A walk through the mangroves in the wildlife refuge adjacent to my site provides a shady respite from the fuerte sun that beams down every day. The Refugio de Vida Silvestre La Barqueta was created to protect the fragile mangrove ecosystem, including the migratory bird species that come to rest in the trees´high branches for months at a time. Right now, hundreds of elegant, long-necked white egrets crowd the mangroves and the nearby rice fields. Other bird species include a variety of hummingbirds, ducks, hawks, vultures, pelicans, and yellow-breasted songbirds that sing fantastically.

Monkeys also reside in the mangroves and nearby forests. A friend of mine spotted one yesterday on the way home from a meeting. Locally known as the "cariblanca" (white face), this cute monkey was swinging from the branches as we drove by its tree. Stopping the car to watch for a moment, the driver compared the appearance of the monkey with norteamericanos. The driver then proceeded to explain that it was a very intelligent species, often chastised for stealing bananas and other delicacies off of occupied tables. I think they may also throw things at people, although I`ll have to ask a friend of mine to testify to this fact (he was attacked by a crap-slinging group last year). The driver may have been more correct about the white-faced monkey than he could have fathomed.

Fallen calabazo in a rainstorm in the backyard

***I wrote this sitting in a yeye cafè, chuckling to myself as two gringas behind me ordered the same spinach quiche and cappucino as I had just polished off with pleasure. In the States, I love my imported mangos, coffee and wine.***

My host father in Santa Clara works six long days a week at a chicken factory outside of Panama City. ¨Chicken¨was the one English word my host brothers knew upon my arrival. Over a simple, tasty lunch of pollo y vegetales one day, my host mother casually remarked that even though Panama has a fairly large commercial chicken production business, the choice cutlets get sent to the United States. I hadn´t known the US imported chicken; I assumed most was ´grown´in the States, since driving by the smelly Midwestern chicken farms in my youth. Actually, Panama exports about $433 million of goods to the US yearly, neary one half of its total exports. The relationship of the US with Panama is an ongoing pirate´s tale of invasion, politcal unrest, and the search for true freedom.

During the free trade negotiations at the beginning of 2006, the agricultural minister of Panama resigned, citing worries about more lax health standards on US imports (1). Whether this is true or not remains negotiable, yet represents just one of the many high-pressure negotiations between the two countries. Exports of goods from Panama to the US began in the early 1900s with the conception of the United Fruit Company, a US-based banana plantation, located on Isla Colòn in Bocas del Toro. The successful construction of the Panama Canal under the supervision of President T. Roosevelt further complicated political relations between the two countries, ending in a treaty that handed over full control of the Canal to Panama in 1999 . Tensions reached a pinnacle during Operation Just Cause and the removal of Manuel Noriega in the 1980s, when the US invasion resulted in a greatly disputed number of civilian deaths (300-4,000).

Currently, the gorgeous country of Panama drips with alluring economic potential. Panama faces global pressure to expand the Canal, an issue the country will vote on in an October referendum. Advertisements blatantly insist the economic benefits of this expensive investment, backed by President Martin Torrijos. If managed with care, this project could be a boon to the economy, and even the environment, if measures are taken to carefully analyze the impact and allocate funds to environmental restoration as necessary (2). The tourism industry is growing exponentially, propelled by a flood of US retirees (3). I have already met quite a few of these friendly norteamericanos, many who live in the nearby mountain town of Boquete, and a small group who settled on my beach, La Barqueta. Finally, the US-based company Occidental Petroleum seeks to plant a new refinery on a portion of Puerto Armuelles, at the end of the peninsula that stretches into the Pacific near the Costa Rican border.

As development increases in Panama, the job markets change. Large-scale projects such as those mentioned above employ thousands in construction and tourism-based jobs. Many Panamanians are moving to urban areas to take advantage of the booming markets. However, as half of the country prospers, the other sinks deeper into poverty. Panama has the second-highest income disparity in Latin America, behind Brazil, with 37% of its residents living below the poverty line (2). If a current proposal to dam the Indio river for the expansion of the Panama Canal goes through, an estimated 3500 campesinos will be forced to give up their land (2). Advocates of the expansion rebut that the project will employ many thousands of Panamanians.

However, taking away the land for many of these poor farmers is stealing their right to choose the life they want to live. Others are forced into poverty by competition from larger (often foreign) coorporations and sell their land at a cheap price, only to return months later, broke and begging for a job from the same hotel/restuarant/spa owners that previously bought their land. The oil refinery at Puerto Armuelles will undoubtably boost the economy of the region (much more so the economy of the company), but at the price of the environment and the health of those who live nearby.

Yesterday, I sat in the back of a press conference about the proposal of the new US-owned refinery, held by a group of envioronmentalists from the Chiriquí region. I watched as slides from places in the US were shown as examples of what not to do when managing an oil refinery. A woman gave a passionate speech that brought tears to my eyes about the lack of sustainable options for the poor in the area of the proposed refinery. I have expressed discontent in the past, but for the first time in my life, I was ashamed of my country. A slide flashed by displaying the worldwide impact of air pollution from the US, a red cloud of toxins spreading over the northern hemisphere. I thought of the rejection of the Kyoto protocol and hunkered down further in my seat, avoiding the eyes of any cameras that may pass. I do not feel responsible for companies such as these, but as a norteamericano, I cannot remove myself from the masses, the consumerism that propels these companies to exist in the first place.

The fact is, I am not outright opposed to all large corporations and international development. There are many businesses who due their share to improve technology to be more environmentally friendly, and many rich who dedicate their lives to courageous projects. I am opposed to greed that preys off of the resources of other countries without giving back a fair share. In terms of percentage of GNP, the US falls short of all industrialized countries in terms of foreign aid, only recently moving up from last place by one (4). This is embarrassing. I am against those who blatantly take advantage of the world´s poor and the environment in developing countries where the infrastructure is not developed enough to stop such activities (and are sometimes blatantly encouraged). Panama´s tropical lushness is a fragile environment of intricately intwined ecosystems that daily are being destroyed. Ganadores clear rainforests to produce meat for the world´s fast food hamburger cravings, hotels spring up and erode away pristine beaches, and imports of goods wrapped in plastic fill the streets and air with their harmful biproducts, in a country with no infrastructure for garbage removal or recycling. The fact that many of these unsustainable practices are being done by Americans makes me immeasurably sad...and ashamed.

Living in this beautiful environment is a privilege I cannot possibly take for granted. I feel a huge amount of responsibility being an extranjero from the States. I wish to change the image of our country to one that encourages sustainable development, rather than being labeled as coming from a country that siphons the best of the world´s resources into its own bottomless pit of greed. Of course I can´t do this on my own. Build gardens on your city rooftops, buy locally grown organic produce, make an effort to use less gasoline, and por favor, don´t buy McDonald´s hamburgers. That´s all.

Every night at 7:15 the sun sets and the land is ruled by two types of creatures of the night. Much of Panama, including the community of Los Positos, slams their doors against the mosquitos that come buzzing in droves, and as their abodes are secured against the first creature, the gente turn to stare into the big, ugly eye of the other. Slowly relaxing into well-worn cushions and plastic chairs, they stare, and it blinks back, not menacingly, but seductively. The creature and the people gaze into each other´s eyes until they are as one.

This interaction frightens me more than the risk of malaria and dengue fever, more than the huge waves that can sweep you a mile offshore, and much more than the tormentas that sometimes sound as if they will pound right through the zinc roof at night. It makes me shudder to the depths of my soul to watch this spectacle, that occurs even in the poorest of houses.

The televsion commercials are loud and cheesy, advertising for things that people in the campo don´t need and can´t possibly afford. But yet I watch as people buy them. First program of the night: the extremely sensationalized news shows the images of every dead body the camera could get its eye on that day. At 7, the novelas begin. Amplified soap operas show Latin Americans living as if they were in Beverly Hills or the OC. Myself not understanding the Spanish makes the terrible acting all the more comical, but doesn´t overshadow the psychological devastation.

As my new family watches the Spanish-dubbed movies that never made it in America, I wonder to myself what they did before the TV arrived. Due to the literacy level, very few people enjoy reading for pleasure, so I imagine it was more of the banter about the weather that goes on all day long. I don´t mourn as much for my host abuelitos, who are well into their 80s and would probably be in bed if not in front of the TV, but for the young Panamanians. They see the same wasteful lifestyles as the kids in America are enticed into desiring, but have even less of a chance of actualizing these emtpy wants.

My host mother in my training community confided in me her worry that her three boys would never further their education and get good jobs because they preferred to sit in front of the TV over studying. In Panama, the average education level is 6th grade, because in some places it is too difficult or expensive to transport children to high school. Although it is a law to attend school until the 12th grade, there are not enough high schools to make this enforceable. To those who are more fortunate, such as my previous host family, what a shame to see the opportunity for education go to waste because of the distraction of the TV!

In many places, nature still rules here, covering old house foundations with flourescent green moss and vines after just a few months. Fruit trees burst with their offerings in every other yard, and gardens and local fincas still provide most of the food for those out in the country. But as the TV brings with its intense stare the message of a "modern", urbanized, prepackaged lifestyle, fewer and fewer people appreciate the surrounding land of plenty. I search for insights on how to kill the creature who dominates Panama´s sticky nights.

A series of reactionary essays written shortly after 9-11, Barbara Kingsolver´s ´Small Wonder´is full of passionate reflections about the world, the environment, and peace. The fire within me burns more strongly these days, inflamed by this book as well as the events unfolding around me. Some of these things are beyond control - the ongoing fighting in the Middle East, the daily realization of a world of inevitable inequalities. Others, such as the local fight in my site between a few locals and the owners of the nearby resort, are becoming more within reach as I learn about the area and the people involved. I have to keep reminding those around me that I am not here to fight, but to establish good working relationships, to be diplomatic, and to encourage communication between the community, local agencies, and other outside groups such as the owners of the resort. This is my goal for the next two years, and with a firey spirit, I prepare myself to entire the lucha for peace.

Chocolate-brown eyes question my every step. What am I doing here? I can give the textbook answer: to raise environmental consciousness on a grassroots level, through projects in environmental education and youth groups, ecotourism, and sea turtle conservation. In theory, these ideas and projects are well-developed. However, how do I explain this to the eight-year-old who curiously inquires why I traveled far to visit her pueblo for the next two years? This week I am beginning to learn the value of building relationships, bridging the gap of language and culture, a sometimes frustratingly slow process. Hours will be spent talking idly about the weather, moments of misunderstanding and awkwardness will pass, and ultimately I will be able to call Los Positos my home. I am in Panama to be an ambassador of peace, and perhaps teach a few things along the way. I am already in debt to these people for the amount I myself have learned.

(The photo was taken during a day at Isla Taboga, and island near Panama City, during a brief vacation before arriving to my site)