Well...

We´re back! By this I mean not that we´re back in the US, but rather from our latest foray into the wilds of the Panamanian jungle. When we last updated the blog, Amanda and I were relaxing at a hotel in Panama City, soaking up as much deliciously-idle time as we possibly could. Since returning from this brief indulgement, we sailed through another week of Spanish class back at our training site, then started on a 5-day visit to the pueblo which would soon be our home for two years! Needless to say, we were both very excited, but also anxious, to finally realize a view of where we´ll be living for 730 days based on observation, rather than through the exaggerated vision of our own imaginations.

We left from a government-sponsored training site, where members of our future community came to pick us up and participate in a couple of days worth of presentations regarding our roles as Peace Corps volunteers in their villages.

This was an important two days, as I believe that it helped us all start on the same page, while dispeling any (commonly held) ideas that we were moving out into the jungle with endless amounts of money for whatever the comunity could agree on. As expected, this clarification disappointed some who thought we would be their golden egg layed at last; a group of Americans come with Quixotic ideals and deep pockets to fulfill the farthest-reaching dreams of all who could rub our lamps. However, our job descriptions embody more complexity and (thankfully) far more sustainability than many would prefer. While many of our counterparts would rather an instant source of funds and labor, we are, ideally, here to organize and teach communities how to realize funds, labor and technical know-how...rather than just dropping it into their laps. In this way, communities are able to change themselves, which is often a radically better alternative than handing out improperly-vetted community grants. But I digress...

Our site is roughly 4 hours by bus from Panama city to a road-side pueblo centered around a police checkpoint. Here we de-bus, and jump onto a boat (usually a dugout canoe with a 15 HP-motor attached) for an approximatly 1-hour boatride across a stunning lake, finally landing at the shores of Agua Clara (also known as Icanti, and I´ll use these names interchangably from here on out). Once you step off of the boat, you´re in a different world; all of the homes are made of sticks and thatched-roof (called penca, in Panama), about half of the children run around naked (these are usually the obnoxious ones who probably tore off their own clothes and are synonymous with the kids from our own memories who ran around our neighborhoods with red-juice stains on their upper lips and were always found near the origins of trouble), and widespread malnutrition is obvious.

With about 1000 people there, and one latrine (a euphamism for a big hole-in-the-ground), you can imagine that many people look for easier alternatives, like the river for their ¨personal-disposal¨ needs. Needless to say, there is no internet, but there are generators to power the single most ubiquitous household item in Panama´s developing world: TVs. Despite being able to satisfy our weekly need for trashy Spanish soap-operas, it will be a difficult two years, as new beginnings usually are, but Amanda and I have resolved to stick it out.

On the positive side, we were welcomed officially by the three Silas (one of which is our host-father), who are the village chiefs and through whom everything related to the village is decided. Our host family, which consists of two extremely nice empty-nesters, is an amazing blessing, and staying with them in their spacious home until we get on our feet is an unbeatable alternative to living in one of the other homes (which are often dark, smoky, and packed with sick children).

As may have been noted before, Kuna culture is extremely strong and proud, despite the inevitable changes that come with outside contact, and Kuna is the first language of every person that we met. While both a curse and a blessing at times, the maintenance of their ancient language is testament to their ability to both prioritize and preserve their culture above almost everything else. We´ll definitely expand on this further as we discover more of their intricacies and customs, but suffice it to say that for now we´re both excited and bewildered at the possibilty of coming back to the States with broken abilities in both Spanish and Kuna. With seemingly three-quarters of Icanti speaking Kuna, I anticipate having to prioritize studying Spanish quite a bit on our own time in order return fluent, which still remains one of our most important goals during Peace Corps service.

I realize that this entry has become quite long, so I´ll just say that we had a challenging time for the five days that we were at our site, and even considered coming back home. I am thankfull that we have one another for encouragment and support, for laughs at the right time and conversation to help in the ¨escape.¨ We´re determine to stick it out, malaria and all, with the knowledge that, during moments of clarity, and when looking back on the experience years from now, we´ll know it to be one of the best, most rewarding times of our lives...(but check back with us in two years on that one).