On July 5, 2007 I was invited to serve with the Peace Corps in Panama as a Community Economic Development volunteer. I left my home in Portland, Oregon, on August 12 and I will be in Panama for 27 months- returning home in October, 2009. Crazy, right?
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10 July 2009

A Day in the Life of my Host Sister

My host sister, Yaneth, was born in a rural town high up in the mountains of the province of Veraguas, Panama. Her community was small and impoverished, without electricity or potable water. She lived in a simple, two-room cinderblock home with a cement floor and a tin roof that she shared with her parents and siblings. Although devoid of modern conveniences, the community itself was picturesque and tranquil. Members of neighboring communities walk for hours to visit the beautiful local church during its annual celebration of the patron saint each November.

When Yaneth was around 10 years old she was selected by a nun at the church to participate in an exchange program with a wealthier community 5 hours away. And so it was, with twelve other promising girls, that Yaneth came to live in Atalaya, with my host mom, Gudelia. Gudelia raised Yaneth as her own, providing her with an education she would not have been able to receive otherwise, asking nothing in return. In her home town Yaneth’s education would likely not have surpassed the sixth grade, but with Gudelia’s help she was able to graduate high school and then continue on to college.

Yaneth is now a middle school teacher and I recently had the immense pleasure of spending a workday with her, to see what it is to be a teacher in Panama.

The Panamanian education system is quite different from that of the United States. After high school, aspiring teachers spend one year at University before becoming eligible to teach. Earning approximately $300 per month, it is a respectable profession. Once you become a teacher you are given a job wherever there is an opening, with preferential treatment given according to level of experience. Yaneth, for example, was first placed in the Darién, Panama’s eastern most province and arguably least desirable. The struggles she faced while living in the Darién were numerous but it was an important step in the placement hierarchy.

After a number of years out east, Yaneth was offered a position much closer to her family. Finally able to return to Atalaya, her husband, Ariel, found work in a neighboring community, and they sent their children to the same, highly regarded schools that Yaneth had once attended. But the new position, I soon discovered, was not perfect.

My day in the life of Yaneth started with my alarm blaring at 4 AM, a solid two hours before sunrise. I am not a morning person and I rarely open my eyes before 9 but, after hitting the snooze button a few times, I climbed out of my mosquito net at 4:15, showered (cold water), dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and headed out the door. I met Yaneth at the corner where we were to wait for the bus. Surprisingly, Yaneth pulled up in a car driven by the newspaper delivery boy. She had convinced him to give us a ride to Santiago, thus saving us each the 50 cent bus fare.

Once in Santiago we met up with a group of women, also teachers, standing on the side of the Interamericana (Panama’s main highway). Every morning the women meet on this particular stretch to see if they can hitch a ride to their various turnoffs. From 5:30AM to 6:20AM they wave their hands at waist height (the Panamanian version of throwing out your thumb) to every car, truck, or semi that passes.

Our group was not the only one patiently waiting on the kindness of strangers and I became discouraged as other women crawled into the backs of pickups, vans, and big rigs while we stood, waiving our hands to no avail. The last bus that our group could catch in order to still make it to work on time would pass us at 6:20AM and we were desperately hoping to catch a ride before then, thus saving us $2.10 each.

At 6:15AM an old semi-truck hauling Balboa Beer pulled over for us. We were 6 strong at that point and worried we wouldn’t all fit but we climbed into the cab and made ourselves comfortable, with four of us sitting on the bed behind the driver, and 2 sharing the passenger seat in front. And then began the longest leg of our trip. For nearly an hour we rode in the old, dilapidated cab with minimal shocks, bouncing up and down, thankful for the free ride.
(The view from the back of the semi truck)

(Yaneth and I, getting cozy in the truck's cab)

Two of our travel companions disembarked along the way and it was 7:10 when the remaining four of us climbed down from the cab of the semi, shouting our thanks to the driver.
(Yaneth practically fell out of the high passenger side door but luckily one of the other teachers caught her)

The teachers then proceeded to roll up their pantsuits and change from their nice work shoes into their walking shoes. I hadn’t known we would be hiking to the school but thankfully I was wearing tennis shoes instead of my nice “I’m going to be a professional today” shoes that give me blisters. And then we started walking.
(Hiking to the school)

Along the way we ran into some kids and the teachers unloaded their bags onto the boys, who dutifully carried them to the school. We hiked along a road, up hills, and through fields, eventually crossing the border into another province, the Comarca Ngäbe Bugle. After 45 minutes and a few slips (but no falls, thank Frank), we arrived at La Escuela de las Huacas. Set on the side of a little hill, the small 6-room building supports about 150 kids. After being introduced to the principal and a few other teachers, Yaneth and I found our way to her room, where her group of kids patiently waited.

(Las Huacas Middle School)

Yaneth’s classroom is big but very rundown. The desks are old but functioning and the tin roof has a leak near the front of the room, where a puddle of dirty water lies stagnate on the cement floor. When we entered the kids were sweeping away the debris that had come through the glassless, screen less windows during the night. The room itself seems dark, despite the sunlight, mostly because the cement floor, the desks, and the chairs are black, brown, or dark gray.

Yaneth, however, is a ray of sunshine and her good humor is contagious. She jokes with the kids and gets them laughing and smiling, which is no small feat for the notoriously reserved indigenous children of the Comarca. After small talk and introductions, Yaneth turned the 26 students, ages 11 to 13, over to me, for English class. I rarely teach English in Panama but the kids and I had fun, of a sort, learning the various greetings, working on pronunciations, etc. Yaneth and I continuously pointed out that Spanish is my second language and I make many mistakes when speaking, encouraging the kids to feel more comfortable when they mess up. Each child then stood up and told me the basics in English: “My name is _____. I am (age). I live in (community name).” It was fun, and cute.

(Teaching English)

(Listening to the kids tell me their names, ages, and home towns in English)

Eventually, after a break for government provided snacks, we played a quick game and then I taught them a craft that I loved when I was their age. My mom recently sent me a huge package of plastic lacing (aka gimp, aka lanyard string) and key rings. They each got two colors of the lacing and I taught them how to weave it to make simple key chains. I had a great time showing them how to do it and many of them picked it up very quickly.
(Learning to make key chains)

(The new computer lab at the school. The kids don't have books, but they have 10 computers for the 150 of them to share...)
Shortly after that, our school day was over. It is surprising how little schooling goes into each day. We began at 8 AM with a 10 minute break around 9 AM for snack cookies provided by the school, then a 15 minute break at 10 AM for cream of wheat, also provided by the school, and another 15 minute break at 11 AM for recess. Class gets out at 12:30 so, all told, we taught for less than 4 hours, which seems alarmingly short to me for a 6th grade class.
(Group Photo)

(My new head scarf being tied on)
At the end of class the kids presented me with a traditional indigenous headscarf and a beaded bracelet, which was a complete surprise and very sweet. Then we began the hike out to the road, which was only about ten minutes. Yaneth and I waited there with other teachers for at least thirty minutes, hoping to catch a ride down to the Interamericana. Honestly, since it would have been a thirty minute walk downhill to get there we might have been better off just walking but by that point we were both exhausted and willing to wait.
(Hiking back out to the main road)
Eventually a dump truck stopped for Yaneth and I, and we rode to the bottom of the hill. Once there, we again waited. Yaneth tried, with no success, to snag us another free ride along the Interamericana but eventually we gave in and caught a bus to Santiago. It was a long bus ride during which we both fell asleep. Once we got to Santiago we jumped straight onto an Atalaya bus and headed home. I walked through my door at just after 4 PM, ridiculously thrilled to be home after a very long day.

I’ve always known that Yaneth was a teacher who worked somewhere outside our community but I never had any idea how far she travels everyday. That day we were traveling by car, bus, big rig, or hiking for over 6 hours (including time spent standing around waiting for a bus or ride). Six hours of traveling for less than 5 hours of work every single day. I also had no idea that Yaneth hitchhiked so much, but it makes sense. Yaneth pays $5.20 roundtrip everyday, for a job that pays her about $15 daily. Though time consuming and possibly dangerous, it is understandable why Yaneth and her colleagues choose to hitchhike.

After spending a day with Yaneth I cannot even begin to express how much I admire her. She has 4 young children, a husband who also works fulltime, and rarely gets to bed before midnight. Yet every morning she is up at 4 AM, ready to travel 3 hours (including a 45 minute hike) each way to work and, not only that, she is energetic, always smiling, and her kids at school love her. I honestly don’t know how she does it.

I’ve toyed with the idea of becoming a teacher many times since I came to Panama. Working with Yaneth’s kids only reminded me of how much I love teaching. If I ever do become a teacher I can only hope to be half the teacher that Yaneth is. She is absolutely amazing and my hat goes off to her. It’s taken me the last two days just to recover from one day in her life.
(Yaneth and I, finally headed home after a very long day)

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