6.26.2010

Well, it's day 6 here in the oogly boogly hoonglah. It feels like we've been here for months already. We're going to the beach tomorrow - and we're all very excited about that! Hopefully we'll stay all day so we can have dinner there instead of here. The food isn't bad, but it is literally chicken and rice all the time. For breakfast this morning we did have eggs, but they had a weird texture. Any kind of bread they have seems to be good, so we may end up gaining weight because of all the bread we're eating. We had spanish donut/pancake/frittata type things this morning. I slathered it with peanut butter, so I could get in some protein... cause all this bread and rice is filling, but doesn't last long.
After breakfast, we loaded up in the bus - with our first bus driver Dario. Thank goodness! The driver yesterday was very impatient and so he sped all the way up the mountain. We were all thoroughly scared for our lives. The roads curve so severely that you can't see what's coming 20 feet in front of you most of the time. Plus the plant life on the sides of the road are seriously overgrown so there's probably really only room for one bus on the road at the same time anyway. In any case, we clapped for Dario when he showed up.
We made it up through the mountains/hills (what distinguishes a mountain from a hill again?), and went to la clinica. There is one nurse there who works 24 hours for 3 days straight. It wasn't very busy when we were there, so I'm sure she naps. There is one doctor that works there, and he is well known through throughout the community. He works there monday through friday and then goes other places on the weekends. It didn't sound like he had much time off.
The mayor of the community met us in the clinic and thanked us for coming. When we went to, leave, the entire community was marching down the street with protest signs and a mega phone. They were apparently protesting the building of a dam in their river. According to the doctor, it will provide electricity to other places than this little community and it will also put them out of a home. So, they were protesting the building of this dam, which is illegal in Panama. You don't have free speech here.
We were worried there would be no more women left in the village to survey, but there were still some. Addie, Katie, me, and our translator Carmelio walked up and up the hill looking for a women. The first woman we came across was pretty young, maybe 25-30 or so. She was very shy, and because the a lot of the question we ask are very personal, Katie and I left the house so she could have some privacy. We wandered for a while and met some children. When you take their picture and show them, they just giggle. It's like they've never seen themselves before. I've only seen one mirror in the whole village. It was so hot in the sun, so we tried to stay in the shade. There was still no place to sit really, so we just stood. A lot of the people in this village of Soloi don't speak Spanish. So there was a major language barrier there. Some of the children did speak some spanish so Katie and I tag-teamed to come up with basic conversation. I think it went pretty well. We got one little boy, Hernando, to say go bulls. He was so cute!

It's very hard to stomach the severe poverty we see. A lot of the girls are having trouble sleeping, and we definitely hate taking pictures of the village. Their houses are made of scraps of wood and tarps. They have clay floors and no one wears shoes. There is animal feces everywhere and the chickens and dogs just walk through the houses as they please. A lot of the babies don't wear any clothes at all and then they sit in the dirt that the chickens and dogs walk and poop on. I saw one baby with maggots on his hands. The only food we saw was rice.
We all feel very guilty about all the stuff we could have brought to give away. I'm pretty sure we're going to make a collection of the clothes we have with us and see what we can give away. There's no need for us all to come back with two checked bags.
God keeps impressing upon my heart to pray for these people. But, I don't want to. It's not that I don't want to pray, but I don't want to feel the pain associated with seeing these people in such distress. It seems so much easier to harden my heart. It's easier to look away and pretend we don't see anything, because there's nothing we can do. We brought tons of soap to talk about hand washing, but these people don't have running water. And the only semi-clean water they have is from the rainwater they collect. The river water is filthy, but it's still what they bath in and what they wash their clothes in. He also keeps impressing on me that more than they need running water, and trust me, it's bad - they need Jesus. It sounds so cliche, but our fixes to any of the problems - be they no electricity, or domestic violence - they fall short of their need for a savior.
All the women we interview talk about how they feel worthless, and they don't have a voice in their homes or communities. We ask these questions and then just walk away. These women need to know that a god created them, in His own image. He desired that they look the way they do, and be born into the circumstance they are in. He delights in them and thinks they are beautiful. He cares for them. He cares that their babies are dying. He cares that they don't have enough food to feed their families. He cares that their husbands mistreat and cheat on them. He cares that they don't have enough money for medical attention. He cares. He cares so much.
It also reminds me to be thankful. In the plenty and in the want. And trust me, after this trip, I see that most of my life sits in the middle of the plenty. I have never been so grateful for my parents and their provision for me. Having a roof over my head would be enough, but no. My dad bought me a car. He takes me to dinner and movies. He pays my rent (which I hope he does at the end of the month :). He provides so that I can go to school and eventually have a career of my own. I know the shock will wear off once I get back to the states, but I hope I never forget how I feel right now. I hope I never forget to say thank you. I hope I never forget to hold my tongue before I complain about something.
I hope no ones too worried about me. I really am doing fine. The days are long and hot, and we're fighting the dehydration; but the water on the compound is safe to drink so we have resources. I'm glad the trip is only 3 weeks long. I don't think I could've handled anymore time out here in the jungle. And some of the people on the trip are annoying. There is a slew of negative people that I do my best to avoid. They kinda bring down the mood - and I'm tired of hearing that it's hot. Yes, we've all got that.
Pray for Panama. Pray for our interpreters. They really can't speak English very well... some even not at all - so I'm not sure why we hired them. Haha. But, because the tribes speak Ngobe, the Spanish we know and the Spanish speakers we have with us are of no use. So, we speak in english, someone translates in Spanish for the interpreters (or sometimes they understand) and then it gets translated in to Ngobe. Haha. It's a long process that leaves everyone pretty frustrated at times. But we're all working on being patient with each other. And these surveys are 168 questions long! It can take up to 2 hours sometimes.
I think that's all for now. I was going to walk down to the internet cafe and scope it out, but I just heard back from the group that just went that the internet is and has been down. So... I'm not sure when these blogs will get posted - if ever. I can't wait to show you all my pictures! Even though no pictures I take of the landscape does this place justice. You need a panoramic shot to really capture the beauty of it. Up in the mountains it's breathtaking. And looks very tropical.
Hope everyone is well!