Months 3 - 7

Current Music: Amadou Et Mariam, Tallest Man on Earth, Tonolec, Odesza, New Order.

Current Books: Poisonwood Bible, House of the Spirits, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2009

April 19, 2016. 4.19.16. 8:39 am.

A cup of coffee sits on a stained nancy table. Birds sing. Music, gifted from an Argentine traveler, reverberates in my small wood home. A mural of a cow and beans is my backdrop from the perspective from the door, and a painted sun forms a flaming border around my head, from the perspective of my computer screen. New art fills my home, gifts left from family, friends and loved ones. Novelty, a theme of my last long post, was left for the guests. I became to one with knowledge and understanding, and my perspective has changed. Mina, My Mother and Father, a traveler from Argentina, and various volunteers have passed through, all leaving a drop of themselves in the stream that makes my service, and the pool that makes up Cerro Pita.

The many guests were uniquely anticipated. Mina’s integration lasted a week. The kids grew fond of her, the community took her in as family, and abuela looked at her with a sense of admiration and fascination that had taken me months to foster. She brought out the hunting luck of the boys, who showed off their skill by pegging a falcon with a rock from 50m away. She joined us in the quebrada, dog paddling through the shallow pools and carrying back iguana eggs from the sandy shore. We were gifted too much food to prepare and eat. We harvested corn, and stabbed scorpions and shot rats with slingshots. The time passed quickly, and after she had gone, I had to clarify with each individual person the fact that she would probably not come back.

My parents were a different beast. They were foreign, but they were also the age of great grandparents, a combination that rarely passes through Cerro Pita. I put them on showntell throughout the community. After introductions, they would speak with in their Mexican Spanish and make people feel comfortable and appreciated. The kids would accompany us on the many different adventures, giving us a feeling of belonging. I acted as my parents personal chef, the providers, now being provided for. We prepared a dinner with my the host family, the union of seemingly distinct lives. We went to Boquete, a comfortable mountain town, after visiting site, and ate pizza and gelato and drank good coffee, but unfortunately the dream of a microbrew did not come to fruition.

The many other guests, including Sona, a traveling puppeteer who performed a puppet show for the community, Anthony, and various other volunteers each had their own flavor and have given my memory of the last five months a brighter sentiment.

However, most days are without visitors. I fill my days with tasks, to the point that my booklist is growing instead of shrinking. My desire to plant a garden and trees has become overwhelming and the arrival of rain is anticipated on many levels. In the morning, I make an aeropress coffee, water the plants, stretch, meditate, feed my cat Inch, and eat breakfast with the host families dog, Chaco. I then fulfill the tasks for the day. Usually they are project related and range from informing community members about workshops or meetings, giving the workshops and participating in the meetings, to technical studies and construction. We have finished surveying the water system, and are finishing up with the construction of the spring boxes. All the materials have been bought by the community, raised by selling tortillas and tamales. The work has been rewarding, but by no means easy. I act as the engineer for the system and direct anywhere from 5 to 15 people each work day in a mutually second language about work that I am by no means an expert in. We get by, and most work days are packed with laughter, and they enjoy making fun of me and my novice ngabere understanding. The responsibility, of successfully distributing water to nearly 200 people,  is heavy, and it is a poignant taste of the responsibility that engineering work can have.

Work days are usually about 8 hours. We eat and drink consistently throughout the day. There is a large boulder by the spring source, which serves as the kitchen. Each worker is required to bring a contribution of food that is shared with the group.

I have began to understand that my presence in the community will give quality to the project, but most importantly gives confidence. While the work is technical, it is not particularly precise. For example, Ricardo, the water committee president, approached me one day asking for a list of materials for a tank to take the the local government, in an attempt to acquire additional funding. I spent the day reading about tanks, and calculated all the necessary materials and size of the tank, given the flow rate at the spring and the projected population of the community. The following day, at a community meeting, Ricardo pulled out a tape measure and presented different size tanks to the community. They voted on what seemed most appropriate. They asked my opinion and I gave technical details about each possibility, but it really came down to what felt right. The truth is, correctly sizing a tank will save money, but a large tank has no detrimental effects. My engineering approach can give a ballpark range for the size, but more importantly it gives a green light to actually build the tank, whatever size they choose, instead of simply talk about it.

I also have spent time giving workshops on diarrhea, sanitation, water storage and treatment and HIV and AIDS.

With the lack of rain, the spring where I get water has moved, and I now have to carry water about 10 minutes, up and down hills, to my house. Relative to other water-less communities, this is trivial, but it is a profound reminder of the gravity of water, and the privilege of having water in the fosset.

I wake up before sunrise, and fall asleep when I am tired. From an outside perspective, the adventure and liberty of this life is enticing and rich. However, there are days, when I return home after working, my legs are tired, and my gallon of water is empty, or the ants have invaded my rice, or Inchu’s bag of cat food is empty and she nibbling my toes, where I miss the comfort, familiarity, and ease of home. Additionally, I am conscious of the quality of my food, the hungry eyes that watch me while I eat, and the fact that I am a rich visitor in a poor community. I try to uphold their own traditions, understanding a potential blindness to cultural differences, but it can be exhausting and weighs heavy on the heart.

Otherwise, life is light and relatively easy. The Comarca is beautiful, I feel well appreciated and useful within the community and I enjoy the peace, quiet and simplicity of each day.