Chino Rojo and making chocolate

Throughout the world in the minds of young children lay visions of sea monsters covered in barnacles emerging from rolling, frothing surf ready to gobble them up and toss their dainty bones aside to be used as toothpicks.  And it's heartening to know that Playa Verde (our latest mulit-day clinic) is no exception! The village is possibly the most beautiful I have visited yet; sculpted sandstone cliffs sagging and crumbling under their densely vegetated tops, home to toucans, sloths and a myriad of other tropical creatures.  The quiet coves below are used to shelter the cayucos whilst the fishermen come home to rest and are the scene of these fantastical childhood nightmares.  The Chino Rojo are a mythical group of underwater pirates that live in submarines and come ashore at night to steal the children, but unlike myths of the west where it is usually the naughty children that get spirited away, here it can be anyone at anytime.  And God forbid that you swim at night, that's a sure fire one-way ticket to the dark seaweedy underworld.  Sadly though, my jaded grown-up mind wonders whether this myth is just an easy way of keeping the harsh reality of childhood mortality away from young eyes; after all, here, pneumonia and diarrhoea are still the biggest killers of the under 5's and the infant mortality rate has a long way to go.

That doesn't stop the kids from whooping and laughing or running off wide-eyed with terror as we finish clinic at sundown and head for a refreshing dip as the sky lights up pink and orange.  In fact, this is without a doubt my favourite part of the day; that first dive into the water after a hot, sweaty, tiring, long day somehow cleanses not only my skin but also my spirit and helps me release the confusions and irritations that inevitably arise in an environment like this.   Washing, however, is something of an art form.  The communities here are very conservative so we swim and therefore wash in scrubs.  I'm not sure if you've even been thrown into a swimming pool in your pyjamas but it's a very similar experience! If you will, imagine distracting the tightly sticking cotton from your skin enough to sneak a bar of soap around your body at the same time as trying to make it froth in sea water, and you will have conjured up the entertaining evening ritual that we perform every night. Despite still feeling sticky from the salt, this is immeasurably better than the slightly sour odour that accompanies everyone at the close of day. 

This multi-day saw a similar spread of illness and public health issues as we usually see, with more scabies, tooth decay and pregnancies than you can shake a stick at. One gentleman in particular touched our hearts; he had some kind of developmental delay and did not speak - he could hear perfectly well, and understand basic conversation but at aged 40 was a comparably 'unaccomplished' man with no wife or family (presumably due to his disability as he seemed like an affable chap).  On attending my consultation, aside from being charmed by his enthusiasm to communicate, I had absolutely no idea what was actually the purpose of his visit.  Was he here with a medical complaint? Did he just want a check up or to say hello and be sociable? Did he want a toothbrush and soap and be on his way? After a good twenty minutes I enlisted the help of the local men in the community who were looking on in kind amusement.  They began talking to him with a combination of sounds and hand gestures: Panamanian sign language!! In fact I think it may have even been Ngobe sign language, even more special.  So with several local men as my translators we managed to deduce that he did indeed have a medical reason for attendance and we were not only able to assess and treat him, but also confidently explain the medications and plan.  Something that I would have been at a complete loss as how to do had I not been so fortunate to have had these friends of his nearby.  It was a wonderful demonstration of the real meaning of community, and one that will stay with me for a long time.

In my writing I do seem to find myself veering away from the medical side of these trips and describing the 'out of work' pieces much more, and I suppose that's a reflection of how many extraordinary experiences it is possible to have (and I am aware that nobody reads this blog to get a discourse on the life cycle of a mosquito).  So humour me as I take us off into the world of chocolate making and bouncing around like a frog with a dozen school children..

The cacao tree, if you have never seen one, is a bit of a bizarre looking beast.  Huge pods sprout off the trunks at random intervals and the process of harvesting, sorting, fermenting, drying and roasting the seeds is complex and intriguing.  Not having anything beyond a rudimentary understanding I will not bore you with my fumbling descriptions but will cut to the kitchen, to the roasting, and to Anna (a fellow volunteer) who is in the middle of grinding roasted seeds.  She stands beside one of the most important women in the village, the Curandero, or botanical medicine woman, who is stooped over an open fire stirring seeds as they roast.  After grinding, the cacao is mixed with milk and a little sugar and patted down into a shallow container.  In a cooler climate I suspect it might set, but here, it is comfortable staying a bit floppy as it rests in thirty degrees heat.  It was an amazing process for Anna to experience and for us to view; we were watching first-hand the traditional method of chocolate making directly from the indigenous healer in the village.  The taste was more earthen than Green & Blacks but all the more extraordinary. 

And what about these frogs? Well one story tells the enormous racket that the real frogs make come sunset.. you would not believe the decibels these guys can achieve. But the other story follows half a dozen local children who took myself and another couple of volunteers on a little explore around the village.  We ended up on the top of a cliff overlooking the bay and after having had our hair plaited by the girls (they go mad for blonde hair) we had a crazy half hour scampering around in the dirt bouncing around like frogs playing 'tag'.  By the time the sun touched the sea a few other children had come down from their homes and had joined in, and the air was filled with the gorgeous sound of innocent, ecstatic giggling as these barefooted potbellied beautiful children roared around like mad.

So with glad hearts we leave Playa Verde behind and look ahead to a busy couple of weeks of day clinics and working in the Asilo.  Time to settle back into Bocas for a while, re-calibrate to 'town' life and re-feed our bodies with leafy vegetables and maybe a beer or two..