The contents of this blog are mine personally, and do not reflect any position of the U.S. government or Peace Corps.
Since my last blog, something has clicked. My perspective of my time here in Panama has completely transformed for a few reasons, including starting my environmental conservation training and Spanish tutoring, but the most important being what I'm about to share in this blog.
Every night when I return home, Mabel and I have dinner together. Today was a rare day, as I was back at the house before 5:00 pm; Mabel had the opportunity to ask me what I wanted for dinner! I asked what was in the house, and she suggested making Patacones (twice-fried plantains) with Pica de Gallo. That sounded delicious, so we got to work.
This was the first time ever that I had cooked a meal with Mabel; she always has food waiting for me when I get home, or she'll meal prep enough for a few days when she knows she won't be around in the evenings. Chopping up fresh ingredients for Pico while she sliced plantains and got a hot pan ready was so wonderful. I hadn't done so much in the kitchen since February 20, and I had missed the solace that I find in rhythmically chopping and slicing and mixing, while adding pinches of this and that, here and there, until something is perfectly seasoned and ready for the table.
Mabel surprised me with culantro, as well, to add to the Pico de Gallo! It's a cousin of cilantro that grows really well in warm climates (cilantro needs cool weather to germinate and sprout). We don't see much of it in Michigan, so it was quite a treat to have.
We molded bolitos (little bowls) out of the plantains and fried them up, moving them to the table with the fresh Pico de Gallo. We dug right in, scooping Pico into our small fried bowls, creating a wonderfully crunchy, acidic, and sweet combination of flavors and textures. It was so satisfying to partake in cooking and enjoying a meal together; it's something that means a lot to me spiritually, and I hadn't done it since leaving the States. The tone it set for the evening was wonderful.
While we ate, we compared things in Panama to things in the United States (as we often do). What's the price of an avocado in Panama? Can you grow pineapples in the United States? And so on.
Recently, my Spanish has been improving by a larger margin each day, so our conversations have grown more complex. This is both stressful and satisfying at the same time, as I struggle to articulate myself well with my limited vocabulary, and Mabel understands that I'm doing the best I can, and that I'm smart and well-spoken, despite this. She can see my exasperation when I can't locate the words I need to express myself, and she laughs and says, "Está bien, Hannah!" as I use the phrase "Yo no sé la palabra en Español, pero en Ingles..." for the twentieth time that hour, either running for my Spanish-English dictionary or just hoping she might understand the word in English.
During our discussion about fruits and veggies tonight, she mentioned that the papaya she purchased today (which is longer than my forearm and as round as my thigh) is organic, "No químicos! Es orgánico!" I began to ask her about the differences between organic and non-organic produce in Panama, and she shared a lot with me.
She told me that organic produce is better for my health, because it isn't treated with chemicals and it isn't grown with pesticides.
She said it's better for the water because the chemicals used for non-organic produce wash away when it rains and pollute the rivers.
She told me it's better for the farmers, because it helps their land stay healthy to grow more crops.
She told me it isn't more expensive to buy organic produce in Panama, because you can buy it straight from the farmer instead of in a store.
Mabel, my 55 year-old host mother in Panama, knew more about the benefits of organic agriculture than most people I know anywhere else. Honestly, I'm not at all surprised. She's got life figured out, and I admire her understanding of things greatly. She's an extremely intentional person. I've learned so much from her in the last few weeks, and this proves that she's still full of surprises and things to teach me.
After our conversation about organic food, there was a lull in our dinner-time talk. She looked contemplative, and waited a while before saying the following:
"Hannah...Por qué, en Los Estados Unidos, son escuelas y colegios peligrosos, y personas tienen armas y matan niños?"
I froze.
"Hannah...Why, in the United States, are schools and colleges dangerous, and why do people have guns and kill children?"
Mabel asked me about Las Vegas. She asked me about Parkland, FL. She asked me about Orlando. She asked me about Central Michigan University. She asked me why every time.
My answer to that question is something that I am unable to articulate in English, let alone Spanish, and I was at a complete loss. I took a minute to reflect, and I started to explain as best as I could, in a foreign language, why:
Es facíl obtener una arma en Los Estados Unidos. / It's easy to get a gun in the United States.
Personas abusan sus libres en Los Estados Unidos. / People abuse their freedoms in the United States.
Personas no piensan que sus acciónes afectan otras en realidad. / People don't think about how their actions actually affect others all of the time.
No tenemos regulacciónes más estrictos sobre armas. / We don't have strict enough regulations about guns.
Algunos personas son personas malos. / Some people are bad people.
On and on I went, with my basic sentence structure and limited vocabulary, trying to articulate my feelings and ultimately not having an answer for her. Because honestly, who can answer that? Who has an answer to "Why are people killing children in schools in a first-world country?"
I grew uncomfortable and diverted our conversation to more navigable topics by saying "Tenemos muchas problemas en Los Estados Unidos, como...". Pollution and environmental issues are what we landed on (we were able to talk about similar issues in Panama and the U.S., like pollution of rivers and degradation of farm land). I walked away from the table ten minutes later and pondered what I had just been asked while I washed our dishes.
I came to a conclusion that I really felt I needed to share.
Since my Peace Corps staging in Washington D.C. on February 20, I have been told a thousand and one times that this is a 24/7 job. Eyes are always on me. I am constantly representing my country and my organization. It seemed overwhelming at first, but tonight I realized that it isn't, because I've been doing it my whole life.
The world watches America, whether we like it or not. Developing nations, third-world nations, and even other first-world nations have their eyes on us, all of the time. We've made spectacles of ourselves. Since the day you became an American citizen, you became a 24/7 representative for our nation. Whether you love it, hate it, or are indifferent, there is no denying that we are awarded multitudes of privileges as American citizens; so people watch.
When my host mom in Panama (who lives in a rural community where most people don't have wifi in their homes and the water shuts off at 8 pm every night) knows about all of the active-shooter situations in my country from the last few years, that's an issue.
When she actually looks to me for a reason why it's happening, as a representative of the United States, that's terrifying.
When I have to attempt to explain why people are murdering children and adults with assault rifles in public spaces, that's embarrassing.
When I can't, it's defeating.
So, to all of my friends at home (and those who aren't my friends, too), I have a list of requests:
1. Stay safe.
2. Keep each other accountable.
3. Be kind to each other, always.
4. Call your legislators.
As a representative of you, and of all people of the United States, it would be really solid to not have to answer for this kind of behavior ever again. I'm trying to do my part, but we all need to do our part.
Until next time,
Hannah