Alisson Staff

The following video is of an 11 year old girl from Chiriquí, Alisson Staff, who recently won a national competition.  She's a fresh-faced girl who looks perfectly ordinary--until she starts singing.

Mary and I were completely blown away by this girl's voice.  In fact, I spent 2/3 of the first song trying to figure out if she was doing karaoke or something similar but we both agreed later that no, it's her voice.  If so, in a few years, all of Panamá and possibly a good part of the world will be hearing about this young singer.

The first song has to do with some kind of angel, possibly a guardian angel, but not sure--it sounds to me like "juridica" which would be Portuguese, not Spanish, but then who knows.  For some reason, I have a hard time translating all of it but then I'm not one for the normal type of song lyrics--I prefer Pittí's poetry, myself.    Whatever it is, the song itself is a tear-jerker because I happened to glance behind me when Alisson was finished, and Maritza was wiping her eyes.

The second song is a standard girl(boy) meets boy (girl) and falls in love.  No translation needed--I'm sure you'd understand it if it were sung in Farsi or one of the Malay dialects.

That's about it--there were some more entertainers but this has been a massive enough project as it is.  I hope you enjoyed our rural school celebration!

Mary and I are going to make cautious inquiries to see if we can possibly help out in the school.  We're both scientists, we're both former educators, both of us are fanatics about the importance of education.  It would be both fun and satisfying to help out in that particular way.

Songs of Dimas Pittí

Dimas Lidio Pittí (or Pitty) is a famous poet, author, and writer who was born in Potrerillos in 1941.  I had heard about him from Maritza, and had resolved to get some of his works.  He was present at the school celebration, and made a brief presentation about the life of Felix Lara.  This is a very brief video of him below, just to give you an idea of his presence and his voice.

The next videos are of interpretations of some of Pittís poetry, set to music and sung by a young man from the community of Macano which is in Boquerón, near Concepción, and accompanied by the trio of musicians you've already seen and heard.

I don't know what the title of the first poem/song is, but the second one is "Chiriquí, Provincia Mia".

Other Musicians From Potrerillos

There were some adult entertainers, too.  The video shows a group of three musicians--one playing guitar, another recorder, and the lead, Sr. Enrique Quiroz, who is a violinist from Potrerillos.  I have three clips of their music, but this one is their best: La Palomita--The Little Dove.

School Presentation: Make Way for the Kids!

I love this picture of who I think are 8th grade boys.  Many of the different grades gave mini presentations.  The 8th graders (I think) gave a mock interview with three well-known experts in the infotech field.  the interviewer was a girl, suitably dignified and solemn.  these boys were--well, their age!  I happen to get a big kick out of this age group of boys (so long as I don't have to deal with them on a daily basis).  The look on the face of the middle one is sheer mischief.  Of the relatively few stills I shot  (I spent most of my time filming), this is my favorite.

The children's presentation started off with the Jardin Infantil--kindergarten.  They are singing along to music--the voices you hear are not theirs.  They are utterly darling.  the song they're singing talks about wanting a world where children can live in peace.  At two points in the song, the lyrics say that they are singing for those children who are in pain, and for those who have no bread.  At that point, I started to cry.  There is absolutely nothing worse in the world than hearing a child cry from hunger while knowing that it will not get anything to eat.

But here they are, the Jardin Infantil of Escuela Felix A. Lara in Potrerillos Arriba!

I didn't catch the poetry reading by the first-grade girl, but here's a recitation by a 4th grade girl. The poem is about when the school bell sounds--"tin, tin", everyone goes to class, and  they discover the world in books. ( Sorry about the pole in the way).

The School Presentation, Part 1

I thought I'd devote this post to still pictures, to prepare the way for the kids.

The presentation was held outside in front of the school.  The pavilion was for special guests, which meant retired teachers.  We were with Maritza Espinosa, who is a retired teacher, and she invited us into the pavilion with her.  It's the reason why I shot the videos as best as I could around flagpoles, umbrellas and other objects; our angle of viewing underneath the pavilion was worse than the chairs set out under the sun.  However, it was nice to be in the shade.

The woman to the extreme right with her hair pulled back and wearing a red blouse is our friend, Maritza Espinosa.  To her right is her daughter, Marisin.  As with any of these images, if you click on them, you'll get a larger one.

Here we have the Minister of Education, all the way from Panama City to lend his august presence in order to open the proceedings.  Forgive me if I wasn't impressed.  The picture flatters him because it doesn't show the phony politician's smile pasted on his face for most of the proceedings.  It was especially prominent, the smile, when he announced that the Escuela Felix A. Lara right here in Potrerillos was going to become THE model school for all of Chiriquí once the government was through upgrading it.

Yeah, sure.  

Panamanians are polite.  Under similar circumstances, given the realities of where the money really goes and the history, an American audience would at best have been stone silent; realistically you'd have heard jeering laughter.  Here, people pretended to believe it.

What offended me even more than his phony smile was the fact that he was unshaven.  Mustaches are very common among the men here; beards are not.  Last I saw, razors were readily available in all the stores.  I personally thought it was insulting, but then I'm American and I don't know how Panamanians view it.  I didn't ask.

He left after his thankfully brief remarks, trailing an entourage of about 6 to 8 women.

This is the director of the school which is known formally as the Centro Básico.  It's more than just a primary school since it includes Grades 7 through 9.  after that, the kids go to the colegio or high school in Dolega.

She's young to have such an important position.  Maritza told me that she's been in the position 4 years, and that she's worked extremely hard.  I can believe it.  Getting three new classrooms in any kind of reasonable time must have taken Herculean effort, given the way things go here in Panamá.

The dates you see on the lectern are first, the date the school was inaugurated and the second, when it was named after Dr. Lara.  Maritza told me that there used to be, in the earlier days of the pueblo, a lot of two story houses; she grew up in one.  She said that before there was a school, classes were held in the private houses, on the bottom floors.  This was true of her house as well; the family lived on the upper floor.

In the museo, there are some very old photographs, especially of the first "educators", as they're called here.  One was taken in 1905 of a woman who was the first in Potrerillos.  there are a lot of old photographs there; I want to go back and take more pictures, learn more.

A Day of Celebration: The Memorial Mass

Chapel of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, Potrerillos Arriba

Yesterday (June 13) was a special day in Potrerillos Arriba, because the school (which contains grades K through 9) put on what turned out to be an extraordinarily impressive program celebrating the completion of three new classrooms, one of which will be a computer classroom.

Because this is Latin America and even though Panamá is a very secular country, religion is a vital part of the community life.  So, for the Catholic parents and children, the celebration started off with a special Mass at the church at 9 am.

Dr. Felix Antonio Lara as a young man.

 This was a memorial Mass for Dr. Felix Antonio Lara, a distinguished educator in Chiriquí and for whom the Potrerillos school is named.  June 3rd this year was the 100th anniversary of his birth.

I just took a few clips from the Mass itself, more to show what the community looks like than anything else.  Our priest is a young Franciscan.  The Franciscans are very prominent in Chiriquí, which suits me just fine, since I'm quite Franciscan in my attitudes.

Just some things to look for:  the first clip is before the Mass started, just to show the community adn the inside of the church.  The school children are all wearing uniforms.  White shirts are for grades K through 6, while the blue shirts are worn by grades 7 through 9.  Pants and skirts are dark blue.  Uniforms like this are universal in the province; every school kid wears one.

I panned the front of the church to give you an idea of what it looks like.

The older woman reading the first Scriptural reading is Maritza Espinosa's aunt.  She and her husband are very active in the congregation, as is Maritza herself.  

The priest is reading the Gospel.

Finally, just showing the communion line, for more visuals of the congregation.  You'll see a Ngobe Buglé woman in traditional dress.  She's wearing one which is aquamarine with brown and white decorative "bands"; she's sitting towards the front of the congregation.  

I got the biggest kick out of watching one of the 8th graders, I think, telling off either a sibling or a school chum towards the end of the last clip.  Her facial expression is just classic.

Enjoy.

Something that the priest said during his homily, which emphasized the value of education, intrigued me. He remarked that at least teachers in Panamá were more or less well-paid, but that was not true in most of Central America. He specifically mentioned Guatemala and Honduras where, he said, many classes were held outdoors in the forested area due to lack of schools. He also said--and given the currency units, he had to be talking about Guatemala, not Honduras--that teachers were paid the equivalent of $20/month.

Sobering.

I'm still processing and editing stills and videos, but I should have at least one video up tomorrow.

An Encounter with the Representante

Yesterday afternoon I went up to the pueblo to take pictures of and gather information about the Potrerillos library and, as it turned out, the little museum.  After chatting with Marisin and Jovanna and taking pictures, I shot some footage of Jovanna's blue and yellow macaw who lives out back and of the front of the building itself. There was a man standing there who wound up being incorporated into the picture.

After I finished filming, he introduced himself as the representante for the area. His position corresponds more or less to a member of the US House of Representatives. I had met him once before and reminded him that he had visited our house after our bodega was robbed. He looked a little blank, and I put it down to the fact that perhaps all us gringas look more or less alike. Plus I'm not a voter. Yet.  It did occur to me that since everyone seems to know about the proposed change in immigration laws (the government appears to be notifying various people including my physician) and thinks that they are going to be approved, he might be making sure a potential voter got to know him.  He is a politician after all, and they're all alike.

First he spoke in rather bad English, which I could barely make sense of, so I replied in my good if not fluent Spanish, and we went on from there with no problem.

I had heard from Jovanna and he confirmed that the small building that houses the library, museo and Infoplaza sits on 15 hectares of land that used to belong to Cítrico, a major citrus growing and processing company in Potrerillos Abajo. At that time, Cítrico was owned by an American whom everyone refers to as Señor Louis. He sold it to a Columbian, and to listen to the locals, everything has gone downhill since then. That may be just the Panamanian prejudice against Columbians or it may be true, but anyway, Señor Louis, the American, is always spoken of quite highly. In any event, he donated the land, not to the municipio, which is the governing entity of the pueblo but to the community itself, which I gather is administered by something known as a Junta Comunal. You see that phrase a lot, on bus shelters, for example.  I'm not sure exactly what that means but it seems to be a sort of community committee that handles little projects outside of the official government municipio.

We walked the area and talked (actually, like any politician, he talked and I listened), while he described to me the very ambitious projects that he would like to see happen.  To summarize: he would love to see a recreational area in back of the Infoplaza/library building--there are already some swing sets there--that would include a swimming pool for the kids, a reforestation project, gardens, and a home for the aged.

The last surprised me.  In a family-oriented culture such as this one, it's not something I expect.  I know that the only place you find them in Brasil is in the large cities in the south; in the northeast, it is amazing to what lengths adult children will go to take care of their aged parents.

When I asked him about this, he told me that there were many poor, elderly people who were ill and who were abandoned.

He also talked about the poverty in the area.  Once a month he and an American (I think) woman go in his truck to deliver food to the poorest people in the area.

This is where I want to get involved in helping out the community.  Next time he goes on his rounds, he'll notify me, and I'll go with him.  We can go from there to figure out exactly what Mary and I can do to help.

What interested me a lot is when he began talking about the foreign community here, which, he said, is a great deal smaller than in Boquete.  I muttered something about quality vs quantity which I'm fairly sure he didn't understand.  Just as well.  What he wants to do is to have a meeting with the interested foreigners ( I kept reminding myself that I wouldn't be a 'foreigner' technically anyway for much longer) in order to discuss his projects.

Ah.  We come to the heart of the matter.  The American money machine.

When we first moved to our rental house, our helpful next-door neighbor described what the basis of some of his problems with labor were.  Campesinos, he claimed, really and truly believed that Americans actually made money in their houses--we had printing machines (if they thought that technically) and we could make as much money as we wanted.

With ever-increasing exposure to Americans and other foreigner nationals, I'm sure that particular belief is long gone.  However, it lingers in many other ways.  There is the solidly-held conviction that all Americans are rich and therefore it's quite all right to steal from or cheat them.  I've gone into this cultural attitude extensively so I won't say more.  I did however point out to the representante that the three rural communities of Boquete, Potrerillos and Volcán were home to three very different colonies (using his word, by the way) of foreign nationals.  Without question, Potrerillos is far and away the "poorer" of the three.  On average, there are far more of us Americans, Canadians, and British, for example, who are living on Social Security or its equivalent and who are definitely and absolutely not rich.  There are a few well-off but they are the exception not the rule.  We correspond in income and life style in general to the Panamanian middle class.  Boquete has the rich Americans and Canadians; while there are people of modest means there, they are outnumbered by the well-to-do.  It seems to me that Volcán is somewhere in between.  The attitude in the three foreign communities is also very different but that's something else again.  Overall, we here in Potrerillos appear to be very much closer to our Panamanian hosts.

I wanted to get that across to him because I know what's coming.    He wants the "rich" foreigners to help out with his pet projects.

I have extensive experience in Brasil with what happens to foreign aid of any kind, whether from governments or from private sources.  The overwhelming majority of it is wasted, thanks to cultural assumptions or from ignorance of the realities of Brasilian life and politics.  To give an example of what will be my main concern here, an Irish missionary priest made several trips to the US to get the funds necessary to complete a second day care center in the poorer sections  of São Paulo so that mothers could leave their children in a safe place while they went to work.  This is a massive problem in Brasil, because unattended kids get out--and all too often get lost on the streets to become a staggering social problem.  The priest had a commitment from the São Paulo city government to pay salaries and expenses for the day care center once it was erected.

I went to São Paulo on my first trip and saw for myself the day care center.  It was gorgeous.  Then I visited the first one he had been instrumental in building in another area--and ran into the realities.  

It was clearly not as well kept up as the one that had just been built.  The major problem was that the São Paulo city government had decreed in increase in salaries for day care workers and other such service personnel--and then didn't have the money to pay the salaries.  So they stopped paying.  They also ran out of money for whatever reason to pay for food and upkeep.  The workers all signed petitions saying that they would be happy to have the lower salaries and pleaded for the money for at least food for the children.  Nothing came of it.  When I visited, the staff had not been paid in several months (this was standard for Brasil at that time and may still be in the northeast).  The way they were getting food for the children was to go to the open-air markets after closing time and begging for the left-over vegetables that the vendors had been unable to sell.  Sometimes they were reduced to picking up the garbage that had fallen under the tables in the stalls.

I have more stories like this.  I have examples of aid wasted from both the US, the European Union, and major non-profit outstanding charitable organizations.  I learned the most from the last-named ones, because the people there told me the lessons that they learned and how they did things differently now. 

The point I want to make is that you have to look long-term at the consequences of what aid you're prepared to give.  It's a wonderful idea to build a home for the elderly--but where is the money going to come from for staff and upkeep?  It can't come from the foreign community.  

Years ago, I heard that the foreign community--mainly Americans--in Boquete had raised money to do something for the local schools.  The story as I heard it said that the local teachers did not want to accept the money/aid because then, they said, the government would cut the money it gave to the school, reasoning that the foreigners were going to support the school.  I have no idea whether or not the story is true, but based on my experience in Brasil, I tended to believe it.  Panamá has a centralized, corrupt government, and believe me, there are problems like that here.  Money just sort of disappears here.  I've already posted about the disappearance of money from the Public Health program.  This is in addition to the fact that Panamá is a poor country that doesn't have sufficient resources to begin with, and that most of those resources go to Panama City anyway.

I had a lot of contact with different Catholic (and some Protestant) missionary groups in Brasil.  One such group was composed of lay American Maryknoll missionaries, hard working people who did their utmost to help the poor especially in health education.  I remember one night where there was a lively discussion about Mother Theresa's organization, and the missionaries were really indignant with her efforts.  They claimed that all she did was treat the symptoms but did not address the root causes, which were political in nature.  Most missionaries sooner or later start sympathizing with reform political movements in South America because of problems with corrupt governments and endemic poverty.

I have come to agree with Mother Theresa herself who said that while all the reformers were arguing and fighting for reform, people were dying.

She and Dorothy Day are two of my greatest heroes (along with Abraham Lincoln).  I agree that political solutions are necessary.  But in the meantime, I have watched children dying of hunger, cattle already dead of starvation, and the homeless building pathetic shelters in garbage dumps and along the beaches of the Amazon River where the rising waters will destroy them.  I've also seen, as we do in the news today, aid misdirected and misused.

So yes, I want to help and yes, I'll go to the meeting, but with both eyes open and some hard questions in mind.  In the meantime, if the representante is serious, I'll go with him in his truck to help distribute food and do what I can to ease the suffering--if only in very small ways--right now.

I used to have a small plaque hung on our bathroom wall with a quote from Mother Theresa: "We can do no great things.  We can only do small things with great love."

Casera Cooking (For Chiricana)

As I've mentioned before, your chances of getting decent típico (Panamanian) cooking in a restaurant are, as we say in science, vanishingly small.  Your typical típico kiosko, which is a roadside restaurant, serves rice and beans, a very small helping of potato salad or cole slaw and a very small piece of chicken, fish, or pork, usually pan fried. Some kioskos will serve patacones, which are twice-fried plantain.  Many serve breakfast as well, but usually shut down by about 3 in the afternoon.

When we first moved here 4 years ago, we ate out once a week.  The serving sizes were fairly large, and you could get a whole meal for $1.50.  Coffee was $0.30/cup and was good to very good, depending on where you ate.  Our favorite kiosko at that time was Doña Mary's, which sits at the  junction of the turnoff of the Potrerillos Abajo road from the road to Arriba.  Later, we discovered Las Brisas outside of Dolega.  Both were very well attended by Panamanians, many of them truck drivers, but quite a few casual travelers and some obvious regulars.  

But as time went on and inflation set in, the serving sizes got smaller and smaller to keep the prices the same.  We also got tired of the limited menus and as we settled into our home, began eating out less and less frequently.  These days, we almost never eat out.  The food in any type of restaurant, whether típico or otherwise, is mediocre at best.  There are a few decent restaurants in David, one on the road to Boquete, and that's about it.  There are two quite decent típico restaurants in Boquete, Sabroson and Genesis, or I should say, they used to be.  We haven't been to either one in nearly two years so I can't comment on the quality now.

We first met the Espinosas last year, when Mary started taking Spanish lessons from Maritza Espinosa.  As time went on, we became closer with them, until now Maritza insists to our delight that we are part of the family.  Mary's Spanish lessons after a while also turned into lessons in casera (home) cooking and that's how we discovered true Panamanian cuisine.

I've already talked about some of the ways that Panamanians use corn.  American equivalent cooking is wheat-based; here, it's corn-based.  Tuesday night when I visited the Espinosas, Maritza was cooking crema de maiz.  Like all authentic ethnic style cooking, it's a lot of work.  You start off with "new corn", which means fresh corn ears.  First you "rasp" or shell the new corn, then put the kernels through a molino which, as I've mentioned, is a corn grinder.  Then you cook the ground corn in water until it's soft .  Maritza passes this through a colander which Ricardo has made from the shell of a gourd into which he has drilled fairly large-sized holes.  This is simply to separate out any coarse debris.  Maritza explained that you can't use the usual small sieve because the mixture won't pass through.  I think we could use a standard colander.  after that, you cook it some more until it has the consistency of thick oatmeal (but a much, much finer texture), which is when it's ready to eat.

Maritza filled small bowls for us and for Ricardo, who never needs to be called to the table.  There are lots of different ways you can eat the crema.  Maritza explained that a really good way is to add queso blanco, which is the soft country cheese you can get in the supermarkets and which she uses in bollos many times or if you really want a treat, add nance, a small tropical fruit that grows quite easily in the area.  The Espinosas claim that that's the tastiest way to eat crema.  But since they had neither of those Tuesday night, we "merely" added milk, much as you would to oatmeal, for example.  The crema had gelled in the bowl and reminded me of cream of wheat. The texture is a little coarser, but not much.

It was hot and delicious.  Polite guest that I was, I finished before anyone else, even before Ricardo, who is one of the country's great trenchermen.  We understand each other, Ricardo and I, when it comes to food.

Later, as I was about to leave, naturally Maritza who thinks that we are starving here (never mind that I am 15-18 lbs overweight) filled a bag with goodies.  There was crema for Mary and also a dish that Mary likes a great deal--rice cooked with pineapple.  Maritza told me that the way to make this dish the tastiest was to cook it with hunks of the pineapple rind, although Ricardo warned me not to use commercial pineapple because of the hormones and pesticides that are used.  That eliminates our cooking the dish for a while, since our pineapples won't be ready until next year.  Just in passing, I should add that the corn came from their huerta, which is far more than a vegetable garden--more like a small subsistence farm.  

While you can eat the rice and pineapple dish as is after removing the pineapple rinds, you can also put the pineapple-flavored rice into a blender and make a very refreshing, very tasty drink from it.  I've had it at Las Brisas when I've asked for it.

Part of the 5 lbs or so of food I toted home was a small container of a bean I've never seen before but which the Espinosas had shown me a couple of weeks before.  It's tiny, tiny, a long bean that is about the size of long-grained rice.  Maritza explained how to use this bean--you mix the cooked bean, which takes a long time to cook because it's so hard, with a rather large amount of rice to make quite a tasty dish.  She warned me not to use too much of the beans or the dish will become "mala".  I've had this form of rice and beans a few times at Doña Mary's, and I can tell you that it's excellent.  She gave me a half a cup worth, saying that that was enough to flavor what she considers barely sufficient rice to feed two people (in other words, enough for 6).  They both urged me to plant a few hills of the beans, because a few plants will produce heavily.  I hope to get to that soon.

Before I went to Brasil for the first time 10 years ago, I had no idea that there were so many different types of beans in the world as there are.  We've experimented with just what's readily available in the supermarkets and have settled on one type of poroto that is excellent.  Martitza and Ricardo urged me again to find a bean that is called colombiano redondo grande, which, they say, is the tastiest bean around.  I inquired at our fruit and vegetable kiosko yesterday, but they didn't have any at that time.  We're regulars there, so I asked the young woman who usually waits on us to tell me when they had it in stock, and she will.

You'd never know it from what's available in restaurants here in Chiriquí, but Panamanian cuisine is really good--you just have to have it casera.

Slide Show Online, Chiriquí Artists

One of the really nice things the Panamanian government has done for its people is to set up a series of what they call Infoplazas, where, for 25 cents an hour, kids can use (OLD) computers, both for schoolwork and for personal use (adults, 50 cents).  They're more or less like Internet cafes run by the government and often either next door to or in the same building as what passes for public libraries here in the rural areas.   We used the Infoplazas when we first moved into our house before we were able to get Internet service at home.

The one in Potrerillos Arriba is managed by Marisin Espinosa, a very capable young woman, daughter of our friends Maritza and Ricardo Espinosa.  She is quite computer literate.  The family represents to me the difference between the older and younger generations.  Ricardo and Maritza do not have a computer and I think really don't want one.  Marisin doesn't have one--I imagine she can't afford one-- although her brother Ricardito, who works for one of the banks in Bocas del Toro, has a small laptop.

Not all that long ago, Marisin started a blog for the Potrerillos Arriba Infoplaza.  I finally got over to the site yesterday after a long time away, and discovered that Marisin has uploaded photos of an exhibition of Chiriquí artists that was showing from June 1-8 at the Potrerillos library right next door (we, naturally, missed it).  It's set up as a slide show.  

Worth checking out.

Added later:  I should mention that, naturally, the Panamanian government for one reason or another (and I tend to have dark thoughts about why) didn't allocate sufficient money for the infoplaza in Potrerillos.  So, local  officials went around asking for donations from various people, including ex-pats--who gave.  This occurred before we arrived in Panamá; the Infoplaza itself opened on June 11, 2004--exactly one week after we arrived in Chiriquí.

Ants Again

I've noticed in the past few weeks that there are all sorts of new--and really large--ant nests popping up around the property.  Two nights ago, Mary called my attention to a long, LONG double line of ants, streaming across the edge of the concrete pad in front of the dog run.  These were not one of the small, stinging ant varieties, but rather large black ants.  They were headed out in the direction of the bodega.

I hate the stinging ants, but I don't like killing anything unless there's a real need.  These ants were bothering no one, so I decided to leave them alone.

Next morning, there wasn't a sign of them around the house.

After walking the dogs, I headed to the masateras to check on how my lettuce and other veggies were doing.  And found the ants.

They were swarming by the hundreds all over the two raised beds, and seemed to be planning to move into these nice, crumbly soil new quarters.  Then I looked down and saw that I was stepping in (and about to pay a price for doing so) a swarm of black ants that were also headed out towards the ganadera.  Some were even starting to investigate the bodega.

Stamping my feet, swatting and swiping ants (who were biting hard, I might add) off my legs, I pulled out my trusty sprayer from the bodega.  Hating every minute of it, I proceeded to commit ant genocide.  But I left the stream of ants behind the bodega that seemed to be heading for the ganadera alone.  I couldn't tolerate them in the raised beds, but they were perfectly free to make nests elsewhere if they wanted to.

That was Darío's work day.  When he arrived, I asked him why there were so many ant migrations and new nests.  The rainy season, he replied.  Whenever the rains get really heavy, they flood the ant nests, and the ants move out to seek better accommodations.  I asked him about the black ants I'd seen.

I find that most Panamanians who live in the countryside are very environmentally aware.  Darío is one of the most informed, and this time he gave me a fascinating account of these particular ants.  He said that they will "flood" houses at times like this, but that they're valuable because they'll eat cockroaches and spiders.  He had the oddest bright gleam in his eyes when he said "Come cucarachas, come arañas", as he was making hand gestures towards his mouth that typically mean eating.  I swear he was getting some weird sort of kick out of the whole idea.  After imparting that information, he drew himself up to his full height--I'm sure he's at least 6 ft tall--and then gave me a lecture about how no one understands that these ants are part of the ecological balance--and went off into an environmentalist rant.  Darío tends to rant about many things, so I'm used to this.  It's always entertaining and I usually come away with new information.

A few hours later, after he had completed a small project for me--I wanted him to elevate two water shut-off valves we have, one near the ganadera--he was not quite so taken with these ants because sure enough, that swarm I'd seen the night before was rooting around where he needed to work and he was more than a little indignant at their nerve and bites.  I knew exactly how he felt.

I wondered, though, about the ants he'd described.

When we first moved here, we heard stories about the army ants of Costa Rica that did make migrations in their thousands and did sweep through houses.  One man who lived for many years in Costa Rica before moving to Panamá said that he'd seen them there.  He said you could always tell when they were coming because suddenly every bug--roaches, spiders, other ants, you name it--would leave en masse from the house.  He said you never knew how many insects you were harboring in your house until the army ants came through.  Those that couldn't make it out were eaten on the spot.  He said they never bothered humans or other large animals, just insects.

I've never bothered finding out what the different ant species are here, but the story came to mind as Darío was describing the behavior of the ants.  And to tell the truth, there are so many ant species here, that I don't even know if "our" black ant horde was the same as those he talked about.  

So, I did a little Internet research and found out yes, indeed, Panamá does have army ants.  In fact, an island in the Panama Canal, Barro Colorado, a biological reserve where the Smithsonian Institute has a large research mission, has 50 colonies of Eciton burchelli, the most studied and most frequently encountered army ant species (there are over 200 species world-wide, 120-130 in the New World, ranging from Argentina to Mexico).

Despite Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, South American army ants will not bring down and eat Soviet or any other soldiers, other humans, large livestock, or similar animals (sorry to ruin the movie for you).  Some African species might, but not in our half of the world.  They're nearly blind and just simply swarm over, attack, kill and eat any other ant species, scorpions, cockroaches, or other insects that happens to get in their way--even lizards and frogs that don't get out of their way in time, although they don't eat those.  The only way they will attack humans is if you step into them or are having a campout and you and your sleeping bag are in their route.

Their colonies are huge, ranging from 500,000 to millions!  The head of the column is fan-shaped, with a tail of worker ants.  They really don't build any permanent nests, but are migratory, just like human nomads.

Given that there are lots of subspecies of Eciton, it could be that what we saw on Tuesday night and Wednesday were indeed some variety of army ant, although I saw nothing like the pictures of the soldier ants that make army ants so devastating.  Their mandibles are fearsome--long and curved inwards sort of like a pair of scythes.  But I may have happened on the tail end of the column and just met up with the workers.  The soldiers are huge and reddish, while the workers are various sizes and black.  All I ever saw were black ants of varying sizes.  I never did see the head of the column or, for that matter, the actual end.  

Also, I'm not sure that our migrating colony had enough ants to qualify.  I never saw the whole colony but it seemed to me that I was looking at maybe a thousand, not a half million.  The "stream" didn't look enough like what I'd seen on various Web sites and YouTube. I  never saw the classical "bivoac", a mound of these ants whose "wall" is composed of the ants themselves, attaching to one another. Yet, about 6 hours later, there were still black ants in a narrow column wending their way alongside the bodega clearly on their way to the ganadera pasture behind the house. Today they're gone--there isn't a trace of the ants around.

So I really don't know for sure, but am leaning towards the idea that they were indeed army ants.   Rather than building a nest, they may just have been foraging in the masateras.  

I wish I could find non-copyrighted pictures of these nasty little devils in order to post them here, but unfortunately I can't.  Mary is not a terribly squeamish person, but when I showed her some of the more "dramatic", shall we say, pictures of army ants, she went "Euww!  Euww!" and more or less fled.  The Youtube videos I've seen are not the best, and again, I can't really compare.

But still, I learn something new every day about life here.

Lord of the Flies

 Amaryllis

June is usually the worst month for flies around here, but the season seems to have started early this year; they've annoyed us for at least two weeks.  In addition, the sheer number of flies seems to us to be much more than during the past two years.  Three years ago, when we moved into this house in June, the flies were so bad that they covered the hood of our white truck; it was almost black with flies. They're not that bad this year, but they're a problem.  I checked with Darío, to get his opinion of what was happening up in the pueblo proper, where he lives, and he agrees that this is a bad year for flies

.  

Most people in this barrio blame the fly problem on Avicola Athenas, which is a big (as Panamá goes) chicken farm near here.  Hard to judge, but I'd say the main sheds are about a kilometer from here, maybe a little more, as the crow--or fly--flies. However, I have a hard time believing that flies from the Avicola can travel the 2+ miles to Potrerillos itself.  I'd have to check but I'm skeptical that flies can traverse that long a distance.

But since we've become sensitive to their presence, during my morning scan of La Prensa some time last week, I noticed a short article talking about corruption in the program that is designed to control the gusano barrenador. "Gusano" is the generic term for caterpillars or other larvae, but I didn't recognize "barrenador" nor could I find it in the dictionary.  I had a hunch, given the information in the article, that it referred to the screwworm.  There is a name for the fly in Spanish that is related to tornillo (screw), but I hadn't heard it for years, and I couldn't (still can't) remember what it is.  

When we first came here, we listened patiently to those of our gringo neighbors who delighted in telling us horror stories about living here.  I don't mean advice about construction--I mean about potential dangers.  Snakes, scorpions, fire ants, you name it.  Knowing the syndrome of wanting to scare the newbies, I more or less ignored all this while keeping up a polite pretense of listening.  But what caught my attention was the description of a fly which laid its eggs on the skin of an animal.  Naturally, the eggs hatch into larvae about the length of a thumb joint (standard unit of measure around here)--in other words, about an inch or more.

The larva then burrows underneath the skin of its host, leaving behind a hole which it needs to breathe.  According to my tickled-pink narrators, everything is really ok, because when the larva matures into a fly, it leaves the host--unless of course the fly immediately deposits more eggs and re-infects the host.  I was given jovial accounts of driving by a cattle pasture and seeing the skins of the cattle rippling with movement from the larvae.  I was gleefully informed that our dogs were at risk, since they, too, could serve as hosts.  One person kindly offered to teach me how to pinch the skin of the dog so that the larva would be expelled.  I declined as politely as I could.

Fire ants--no problem.  Scorpions--not the least bit fazed.  Snakes in the bathroom when you get up during the middle of the night--hey, I can handle that.

But this?  I wasn't so sure.

Not too long afterwards, a 12 year old Panamanian friend of ours mentioned casually that she had had a gusano in her scalp some years ago.  That's when I learned that the problem extended to humans as well.  Friends of ours bought a Rottweiler puppy in Dolega about the same time and noticed an odd sort of movement under the shoulder skin.  The vet squeezed--and ejected an inch-and-a-half larva across the room, according to the woman who told me, shuddering with disgust as she did so.  The vet, she said, was pretty matter-of-fact about it.  Nothing unusual.

Worried about the dogs because of living right next door to a cattle ranch, I checked with our vet who told me that while it had been a problem in the past, it was pretty much eliminated now.

Tuesday, when I had my "class" with Maritza, I asked her for the translation of gusano barrenador.  My hunch was correct--it was the screwworm.  Ricardo, who was surfing the TV (is there something in the Y chromosome?  This behavior seems to cross national and cultural boundaries) came over and gave me a good 5 minute lecture on the screwworm and the measures taken to eradicate it.  Since Ricardo insists on believing that I'm fluent in Spanish, he usually lapses into the Chiriquí dialect when he talks with me, and carries on at a Panamanian rate.  Which meant that I understood maybe 1 word in 10 that Tuesday night.

However, I picked up enough--and Maritza reinforced his comments--to understand that they believed the fly was bien controlado through the government's program of sterile insect control--releasing irradiated, sterile male flies into the wild population.  

But Martiza, who was a primary school teacher until she retired, told me that she had seen children, especially indigenous ones, come to school with the gusanos in their scalps and underneath the skin of their shoulders.  I assume this was before the program.

Intrigued by all this, I did some Internet research and found out that the screwworm is a problem in the southern US as well as Central America and Africa.  There are two species, the Old World screwworm and the New World one.  The major control effort is through the Sterile Insect Control (SIC) technique, although insecticides and creams are used as well.  In areas where the screwworm is more or less endemic, there isn't a hope of a stable cattle industry without control efforts.  Losses can be pretty substantial.

I didn't pursue it too far, but got the impression that it was far more of a problem in Africa.  Might be due to the different species of fly, for all I know.  What impressed me was a picture of a child (nationality not disclosed but looked Caucasian) who had a fly burrow the extent of his shin--a good 12-15 inches long if not more.  That's like nothing I've heard of here.  It was gruesome.

The fact that money is disappearing into someone(s) pockets from this program, therefore, is not funny.  I personally have no problem with sex between consenting adults and have always found hypocritical the uproar in the US when politicians engage in it.  But as far as I'm concerned, stealing public funds, especially from public health programs, is tantamount to treason, no matter where it occurs.  But, the officials of the screwworm control program remain mystified as to where the majority of the "missing" funds disappeared.  If I remember correctly, well over a million dollars vanished.  My guess is that at least some of that money came from international public health sources, not just from the Panamanian government.  I've seen that happen over and over again in Brasil.

I really don't believe that the risk from screwworm is high, but it's one more reason to bathe dogs frequently.  Our vet recommends every two weeks, both to control skin diseases and for parasite control.  We've learned through unpleasant experience to take him at his word.  We often don't get to it quite every two weeks--in the rainy season, it's likely to be once a month--but we work at it.  

I recommend the practice.

Thanks to Don Ray of Chiriquí Chatter who sent me this link for a YouTube video of the Bot Fly in Panamá.  As I mention in the Comments, I don't know if they're the same gusano, but sure looks like it could be.

This video is not for the squeamish, ok?  It shows the gusano being pulled out of someone's back by means of tweezers.

Wildlife Encounters

                Left to right: Fred, Ethel, Lucy

Strolling along this morning with the dogs on our usual morning walk. Not thinking of anything much, just enjoying the cool air on my skin, glancing around without really taking in many details.

When suddenly, something close to the ground moved in back of me.

The irrational part of my brain went ballistic with SNAKE. The rational part said "too early/not on the entrada/not the right season for fer-de-lance".

Yeah, sure--guess which part of my brain won hands down!

While still mentally recovering, I saw that it was a huge toad. I'm not up on the different toad species, but I do know that in this area we have poisonous cane toads--and there is a small field of sugar cane in back of the house. We're most likely to see them around the house in the dry season, but it's not uncommon to see them this time of year.

We moved to Panamá in the month of June. We had been warned about the toads, especially since we had two dogs and were told that the toad venom, which is secreted on the skin, is powerful enough to be fatal to dogs. One of our dogs, Ethel, our black Lab, has only two interests in life--fetching her kong and eating. So one morning at that time, when Ethel refused her food, we went into a flat panic. The most likely explanation is that she drank from a water bowl we had outside the house at that time, one that had had a toad visit. As we frantically looked for help and any kind of information, we were told that toads will sometimes use such small water sources to bathe or refresh themselves.

We were also told that there was nothing that could be done except wait.

For two days, Ethel refused to eat, no matter what we put in front of her. My hope lay in the fact that she was drinking water, always a good sign, Then on the third day, she casually walked over to her food bowl and began eating as if nothing had ever happened (translation: she scarfed down her food at a speed close to that of light).

So, this morning, after being relieved that all I had seen was a toad, I looked over to where Fred was standing in the grass--and watched yet another large cane toad hop in front of him. Fred, who has more curiosity than sense, stepped after it and to my horror, put his head down close to the toad, his nose millimeters away....

I screamed at the top of my brass-lined lungs, "Fred NO!!!" I'm sure they heard me in Dolega. Fred, who normally ignores me, since he knows perfectly well that any command from me is not in his self-interest, actually looked up, startled; then he trotted away from the toad, still looking at me, obviously wondering what had gotten into me this time.

I really don't need scares like that at 6 o'clock in the morning.

Food!

Don's Chiriquí Chatter blog is, as far as I'm concerned, THE resource on all sorts of food places, good, bad and indifferent. We check it out for new restaurant reviews. I remember the time we wanted to know where you could get the best hamburger in town. Contacted Don, he pointed us to TGIF--and sure enough--it was terrific.

But overall, I have to say that the restaurants in this area are disappointing. There are a few good ones but no place really special.

And what is worse, so much típico food that you find in restaurants is terrible. This was a major disappointment for me, since I was used to Brasilian food where even in the cheapest dives in the northeast, you get terrific food. Anyone who wants to tout Argentinian beef over Brasilian beef--meet me in the nearest coconut grove at dawn, BBQ grills at the ready.

That's in restaurants. Casera (home) cooking is very different.

We've been the grateful beneficiaries of both the cooking and culinary lessons of Maritza Espinosa in Potrerillos. I feel right at home--Maritza, like all my Italian female relatives, feels that there's something wrong with you, probably life-threatening, if you don't eat three times what is necessary to fill you up.

What has been revelatory is the number of ways you can use corn.

First, tortillas. Like most non-Hispanic Americans, I suppose, when I thought about tortillas while living in the US, that meant Mexican-style. I know I was rather smug about the fact that I preferred the corn tortillas--but still, it was the flat Mexican style.

So, I was unprepared for tortillas Panamenian style. I'm not big on fried foods, and my initial introduction was in restaurants. Not impressive. For a long time I resisted what I did see of the corn tortillas.

We live close to a very good mercadito, and from time, we'd see packages of ready-to-fry tortillas in the store. We finally bought some, and discoverd that we did like them. Still...

And then came the day when Maritza made her own. She ground the corn in a special grinder that looks like the one my mother and I used to use when we made Italian sausage. An old-fashioned, hand-crank grinder, except that this one is designed to grind corn. It's called a molino, which is Spanish for mill.

She made us some of the most delicious tortillas I have ever eaten, bar none. She gave us a ball of masa, and we had a gluttonous time the next week frying up our own tortillas.

Then there are bollos. These are cylindrical rolls of masa, wrapped in bijao leaves. That's our plant in the picture; you can see two boldos to the right--medicinal plants. After wrapping them, you boil them for an hour or more depending on what's in them.

I've had strictly corn bollos and I've had them with a spicy chicken and chopped vegetable mix. I've also had bollos from masa mixed with cheese. I love them all.

There was the empanada lesson. You make flat discs out of the masa, and the way to do that is to pat them between your hands. Well, I had seen enough Western movies that showed Navajo and Mexican women doing that, but sort of tossing the masa back and forth between their hands in a flip-flop manner. Not to be outdone, I started going that too--and because I'm incorrigible, I called out to Maritza, "Soy indigena!" Evidently, I provided more entertainment that way than the TV, because Ricardo came rushing in from the living room, as did their two grown children, all of whom, including Maritza, wound up laughing hysterically. Somehow I don't think I made a convincing Ngobe Bugle woman. We were taught the correct way to fill, to seal, and to fry.

There's lots more, but what I want to end up with is a Potrerillos specialty, called churú--I think. Spanish spelling is even more phonetic than Portuguese, and that's sure what it sounded like even though it's rare in my experience for a Spanish word to have the accent on the last syllable.

Anyway: it's a sort of soup, but what a soup!

One of Maritza's aunts and her husband, who have a farm, had slaughtered a pig. If there is one thing common to peasant economies around the world, it's the use of all parts of an animal. And I do mean all parts. I once had a really funny conversation with Maritza and Ricardo when Maritza asked, entirely too innocently I thought, if I liked mondongo. I replied rather tartly that I didn' like tripe in Italian food, although it was one of my father's favorite foods, and I certainly wasn't going to eat it Panamanian style! Again, Joyce the clown. Provided no end of hilarity for her and Ricardo.

I can't remember if I've seen it at Rey or Super Baru, but if you go to the more Panamanian-oriented stores, it's not unusual to see a pig's head, usually split in half. We often see one at our local mercadito. I'm sure it's used in other ways, but as we discovered, the pig's head, brains, and some of the meat go into this dish.

But first, the day before, Maritza put in kernel corn into a huge pot and cooked it for 8 hours on her outdoor wood-fired stove (fogón). She cooked it even more the next day while the kitchen help--us--chopped and diced I can't even think how many heads of garlic, peppers, and onions. It took us hours. That went into the pot, as did the meat, to cook even more. At the last, Martiza put in oregano.

By that time, her aunts and their husbands, some cousins and others had drifted in. Ricardito and Marizin, the Espinosa children, showed up. We all sat down to steaming bowls of what turned out to be delicious soup, with Ricardo teasing us by eating the pig brains and smacking his lips at us, grinning all the time adn telling us how delicious it was. His son turned a little green and his daughter refused to look. Modern-day chiriquenos. Maritza despairs about her daughter because she says that Marizin can only cook what's in a package from the store.

But if you were careful of what ended up on your spoon, it was excellent. We took some home with us, enough to make several days' lunches.

The Espinosas have an incredible garden, and grow much of their own food, which they share with us. We'd have our own chayote vine by this time if Ethel, our black Lab, hadn't uprooted and eaten the last one. I've liked yucca since I first met it in Brasil, where it's known as macaxeira; Ricardo gave me two yuccita plants which are supposed to produce a finer tuber that will give a rich creamy paste. I have 3 aji pepper plants growing, thanks to Ricardo; they're very small peppers that have a different taste from ordinary ones, and are supposed to be very good with meat.

So, little by little--poco a poco--we're learning how to cook and eat Panamanian style. But I think it's going to be a while before we attempt churú!

Bloom Off the Rose

We moved to Chiriquí four years ago, in the middle of what I like to think of as the second wave of gringo immigration to the area. The first stage included all those who came on a wing and a prayer, willing to live really simply because for various reasons they wanted to live in the tropics, probably the stereotypical misfits. Also included those who immigrated, bought land and started cattle or coffee businesses, for example. A few others. We have a few here in Potrerillos who have been here more than 10 years. Land was cheap, life was pretty basic, nobody had ever even heard of Potrerillos, Boquete was just a small pueblo in a rural area whose major claim to fame was coffee and one of Noriega's homes. I wish I had a dollar (inflation being what it is) for every house we were shown that Noriega was supposed to have owned.

Then came the 2nd wave, which as far as I can tell started about 5 years ago or so. Retirees and others who were fed up with the US for wildly different reasons and wanted out, a smattering of Europeans and Canadians, others. Land prices were still low although climbing, especially in Boquete. International Living "discovered" Panama. Sam Taliaferro had just begun developing Valle Escondido. There was exactly one Internet forum about Panama, Viviendo en Panamá. Real estate speculators began buying up land in Boquete at dirt cheap prices and were just starting to roll it over. I know of land near friends of our in Jaramillo Central, where speculators bought for $.50/meter who then turned around and sold it for the ridiculous price of $2.00/meter. We were absolutely scandalized at the greed. Ah, innocence.

Then came the third wave, people with a great deal of money from inflated house sales in the US. We started seeing "large" houses, costing--heaven preserve us--$125,000 to build. Having just built our own for about 25% of that price, we couldn't even imagine how anyone could spend that much money on a house here in rural Chiriquí. We found out some of the details and marveled at the need for ostentation.

We watched in amazement as the really wealthy started moving in. We watched as Boquete converted from a more or less shabby but real Panamanian town into what it is now. Having seen such transformations where I lived in western Washington, just north of Seattle, all I could do was fervently thank whatever gods were listening that we lived in this humble little valley with no mountain views and no cachet as THE "smart" place to live.

Real estate hype segued into hysteria, land prices skyrocketed to $80/meter and more, Internet forums erupted full blown for various areas in Chiriqui, Boquete.org started up (a really useful forum, by the way, for information), other lists emerged--and we began to hear stories.

We are really a modern version of hermits. Our lives are centered on our land, our animals, and living quietly. We're not terribly social--for one thing, we don't have a lot of free time and what we do have, I prefer to spend reading, taking pictures or videos of our lives. We're fairly well integrated, for gringos, into the pueblo life--we have Panamanian friends who don't speak English, attend Mass in Potrerillos, for example.

As a result, we really are about the last ones to know what's going on. So if we're hearing stories, it has to be a full-blown movement.

Now, I don't know a thing about David. I discount the Boquete Rumor Mill, which is the worst and most inaccurate I've ever known, and I've lived in small towns for most of my adult life. I'm talking about verifiable stuff, such as what we hear from our Panamanian friends and from reliable ex-pats. What we hear is mostly about Boquete and here in Potrerillos.

I could write screens worth of stories coming from the most naive people I've ever heard of in my life who moved here thinking they were entering Eden, and forgot that even Paradise had a serpent. People who didn't lock doors, who didn't have verjas or puertas (I know someone who didn't do it because he didn't want to live in a prison-like atmosphere--but he does have razor wire mounted on his fence after being robbed three times), who fell for outrageous scams, who were indignant because they couldn't find cheap laborers who spoke English (duh!), who bought land that had no water access, etc., etc. and so forth. They came because they thought they were getting the US on the cheap and surprise, surprise, they wound up in a foreign country! Amazing. They came during the drought season, bought land, moved--and then discovered the reason why there's a tropical jungle in these parts--it's called rain, lots of it. I know. Exactly the same thing happened in the Seattle area during that land boom. Actually the climate here is a good deal like western Washington except the rain is a lot warmer and I'm cutting grass or weed eating nearly all year round.

Things get done here in Panama, but so much more slowly. You have to have patience, NOT an American cultural characteristic. Panama is a typical "developing" country, just like Brasil, where I've spent a good deal of time. Superficially, it looks the same as the US--maybe a little shabbier but that's "cute"--you can email your friends back in the US about it what an exotic place you live in--but it's not the same.

For example, another friend who gave us invaluable advice when we first moved here described the people in the area as being one generation removed from the Stone Age, when the latest technological advance was the wheelbarrow. He's not being disrespectful at all--has a Panamanian wife, has lived here for 15 years or so and loves the country and its people. It's a useful analogy.

When we first moved here, there was literally no traffic on the carretera from Dolega to Potrerillos except buses and a few produce trucks. Plenty of times we drove from Dolega to Potrerillos and saw not one other vehicle.

While the traffic on the road to Potrerillos is still not like that on the road from Dolega to Boquete, there are quite a few new cars on the road, and they're being driven primarily by Panamanians, most of whom, quite frankly, do not know how to drive. sure, they can manipulate a car more or less but they have not grown up with the automobile the way the rest of us have in the "developed" countries. Potrerillos, for example, didn't even have a paved highway until about 15 years or so ago. There was a railroad, a story in itself, but you went to David on horseback or driving a wagon. The woman who sold us our land, a Panamanian who has lived in the area for 30 years, has lots of colorful stories.

As a result, most Panamanians don't understand that you can't stop a car instantaneously, that you really have to look where you're going, that automobiles are moving infinitely faster than a horse or bicycle, and that driving is not really a macho game of chicken. I'm generalizing, of course. We have middle-class Panamanian friends who are even more careful than we are.

Just try to get a weed eater fixed. For that matter, find a worker who knows how to operate one without damaging it in some fashion or another. It's symptomatic of what's underneath the veneer.

Panamanian culture is like other cultures in Latin America. Family based and strangers better watch out. It's called "playing the game", and since I don't want to get into trouble, really, I won't be too blunt about it. However, those of us who have tried to deal outside the large stores, etc., know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You have to watch out in everything, from land purchases through construction through dealing with tallers (workshops) through hiring people to work for you. I resign myself to being cheated although the percentage is decreasing as time goes on, as we're better known and better accepted in the area, and as I know what really should be the prices and where the worst nidos de ladrones really are. We take precautions, major ones, against theft (although Panamanians are children at it compared to Brasilians).

You have to accept this and much more. You have to. And if you don't--as many can't--then don't come here. Or move back. If you can. As many people are doing or trying to do but can't because there are so few coming in to the country now due to the housing crisis that is occurring in Europe as well as the US. I don't know what the return rate is, but I do know of people who have moved to other Latin American countries (going to be so much better, so much different, you know) or back to the US. I personally know of three people in this valley who are desperate to get out of the country--they hate the realities of Panama and can't stand Panamanian culture--but who are having a hard time because they can't sell their houses.

I know this sounds harsh but it's a face of reality. Me, I would rather die than move back to the US. In fact, I do intend to live the rest of my life here. Yes, I get frustrated from time to time, but frankly, I used to be frustrated nearly all the time in the US. And Panamanians get frustrated with the system, too. But I love it here. I really like the people--although I absolutely do NOT romanticize them--I enjoy the culture, and I love my home.

But I don't kid myself about the price. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch. For me, however, the price is ridiculously low.

The Resurrection Plant

I have no idea what the scientific name of this plant is, but locally it's called "the resurrection plant". Why? Well, we were told, because the flower emerges before the leaves. No doubt there is some religious symbolism here that I've missed, but I have to confess that the answer left me just as mystified as before the question!

The leaves die back in December, at the start of the dry season, and the flowers begin to appear at the start of the rainy season. The leaves follow the flower shortly after blooming. The plant is found everywhere--along roadsides, in abandoned or neglected gardens, everywhere. It naturalizes easily and becomes a huge clump.

Since I originally published this article, Mary has gone slightly crazy taking pictures of the emerging resurrection plants on our property--over 100 of them! tells you who has the more time around here. She's published what she considers the best of them here in a beautiful set. You'll even get scientific names--hows that for an incentive to go over there?


One thing I do know is that it's part of the ginger family. Like below. Which is an example of one of the 80 (I believe) species of ginger, many of which look wildly different from the others. There's still another flowering species (which used to be considered a ginger but now have a family of their own) called costas, which have gently spiraling stems. We have 3 in back of the house, but the plants are too young to flower yet. Maybe next year. None of these gingers are the eating variety, which is only one species.

I really like this brand of flowering ginger. While this one is a red ginger, there's a pink one as well that's far more delicate-looking.

Once established (and the gingers seem to need a year or two after planting to think things over), they're very drought resistant and flower all year round. They make a wonderful border plant for our driveway. They're also very easy to propagate, which is nice for me, since I need a couple dozen more to complete the border to the house.

La Lluvia

The rains have arrived--not necessarily early but steadily. We've had rain in the afternoon almost every day since the first of April.

Great for the plants! And I'm in full swing as far as setting out new ones are concerned. To date, I've managed to get into the ground 2 nice-sized bougainvillea, 3 papaya trees and one mamon chino.

It also looks like the preliminary work on stopping the roof leaks has been successful. We really had a downpour--an aguacero--a few days ago, and the usual places were either dry or had just a few drops. Now to get the other half of the roof.

Anyone who was here during last year's rainy season I'm sure remembers the problems from the unusually heavy rains we had then. There were floods in parts of Panama that hadn't seen any in a hundred years. October, our wettest month here, was particularly bad last year. The photo on the upper left was taken on October 15, while it was still raining, from just outside our side door. There's a bit of a gully not that far away from the house; there's a culvert over the driveway. The picture shows the veritable little river of water pouring dow through the culvert to spread out and saturate the land on the other side of the driveway--it became a swamp last year. While we always have some outflow, this was particularly impressive.

The 2nd picture was taken on the other side of the house, from just inside the covered area of the dog run, and shows the torrent that was pouring down the other gully we have. Last year was so bad that for the first time we had erosion in that area. I've already taken steps to prevent more; the scoured ditch has been filled with small stones and we've dumped dirt on top. That system works very well.

To my amazement, we had a flash flood in the quebrada that borders the pine woods that we used to walk through with the dogs. Actually, there were probably 2 or 3. They took out the bridge, just washing away the fill and hard pack and exposing the concrete tubos that serve as a culvert. That quebrada is NOT a year-round creek. We don't normally see water in it until September. But on at least two back-to-back days, 15+ feet of water came roaring down that little gully, taking away almost everything except the hundred-lb rocks and the concrete tubos. It did at least leave behind a perfectly useless retaining wall.

We had to wait until January of this year for that bridge to be rebuilt--which it was, in the same exact manner that washed out before. But that's Panamá. They just gamble that the rain won't be as bad this year as it was last year. And who knows--maybe it won't.

Bloomin' Trees!

Sitting on the porch this morning, with my third cup of coffee, dreamily looking out at the showy spectacle of the bougainvillea blazing away in bloom (they have no shame), I finally really noticed one of our nance trees, which has been in bloom for a while (as usual, click on the photo to get a larger image). In fact, it's past peak bloom and has started to fruit.


Nance is an edible tropical fruit when it comes from cultivated trees. We have about a half dozen mature "wild" trees. When the fruit ripens, flocks of visiting parrots descend on the trees and stay, eating and chattering away, until the fruit is gone.

The flowers are really pretty, I think. I love the combination of colors, of the yellow and orange. You can just see some tiny fruit that's just formed.

Stone Fences

One of the most attractive parts of this area, one reason why I fell in love with it, is the existence of beautiful stone fences, constructed from the rocks that lie everywhere here. Some of the most stunning examples are those of Ranch El Encanto, a big cattle operation between Dolega and Potrerillos Abajo. The picture above is of the corner of the property, and shows what is probably a 2 meter high fence.


But Rancho El Encanto also has a corral built of stone that is really a thing of beauty. Every time we drive past them, I admire the workmanship.















Building a tight, "dry" stone fence of such evenness with the material to hand is no mean feat. I know--I've tried it. My fences are ok--they work--but no one is ever going to rave about how beautiful they are!

It is absolutely astonishing how much rock and stone is in the ground. The Rancho El Encanto fences go for quite some distance on both sides of the carretra and you can see where they head off at the boundary line of another property. And STILL there are rocks left over! There are several heaps like this, huge ones, in the different pastures.

For a utilitarian cattle fence, a straight line is the most efficient. But there are other possibilities. This fence is about 3 ft high, and forms the front boundary of the house of a friend, Gladys Haynes; it's about a half mile from where we live. The fence undulates along in graceful waves. Her garden inside is stunning. This picture shows the detail used to finish the fence and also to chink the holes within the fence.

After seeing the Rancho El Encanto fences, we thought that having a stone fence of our own, at least around part of the property, would be really "nice"--decorative, you know. Plus we had to do something with the huge amount of rocks that were littering the area we wanted to eventually turn into an orchard. The north boundary with the ganadera seemed perfect for such a fence, since there was a small, dilapidated section already in place. We decided to extend it to and down along the quebrada. I hired a backhoe to move some of the really massive rocks over to the quebrada where most did form the foundation of the stone fence. Then 2 young men worked for about 10 days digging up the rest of the rocks and building the fence. It's probably in all about 100 feet long and was a relatively standard(for a residential fence) 3 ft high.

Well, decorative was a great idea, and it really does look nice--Joel and Gabriel did a great job. But then we ran into the problem of containing our enthusiastic chocolate Lab, Fred; a 3 ft high fence was just a challenge to jump over the fence, cross the quebrada, and go visit his friends, the Clamps who always have a dog biscuit for him. We heightened that section to about 5 ft. Still didn't work; Fred added a running start to leap onto a foundation rock that provided a few inches of ledge in order to vault over the fence .


















We wound up making a small section of double fence--which, at least to this moment, has kept him from using this route. Of course, he did find other ways to go visit his friends, the bulls in the ganadera, and to snag a dog biscuit from his buddies! But we're working on it, we're working on it.