For the Love of Soccer and God

Have you ever seen the movie The Passion of the Christ? I can remember thinking that it wasn't that good or not as good as everyone said it was. I can also remember thinking that it didn't have much dialogue. Just Jesus getting his ass kicked for two hours. I now know that the movie is exactly that because I was forced to listen him getting his ass kicked on an audio tape of the movie while I sit in my bed and try to fall asleep. No one else in the house seemed to care which I thought was odd because the older boy in the house decided to turn it on right as everyone went to sleep. The funny thing about it is that it's not even in Spanish. What the draw of listening to a movie that is in language you can't understand and is mostly sounds of someone being hit and groaning is beyond me, but I can tell you that it was pretty annoying when blared in my face at 11 at night when I've already been asleep.

The 6am gospel tape to wake everyone up in the house was also annoying but probably at the same level. I can't help but wonder what it would have been like if the missionaries had never come through back in the day. I'm guessing the obsession with god and Jesus would not be around and the people would still probably wearing their traditional clothing which was basicly nothing. The missionaries told them to cover up.

So I finally got up and walked over to the kitchen area to find that no food was around. It was at this time I decided to head over to the hut store to buy some eggs and oil and I'm glad I did because I ran into a couple kids telling me there was going to be a soccer game in fifteen minutes and that I should come to play. I hurried back home made my eggs and coffee and scrambled out of the house with my running shoes on. When I got to the field I wasn't surprised that no one was there. Nothing starts on time here. Slowly people trickled in and I started to realize that this was a league game between all the towns in the area. I found out later that they meet every Sunday. After about two hours of waiting the refs and team leaders showed up and there was some debate over weather or not I should be allowed to play. “This isn't the team of Los Angeles” one of the Panamanians said. We worked it out and went to the field to practice. It was also determined that I was on defense. Probably because I looked like I sucked.

As I took to the field I noticed that my team had no shoes on so I did the same. After awhile of practicing the other team showed up and the difference between us and them became immediately apparent. Not only did they all have matching uniforms, shin guards, and cleats on, but they were good. They were passing the ball! People don't do that here. This was going to be interesting and I already wanted to back out but being the tallest and whitest kid on the field doesn't make it easy to sneak off.

I can remember thinking that my team was going to think that I was terrible and make me sub out quickly. This was before the game started. As I defended the backfield I noticed that as individuals our team wasn't bad, it was just the concept of the game that they didn't grasp. No strategy, no passing, no nothing. When getting the ball, my teammates did one of two things with it. Kicked it as hard as possible in any direction or dribble it until someone took it away. If it was a pass then it was almost always accidental.

I realized that I probably wasn't the most athletic player on our team, but I sure new a hell of lot more about strategy and after staying in the backfield for the first thirty minutes of the game with most of my team I decided I would move up a bit. For some reason we only had two forwards and they weren't doing much. This helped a lot and after I botched a for sure goal and then had an assist my team realized that maybe I kinda new what I was doing. The hardest part of the game was the fact that we were kicking shoes with bare feet. I looked down and only saw blood coming from my toes and decided not to look down at them again. I wasn't going to bail out on my team in the middle of the game. That wouldn't have been good considering I'm still trying to prove to them that I'm tough enough to be here.

After getting beat by four points our team retreated to the shade and we watched the next team. I was told I cad confidence and that I was a lot better than they thought. I told them we need to move the whole team up the field at the same time and pass the ball more. They stared at me and after I found out that because of a scheduling mishap we had another game in thirty minutes I started my walk home. There was no way I was in any kind of shape for two regulation games in one day and I hate to see what the score of the last game is going to be because my team seemed pretty tired and beaten up.

As I started washing myself in the river I realized that my feet hurt pretty bad. By the time I got back tot he house/hut I realized that my two big toes now had blood and dirt under the nails and hurt tremendously. I'm still trying to figure out how to clean them out without further damaging the wounds. I'm sure you will hear about it next time when I have to go to the hospital...

Update about the last post: I found out that the cacao grown in the region that I live in is the only internationally recognized certified organic chocolate in the Americas. So no pesticides, shade grown, natural fertilizer or compost, no killing of the animals, and they are supposed to have a reforesting project. I would also like to mention that I talked to a guy about a horse today for two hundred and fifty dollars with saddle. I took it for a ride and decided that it was a little too small for me even though that is a pretty good price and the horse seemed pretty well taken care of. We will see.

One more thing: I was dying of thirst during the game and at half time made the decision to drink the homemade sugar and corn drink that they were selling out of a bucket. I asked if it had been boiled and the lady said yes and then washed the cup out with looked to be river water and poured me a cupful. It was delicious and probably saved my life. I'm just hoping I don't pay for it later... 

 

Chocolate

I could romanticize the chocolate growing, harvesting, selling, making, consumption process but I'm just going to give it to you straight instead. I have to state that there is a hell of a lot more to all this than I had ever thought and how anyone ever figured out how to make refined chocolate is beyond me because it is hard. That said I guess I better start from the beginning.

Cacao trees or chocolate trees grow well in the jungle here in Panama and as I'm told in many of the other countries in Central America. It rains a lot, it's humid, there is shade, and it never dips below 70 degrees. As far as I can tell, the cacao production in Central America is almost entirely done by independent farmers and my guess is that it is just easier and cheaper that way. In the local town here of Almirante there is a cacao co-op that has been running since 1952 and is the oldest co-op in Panama. It is also older than the Peace Corps. I had the chance to go there today and it was a sight. They really do have the system figured out.

So here is what I know so far: In my community the indigenous tribe moved here to work for United Fruit Company or Del Monte or Chiquita Bananas. Pick your poison. They moved moved here about 40 to 50 years ago and it was just forest. They built houses/huts that were distanced from each other and which also had their own farms of mostly plantains. The people that were either brought into the cities of Almirante or Changanola only had the liberty of working for the big fruit company when they decided to leave it left the town in economic ruins. The native people here somewhere along the line switched their farms to cacao and selling groups were formed.

Along the line, big companies in the U.S. and Switzerland came and decided that this cacao was really good and since it is all organic, shade grown, and sustainable are buying it up as fast as the people can produce it. Almost all of the farmers here, which is in my town makes up 95 percent of the community, sell to the co-op and depend on it. The big companies are getting smoking deals on great cacao and the locals are getting some money for it and not burning down the entire forest to have cattle. Now. Is it a living wage? The rough numbers I've figured out is that it makes about 1 dollar an hour for the family on average. That combined with other small incomes from the mother or kids put the total family income at about 10 to 15 dollars a day for an average family of about 8. This is below the the international poverty line by at least fifty cents if you go by person and if there is a bad crop or a disease it could be real bad. Although most people still farm other substitutable plants and animals in time of need.

The co-op is well organized and has received help from other governmental organizations such as USAID which provided the people with the large air dryers for the beans. They also provided materials on how to protect the forest while still being able to produce enough cacao. The government here also helps the co-op stay organized and provides training. This is all good.

Like I said before, before I came here I knew nothing about where chocolate came from so here is what I've learned about the process: The fruit grows on the trees. You take the fruit off, take the seeds out and put them in some sort of dryer which can take awhile depending on how hot it gets and for how many days its hot. After the seeds have dried out or fermented enough they are either sold to the big companies to be refined or roasted and ground up to be used. Here they use the ground up and dried chocolate for a chocolate drink. Now. I have found out as of late that trying to make the kind of chocolate you find in the store is hard and involves equipment. Equipment that involves electricity and costs money. Both things that these people don't have. You have to pretty much use a machine that heats while grinding the chocolate in a certain way to break down the bitterness. Sugar is also broke down and added. Then the chocolate must be heated and cooled a certain way to be called real chocolate. I have looked up many ways of doing this and have found none that I could do here.

What they do do here is sell the raw ground up chocolate in balls to be used for baking or cooking. You can add sugar and milk and make whatever you like. It actually does taste like chocolate and some of the bitterness is taken away. Its dark, its natural, is good, and besides all the sugar, it pretty good for you. It also costs 1 dollar here for what costs 10 in the states. I'm on a mission to not only help them sell this partly refined product that others sell here, but to find a more sell-able product with better packaging and marketing. For the gringos mostly. We shall see what I can do...

In Search of a Hidden Waterfall

 

 A couple weeks ago Solomon showed me their plan for tourism. On the front cover was a picture of a beautiful waterfall. I asked where the hell this was only because I had gone up the main river pretty far and nothing of this magnitude seemed to match. Solomon promised to take me but we needed permission from the owner of the land that it was on. The waterfall apparently located between chocolate farms and Solomon didn't feel comfortable with not asking for permission.

I woke up today ready for an adventure. I ate my customary breakfast of one egg and chocolate drink and headed out for Solomon's house. Solomon's neighbor was hanging out when I arrived and I introduced myself not knowing that this was actually the person that we needed permission from. I later realized that we not only needed permission, but we needed a guide. As we found out, these trails had not been used for years and the jungle grows quickly here. The farmer needed to go up to his property to meet a couple of guys about cutting up a fallen tree of which he was building a house out of anyways.

As we started our climb into the forests located in the mountains across the river from me, I soon realized this was going to be hard. Not that hard for Solomon and certainly not hard for the farmer leading the way, but hard for me. The climb was steep, muddy and at points pure jungle that needed macheteing just to pass through. It was early and I was struggling. Checking my heart rate from my neck became easily done as my veins seemed to be pounding out of my skin. I didn't complain.

After about 30 minutes of hard climbing in rubber boots we stopped to my delight. At this point I had started panting and was now drenched in sweat. I reached for my water bottle and gleefully took big relieving gulps then handed it to Solomon who was now resting on a tree stump. He was tired but not nearly as much as I was. After getting the bottle back I then turned to our guide for hopes of quenching his thirst. Not a bead of sweat on his body as he looked calmly at one of his cocoa trees.

“Damn” I thought to myself.

This guys is pushing 50 and he is coasting through this. I would later find out that he does this every day as he has done his entire life. That makes sense. This guy is a mountain goat. He was leaving Solomon in the dust while he chopped at the jungle and casually walked over vines, boulders and creeks. I didn't offer any water as to not offend him. I'm 100% positive this guy could do the Iron Man and beat half the people and do it without having to stop to boil or filter water because he just drinks directly from the river or stream. He as also been doing that his whole life too.

The rest was over and I was notified that there was about an hour more left. I laughed and looked at our guide. He sat stone silent. It was not a joke and I need to get my head in the game if I was going to not die on this trip by taking a bad step. Solomon had warned me that this was a dangerous endeavor. Not only because of the high amount of deadly spiders and snakes, but because of the hiking up and down cliffs of mud and leaves.

Looking at the ground trying to carry each foot underneath and then in front of me in a mechanical way, my began to wonder which became a good thing. I starting thinking that if I had been placed in the Darrien Gap which some volunteers have been placed for the first time ever, I would probably be the person that got kidnapped by FARC or the military guerillas first. I then started thinking about the tape recorded ransom speech I would have to give to the people back home. You know. The one where there are two guys with black masks on standing on each side of me wielding AK47's that Reagan gave them. I would be cool about the whole thing I decided and just go along with everything as not to ruffle any feathers. Then when they wanted to speak in English on the tape to say something for back home I would switch into ebonics so they couldn't translate it. Well ebonics and a mix of southern slang an movie quotes.

I decided that if I needed to say yes to a question I would say “does a bear shit in the woods”? And when I needed to ask if I was going to be saved I would say “y'all comin yander ur whaat”? I would also say things like “I'm fixin to get all up out this piece sucka” and “ if there aint gonna be no one getting me and shit than Imma run like I'm runnin from da po po”. I would be a national hero and people would play my tape over and over on CNN because I was able to outsmart the FARC with slang . Then I'm sure they would kill me and float me down the river, but at least I went out like a badass. At about this time I realized that we had reached the top and I was glad. I was starting to see stars and needed a rest.

After the farmer haggled with the people chopping the fallen tree for a couple minutes I realized that the tree they were talking about was the one I was sitting on. This took me by surprise. Not did this tree look like it had fallen years ago, but it was now growing legitimate plants on top of it. I was dumbfounded and asked many times if this was the tree they planned to chop up. It was. Apparently the trees here are of such a class of hard wood that they can be down on the ground for years and only slightly rot on the outside layer. Just past the bark is completely usable hard wood that would cost you a lot more than 12 dollars a plank which this person was charging.

We moved on to a farming house at the top of the hill of which I was astounded existed. The house/hut lay on the highest part of the mountain looking over everything else and Isla Colon was in sight. We waited here for awhile for the farmer to haggle the price down more for the wood and my sweat filled shirt soon made me cold. After a half an hour we began our slash and move technique through dense jungle. Poison dart frogs everywhere and lizards jumping from leaf to leaf, the jungle was alive. After pummeling down a hill and climbing over a couple boulders we reached our destination. It was a waterfall and it wasn't very big. I sat there for awhile not very impressed and felt obligated to take a photo. “Do you like it” they asked me. “Ya, its nice” I said in the best possible way. I was dissapointed for sure and thought to myself that no one was going to pay a dime to hike this damn mountain to see this puny thing. They laughed a little and said “well this isn't it, there are many waterfalls and this is the smallest”. I was relieved and we moved on. We crisscrossed through the hill climbing and dropping down into valleys for awhile and after viewing a couple of the bigger waterfalls by now I was impressed.

Our guide saved the best for last and I could see why. It was also the most inaccessible. We slashed though jungle that seemed to barely hang on to the mountain as it was due to the steep decline. After ascending down a good ways we can to the largest of the waterfalls and I was impressed. As in all of the waterfalls, the streams feeding them were small but the length the water needed to travel before hitting flat ground again was respectful. This last one must have been at least 100 feet up and looking up at from even a distance one was sure to get sprayed by the mist. This one was different for another reason too. It seemed that half way up there was a pool of water that seemed accessible from the side of the mountain. I explained to Solomon that I wanted to swim in that pool of water and laughed. Once he found that I was serious he gently told me that we would try another time. That was probably a good thing for my legs had turned into spaghetti at this point and started to refuse to work.

We made it down the hill with me only falling once. That was pretty good for me considering my legs burned so bad I couldn't feel them any longer. The dogs caught an armadillo on the way down which was met by a beating with the blunt end of the machete by the farmer and we tossed it into the bushes for something else to take it away. Solomon invited me for lunch and we talked about tourism and the costs and benefits of exchanging time to lead them to the waterfall for time working in the farm. I learned that the good farmers here make about 2 dollars an hour and bad ones make about fifty cents an hour. We both decided that leading groups into the jungle would be a good investment and I spooned over the chicken necks laying on my bed of rice. It was one thirty in the afternoon and I was ready for a nap. And that is what I got....

Washing My Clothes in the River

My clothes have just started to dry and its been 3 days since I washed them. Normally washing clothes would not be something that someone would write about I'm guessing and if they did I'm sure it would be pretty boring. This case is different. I've never hand washed anything and especially not in a river so I was going to need help. I enlisted the 12 year old girl living in the house since it was part of her daily activities anyway.

The process of washing your clothes in the river is not too difficult. At least not here. In the house/hut I'm living in we happen to have a small stream running just below us which makes a perfect washing area. For others, washing clothes in the larger river is not uncommon. I see it pretty much every day. I'm sure the process can be changed and is different around the world where people wash clothes in rivers or streams or any running water so I guess it would be interesting to know how they do it here. It's pretty simple. First, you throw your piece of clothing in the river to get it wet, then you take your bar of washing soap and rub it on your clothes as much as you desire. Then, you take the piece of clothing and slap it against a rock or piece of wood until its thoroughly beaten. You also rinse your newly beaten article of clothing and put it in a bucket to be hung up.

There is also the method of kneading your clothes while dipping it back into the river regularly to get all the soap out. I chose this method because I had been warned that the other would stretch my clothes and put holes in them. This was pretty obvious to me but I guess some volunteers had to try it out.

I have about one full travel/hiking backpack full of clothes which isn't much compared to what people usually have. What is in my backpack is all that I own more or less. It took me about 3 hours to smash and pull the dirt out of them and hang them up. It just so happened that it rained for two days straight after that so they are still wet.

In relation to this. I have developed a rash where my clothes are staying wet. Or at least that is what I believe it is. At first I thought it was hives. I used to get hives all the time as a kid and remember what they look like so I was pretty dead set on them being just that. After talking to some people here though I now believe its from being wet all the time. After taking the hour and a half trip to the doctor and realizing that non of them were open because it was Sunday, I ended up buying some cream that is supposed to help. I can at least sleep now without waking up from the itching pain.

Health Report:

As I said before I've got some weird jungle rash throughout my body that many o soldier in Vietnam probably got and can tell me exactly how to get rid of. I'm still coughing which makes this sickness probably one of the longest ones I've ever had. I can hear now which is awesome. My foot started to hurt a little the other day and it caused a little alarm but I think it's going to be fine. I went the craziest hike ever today and it didn't bother me. Might be a different story when I start playing soccer here. My allergies are always going to bother me and I've given up trying to defeat them. There are about 1k different species of plants here and I think I'm allergic to half of them. Other than that I seem to be good. I haven't eaten meat in a while except for some barracuda the other night. They tried to feed me chicken necks today for lunch but I declined. It mostly been rice and plantains and I'm hoping this diet will be OK for the couple months that I will be staying host families. I've tried to become more active so I don't pack on any pounds from the extra carbs.

You Need Boots Here; When its Not Flooding

I woke this morning realizing that I had things planned which was good. I needed to take a bath/shower and wash my clothes. In the states this might have taken me a total of one hour at most to do. Of course if your my step brother Danny, an hour shower is probably normal. I'm convinced he secretly does complex arithmetic using his finger on the shower door.

After waiting in the hammock for about two hours for breakfast I threw my board shorts on, grabbed my soap, stepped into my boots, and headed down to the river. About half way down to the river I realized that I had not only forgotten to wear socks with my large rubber boots, but I forgot to cover the outside of my left leg. For anyone that knows me, they know that I walk extremely strange. I have one foot that pigeons and one leg slightly shorter. You would only notice by either looking at the heels of my shoes or by closely observing me walk. Some would say that I walk like “a pimp”. Whatever that means. How this walking affects my large rubber boots is tremendous. When you have that much surface space potentially rubbing and grinding in certain spots bad things can and have already happened. I have a fairly large open wound on the outside of my left leg from the boot just rubbing that area after one day and a silver dollar sized wound on the inside of my right foot from not wearing socks just one day. So I walked back to put socks on and tie a bandana around my left calf.

Looking for the correct place to wash ones self in the river is key to having bathing success. The water has to be deep enough to be submerged but not too deep to wear you can't lather up. The spot also has to be somewhat secluded and hopefully not directly down stream from someone washing clothes or worse. It is pretty much a given that there are things in the river that I don't want to know about. I've already got amoebas from it once. Needless to say, I found the perfect spot and bathed in the river without a hitch and had time to buy a bar of soap from a local store/hut with 10 things in it to wash my clothes which I'm going to have to write about next time.

Some random observations:

1. It rained so hard the night before last that when I went to leave the house I found myself faced with a new river to fjord. The only problem was that the bridge for the once stream was now far under water. I made it through after careful navigation, but the thought of flooding just after one night of heavy rainfall caused me little alarm.

2. The latrine or “hole with the wood planks on top” as I like to call it seems to be dangerously full. I'm guessing that in the 3 weeks that I have left in this house that it will be fine but what about after that. I did realize that the hole/shack is located in a nice part of the area. There is a little trail that heads up past our house slightly up the mountain and there perched on the edge of a small hill next to some coconut trees is the latrine. When it rain there is even a cascading waterfall next it to that drains into the canyon. It's too bad that the latrine is in such disrepair because I can't imagine a better location for dropping a deuce.

3. I thought that checkers was played the same all around the world. It is just one of those games that one can't imagine would differentiate depending upon location. Apparently I was dead wrong. Walking back from Solomon's house one night I noticed a light on at one of the 3 “businesses” in town. I say “businesses” because they are either just cut out squares in people's houses that sell goods for a ten percent markup, or its the zapataria which is a shoe repair hut. The light was on in the zapataria which just so happens to be owned by one of the 5 kids living in the same house I am. I noticed that he was sitting next to an oil lamp directly below 3 empty shelves of which I imagine are supposed to have shoes on them. There were some shoes in the zapataria, but they were on the ground off to the side. To make a long story short I noticed a board for playing checkers and we started a game by oil lamp light.

It wasn't too long that locals crowded round and I could feel the pressure to win. Things were going pretty smoothly until it happened. He moved backwards. “What the hell is that” I yelled in English and then in Spanish. He put a puzzled face on and I took note of the apparent Panamanian rule change. He won the first game pretty quickly I like to think because of the differentiation in rules so we started another. The second game lasted longer and we got to the point where we both had checkers/bottle caps that were kinged. Then it happened again. He moved all the way across the board like it was a bishop in chess. Same exchange in words and expressions happened and he won. The third game was a different story. I took note of the “rules” and gleefully beat him at his own game. I even found more rules such as being able to go across the entire board with a king and take over a piece (not jump), and then go in a different direction in the same move and jump or take over another piece. I'm pretty sure some panamanian somewhere watched someone play chess somewhere and thought it was part of checkers and then got drunk one night and came up with this. The thing is, is that its way more fun than regular checkers. I would tell you to go try it but who the hell plays checkers anymore. I was just excited not be in the dark.

4. My host family was switching through the radio channels as they do every night and stopped on an english broadcast that I knew right away was of religious matter. I don't want to get into my views about religion as it pertains specificly to the Gnabe people just yet. At least not after I actually go to church here and see the whole picture. I do want to point out that for the one minute that the old tired man talked on this particular station before it was changed he went on about how homosexuality was a sin and that god is going to punish them. He also started siting specific parts of the bible that showed this. I find it too bad that the only English channel these people get to practice and learn English to be words of hate and especially from a source they are familiar with. These people are so impressionable its ridiculous. They still talk about Wild Bill every day and how all gringos are crazy. If you don't know who Wild Bill is you need to look him up. He was just arrested down here for chopping up other gringos and taking there land. He got deported back to the states where I'm sure he will get the chair. In any case, it is pretty sad to hear the only English voice on the radio spitting hate all over the speakers. Hopefully they are not doing that in spanish.

5. There are two companies that buy up all the chocolate produced in Bocas. One is a company from the states that I have heard is a sub division of Hersheys (If someone can back me up that that it would be great) and the other is a Swiss company that came here last year and did a bunch of tests on the chocolate seeds and decided it was some of the best in the world. They pay about 1.20 a lb for it. The same organic stuff in the states can go for 20 bucks a pound.

6. I also found out that one of the guys here went to Costa Rica once and saw a gringo pay twenty bucks to see a toucan up close. He came back to the community and designated an area the “Zoo” so gringos could come here and pay that too. It is surrounded by huts, farms and roads, and looks exactly the same as the rest of the land here except it doesn't have huts in it. There have also not been any visitors yet. That might be because the only advertising they have for it is a sign on a post that says “protected forest”. They might need to work on that one a little.

They Call me Chiro Mutari

I woke up this morning to reggeaton blasting in my ear and realized I had about 3 and ½ weeks left in this house. I tried to fall back asleep which didn't work. It was not a good start to the day and this day needed to be good. I hadn't a good one here yet and needed a “pick me up” for sure. I'm so sick of reaggeaton I could never hear it again and the happiest person on earth. I'm pretty sure that if I get sent to hell I'm just going to be strapped to a table and next to my ears are going to be big shitty speakers with all kinds of chrome on them for no reason blaring a 23 hour reaggeaton station. The other hour will be for talking about how great reaggeaton is.

So I had mentioned to Solomon, my hopeful future counterpart in the community, that I wanted to meet everyone in the chocolate group and that I would like to attend the group meeting on Thursday. I mentioned this about two days ago and forgot that Thursday was today. Solomon must think I'm an idiot because he had to remind me about the only thing on my schedule. I didn't think it was a big deal anyways. I was just going to see what the meetings looked like. I figured it was just going to be a bunch of dirty old men shooting the shit. I spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to fry an egg in this house and then headed out the door. It's not as easy as you think here. Walking down the street I noticed an acquaintance on a horse and he asked if I was going to the meeting where I would get my name. This confused me but I quickly answered yes. This brought up two things: One being that random people in the town that were not going to the meeting knew I was going to the meeting, and two being that apparently I was getting a new name at this meeting.

I showed up at the meeting and about 25 people stood outside the ACODAAC building which translated stands for Association of Conservation of Development, Agriculture, and Artisan Culture. So its pretty much every word they could find that had to do with the “green” movement. They are twenty years old so maybe they figured it out first. It's pretty much a long name for the group in charge of refined chocolate production and artisan crafts. I figured out roughly that this group directly and indirectly affects the entire community and will be my primary working partner. After I get things rolling with this group I will move over to see what I can do at the school.

We hung out outside and I watched the men dig a trench for awhile until the meeting was called inside. We all entered the high ceilinged concrete room with large wire mesh windows, and sat down on the benches made from solid unevenly cut boards and tree rounds. The meeting started and everything started as usual I'm guessing. My ears have been and still are full of fluid and I can't hear a damn thing. I did hear my name come up with other things like Peace Corps and the word “help” then followed by the word “presentation” followed by a long stare in my direction. I decided to get up and give my self presentation in front of the group while a man in the corner took notes. My Spanish is still pretty bad and considering I was having trouble hearing or standing straight up, I think did pretty well. I explained that I was not like the past volunteer and that I wanted to get more hands on and work with everyone in every capacity. I got cheers and claps and I was happy. The time and date was noted by the recorder and we were off to the next subject. Or so I thought.

Solomon described why he had asked for another volunteer here and then went into talking about what other people's wants and expectations of me were. The conversation started well then quickly went into Gnabere which meant they didn't want me to understand what they were saying. Voices were raised and I could tell who was instigating and who was trying to calm the storm. This made me nervous and all the pride I had gained from the success of my presentation soon faded. The conversation died and Solomon suggested that everyone introduce themselves to me the same way. It took awhile and some of the older artisan women are way to shy to talk amongst others. They just put their hands in front of their face and turn laughing. I found out later that people were talking about how the last volunteer didn't really do much and never did anything with the community. The people felt used and wanted more participation.

After this procedure it was time for my new name. Now, I have to say that I was not prepared for how well structured and organized this group is. Not only do they keep record of every number for everything, they keep the time and date of events and democraticly decided everything. Four names were written on the board and each person gave one vote. I was soon given the name Chiro Mutari. I liked it and it was recorded that my Gnabe birth was to be at noon on the fourth of November and that my new name was Chiro Mutari. At first I thought this was going to be one of those things where people sometimes call you this name when they remember or it was going to be used as a joke. Not so. People starting using it immediately and word spread throughout the community fast.

I walked over to Solomon's house at around 3 feeling much better about my place here and after seeing some exotic birds including a couple tucans fly over me things started to look up. My sickness has brought me down a lot and I had another terrible dream last night about an ex girlfriend that has lingered all day. Solomon and I talked over dinner about the meeting and worked on a document on my computer that states the laws of ACODAAC. We also went over ways we could change the packaging for the chocolate and a little about the competition that I have seen here. His wife fed us a boiled fish of some sort and mashed plantains along with boiled water and coffee grounds of which I ate and drank about half of. We talked some more about creating plans for a bicycle grinder to present to the group and his desire to somehow get used baseball equipment down here for the teams because the weather here has almost all but destroyed everything they have. Dad or anyone else reading this, if you have contacts with a local team or any connects lets work something out. They love baseball here more than any sport I've seen. The problem is that equipment is expensive. More expensive here than in the states.

I walked from Solomon's house feeling happy. Dark now and my headlamp dim I slowly made my way through the muddy hill weaving in between trails of dirt, wet grass, barbed wire, and jungle. Moving giant toads from my way with my knee high boots I noticed the sky was clear tonight and the air hot. I could here my name being called from a distant window. “Chiro” the voice belted and I recall thinking that even in the dark my gringoness can not be hidden. To remedy the problem with my headlamp I walked to the road and then back up a mud laden hill where the small community store stood open by oil lamp. The store owner called me my new name and we chatted about how the coming month would bring much rain and lightening storms followed by a month of sun. I felt right in this place and like part of the community for the first time.

This place is beautiful, but without the trust and confidence of the people it would become a jail sentence for me. Betray their trust or friendship and I will be forever cast aside in this place where news travels faster than the river flowing through it. For now, I've got kids holding my hand walking me down the street and people calling me by my Gnabe name. Now, its time to prove to them that I'm worth a damn. I need to get better for that. Better in health and in Spanish. This week, I work on Spanish. Next week, we will see about this bicycle grinder business....

Day One: Giants Win the World Series from under the house.

Its' been at least two weeks since my last entry and there is good reason for that. I've been sick. Yes, I know its a big surprise but it has happened again. This time it's a complete upper and lower respiratory infection that has spread to my ears and stayed in my lungs. One round of antibiotics couldn't knock it out and so they went in big with straight shots to the ass. I haven't been able to hear for about four days now. Everything pretty much sounds like its under water. This can be a problem when your Spanish isn't so great. I'm also having problems walking straight which I'm sure is part of the same problem.

Being this type of sick could not have come at a worse time. My worse night of the sickness just so happened to come the night we swore in and met the president of Panama. It was a big deal to say the least and was held at the Ambassadors residents. All of the national television Stations were there and I was told later that we could all be seen that night. Directly after the event which lasted hours and included speeches by President Martinelli, our country director, and the ambassador whom had terrible Spanish I might add, there were snacks and drinks and we got to talk to the president. He wasn't very intimidating and easy to talk to. I was also very sick and was pretty out of it. After the event everyone went out to eat and to the clubs to celebrate as I hitched a ride with the teaches directly back to the old military base where we had been staying to go back to sleep. My head was in pain and there was no way music was going to make it feel better.

I woke up the next morning feeling a little better and hopped on the bus to the beach with most of the other new volunteers. The beach was fun and sickness was alleviated enough to sing and play guitar on the beach for some locals whom must have thought I was a celebrity due to the amount of pictures and videos they were taking. I even got a chance to have a drink or two which was nice. It was nice to see and hang out with everyone for a couple days before we all parted ways to our sites. Most of us will see each other in three weeks for thanksgiving but other than that we are all on our own now.

It took 12 hours to get to my site from the beach and by the time I arrived my ears had completely closed up and have been that way for three days. I can't hear anything but the movement of my jaw which is a problem when your Spanish is terrible anyways. I went to the doctor yesterday and got a shot of antibiotics in the ass along with drops and other medication that may or may not have to do with the sickness. I'm really hoping that this stuff works soon because I can't really do anything here without being able to hear or being healthy for that matter.

I spent most of today sleeping. This is partly because one of the kids in the house plays music non stop when he is here. Even when he is sleeping. There are no real walls, just boards separating the rooms that are open on top so the stereo feels like it is in my room. Earplugs also do not work when the music is this loud so I might have to ask him to turn it off when sleeping which could make me a cast out of the house. I'm supposed to have a meeting with all of the chocolate farmers tomorrow which is really important considering it will be a big first impression. I will have to explain why I'm here, what I can do, and why I'm different than the volunteer before me and I'm going to have to do it while still sick and unable to hear well. Having a bad nigh of sleep might be a bad contributing factor to that.

My clothes are dirty and I haven't had the energy to go down to the river to wash them. I also don't have the correct soap to wash them. Apparently I need a special type of soap bar for it. It also hadn't rained for two weeks here before today and the river was incredibly small increasing my chances of washing my clothes in dirty water.

Living with this family is not going to be easy and if I can get through this than I can get through anything. Being sick and hot all the time is only going to make things worse so I must find a way to get better and keep as cool as possible. I've got 3 days of service down and 709 days left and counting the days will not make this any better. Being busy and actually doing things in the community will. I've already talked to people and done things in the community that the locals have told me the last volunteer did not so I guess I'm on the right track.

I know this one post is a short one to make up for the last couple weeks but most of that time (including now) I have been sick. I plan on writing this journal more now that I'm actually in my site and I'm also planning on writing the rough draft of a book while I'm here. I know I will have time that is for sure. I hope to keep this journal as true to the real events as possible which unfortunately are more often than not negative when dealing the poor and non-educated. My hope is that people will be able to grasp what it is like here without having to do so, even though many have said that they will come visit and I really hope they can. To get this feeling I will more often than not describe a single event or feeling in detail in place of just recounting how the day was. I hope you enjoy, it has and is going to be bumpy ride....