Two people who were very important to the success of our trip to Panama were Rhett Thompson and Jaime. Rhett has lived in Panama for 28 years and is a missionary from the United Methodist Church in Alabama. He is the brother of our minister’s wife, one of the reasons we have such a close relationship in Panama. Rhett is funny and hard working. He never seems to be in a hurry or get upset, but I don’t see that he ever gets any time off either! Between being our interpreter and guide, he is the minister of his church on Sunday morning, working at the International Panamerican School in Panama City, dealing with issues between the Ngobi Indians and a local, wealthy landowner in Cienaguita, 6 hours away from PC and trying to get a camp built for youth near the beach in the country side between the two other spots. He stayed with us, helping us to understand the language and telling us not only what strange things we were eating, (although I think he withheld some information on that front) but how much to tip in restaurants and making sure we were safe and having fun.
Jaime was the job foreman on the work site and he was also very calm and good-natured. He would smile at me when the kids did something silly and tried to keep me busy when he could tell I was angry to just sit there. He pulled me away that first day and he and Rhett took me to see the sight of the next house. I thought they were distracting me from the fact that there was too much lag time due to lack of tools. But once there, Jaime began to measure and lay out the beginnings of the next house to be built. He got me to hold the tape measure, and then to tie off the string that marked the site. Rhett wandered off to speak to some women nearby. Jaime and I made stakes out of branches with a machete and hammered them in the ground with the “maso”, the word he used for the hammer. (That is not the word I find in the English/ Spanish dictionary for hammer, but each country seems to adapt and change languages to incorporate native languages in with the Spanish.) He let me move the string right or left to get it level and before I knew it we had laid out the foundation for the house. I finally felt like I had actually accomplished something!
On day two after a monsoon type rain the afternoon and night before, I showed some reservation when it was time to go back down the hill towards dinner. I had already been up the hill twice and down it once that day, but my exhaustion got the better of me and as I looked out at the top of the “cliff” I sighed, which I am prone to do regularly. Jaime came to my side, grabbed my arm and began the descent. I began to protest, after all I am an independent woman! But between the fact that he could not understand me and the fact that I felt WAY safer than I had before while climbing down this hill, I stopped myself quickly and just allowed myself to be held up and guided down the mountain by this hulk of a man. The whole time we were walking Jaime laughed and talked, while I made sure I kept my feet firmly planted on the slick mud. At the bottom he let me go and I muttered, “gracias.” As soon as we came to the next incline to the bridge I felt that strong hand take my arm again. I just had to accept that if he was around, he was going to make sure I was safe.
Another morning, as a couple of the girls and I waited on the workers to show up and tell us what to do next, one of the women of the reservation crested that cliff carrying a metal beam that would become part of the roof of the house we were working on, a house that would soon house this woman’s family. She had scaled the mountain carrying the beam and in a dress I might add! As soon as I saw her appear at the top of the hill, I ran to relieve her of the beam. I could never have carried that up that hill, I needed my hands to balance, hold on to branches and sometimes crawl my way up the mountain. And in a dress- no way! So I ran to get the beam, after all if she had carried it up the hill, I could carry it the few more meters to the site. She carried it as if it were light, in one hand. I grabbed it and it was all I could do with two hands not to let it fall to the ground. It was heavy! To save face I mustered all of the strength I had, gave her a weak smile and barely made it to the pile of beams near the house site. Was I embarrassed! I usually feel pretty strong for my size and age. Just then I felt like a complete fraud. I think I covered up my weakness, but I knew inside that I had nothing on this young mother!
Later I would learn about some of the things considered “woman’s work” in this community that would let me see just how strong these women really are. More to come later…
