Lesson Learned

Lately it seems that every time I come into Panama City it means bad news.  The only times I had made the long trek to civilization before this weekend were to seek medical treatment.  This trip was going to be just some time spent with long lost friends from the other side of the country.  And then somebody decided to swipe my bag when I got to the bus terminal in the city.  So there went pretty much all the things I didn´t want to lose: backpack, laptop, ipod, passport, ATM card, money, clothes, and my brand new toothbrush.  That sort of dampened the mood for me.  Thankfully I had the support of my fellow volunteers around me, who lent me some money, gave me food to eat, and let me squeeze into their hotel room.

I was surprisingly calm about it, even though it seemed like I should be freaking out.  But it seemed that God gave me peace through everything.  In the end it was just a bunch of stuff, and although a huge pain for me, not that big of a deal.  After making trips to the police station, bank, American Embassy, Peace Corps office, and the store to try and replace the essentials, I settled down to hang out with the other volunteers.  Always a new adventure, another lesson to learn.

The houses we're recycling to build my bachelor pad



Things are a lot less stressful out in the jungle.  I was hoping to return to my community more quickly, partly to get started on a community environmental health survey.  The other reason is because I want to get going on my new house.  Although much later than I hoped, we finally started building it.  After much discussion about cutting trees for lumber and waiting for the moon to be right (apparently that has a significant effect on the quality of wood that is cut), the community decided to instead recycle the materials from some old abandoned houses.  Which was fine with me, we can save a few trees and already have almost all the wood we need right there.

I went to help Lino take the houses apart, but when it came to the thatch roof I decide to watch from below.  I feared for his life as he climbed to the top and started chopping off the leaves he was standing on with a machete, about 25 feet up.  He would cut the vines holding them together and slide down to the next row.  Apparently the type of wood that was used is quite durable, so almost all of it was still in good shape despite being submerged in a major flood.  Although most of the lumber has been dismantled now, the task remains of carrying it all up the hill to my little patch of cleared out land.  This will probably be a good test of patience, as I have no idea how long it will take to finish and finally be able to live on my own.

This technique is not OSHA approved

The aftermath of our roof demolition