Heading East

Day 3: August 9, 2015

Morning came way too quickly: 4:30am. Luckily for the rest of the world my groggy, cranky self didn’t need to interact with anyone until I arrived at the bus terminal. The pavo asked me if I was going to Metetí and I said yes. I tucked myself into a seat and pretended like I never woke up.

In true Darien fashion, the bus took forever. It was 1pm before I arrived in Metetí and I was still early morning cranky. And starving. And hadn’t had coffee. And needed to pee. And needed to buy things from the hardware store for Ben’s latrine. And knew that I was running late to hitch a ride to the port. I was arguing with myself over how to prioritize the aforementioned necessities while paying the bus driver and squeezing myself out of the cramped space when I heard, “Djabawera!!!”

I quickly spotted the woman in the paruma and walked over. I didn’t know her. Did I? Quick introductions confirmed that we’ve never met, nor was she traveling to Vigía. However, she was bound and determined to find me a ride to the port. She commanded that I follow her and took off. I followed.

A few minutes later I had plans to ride in with some of the Vigía teachers who would be arriving to Metetí on the next incoming bus. That gave me time to deal with all the other things I needed to do. Diocilia and Juan Carlos arrived at 2, bought me a second lunch, and then we piled into a taxi headed for the port. I asked to get dropped off at the border police checkpoint, just uphill of the dock.

Soldier: “Where are you going?”

Me: “To Nuevo Vigía”

Soldier: “What is your mission?”

Me: “I’m Peace Corps. I’m going to visit and build a latrine.”

Soldier: “We can’t let you go.”

Me: “Uhh, what? Why? Here’s my ID, I’m Peace Corps.”

Supervisor: “Oh hey, yea, its ok. She’s just going to see her husband. He went up there yesterday.”

Me: No, I - (Freeze. Commence internal battle. On the one hand, I want to clarify that I am in fact my own independent person and that it is not fair- but on the other, I want them to just let me go. In the end I say nothing.)

Solider: “Ok, go ahead.”

Me: Sigh, so much for principles. “Thank you.”

We wait at the port for two hours before catching a ride up river, arriving an hour before dark. I try not to get too muddy climbing up the river bank barefoot and am somewhat successful. I wander around asking for the white guy until I find him, hanging out in the hammock. In true Emberá fashion, we visit three houses and are fed three more times in quick succession: corn drink, fried fish, boiled plantains, fried plantains, scrambled eggs, and tea. Meanwhile I was massacred by mosquitos and had sweat running down every part of my body.

Welcome home.

I was exhausted, it was dark, and there are crocodiles, but this Emberá wera refused to go to bed without bathing. We grabbed flashlights and precariously climbed back down to the river to bathe. Everything was immediately better. Back at the house, things were a little complicated. Ben and I were staying in a one-room house with 8 other people. I went outside into the yard to change clothes- thank goodness there was no moon yet- so once the flashlights were turned off I had complete privacy.

The night ended with another mug of tea, and an hour chatting with Rigoberto, the only Emberá I have ever heard of to go to the US for college. We strung up hammocks and mosquito nets and I fell asleep listening to the homey sounds of monkeys, birds, and the river.

Today I am grateful we didn't meet this guy in the dark!