PVC, Clean Water & Police

Out comes the dirt from the bottom of the tank

The lads of the Pueblo Nuevo Water Crew like to start the day early, as do I. So, I caught the bus before sunrise and rode on the new and improved Pan American Hwy – newly graded and paved – for most of the way. Today was our last best shot at waterline work, since yesterday’s rain will be headed down from the hills soon. Indeed, pressure was rising as we worked. We carried materials up a new road, cut by loggers, up to the water tanks. A little longer, but nice and smooth.

Ligorio pushes mud to the clean out drain

The team passed the tank cleaning test (without any guidance from me) with honors. They hated to flush the last 18 inches of water in the tank, but about half of it was mud and needed to be cleaned and more water is on the way. At the same time, we repaired the broken flush line and did a permanent (as permanent as anything is here) fix to the tank by-pass line. This Team is a PVC laying, water tank cleaning MACHINE !! As we left the tank area, we could hear the happy sound of water splashing into the nice clean tank. A solid day’s work and home before noon, soaking wet, tired and content. Oh, my shower, how I do love thee.

Atsa way - Uh-huh, Uh-huh. - I like it. Uh-huh, Uh-huh.

Interesting chat with the Senafront Police Captain on the way home this morning. I’ve gotten to know Capt. Alew pretty well – as soon as he hears Cuerpo de Paz, he tells his guys to wave me through and I make a point of thanking him. They stop and inspect all vehicles crossing the border to/from Darien – Panama’s Heart of Darkness. They used to make everybody get off the bus and do a pat-down, baggage and passport check. Recently, they started just stepping on the bus and asking to see documents.

I asked if this was because FARC (Columbian rebels) is no longer hiding out in Darien. He said without FARC, things are actually worse, since they provided a certain amount of order in the Darien Gap. Now, it’s just the drug people “and they are much worse”. The Police have stepped up patrols in the jungle near the border, since they were not catching anyone at the check-point. Anyone with something to hide knows to avoid it.

He has mixed emotions about the drug trade. He knows it is his job to “try” and stop it. But, “that is impossible”. He also said he would not put the lives of his men at risk to stop it. Sounds reasonable to me.

Follow up to above: My neighbor Tomas served with the Senafront (Border Police) for 2 years in his younger days. He said it was a great job – hot uniform with gun (“women love this”), pay is OK and you mostly “sit with a finger in your nose”. He said they never really tried to stop the drugs and that many Police took bribes to allow drugs to pass. He says the game was – drug people would “give” the Police a few token arrests, so it looks like Police are doing their jobs. Then those arrested are tried and convicted so numbers look good to international observers. Then prisoners are released on “technicalities”. He thinks it is still the same today.

Dogs, Chickens and Failure to Communicate

They’re All Such Animals

I have come to the conclusion that I far prefer dogs to chickens for overall yard behavior. Mind you, I only observe their actions during the day, leaving what they do in the privacy of night beyond judgement. Perhaps dogs seem more civilized because they have spent more intimate time with humans. Or maybe it’s because we generally don’t eat them or steal their unborn young.

For the most part, I base my favoritism on eating manners. Chickens remind me of Republicans – what’s mine is mine and what’s yours should be mine, as well. As soon as a food scrap hits the ground, chickens will swoop in from all directions to greedily snatch it. If a rooster is nearby, he generally gets a free pass and will knock chicks and hens out of the way with his powerful legs to enforce his superiority. When a hen beats the flock to the morsel, the race is not done, as others will try and take the food from her mouth or dash off with it should she drop it to the ground. This snatching can go on for quite some time, until the flock grows weary or one hen gets some serious distance from the flock.

The Dogs are much more sedate, strolling casually up on the porch, usually announcing their arrival with nothing more than lapping water from the bowl. Lately, Momma has been coming alone. But, when Dad joins her, he sits patiently by while she eats – like the gentleman that he is. None of the “Me First” chauvinism I see in the roosters.

While I won’t speak to Doggie style sex, Dad does wander back to see the pups on occasion. Last year, he spent lots of time wandering off in the fields with the pups. I assume training them in some way, if only by example.

Chicken sex, on the other hand, is more like chicken rape. The rooster comes up from behind, without any discernable warning or foreplay, pins her tail feathers forward, slams her neck to the ground with his beak and then VERY quickly completes his act and jumps off. Though, I admit they rarely fall asleep afterwards. While the hens provide no post-natal nutrients directly, they do watch over their young for a couple of weeks, showing them the basics of the scratch and peck system of feeding.

I must admit that I likely began this analysis with a doggy bias. So, if any of you chicken lovers out there care to defend your avian friends, please, be my guest.

Failure to Communicate

It happens, especially when Spanish is not your native tongue. A little something gets lost and we have that infamous Struther Martin Failure to Communicate.

My red-neck neighbors were clearly getting ready for a party yesterday afternoon. Fire pits were being laid and there was great and agonized squealing coming from their pig pen. When the oldest son came up to borrow my table and stools, I was a bit surprised that he didn’t invite me to the shindig. As the trucks started to arrive, I could make out many of the same guests from another party last year. But, still, no invitation. So, I played on the computer until it got dark, had some dinner and went to bed – listening to the chatter and smelling the roasting pork and feeling just a little miffed. I mean, what kind of person borrows your table and then doesn’t invite you to the party ?? I know I may have not been the perfect guest last year, but I don’t think my behavior warranted banishment. As I recall, folks didn’t like it that I worked with the Kuna “they are animals”, and my story about Roof Dogs was proclaimed “stupid” and my grammar was constantly corrected – but other than that, I was well behaved.

Come morning, Mylin, the Mom came up with a big hunk of pork. Her son right behind her with my table. She seemed a tad angry “Why didn’t you come to the party last night?” “I wasn’t invited.” “Of course you were – we borrowed your table and Martin (son) invited you”. Martin sheepishly nods his head in agreement. “Well,  I didn’t hear it”, say I. She just threw her hands up like What kind of a dumb Gringo are you? We have a party 100 feet from your house and borrow your table and you don’t come? Sheesh !!!

So, I guess I went to bed mad for no good reason. I’m pretty sure Martin didn’t say anything. Or, if he did it was one of those mumbled teenage things. And I misread the cultural significance of the borrowed table. Like I say – It happens.

Anyway, the pork was delicious and the whole thing gets written up as “Failure to Communicate”.

Don Alberto- Rice Cleaner

Don Alberto, sporting the classic Panama hat with stripes

On my way to Torti, I stopped by a curious little building, wherein Don Alberto cleans rice for families all over the Torti and Darien areas. His family has been providing the service for “many” years. Alberto was closing up for the day, but turned the machine on for me since I was so interested. In goes the (semi-clean) raw rice in husk, the machine does its thing and nice brown rice (arroz integral) comes out the side, husks go to a pile out back. All for only 15 cents per kilo. During the main harvest months of December, January and

Raw rice, still in the husk

finished clean brown rice

February, he runs just about 24/7 to keep up with demand. He also sells the rice he grows, so I bought a kilo for 75 cents. And here I thought I could only get brown rice in Panama City at the big supermarket.

It turns out we were born just 1 month apart – he'll be 66 tomorrow. Another coincidence - He visited a friend in Ipeti and used one of the GB Banos - "no smell and VERY big" he said. He said he would like one better than his flush toilet “Why waste all that water?” Alberto says he is never sick because he eats ONLY brown rice, 3 times a day – he says the white rice has “no meat – like eating air”. I couldn’t agree more.

I find so many sweet and interesting folks out there. All it takes is a little curiosity and interest in people.

Or maybe, they find me.click for video

The heliconia (not Bird of Paradise) that I saved from the trash heap is blooming nicely. Steady watering, with an added boost from my special horse manure elixir. Stirred, not shaken. Still waiting on the rains to transplant.

While Momma was chowing and watering down at the cottage, I snuck down to have a look at her pups, since she won’t let me come close to them, if she’s there – snarls and growls like a mad dog.. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you…. 
Anyway, the pups look fat and happy and sound asleep.

I harvested my first SEVEN hand bunch of bananas today. (Yes, I sang the “Day-O” song as I did it.) Just about needed a crane to get it out of the tree. But, it yielded and is now resting comfortably on the ripening racks. When I get that 8 hand bunch, I’ll feel like a real Banana-Mon.

click for video

A Visit to MINSA (Ministerio de Salud)

This is about as "business attire" as I get these days

They say it’s not what you know, but who you know. My new friend Jorge Letras, who I met at the Penn State Latrine Conference in Piedra Gorda, said he’d set me up with the “right people” at The Ministry of Health , sub-sector DAPOS the water and sanitation group. And indeed he did. It might have taken me hours just to find the right building in the sprawling MINSA complex. And it certainly helped to have a government official introducing me around. My Peace Corps ID scored points, as well. I found out that we can indeed get free water quality testing and other tech support for my Water Committees – and all we have to do is ask the “right people”. I also got some legal questions answered about

One of MANY buildings in the MINSA complex

illegal water uses and implied rights-of-way for the aqueducts, which will solve 4 current problems my folks are having. This is HUGE news and a great step forward for the Water Committees. Bingo, Bango, Bongo. I came home loaded with a USB full of documents and contacts.

Th Dolphin Club was formerly a US Navy Club

To top it off, Jorge took me to his private club (The Dolphin Club was the club for US Navy Brass, before the Canal changed hands) for lunch – ceviche, grilled sea bass, asparagus and apple pie like my Nana used to make. Color me – one very happy (and grateful) camper. Yes, the rewards from Peace Corps service are sometimes quite tangible. And tasty.

Due to the extreme dry conditions here in Panama, my shower has become a haven for all manner of critters seeking the residual moisture from the concrete walls. A Whip Scorpion shed its skin/shell. Note MacGyver shower head of 1/2" threaded PVC cap. Regular shower heads plug up with the fine suspended particles. Not my simple head.

Momma dog is down to just 4 pups from her litter of 8. Coincidence that she only has 4 enlarged tits?

The Rest of the Story : The Case of the Well Intentioned Water Line Pickle

Elsa - community leader - and still my friend

As Paul Harvey used to say “And now, page 2 – the rest of the story”:

After the water line incident earlier this week, I felt I really needed to clear the air with Elsa. We have too much good history and friendship to let it end. As I walked the 3 km in from the PanAm to Ipeti, I ran through an assortment of apologies, defenses and lectures in my mind, trying to anticipate what she might say. But, before I got to the main part of the village, I passed Jacquelin and Roberto’s house and she came running out to the road, all excited, with a smile as big as the sun. “Look” she said, pointing down at her very attractive paruma – the bright colored skirts that the Embera women wear. OK, I thought. Nice skirt, but why is she showing me?  “Very pretty” I said “And how is the water connection working?” She rolled her eyes and blurted out “NO, Don Goyo !! This is a gift from Dona Elsa !!”.

Elsa giving me an Embera tribe tattoo

What ??  It took a moment for the full impact of what she had said to register. But, when it did, an enormous wave of joy broke over me and a chill went up my spine. Something wonderful had happened that I didn’t yet fully understand. Jacqui had gone to Elsa and Lisandro, the Water Committee President to thank them for the connection to the aqueduct, as I suggested – quite a brave move on her part. She and Elsa had “a good talk” and Elsa gave her the beautiful paruma as she left. We both knew what a HUGE gesture that was – coming from someone like Elsa and a symbol of being one of the village women. I told her I needed to go see Elsa and just about sprinted into the village.

As an aside, they love the new water supply. “it is very clean and has good taste” was her quote. After using river water, I guess it would be.

Elsa’s response was a bit anti-climactic. She is not the warm, touchy-feely type, in any case. As I walked up to her all grinning and fighting back tears, she simply and flatly said “Goyo, I am sorry I was angry with you. I had so much hate for that man (referring to Jacqui’s dead father Roberto, a drunk and Police Captain who beat Elsa’s brother to a pulp and caused him to lose use of his hand, along with hurting many others in the community). It was not anger for you. We are friends.” That told me all I needed to know. It takes a really big person to admit they are wrong and Elsa showed me her larger than life character in those few words and even more with her gift to Jacqui. She is every bit the beautifully strong woman and community leader I knew her to be. And then it was over.

As I moved in to give her a hug, she sort of deflected me away and asked quite matter-of-factly “So, when will you give the charla about the septic tanks?” Back to business as usual, as if nothing had ever happened. But, something had happened – something wonderful that I didn’t expect. After talking with her mother (who witnessed our earlier altercation) and her husband, I guess she realized that her deep hatred for a dead man, had no place with me or his children. When I finally got back around to telling her what a beautiful thing her gift was, she deflected again, saying “it was nothing”. Well, it wasn’t nothing and she knows it. Her gift of a paruma to Jacqui was a PROFOUND act of grace. Even as I write this now, I am fighting back tears of joy at witnessing such a touching and beautiful gesture.

And so, the little village of Ipeti Embera, Panama has regained its impressive sense of community, Jacqui and her daughter and brother have good, (“very clean”, as she says)  water and will hopefully no longer feel like outcasts, my emotional roller coaster ride is ended and Elsa is, now more than ever, my respected colleague, friend and hero.

Sometimes, the Universe throws a hard breaking curve ball. And sometimes that curve ball gets sent sailing right out of the ballpark. With the bases loaded.

More toilet talk

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In A Pickle

Working the PVC magic 

As an outsider, not knowing all the local history and politics, I sometimes get caught in the middle of some feud or quarrel. To use the baseball vernacular “In a pickle”. Today was one of those days.

Jacquelin happy to have water

A couple of weeks ago, when the Brigades volunteers and I were finishing some Bano units in Ipeti, I noticed that one was not hooked up to the water. Jacquelin and her brother Roberto explained that they didn’t know how to work with PVC, so I volunteered to install their water line. Today, I did just that. It only took a few minutes and the ½” line was connected to the Bano shower and wash basin. And I ran an extra line to their house with a spigot on the end. Then, I went into the village to arrange a connection to the village water system and that’s when the trouble began.

I found Elsa, treasurer of the Water Committee and a good friend, at her tienda (store) and told her about a new needed connection. Just fine, until I told her where it was. No, it’s not possible, she said and stormed off. Her husband Juaquin saw my shock and pulled me aside. It seems the family I had helped was “a bad family”. The father was a drunk and got into fights with many folks in the village. He was hit by a truck on the PanAm a few years back, leaving Jacquelin and her brother alone. Jacquelin then got pregnant and had her baby out of wedlock. And Roberto is gay.

I pleaded with Juaquin that no matter what people thought about their personal lives, they lived in the community and had a right to a water connection – not to mention the fact that I had just bought, transported and installed all that ½” PVC and Brigades built a nice new Bano unit.. He then had a rather heated discussion with Elsa, who finally relented, but said they had to pay the connection fee and 1^st month water first. She glared at me as I shelled out the $7 to cover it and wrote a Permiso. Marco, the water system tech was working on the chlorine drip system at the water tanks and I got him to come and make the connection, before Elsa changed her mind.

I later got more of the background from my friend Don Pablo. The father, also Roberto, was indeed a nasty fellow. He molested (raped?) several girls and beat up several men. But, the real reason for Elsa’s reaction (which Joaquin failed to mention) was that Roberto sent her brother to hospital in Chepo  with many injuries. He lost feeling in his hand permanently. The folks in Ipeti went to the Police many times, but he was a former Captain in the National Police and nothing ever happened. He also beat his wife and the kids. All the more reason his children should not have to pay for his despicable behavior.

Sporting my headband

As for Jacquelin, she was ecstatic to have water at the Bano and by the house. She had been walking to the river for their water every day, with her little girl. She gave me a bright Embera headband that she made and then hugged me and cried on my shoulder. I can only imagine her shame of being rejected by the village and her relief that someone finally came to help. I asked her to please go to Elsa and thank her for the water connection.

In my heart and gut, I still feel like I did the right thing. I hated to have a confrontation with Elsa, who is (or was) a good friend and community leader. But getting the family a good water supply seemed a worthy quest. That’s what I’m here for – to improve peoples’ lives. Maybe my support of the family will help heal the rift. Maybe not. I just hope I’m still welcome at the next Water Committee meeting.

Who put a valve on the drain field line?

My second community service in Ipeti today was much easier and less emotional than Jacquelin’s water line. As I was leaving the village a man approached me and said the septic tank for his new house was not working. Sure enough, the tank was overflowing. But the solution was simple. For some unknown reason, the contractor had installed a valve in the tank overflow line. I just opened it and everything was fine. Nice to work the magic in 15 seconds or less.

 

Nice chicken coop

The day's tomato harvest

The tilapia pond

I chanced upon a Global Brigades agricultural group at the Finka, did my Sanitation talk and then viewed the projects there : Raising chickens and tilapia fish, tomatoes, cabbage and peppers with drip irrigation.

Talking with two older Kuna men at the bus stop. The Ipeti River is at its lowest level in many years, they say. The long boats can barely get out to Lake Bayano. They have to pole much of the way and cant use their outboard motors. But, they also say the fishing for the big Tilapia is the best ever. Compare this recent photo to last year at this time.