The last quarter mile

Imagine that you are on a treadmill for the first time running a mile. You have no completed that strenuous third lap and see the digital display displaying that you just have ran 0.75 miles. It feels good that you finally got this far but you are breathing harder and there is a semi sharp cramp forming in your side. You know that you are only 1 lap away from completion and it’s only a third of the distance you have already ran. But it still seems so far away. You try to raise your head up and look at everything else in the gym. Watch other people working out or just looking through the nearest window. When you eyes are swaying the room, you’re proud of yourself and know that you are almost done. Then your eyes slowly drop back down at that digital track and you realize that you didn’t go as far as you thought. All you can think is “Didn’t the other laps go faster than this one”.

That’s how I feel my remaining 7 months is like.  It’s so close but so far away. With those two conflicts of the perception of time, I usually encounter mental clash of emotions. Some weeks go by and the only thing I can think of is “OH Snaps and have to get involved in as many things as I possibly can before I’m gone. I need to to finish strong. Or maybe I should stay longer. Then beat on my chest and say LETS DO THISSSS RAAAAAAA.

And other weeks I’m inside my apartment pacing back and forth with quarter sized beads of sweat on my face feeling like I am about to explode. Thinking that if I’m here another day I’m going to slit my wrist (over exaggeration), or call the office and say I QUIT. Then I realize that I haven’t studied for the GRE yet or found a job, and know that I would go back home jobless and poor. Then I get into my bed and crawl in the fetal position wishing some miracle would happen.

The truth of the matter is, I have no idea what I’m going to do a few months from now. I have no idea if I’m leaving on time, staying longer, or traveling to another country after. Being here I have experienced the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows. Sometimes a kids runs up to me and say Hola Alec, or hola teacher and I feel so important, and then other days I have to restrain myself from punting the next door neighbor’s dog.

If you were on the receiving end of a conversation with me when I was having one of those low days, Im sorry, not just to you but to Panama as well. When I use to hear other volunteers complaining, I would be able to talk and relate with them but in the back of my mind I was thinking, “Damn you whine too much”. But after stopping and looking at myself, I whined just as much, but instead of the regular complaining, I put it in the form of a joke and thought that would made it ok. But no, I’m just as guilty as the next man. I seriously need to work on improving that flaw. I now realize that to someone outside of this experience hear me vent would think I’m going through some kind of hell. And I can imagine them thinking “why is he still there”. To be honest there are a lot of good days, and they certainly outweigh the bad ones. Matter of fact today is a good day. Just the ability to sit and be able to concentrate on my writing or reading is a good day. Only having to take one shower instead of three is a good day. Or speaking a whole day of Spanish, knowing that I said some things wrong, but everyone still understood me, is an excellent day. It’s a whole different world here. It’s a world where around 80 percent of the projects you attempt, fail. It’s a world where if you find a place where they have a good ice-cream sandwich and you’re in eternal bliss and nothing else matters. Where you have absolutely nothing to do and your only form of entertainment is to stare at the wall or read a book. Or other days you’re extremely busy teaching and traveling all over the province to help in other projects.

All I can do is live the day to day. When I receive comments from friends at home saying “Man why in the hell did you go there, you need to just come back home” , “Any Joe Blow can do your job, you don’t need any training “or “Hey we are proud of you”. I have no idea how to take it. I mean I give the generic responses like “whatever”, ”haha”, ”thank you”, however in reality I have no idea what’s going on. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m on the right path or not. Maybe when it’s finally over I will have it all figured out. All that I hope is that when it’s finally over I can say I did all that I could possibly do without any regrets.

If you didn't see the slideshow from GAD camp enjoy

Camp and Protest

The last month and a half here in Panama has probably been the most active I have had in my entire year and a half here. January was filled with English tutoring everyday almost eight hours a day. It was tiring at times but the students made the experience fun and gave me the energy to keep going.

Immediately after my month of tutoring, began GAD camp. GAD camp is an annual youth development seminar that teacher kids topics such as leadership, sex education, values, and preparing for the future. The goal is to have each volunteer hand-pick a teenager and send them to the camp to partake in this event. I chose not to send one because the majority of the kids I work with are older. However I did decide to volunteer to be a facilitator in this event. Since this is my last year here, I want to spend the majority of it busy and getting involved in everything I possibly can.

On the eve of GAD, camp a volunteer called me to ask have I heard anything about the protest scheduled for tomorrow. Being the clueless person I am when it comes to political affairs, I had no clue. Apparently the largest indigenous group in Panama were planning on protesting and blocking the only highway here in Panama (Ill get back to this later). They did it last year around this time so I was kinda concerned about getting stuck at the camp which was an hour away from my city. But I was told by one of my bosses don’t be concerned just leave early in the morning for camp.

So the next morning we traveled to the camp and got all the kids settled in. I believe there were about fifty kids from all over the west side of the country. Indigenous and Latinos all mixed up. For some of them, this would be there first time outside of their communities and away from their parents for a week. We began the camp with dividing the kids into smaller groups and getting to know their names and where were they from. I was very satisfied with the group that was assigned to me. I probably had the oldest kids in the camp which made me very happy. Im not that big into babysitting and having to explain things multiple times.

Even though the sessions lasted about twelve hours a day, time flew by. The whole week was just fun and games. Getting to know the kids and other volunteers that I’ve never spent time with was an amazing experience. And to top it off, my team won the competition. But to every story comes and end. On the last day of the camp we were informed that the protest was still going on and more people were joining. Which basically means we were stuck there.

Now back to the protest details. Now I am probably not the best person to ask anything about political affairs, but since your reading this I’ll explain it to you the same way I would to a friend from home. So it’s not based on a extensive amount of research with citations. Only bits and pieces of what I read and heard.

OK for at least a year or two the president of Panama has been pushing for hydroelectric and copper mining projects here in Panama. I don’t need to tell you that both of these are not environmentally friendly but they do create jobs and boost economy, just at the expense of the land. Copper mining is one of the most dangerous forms. The people that work in the mines are often exposed to unsafe chemicals, and the land is also saturated with it. So the land around the mines basically gets jacked up and the people working there get jacked up.

Why are the indigenous concerned? Well these copper deposits are in there land, the comarca, the equivalent of a reservation in the states, minus the casinos, electricity and running water.   So last year the Ngobes took it to the streets and started protesting and blocking the highway. After a few days the government negotiated with them and the Ngobes cleared out. Everything went back to normal. Now fast-forward a year later, the Ngobes are made because the President hasn’t somehow followed through on the terms and the hydroelectric an mining are still on. So the Ngobes said “OH HELL NAW” and took it back to the streets but with more people. Enough to shut down all shipments coming from the west side of the country to the east side. Eventually the dodo hit the fan, and people start getting shot and police station were burned down. I use to think black people had it bad, now I’m pretty confident indigenous got it worse.

Now back to the camp. We are temporarily stuck and some of the kids are crying because they can’t get home. Within the next day we get news that another volunteer nearby can get us a bus to the blockades and pick us all up again on the other side to transport us to the city. Meaning we have to walk through the blockades with all the kids. So with the assistance of the people that worked in the resort where the camp was held we were able to successfully get to the bus. When we reached the first blockade I was not impressed by the effort put into it. There were twigs on the ground, a tire burning here and there, and people just sitting on the ground listening to the radio. I was thinking “Really”. I could drive my Sentra through here with no problem. 

When we approached the second blockade it was a different story. There were semi trucks crisscrossed and blocking every inch of the road. There was no way anything was getting through there.

I think it took us about to 2 hours but we finally made it back to the city safely with the kids. Some kids were able to successfully get home when we reached the city but 20 of the 50 were not because the roads were blocked in the direction that they were going. To make a longer story short the kids had to stay here in the city for a week more until the protest finally came to a conclusion. However it wasn’t that bad. Well one reason is because I live in the city and I still had to freedom to go home kid free, while some of the other volunteers were on 24 hour kid duty. But when it was my turn to stay with them they were pretty content with playing soccer and chilling in the AC filled hotel rooms.