What goes up must come down

This past Saturday was the follow-up meeting to the community analysis meeting I had held back at the end of June.  Then, my boss had come to community and I had spent a whole week planning the meeting and walking around inviting everyone personally to come.  During the meeting, I had presented them with proof in the form of a jeopardy game that I had in fact been doing something for the first three months when all I was doing was getting to know the community.  I had also divided them into small groups to list some of the environmental projects that they wanted to do to improve their community, but out of the many ideas they listed we hadn´t had enough time to actually pick one or two to actually begin working on.  So last week, I did it all again – I planned a meeting and I walked to as many of the 150 plus houses in my community as I could to invite them.

            Now, those of you who have been reading my blog will know that I have been really happy.  And this past week was no exception.  I gave successful environmental education talks at the school, I took care of the school garden, I met with the newly-formed women´s group to teach them how to make banana bread and identify their values, vision and mission statements, I had finally gotten my kitten to keep me sane, and in general I felt confident and comfortable in my community.  The morning before my meeting I went to the nearest town to buy supplies to make the customary bríndis, or meeting snack, and baked banana bread with my neighbor (since she has an oven and I do not).  The meeting was set for 4pm, but I left my house after lunch to drop off my stuff at the school where the meeting was to be held and set things up.  I then headed to the house of a woman who had offered to paint my toenails for the baile the next day.  As I walked to her part of my community, I started to get butterflies in my stomach.  Due to the nature of my community, there are large stretches of road with few to no houses, and as I past by fields planted with corn and pastures of cows under the heat of the sun, the thought of leading a meeting all by myself weighed on my mind.  And what if no one came?

            At my friend’s house, they asked me about my meeting.  What activities was I going to do?  What projects was I going to hand out?  Could everyone participate still?  Despite the fact that I had posted signs on all the local tiendas, they didn’t know what time the meeting started, which did not make me feel any better.  But when I left, they indicated that they would show up, if for no other reason than to eat the banana bread I had made.

            Hora panameña refers to the fact that Panamanians are almost always late, so when 4pm rolled around and no one had shown up, I told myself to just be patient.  But when 4:30 came and I was still the only one in the school, my stomach dropped.  At my last meeting there had been a few people who had at least shown up on time.  Today, there was no one.  A boy had paused in front of the school and just stared at me as I prepared the room.  I invited him in, but he just looked at me mutely before disappearing.  Finally, a handful of people started trickling in.  We sat in the front of the school waiting for anyone else.  Due to the chronic tardiness, Panamanians are used to just sitting around and waiting for things to start.  They talked about the weather, the baile, and upcoming birthdays.  At some point, one of them mentioned that I should have put the time at 3pm so that people would have shown up at 4pm, something I heard from everyone I had invited.  Another mentioned that everyone was always on time for mass.  When mass was at 11am, people showed up at 11am, because otherwise they would miss the mass.

            Finally, an hour late I started the meeting with the handful of people who had come.  We talked about the different projects we could work on and then we all voted.  In the end, the projects were ranked eco-stoves, waste management and then reforestation.  I wonder how the vote would have come out if more men had come.

            As we walked back, I was lost in my thoughts.  What could I have done differently?  People will show up when my boss comes, but when it comes time to supporting me, just me, no one bothers to come.  Even the family who had painted my toenails earlier hadn’t come, and I had just told them about it.  I was so frustrated, so down.  I felt like I had failed, like I was a joke.  Why else would everyone else in the community blow off my meeting?

            I don’t know what the people talked about as we walked home.  I was in no mood to chit chat.  I heard one of my companions call to a woman who had not attend that we women had won, meaning that the women had outnumbered the men and would get their improved cook stoves.  After about 15 minutes of walking, one of the ladies said to me “Are you getting sad?  Don’t get sad, I am here to support you.  Lots of people here support you.  You have to just keep going forward.”  There is a saying here, echarse pa’delante, which literally means throw yourself forward, and they use it to mean keep going through tough times.  That’s what she said to me.  Hay que echarse pa’delante.

            I live farther than the rest of the women I was walking with, and after they had all gone to their houses, my neighbor’s son passed me.  Apparently a lot of guys had shown up to play soccer that day, since the afternoon was so pretty.  I should have held the meeting by the soccer field, he said to me. 

Since then, many people have offered me their excuses of why they didn’t go and told me how I should have done the meeting differently.  All the suggestions are a little different, and all the suggestions are most convenient for the person offering them.  You should have held the meeting in this part of town, one person says, while another says I should have held the meeting in another part of town.  I have to remind myself that the concept of the community members themselves choosing their projects is relatively new.  In the past, all projects have been offered to them by external agencies and organizations without any real consultation of the community.  I also think that day in general was just bad.  Not that Saturday at 4pm is inherently a bad time, but for some reason or another, no one could go when they otherwise would have.  And, of course, I have to remind myself that this is my third meeting I have ever held, and it was the first not to be well-attended.  I just have to keep throwing myself forward and hoping that there will still be people to support me.