My host mom in Panama is a boss. Let me tell you why.
7 weeks ago, I clambered off of a bus, camera bag slung over my shoulder, and timidly walked into the Cancha in my host community with all of the other Peace Corps Trainees in the CEC G82 group. We were quickly paired off with our host families, and when my name was called I walked over to the stout woman raising her hand in the line of Panamanian women picking up their "aspirantes." This woman kissed me on the cheek, but didn't speak to me. We picked up my bags, loaded them into her forest-green Toyota sedan, and drove four minutes to her house.
When I arrived in Panama, I barely spoke Spanish. I struggled to tell her that I liked the dream catcher hanging from her rearview mirror. She smiled as I tried to tell her I had one at home, and that I'd made quite a few of them as well.
We arrived at her house, and I told her "I like your yellow house." She laughed and helped me carry my bags to my bedroom, and showed me where the bathroom was. I didn't know what to do, so she brought me hangers and told me to hang up my clothes and unpack. She said a lot of other things that I didn't understand, but I heard the word "fiesta" and I said "sí" and she walked out of my room. So, I unpacked, and then found her in the living room waiting for me. We got in her car, and I ended up spending my very first night in Panama at a birthday party for a 23 year-old named Juan. Nothing could have been more intimidating that night: being surrounded by 30-40 people speaking rapid Spanish at a loud party, after only sleeping for 3 hours before catching 2 flights to Panama. she knew, though, and stuck right by me the whole night (even when I danced el típico with the birthday boy).
When we got back to her house around 11 pm that night, I was exhausted. I took a cold shower, wrapped myself up in my sheets, and fell asleep. For the next few days, I struggled to communicate with her and was terrified to talk to her.
Fast forward 7 weeks: I spend at least 2-3 days each week at the house that birthday party was at, because it's her daughter's house. Juan, the birthday boy, is somehow related to our family as well. My host mom is currently sitting about five feet away from me on her couch, watching baseball, and making random comments about Los Santos being the best team in Panama. What has happened between then and now is incredible.
This is Mabel (and me):
Mabel has hosted over 20 Peace Corps Volunteers in her home over the years, and I figured because of this she'd have us all figured out. I didn't think there was anything left I could possibly share with her that she would care about, and I thought she'd just think of me as another American that was living in her house for a few months before the next one arrived. I couldn't have been more wrong. Somewhere in the last 7 weeks, Mabel and I started talking. Like, really talking. I am ecstatic to say that she has been the most important person in my transition here, and I could not possibly have more appreciation for her.
Why?
Mabel cooks vegan food for me at every meal, and usually eats it too, even though she likes to eat traditional Panamanian food.
Mabel taught me more Spanish than anyone else, and she constantly puts me in situations with other people that I'm uncomfortable with to make me practice.
She told me stories of other volunteers she's hosted that struggled but ultimately succeeded to help me feel better when I wasn't making progress.
She respects me and my beliefs, even though they're extremely different than hers (she's Catholic, I'm not religious; she eats meat, I'm vegan; etc.).
She gives me tons of space to be alone and relax, because she's learned that I need a lot of time to recharge after classes and long days at the office.
Mabel lets me cook for her in her kitchen, because I told her once that I love to cook and that it's relaxing for me; she always compliments whatever I make for her.
She freaking loves garlic bread.
She told me in my third week in Panama that I was going to be just fine in site by myself, firstly because I knew how to cook, and secondly because she could "just tell."
She laughs at me from her hammock when I workout and do yoga, but tells me she's happy I know how to take care of myself. She now tells me she does headstands in her dreams.
Mabel pays attention to the things I say: I said I like to eat fruit for breakfast on of my first days here, and now there is always fruit at breakfast. I said I like to dance at the birthday party my first night in Panama, and now she always turns on music in the car and yells "Baila, Hannah!"
She can use a machete better than anyone else I know.
She can squeeze every drop of juice from a naranja with her hands, and she taught me how.
She randomly yells my name really loudly, "HANNAH!" and then just laughs at me for no reason whatsoever. It's the most endearing thing.
One time she caught me eating pancakes for dinner, so she took me to a birthday party when I was done eating to get cake (because "you should have cake two times").
When I taught her the phrase "food baby" she intentionally started cooking me more food so that she could make me have food babies. Her favorite is the potato baby she gave me after cooking me literally a dozen potatoes with garlic and oregano. Delicious, and bloated for hours.
Her favorite sport is baseball, and we watch it together most nights of the week. Her favorite team is Los Santos (because that's where she's from) and the Red Sox in the U.S.
She's always fixing my Spanish, and she makes me repeat a word until I can say it perfectly.
When the Final Four championship was on, I recruited her as a fan of Michigan. She called out the score to me, picked out players for me to date when I went to school there, and then asked me very seriously before I went to bed, "Are you sure you want to go school there? They lost."
Mabel knows a ton about Panama's plants, animals, crops, and environmental issues. She's a huge proponent of organic produce. She shares knowledge about these topics with me daily.
She raised two really remarkable children. I've met them both, and they're really lovely people.
She makes fun of me ALL OF THE TIME. I love it.
She texts me random emojis throughout the day, and I'm really not sure why, but it makes me happy.
She can smash a Corona in about 45 seconds, and will gladly split a bottle of wine with me on a Friday night.
She isn't afraid to critique the Peace Corps, and encourages me to do so, as well.
When I lost my voice my second week in Panama, she made me ginger tea to drink with every meal until I could speak again.
She asks me a lot about home, and understands how happy it makes me when she does when I'm feeling homesick.
Last week, she told me I'm Panamanian now.
This list could go on and on, with reasons very serious and very funny, both. The truth is, there is no way to put this woman into words. She has opened her home to me, and her mind, and now her heart. I literally could not have asked for a better experience or a better host for my first 10 weeks in Panama. She welcomed me with the most open of arms, and I have learned to fall into them without hesitation.
Today, she took me to her daughter's house in the morning, and we stayed for about four hours. Amongst a group of about six women from my host community (many in my family), I felt right at home. They spent a decent amount of time telling me that I have a great body, nice hair, toned arms, and that my boobs are a good size for not wearing a bra but are still enough for a man (thanks ladies!). They asked me a lot of questions about my life at home. They fed me lunch and offered to take me shopping. We watched part of a telenovela and chewed on raw sugar cane while looking at old family photos. I spent the morning absorbing love from many Panamanian mamas.
When I returned back to the house with Mabel this afternoon, she picked my brain about things I was worried about, things I was dealing with in my personal life, and how I was feeling about site placement coming up this week. During this time, I thanked her for taking me to her daughter's house today, because being with all of the other women really made me happy. She just said, "I know, you needed it." Then she asked me about every boyfriend I'd ever had and laughed at all of them, because that's what moms do.
We made dinner together, and we called it our dinner of favorites: patacones with pico de gallo (the first thing she taught me to cook), garlic bread, and potato salad. We laughed at how unhealthy our meal was while we scooped our plates full of fried plantains and oily garlic toast, and talked about all of our favorite things to cook. I told her I was sad that I only got to live with her for two more weeks, but reassured her I would visit as often as I could so we could make dinner together and chat, and so I could tell her stories about my site. I told her I was nervous to leave. She told me I'm doing well and would be just fine, and when she said it, I believed it.
