Unexpected Endings

The first thing on this day’s agenda was to dispose of yesterday’s unexpected ending. We were all excited to BBQ some burgers and taters on the downstairs patio when we learned one of the basics when shopping in Panama; be careful where you purchase meat. After discovering the hamburger for said BBQ was nasty, the question was what do do with it. It’s really not a good idea to leave something outside our house that would attract a multitude of jungle animals we want to avoid. Therefore, putting it in the garbage was not an option. The solution agreed upon was to refreeze the nasty meat and toss it in the river the next day. Pictured above are the brave souls who embarked on this adventure. :-)

Brandon offered to carry the cargo and we trooped off into the jungle to complete our mission. Looking back on it, this was not our most thoughtful moment. The jungle can be overwhelming at first. There are SO many great hiding places for SO many creatures you hope NOT to encounter.  Therefore, asking someone to lug 3 pounds of raw meat on the second dense jungle trail they had ever hiked, was not kind. Brandon suggested several dumping locations that were all rejected by the rest of us but the poor guy carried on in stellar fashion. FINALLY, the meat was offloaded near the trail’s end. Luckily, the 2nd unexpected ending of this post had nothing to do with the snack we shared, as we have no idea who feasted on the steak tartar we left.

The unexpected, came at the end of this trail, where we stood admiring a beautiful bay and listening to a flute being played by a resident of the Emberra Indian village. We could see the grass roofs of their huts across the water and wished we knew a way to get there. The Expected ending of this story would be that we sighed and headed back the way we came, planning to find a way to visit the village another day. However, the UNexpected is what happened! 

The end of the trail became the beginning of a new adventure as a man in a boat, crossing the bay, came into view. We gave him a wave and the next thing we knew, all five of us were in his boat, on our way to San Antonio - the Emberra village. The man’s name is Alcibiades and with that many syllables we settled on “Al” and the Paul Simon song “Call me Al” stuck in our heads.  

After a broken español exchange, a fair amount of pointing and a short ride,  we climbed the bank and entered the village not sure where to go or how to be. We weren’t part of a tour group, nor did we have a guide to introduce us.  I think word of our arrival traveled through the village because soon a young woman who spoke English approached us. She offered to tell us how they made the baskets that were for sale in the large open community space.

 

We were granted permission to take photos but somehow it felt judgmental and invasive so I took very few. I read somewhere that some natives feel they will lose their soul if their photo is taken. While most of the people we interacted with were kind and friendly, one elderly woman was not happy to see us. The younger women tried to encourage her to visit with us but to no avail.  We enjoyed the lesson on basket making, bought some of the beautiful handcrafted wares and left surrounded by young boys in loin cloths with various musical instruments. One boy had a large turtle shell that he expertly used as a drum. I pulled the following photos from the internet but they accurately depict our experience.

It is impressive that the Panamanian people respect such different ways of life and cohabitate and interact without issue. Embera children trade their loin cloths and traditional dress for jeans and sneakers as they head across the river to Gamboa and catch a bus to school in Paraiso, 8 miles away.  When grown, they are welcome to live in traditional fashion in the village or conduct more modern lives in towns or cities. While at the very modern, sprawling Albrook Mall on the edge of Panama City, we saw a traditionally dressed, elderly Wounaan woman waiting while her grandkids did their holiday shopping. Another day, we greeted an Indian woman, who I had previously purchased crafts from, dressed in a jean skirt headed into Gamboa. When we recognized each other, she made my day by grabbing my hand and offering the biggest smile. :-)

Some of the items we have purchased:

It can easily take a month or more for the women to weave a basket or plate like this.  They dry and die different types of palm leaves (chunga palm) and weave them into artistic creations. They also create beautiful carvings out of cocobolo wood.

“Al” gave us a somewhat scenic trip back to the marina and we made our way to the house.  We were hot and sweaty, nothing new, but it seemed  the air felt even stickier now.  Ed exited the air conditioned car and his glasses immediately steamed over, proving the stickiness wasn’t our imagination. Before long, sprinkles of rain started pinging off the copper rooftops and then the heavens opened.  There was no need to run and shut windows as there was no wind. We didn’t need to grab sweatshirts because it wasn’t cold. What better, for a bunch of dry land farmers who live their lives hoping for rain, than to share this UNEXPECTED END of the day.