The Wild Pooper Chase, or Puking on the Security Line

I couldn't decide which title was better.

I started calling Eimer Zuluaga a month ago because he has the mold I need to make the seats for our latrine project. It always went straight to voicemail. Panamanians lose their phones like it is their job, so I was starting to get very concerned. To buy a new mold can be hundreds of dollars and to get my hands on another mold means a trek to Bocas which is nearly Costa Rica and who knows if their molds are available. So I really needed to talk to Eimer. When the phone calls didn't work I started asking around to see if anyone in my town knew him. A few people knew him or had worked with him at some point, but know one could give me his current whereabouts. My previous Volunteer had left me his phone number and told me he was a missionary from Yaviza, but that was all the info I had. With no other means of communication, I did the only thing I could think of: I set out to find this random Yaviza missionary.

My fellow PCVs tried to help me out- Chris tried calling some of his people because some of them have family in Yaviza, no luck. Danielle recommended I wear a paruma, and Ben told me to start with the churches.  (these are important details later) Yaviza is also the furthest East any PCV or US citizen is permitted to go, and it is the end of the line for the inter-american highway. I had never visited this town of 2,000 people before but knew that I was also not permitted to be in the town after dark (PC security policy), so I needed to keep the trip short. Not knowing whether or not this guy actually even lived in Yaviza, I set out.

My stomach had been unsettled all morning, and when I got on the chiva the only seat open was the last space in the very back over the tire. It was soon Panamanian full which is a whole new definition of maximum capacity. The inter-americana gets very limited use down here, and even less maintenance. I was really green really quickly. After an hour and a half, we pulled into the terminal of Yaviza and I was excited to have made it without incident. I paid the driver, grabbed my bag, and started walking away with chills and shaky knees, enjoying the fresh air. About 10 feet later I left my breakfast in the grass next to an overflowing trash can. Que va. I felt better afterward at least.

I drank some water and headed out to find a church. Chris had given me rough directions to the Catholic church so I started in that route, getting catcalled and hissed at along the way. Really? I mean, REALLY? Some of those guys HAD to have just seen me vomit all over the grass, what about regurgatation is attractive? I found the Catholic church. It had padlocks on all the gates and doors and a big sign up saying, 'The sisters are in prayer from dec 30- jan 6 and cannot assist you. They will add you to their prayers in the meantime. May God bless your travels.' Well. That is a nice thought but not altogether helpful if they don't know I am here looking for assistance. So I kept walking. I found an impossibly old man at a window selling snacks and asked him for the nearest church, and he sent a little girl on a bicycle with me down the road a bit further. This one had the word 'mission' in the name so I felt like I was on the right track. The church was deserted and the little girl took off right away so now I was just stuck outside another padlocked empty building. I wandered around the back and saw a hut with parumas hanging up to dry. I shouted up to ask if I could visit and they invited me in, and pretty soon I had a bowl of rice and glass of cornmeal drink in my hand and we were talking about Wounaan culture. I told them who I was looking for and lo and behold, they knew him! One of the boys walked me across town back over behind the school to Lupo's house.

Lupo explained to me that Eimer has been in Colombia since December 10th. At various points in the conversation, he said that Eimer would be returning at the end of January, on January 6th, and on January 10th. I explained who I was, where I was from, and what I needed. Turns out that Lupo knows the head of my community, has met my previous volunteer, has worked on composting latrines at various places in the Darien, and had the keys to Eimer's storage shed. He took me to see the mold. I held all 4 parts in my hand and tried every tactic I could come up with, but Lupo would not let the random gringa walk off with Eimer's mold. I got Lupo's phone number and a promise that he would call me as soon as he heard from Eimer. Lupo's wife tried to sell me her artisan basket weavings and taught me a few phrases of Wounaan, then it was time to go take the chiva ride back to Meteti and find a place to crash for the night. As soon as the chiva showed up, I pushed passed the young mother holding a small child to be sure I got one of the front seats this time. No shame.

Eimer exists. The mold exists. I can have it soon*. Wild pooper chase adventure, successful.

*All references to time in Panama are completely arbitrary.

EPILOGUE

One week later, I found myself once again crammed into the back of the chiva headed to Yaviza. This time my stomach was in much better condition and I was able to move forward after a few stops. I found my guy Lupo, he gave me the mold and best wishes from Eimer, who is still in Colombia, and within ten minutes of arrivsl in Yaviza I was getting on a chiva headed back to Meteti. I got back to site with the mold in good time...and then realized I didn't have the screws the mold needed to hold it together. Sigh. Someday, we'll get these seats made.