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Monday, September 26, 2011

The Frontier Land

What does it mean when we say this is a frontier land?

A friend suggested to me that the term carries an unpleasant implication of prejudice against the Native people who live here, who once were the only human residents. But I think it’s an appropriate way to speak of this land.

The seacoast cities, and some of the more gringified inland communities, are certainly laden with all the unpleasant trappings of Western civilization. But even there you see Ngobe Bugle people dressed in their traditional raiment – about the only concession they make is to wear shoes in the cities, because of the invaders’ penchant for letting broken glass and dirty needles accumulate in the streets. These Ngobe Bugle pass through like the wind, like ghosts and spirits. They do not tap their feet to the loud Latin music blaring from loudspeakers on the public buses and in the shops.

They say not a word. Their faces, carved from the same stone that their ancestors immortalized, show no expression. The Panamanians and the gringos pay them absolutely no attention unless they stand directly in front of them and take some of the invaders’ money out of their pouches to buy something.

But I look at them; I am again and again struck by the similarity of what I am seeing to photographs of the American West in the 1880s or so. I see a proud people learning to turn invisible before they are made to disappear by the advancing flood of, ahem, civilization. I love especially to watch

the Ngobe Bugle women passing through the Panamanian world in their colorful dresses; they are eternally unhurried and unruffled, simply visitors from another world, not participating in this one; they are more like wild animals in their utter separateness. Sometimes I surprise them when I greet them in their language – their expressions do not change, but you can see in their eyes the thought, “What, you see me? You, a foreigner, can speak words in our language?”

* * *

As they come to me to be written, new chapters will be added to this blog, so stay tuned! But the blogs up to a certain point are now chapters are now in a book.

So, to read more, you need the book A WRITER IN PANAMÁ.

The book is available in three formats:

HARDCOVER (large-size edition, photographs on nearly every page)
SOFTCOVER (large-size edition, photographs on nearly every page)
SOFTCOVER (smaller size edition, no interior photographs)
E-BOOK (all versions available, including Kindle and Nook, no photographs)

To browse or order, CLICK HERE!


The book is also available through Amazon (USA, Great Britain, and continental Europe) and other major book retailers.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Where the Wind Blows

I learned the other day that my little house back in the Catskill Mountain region of upstate New York was destroyed in a hurricane. Apparently the combination of wind and water pulled down a tree, which crashed through the roof into what had been my bedroom. If I had been in it at the time, I might well have been killed. At minimum, I would now be homeless and destitute. But, instead, I am alive and well and very happy in las Tierras Altas (Highlands) of Panamá.

One friend walked through it, talking to me on the telephone and describing the damage. I learned that thieves had come in, in my absence, and stolen pretty much everything – furniture, dishes and silverware, and precious family heirlooms like my great-grandmother’s handmade coverlet from the 1880s. Later, a neighbor came by and, with my permission, took what little was left to give to the poor. Since a lot of people, including families I knew, had lost everything in the hurricane, I was glad to do what little I could in this way.

What are things? Just things! All my life I have preached and taught that we must not allow ourselves to become possessed by our possessions. As one medicine man taught me, “Walk lightly upon this Earth.” For many years that little house with my few belongings was all I had. So it’s gone. In any case, I have had no plans to return to it; I couldn’t afford a return even if I wanted to. All I have lost is the option of going back, which I have never intended to exercise. In any case, I have had no plans to return to it; I couldn’t afford a return even if I wanted to. So, whether it exists or not is all the same to me. So, let the mortgage people, the insurance people, the tax collectors, and the lawyers fight over the bones. For, whether it exists or not, I have

what’s most precious: my memories. And look how Creator has looked out for me: Rather than losing everything, I’m safe here in another country.

Another country? I’m in another world!

* * *

As they come to me to be written, new chapters will be added to this blog, so stay tuned! But the blogs up to a certain point are now chapters are now in a book.

So, to read more, you need the book A WRITER IN PANAMÁ.

The book is available in three formats:

HARDCOVER (large-size edition, photographs on nearly every page)
SOFTCOVER (large-size edition, photographs on nearly every page)
SOFTCOVER (smaller size edition, no interior photographs)
E-BOOK (all versions available, including Kindle and Nook, no photographs)

To browse or order, CLICK HERE!


The book is also available through Amazon (USA, Great Britain, and continental Europe) and other major book retailers.