A Birthday Party and Groceries

A Peruvian roof dog
see Legend of Santo Goyo below

A Night Next Door

My neighbors invited me to a birthday party for Nana Linda last night. I attended a LOT of birthday parties in Peru, but this was my first in Panama. The two share only the similarity of name.

Apparently, Linda is not her real name, but everyone calls her that because in her youth she was very pretty, though time has certainly taken its toll. Nor was I able to determine exactly who’s Nana she is. That superficiality aside, it was a novel party, much more solemn than a US or Peruvian counterpart. I especially enjoyed the absence of professional clowns and the Hora Loca, though they have their place and function.

We began with drinking and chit-chat. I mean serious drinking. The “punch” was just about straight alcohol, which was provided by Tomas’ father. He makes “moonshine” Cana, which years ago was made from cane juice, but now is just fermented sugar water, crudely distilled. This brew was tainted with some lime juice and a little sugar to help it go down. The rest of the guests were already clearly ahead of me when I arrived. Every time my small glass was seen empty, a sweet (but insidious) young lady came ‘round to fill it. I surreptitiously dumped 4 or 5 glasses, but still could not avoid about 3 of those things.

WOOF !!!

There were also constant trips to the 3 fires, which were roasting various parts of a freshly killed member of their pig herd. This makes much more sense to me than trying to roast the whole pig. Inserted into the meat chucks were potatoes and carrots, held on by long skewers. The melting fat rolling off made for a smoky, greasy, delicious smelling scene.

What a feast it was !!  Large chunks of pork, dripping with fat and roasted potato and carrot, crisp and savory with an unknown spice(s), topped off with beautifully ripe papaya. Decorum was not in fashion, as hands were used to rather savagely tear at the meat and veggies. Napkins were in short supply, so shirt sleeves were employed. Thankfully, there appeared a non-alcoholic citrusy beverage just in time to save my stomach from total rebellion and chaos.

After the gorging had settled down, it was story time. Pretty much everyone got up and told a story or sang a song. And they were quite good. My favorite was about the great Battle of Darien that “won” the war of independence from Columbia. According to the teller, whose grandfather was there, the brave Panamanians stood up to a much larger force of Colombians. Insults were hurled, shots were fired and the Colombians ran away. He conveniently failed to mention the 5,000 US troops that were there , with artillary !! Another was about a bear, told by one of the teens. At least I think it was about a bear – the alcohol, food and his slurred enunciation combined for poor reception on my part. But, he told it with such passion and excitement and theater, that I and the whole group was enthralled.

When it came time for me to tell a story, I chose my Legend of Goyo, the great silver dog who stood on two legs and freed the roof dogs of Peru from their miserable lives. (Full text at end) Let’s say it was a tough audience. Every few lines, a woman – certainly a teacher or grammar Nazi – would interrupt and correct my awful Spanish grammar. I did my best in spite of her and other heckling when I got to the part about golden bones and butt-sniffing. And when I did the mighty “Goyo bark”, all the nearby dogs started in barking and howling much to everyone’s delight. When I finished, one (rather drunk) fellow got up and said it was a stupid story – how could dogs eat bones of gold? And why would dogs live on a roof? Stupid story. He passed out in his chair a few minutes later, much to my delight.

When Tomas announced that I have been working to help some Kuna villages, I had to suffer through some pretty negative talk about the Kuna. The only interesting topic was their form of birth control. Three theories were put forward : 1) They kill any babies after the second. 2) They have an herb which causes abortion and 3) They only have oral and anal sex after the 2^nd child. (all equally horrible acts to these “nominal” Catholics). I’m betting on #2. Or even #3.

After that party, I was almost wishing for clowns and Hora Loca.

Legend of “Santo Goyo”

A long time ago, a strange dog came to Peru. He stood tall on two legs and had hair of silver. He was known in other lands as Santo Goyo, friend and liberator of all dogs. He saw the dogs of Peru were held prisoner on the roof. He proclaimed in a single mighty bark, that they should all be free to run and roll in the grass and chase small animals. The dogs all came down from the roofs. The moment their feet touched the earth, Santa Yessica appeared in the sky and caused a great rain of bones of gold. There was much barking, butt sniffing and other dog celebrations in the streets of Peru.

After a time, Santo Goyo moved on to other countries and another dog appeared. His name was “Butch”, the devil dog, with hair black as the night and long, sharp teeth. He ordered that the dogs return to the roofs, where they remain to this day. But, the dogs all know in their hearts that one day Santo Goyo will return and set them free once again. As you walk the streets of Peru, the dogs will come to the edge of the roof and bark. If you listen carefully, you will hear them say “Viva Santo Goyo. Viva Freedom. Viva Bones”.

La leyenda de "Santo Goyo"

Hace mucho tiempo, un perro extraño llegó al Perú. Él era alto en dos piernas y tenía el pelo de plata. Él era conocido en otros países como Santo Goyo, amigo y liberador de todos los perros. Él vio a los perros del Perú fueron hechos prisioneros en el techo. Proclamó en un ladrido único y poderoso, que todos ellos deben ser libres para correr y rodar en el pasto y caza de pequeños animales. Los perros todos descendió del los tejados. En el momento en sus pies tocaron la tierra, Santa Yessica apareció en el cielo y causó una gran lluvia de huesos de oro. Había mucho ladrar, oliendo a tope y otras celebraciones de perros en las calles de Perú.

Después de un tiempo, Santo Goyo pasó a otros países y apareció otro perro. Su nombre era "Butch", el perro del diablo, con el pelo negro como la noche y los dientes largos y afilados. Ordenó que los perros regresar a los tejados, donde permanecen hasta nuestros días. Sin embargo, todos los perros saben en sus corazones que un día Santo Goyo volverá y liberarlos una vez más. Mientras caminas por las calles de Perú, los perros llegan al borde del techo y la corteza. Si usted escucha con cuidado, se les oye decir: "¡ Viva la Libertad. Viva los huesos. Viva El Goyo”

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Grocery Shopping

As my days in Panama dwindle down, my mind jumps ahead, considering some of the changes that await my return. A grocery shopping trip to Torti this morning brought some of that change into focus.

To begin with, there are no shopping carts, just plastic baskets. The aisles are not wide enough to accommodate even a single cart and few people shop for more than two bags of groceries. Folks don’t shop for a week, they shop for one or two days. Shopping is constrained by lack of refrigeration and how much you can reasonably carry on the bus and the walk to your house.

The selection of most products is slim. While a US store might have 12 different brands and types of peanut butter, here there is just one. Or none. The big exception, of course, is rice. In one market, there is an entire aisle of rice – a vast selection of brands and sizes – including the ever popular 50 lb sack.

Package sizes, in general, tend to be smaller than in the US, to avoid spoilage and loss. Many condiments and sauces come in 4 oz squeeze packs. Stark contrast to the mega packaging of Costco or WalMart.

Produce an entirely different animal here. There is no pre-packed produce in nice cello-wrapped, Styrofoam trays. Everything is loose. You select your items and take them to be weighed. No slick bar-coded stickers, just the price written in magic marker. Potatoes come with lots of dirt, as does the yucca and yams. Cucumbers are never waxed and still have the little pointy things on them. They might be a little dirty, too. Fruits are always sold at or very near ripe. Some vegetables, like celery or parsley, just can’t make it in this environment. And all the produce sold is local or at least from in-country. Meaning you only eat what is in season.

Eggs are not washed or refrigerated, as is the custom in many other parts of the world. Nor are they sorted by size. One tray can contain anything from medium to X-Large. You select the ones you want and either place them in a plastic bag or ask for a carton. Cartons are the old paper kind, as they are excellent fire-starters.

Most of the tuna cans are “tuna plus”. They either have added vegetables or smoked flavor, even jalapeños. Canned meat, like Spam, are popular for their shelf life quality. There are a few refrigerated items, for those lucky folks, like me, with a fridge. Mostly dairy products, yogurt being my favorite. The butter here is quite good – produced in Panama. And beer.

Much of the packaged food is from China. Breakfast cereal, chips, tuna especially. All are packaged to look like a US product – analog Cheerios, Pringles and “Buddy Bee” tuna.

At check out, no moving conveyor belt or bar code scanner. Just a hand calculator. Prices are marked on each item in magic marker. No credit card scanner, no cash back option.

The truth is – I enjoy both types of shopping. Each has its advantages and disadvantages. Either way, I know I will eat well.