really cool and the
music was really lively.  When the people in the culeco area wanted
water, they would jump up and down and chant “Agua! Agua!”  It got
kind of rowdy as people drank more and more, and at one point reminded
me of a minor mosh pit.  They threw people in the air, huddled in
groups and ran through clumps of people.  It was crazy, but so much
fun.

There was a break between 5pm and 7:30 for people to eat dinner, take
a shower, and change clothes (there is nothing nicer than taking a
shower after a hot, wet, long day, putting on clean clothes and
lotion, and eating a bowl of rice).  At 7:30, though, people began
gathering back at the Casa Comunal to see the Coronation.  For the
four days of Carnaval, there are four different queens, each
accompanied by a princess and represented by a different color.  Every
town does it differently, but my training community picked four
different queens and Sunday night they would all be judged and one
queen would be crowned The Queen.  In order to keep it unbiased, my
community asked three of the PC Trainees to judge the queens based on
her dress, the way she carried herself, her dancing abilities, her
speech, and the audience applause.

The queens arrived in a parade of sorts, each in their own car that
was decked out with balloons of their color: pink, red, light blue,
and purple.  Everyone crowded in to be able to see them enter.  One by
one, each queen and her princess danced in típico style around the
open area, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd.  The queens and
princesses ranged from age 5 to 15.  And their dresses – wow.  They
wore two-piece outfits that were gilded and sparkling, and had hugs
fans of feathers spreading out from either side of them, making it
hard for them to stand close together.  They also had on headdresses
with more of the same – sequens, feathers, sparkles and color.  It
kind of reminded me of the outfit of some sort of indigenous goddess,
and I heard that each outfit cost over $100 to rent for the night.
They also were asked to say some words, but even though they used a
mic, I could barely hear any of them over the noise of the crowd.  As
each queen walked around to present herself, her supporters, wearing a
shirt or hat of her color, would crowd to take pictures or try to
dance with her.  The latter were typically pretty drunk at this point,
but everyone was sternly escorted off the floor by this short but
intimidating woman helping to coordinate the event.  For each queen
there were also lots of cheers and applause and air horns and
firecrackers.  In the end, each queen was crowned and acknowledged for
some factor, either for her dress, her behavior, or her dance, but the
purple queen won overall.

After the coronation, there were a series of dances.  First the
queens each danced with a partner, and then came a series of
choreographed dance where 13-year-olds moved their bodies in way I
didn’t know was possible.  Then a group of kids danced Congo, a dance
that comes from the province of Colón and has a lot of African
influence.  A line of girls with their heads wrapped in bandanas faced
a line of boys who each had a sword and wore a towering hat adorned
with colorful crepe flowers and streamers.  When the music began, a
call and response singing accompanied by rhythmic drumming, the girls
began dancing in place and the boys whistled and cheered.  Then a girl
stepped forward to dance on her own and a boy stepped forward to dance
around her and try to impress her.  After a while, a second girl
stepped forward and the first girl stepped back.  The second girl
danced with the first boy a while until he, too, was replaced by a
second boy.  This continued with each girl and boy getting a chance to
step forward and dance.  After the dance performances, they began
playing típico music and everyone began dancing.  I think the dance
went until midnight, but I went to sleep around 11 so I’m not sure.

It was pretty fun to see so many people together.  And the
firecrackers!  I was sitting in the audience under the structure
watching the queens come forward to dance, but I could see outside a
little as well.  They weren’t actually securing the fireworks into the
ground, they were just lighting them and letting them go, and at one
point I saw a firework shoot like a meteor towards someone’s house.
The lady sitting next to me saw it too, and she nudged me with her
elbow and just cackled.  I don’t think anyone was hurt, so I found it
kind of funny, too.

On Monday a lot of people from my town went to a river, but since my
host family is in the process of building a bathroom and took
advantage of the days off to build a septic tank, I pretty much spent
the rest of Carnaval chilling at home and relaxing.  I did go to the
river in the town more than once and it was really refreshing to get
doused with water in the middle of the afternoon, so all in all a
great holiday.

This country really is so colorful.  It’s so green!  But it’s more than that.  When you look at the countryside, it’s a mosaic of different shades of greens, shapes of leaves, patterns of branches.  This country is rich in diversity and at a closer glance, it’s obvious in how many different plants there are.  Plants with big wide leaves, leaves arranged in a palmate pattern, small round leaves, palm leaves, long leaves.  The summer, or the dry season, is also the time when there are the most flowers, and they come in all shapes, colors and sizes.  I saw one plant that instead of leaves was covered in purple flowers.  Everywhere you look there are different colors.  The houses are no exception.  Instead of brick the homes are painted in a variety of colors.  My host family’s house is a light tangerine.  My neighbor’s house is cucumber with pink.  Other houses are bubble gum, sky blue, lavender, periwinkle or sea foam.  The people are colorful, too.  Skin tones here vary from black to white, but all of them are considered Panamanians.  Sometimes even the air is full of color, like the filter they use for CSI: Miami.  The countryside is so full of life, and living here I understand why all the latino music I know is so upbeat and energetic and happy.

The other evening I was hanging out in the “square” when a fellow trainee and friend passed with her family and invited me to go with them to the cemetery to light candles on all the graves.  The cemetery is beautiful, white and colorful.  All the tombs have white crosses and are crammed in together in a small plot on the side of a hill.  The graves are surrounded by white concrete or covered in white tile, and in front of each white cross is a bouquet of brightly-colored artificial flowers.  Most of the graves also have a miniature house where people put candles to light in memory of the deceased.  My friend’s family brought several boxes of long white candles so that we could put two or three in front of each grave and light as the sun set.  They started with my friend’s host mom’s father, and slowly but surely began placing candles on each of the graves and lighting them.  We had to fight the wind, which insisted on blowing out all the candles that were unsheltered, and the interior of one little concrete house caught on fire and we had to put out the blaze with a bucket of water, but eventually we lit candles in front of every grave.  As the sky turned pink and purple and the sun set, gradually the yellow glow of the candles illuminated the hillside.  It was beautiful.

Week 5: Reality Check

This week has been an emotional roller coaster, which, as volunteers have told us, is common for the fifth week in.  It started out strong – I made homemade pineapple and red pepper pizza with my host family (perhaps the best thing I’ve eaten if for no other reason because it tastes like home), and spent the weekend hanging out with Panamanian children and going to the river to swim.  But Monday came and I woke up with a head cold, sore throat and cough, which has been exacerbated by the smoke from the burning trash.  Then I heard some gossip in the town about my relationship with my host family, which really brought me down and made me worry about nothing for a few days.  This town is very small, so that whenever anything happens that is even in the slightest worth talking about, it is talked about, and we have been told to prepare ourselves to be the subject of much bochinche, or gossip.  However, when I found out that I was finally of interest to talk about, it was really upsetting and made me fret about something that in the end was not really an issue at all and had been exaggerated through the grapevine.  The combination of being sick and feeling uncomfortable from the bochinche made me realize that I left everything that is comfortable and familiar to live in Panama, a foreign country that I barely know in a country town where I have never lived, for two years.  Basically, I finally felt homesick.

However, since Wednesday, things have been getting better.  During my rough two days, I came to fully appreciate the support group that I have in my fellow Peace Corps Trainees.  They were all there to listen to me, talk to me, and let me vent.  We have all been there for each other, and I know that they will be there for me for the next two years, too.  And this week has also been a lot of fun.  In my Spanish class for Valentine’s Day we made a delicious chocolate cake from scratch, and then Thursday we cooked an amazing lunch filled with fiber and vitamins and vegetables.  I’ve spent a lot of quality time with my host family and fellow Trainees.  I got to dance Conga, a traditional dance from a province in Panama with a lot of African influence, and although I did it horribly, everyone loved it and I had a lot of fun.  When a group of the trainees goes on a walk or the river, we are always accompanied by a group of Panamanian children and a pack of dogs.  I feel really accepted into my community – a lot of people shout my name to say hi and all the kids ask me when we will go to the river next.  And later today we will learn about where we will be for two years.  So although I do feel homesick from time to time, I have been able to form a really good community both in my town and in my fellow trainees and have been able to put perspective on everything.

My Spanish class and our chocolate cake!

And this is the Peace Pizza we made :)

Gallina de patio

The other night my host mom killed and butchered a chicken.  Apparently the hen had started to lay eggs in the forest, which, if your primary purpose in life is to provide eggs for some family, is a big no-no.  So the other night, my mom caught the chicken and killed it to make sopa de gallina de patio (backyard chicken soup).  Now, there are two ways of killing a chicken.  The first way, as I understand, is to grab it by its head and whirl it around until the head breaks off.  This, however, is not the best way to kill a chicken if you want to eat it, because this way the chicken’s heart stops beating immediately and all the blood stays in the meat.  The second way, the way my host mom killed the unruly chicken, is to hang it up by its feet and slit its neck.  This way the heart keeps beating and pushes all the blood out.  This does mean, unfortunately, that for a while after she “killed” it, it periodically would flutter its wings, reminding me of the fact that I am not a vegetarian.  Eventually, though, it died and all the blood drained out and my host mom told me she was ready to clean and butcher it, since I wanted to watch. 

First step is to get rid of the feathers, which is done by pouring or submersing it in boiling water.  The feathers will then come right off without a problem.  She then efficiently chopped the chicken into different parts – the feet, the thighs, the legs, the wings, the neck – before cutting through chest bone to take out the insides.  It was so cool!  When she pulled out the organs, they were all attached and look a lot like the plastic models in science class.  And just as colorful!  There was one organ that was light blue fading to purple, but I’m still not sure what it is called in English.  There is another organ, too, that you need to be careful not to puncture or you will ruin the entire chicken.  I’m pretty sure she took out the heart, the liver, and a few other unidentified organs to keep for their soup.  And since it was an egg-laying hen, there were a few unfertilized eggs inside that were basically just yolks, which she also kept for their soup.  The rest she discarded along with the feathers and head.  After a thorough rinsing, the edible portions were ready to cook.  It was really neat to see the process all the way through, and while I fully support chicken eating and know I would love to clean out the chicken, I’m not sure if I could actually do the killing.  I would fully support killing and eating the chicken that clucks continuously right outside my window at 5:30am.

I would also like to add that these chickens are actually free-range chickens, and I don’t meant they just have a small yard.  They basically get to wander around wherever they want eating whatever they want, so long as the dogs don’t want to eat what they want to eat.  This type of chicken is called gallina de patio, or hen from your backyard.

Settling in

I’m finally getting to the point where I don’t have a bunch of new stuff to say.  The schedule has become normal and I’ve fallen into a comfortable pattern of life, where my training community is my home.  Every morning we have Spanish class, followed by lunch with our families, and then technical class, which ends around 5pm.  I then either run or play soccer, take a bucket bath, eat dinner with my family, and normally watch a Disney movie dubbed in Spanish.  I crave rice and carbs all the time.  When I smell the food cooking at other houses, I know what they are cooking because everyone cooks the same thing and my mom has served it to me before.  The sound of a choir of roosters crowing at 4am does not wake me up anymore.  When smoke from burning trash drifts by, the smell is familiar and no longer smells quite so foul.  Eating a bag of cheetohs is a delicacy.  I can finally understand 80% of what my family says.  It’s easier to say some things in Spanish than it is in English.  I look forward to the cold water in my bucket bath. 

The other day my family was out of the house for the day and left lunch for me on the stove for me to serve myself.  Well, I was pretty excited because this meant that I would finally be able to control my serving size.  The independence was so exciting!  But then, when I sat down to lunch and saw how much I had, I realized I had served myself just as much as my host mom usually serves me. 

As a group, we have become pretty cohesive, and every free moment we have we normally congregate at the benches by the store and eat Doritos and Cheetohs, 15 cent donuts and cakes, and drink Squirt and Pepsi.  It’s really nice to just sit and talk to each other, especially after spending so much time in class or trying to speak in Spanish.

I have really enjoyed watching a lot of cable in Spanish.  Not only is it a great way to practice Spanish, but it’s really entertaining to watch familiar movies and how the words get translated.  I’ve watched Harry Potter, The Incredibles, The Sandbox, and last night I saw Anchorman.  Not all families get cable, but most other families do watch Canta Conmigo, the Panamanian version of American Idol for pre-teens, and a slew of telenovelas.

Feeling good!

When I first started Peace Corps I was feeling really nervous about everything.  I was worried about fitting into my community, about my Spanish skills, about being by myself, having to figure out everything on my own and actually doing successful, sustainable projects for my community.  But after attending training, visiting with current and aspiring volunteers, and working with Peace Corps staff, I feel a lot better. 

The Peace Corps staff is extremely supportive of all the Peace Corps volunteers.  Everyone is so happy that we are here in their country to help and they all are really knowledgeable in what they do.  It’s true that they don’t always get things done in the most efficient manner – we didn’t get our mosquito nets until the second week and they forget to give us a few handbooks and information every once in a while.  But considering the fact that they have a lot of things to take care of and a lot of paperwork to go through, they do a pretty good job.  They all have their hearts and minds in the right place and our safety, health and happiness is the most important thing to them.

Talking to volunteers has also made me realize that everyone figures it out as they go.  Training has given us a lot of tools and resources for us to use, but in the end we figure everything out as we go.  My boss asks us about our concerns and hopes to try to find us a good site, and I told him that although there are some things I would like, such as a soccer field, in the end I trust that he knows where I should be better than I do.  He takes into account everything we tell him, all our past experiences, and how we are during training, and I believe that he really does want us to be happy where we are.  I’m excited to find out where my site will be two weeks from now!

This is a boat passing through the Miraflores Lock in the Panamanian Canal.  This is the view from the Peace Corps office, located in an old military base in Clayton.

We visited a volunteer who lived in a community that was accessible only by boat.  This is a photo of the dugout canoes we had to take and all the required and Peace Corps-issued safety jackets we were wearing.

The inside of a Diablo Rojo.  Note the feather boas around the rear-view mirror.

Me in Casco Viejo.  I believe this is Plaza de Bolíva.

This is a photo from the hill where my phone gets reception (also a small glimpse of my training community!)…

 

…and this is how I get to the top of the hill (I typically call from that tree waaayyy up at the top)

I helped make chicha de naranja (orange juice) and this is what remained

When I visited my volunteer in the mountains, this was the view we had.  The ocean is the gleaming part behind the mountains.

I had to enter the site by horse.  It was a beautiful but terrifying ride.

They slaughtered a cow and then smoked the insides on a bamboo pallet over a fire.  I did not sample the food in this picture

Project Christmas Child!  Such a cool experience