Heyooooo mi gente!
Sending out a roundup of my fame and glory this week! I was just published on the official Peace Corps website for a post I wrote a while back about the emergency medical system I worked to implement with Trek Medics during my original service in the Dominican Republic. Check it out, official and live! And now...drumroll please....a post about culture!
For a while I didn’t feel qualified to write this blog post. I still may not be, but I’m gonna take a stab at it, trying to respond to questions and conversations I’ve had recently. What, I venture to answer, is the culture here like? (Uhhh, is this practice for a masters thesis?) I have extensively spoken to Katie #1, Katie #2 and my PCV friends about this topic and we're working on mastering the response. One things for certain, since I started this Peace Corps journey almost three years ago (!), the way I have come to think about culture has changed significantly.
A story to express this confusion of mine happened a year into my DR service when I went to DC for the Blog it Home adventure. We (myself and the 8 other winners serving in China, Albania, Cameroon, Thailand, Uganda and Senegal) were tasked with bringing items that represented our host countries to show on exhibition tables during various events hosted throughout the week. We were all concerned that our tables looked bare (annoying considering that the Uganda table was flowing with fabrics and the China table laid out a sampler of every flavor Lays potato chip you’ve never wanted to try). Fear not - it was Peace Corps HQ to the rescue! Our leader came into the conference room and laid out a stack of “culture boxes” for us to use. (This is Peace Corps' HQ effort noble to preserve culture and have trinkets and objects from each country where Peace Corps Volunteers have served/are serving). Meleia was doling out these culture boxes and when she got to me she said, “Looks like we don’t have a box for the Dominican Republic. Sorry!”
It didn’t strike me as peculiar until later, when I was retelling this story and my subsequent embarrassment at the optics of my scant table. I had struggled to get participants to come to my table that was set up minimally with with a greca (coffee maker), a few mentas (candies given as change at stores), a guira (instrument used in celebrations that looks like a big cheese grater) and of course, Dominican dominoes. I also had a flag, but compared to vibrant fabrics and traditional dresses of the Uganda and Albania table, my table looked bare. I reflected on this later and decided that people are usually more likely to exoticize cultures that they assume to be most different than their own. The indigenous/tribal looking culture tables of Senegal and Cameroon ranked highest among what US Americans considered “interesting."
If I wanted to wear the traditional dress of the DR, I would have put skin tight animal print leggings on and a sparkling tube top with huge hoop earrings, big ol’ high heels and red lipstick. But you can’t wear that to a Girl Scouts event and even if you could, we don’t validate that as “culture” because it doesn't look different enough from our own. Dominican culture is vibrant, exciting, caring, warm, loud, and giving. But one thing it’s not is tangible/physical/touchable. There are no colorful fabrics or traditional dresses, there no exciting food to try or feathered headdresses to wear. But what are flowing fabrics and sparkling dresses anyway? Do touchable materials and objects mean richer culture? Does the ability to perform a dance from ones ancestors make a country’s way of life? What is culture?
Fast forward to my time here in Panama. Examples of these elements we label as "culture" are more readily found in my sliver of experience working with Ngäbes in Panama. Things you could physically put on a table here are:
- Chakras: These are woven bags called made of fibrous leaves and knit into bags they use to carry babies, loads of harvest from their farms and laundry to the river.
- Dientes: This translates to “teeth” and some Ngäbes literally file their teeth into sharp points to represent the mountains where they live. Yes, some live by the ocean, but many live in the mountains. Also, dientes can refer to a type of design that Ngäbes put on clothing to represent the mountains as well. This can be sewn onto hats, shirts, dresses, school uniforms and different color combinations represent different towns.
- Naguas: These are traditional dresses women wear. There are casual naguas for housework and daily ware and your fancier ones for traveling/formal event days. Many women have taken to cutting a slit in the middle for an easy way to pop out their breasts for breastfeeding (side note: I truly love that breasts here are for feeding children exactly as they were intended to be, women slip their nips out whenever and wherever baby chi wants a meal!). This dress has become less common in many communities and women now wear knee length jean skirts to be fancy!
But just last week, I was teaching our Community Health Worker course with my fellow response volunteer, Evan, and he himself said “Ngäbes don’t really have a distinct culture. They don't have music, dances, organization, or artisanal things that represent their culture.” Taking food from my chakra bag and wearing my diente-designed visor, we began a long discussion in which (unsurprisingly) I begged to differ. While Ngäbes do not have a special food or vibrant dance celebrations you can put on a presentation table, there is a distinct energy (nay...culture) in Ngäbe communities.
Ngäbes are kind and quiet, reserved and fiercely familial. Ngäbes are easy to spot because of their distinctive high cheekbones, broad faces, full mouths, thick straight black hair, tanned skin, short stature and stocky body size (or as I’ve heard thrown around a time or two in a less pc way, “dense”). Their communities are spread out, decentralized so there is no hierarchical order or obvious community leaders. Most communities are small, ranging from 15 houses to 100 and there’s usually another one just a few minutes walk away. Ngäbe families are very large; most have between five and eight children plus grandkids and great grandkids. Women perform the household duties and men are usually removed from the child-rearing process. Most women have their first kid by age sixteen and women usually give birth in their homes standing up/squatting (mad respect), supervised by an older midwife or just their own mother. They don’t name their children when they are born and instead refer to them as Chi because so many children die before their first birthdays (and they certainly don't have reveal parties when they discover the sex of their child!). They eat lots of rice and green bananas and drink vats of warm grated cacao and coffee. They are genuine, caring, understanding, shy, reserved, beautiful, curious, and unique.
But just last week, I was teaching our Community Health Worker course with my fellow response volunteer, Evan, and he himself said “Ngäbes don’t really have a distinct culture. They don't have music, dances, organization, or artisanal things that represent their culture.” Taking food from my chakra bag and wearing my diente-designed visor, we began a long discussion in which (unsurprisingly) I begged to differ. While Ngäbes do not have a special food or vibrant dance celebrations you can put on a presentation table, there is a distinct energy (nay...culture) in Ngäbe communities.
Ngäbes are kind and quiet, reserved and fiercely familial. Ngäbes are easy to spot because of their distinctive high cheekbones, broad faces, full mouths, thick straight black hair, tanned skin, short stature and stocky body size (or as I’ve heard thrown around a time or two in a less pc way, “dense”). Their communities are spread out, decentralized so there is no hierarchical order or obvious community leaders. Most communities are small, ranging from 15 houses to 100 and there’s usually another one just a few minutes walk away. Ngäbe families are very large; most have between five and eight children plus grandkids and great grandkids. Women perform the household duties and men are usually removed from the child-rearing process. Most women have their first kid by age sixteen and women usually give birth in their homes standing up/squatting (mad respect), supervised by an older midwife or just their own mother. They don’t name their children when they are born and instead refer to them as Chi because so many children die before their first birthdays (and they certainly don't have reveal parties when they discover the sex of their child!). They eat lots of rice and green bananas and drink vats of warm grated cacao and coffee. They are genuine, caring, understanding, shy, reserved, beautiful, curious, and unique.
If I had to put Panama on a table, I would show up with a few naguas and chakras. I’d bring fabrics from the Kuna indigenous groups in the east and maybe a Panama Hat for good measure. But more than that, I would express and convey the sentiments and goodness of the people who live in Bocas del Toro. I’d talk about Carmen and her expert sewing skills. I’d mention Roda and her dedication to running the community store so she can make money and gain financial independence. I’d tell you about Aron and his ambitions to study and become a nurse. I’d talk about all the women who’ve shown me how to weave chakras or the mothers who struggle to put enough food on the table for their seven kids. I’d talk about the grandmas raising grandkids and the lack of higher education options for youth. I’d explain how Ngäbes spend their days on their banana/cacao/pineapple farms in the hills and how the hard-working men chop weeds and plant in the beating sun. I’d tell you about the women leaders in their communities. I’d tell you those stories. No, you may not be able to touch the culture here, but you sure can feel it.
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