"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be."          Douglas Adams

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Panama

I arrived in Panama at Puerto Obaldia on December 30th with two crew aboard. A third crewmember was arriving by flight there that morning. There was little wind, but a very large swell was running, and the harbor offers very little protection. We entered slowly and found that, in the corner, the swells were knocked down just enough to make anchoring feasible, although I had no intentions of staying over night! We cleared into the country (with overtime fees, since it was a Sunday) met the crew, and left for Puerto Perme just up the coast.

Puerto Perme is a small, completely protected and very beautiful little bay a short distance from the village of Anachukuna. We spent 3 days here enjoying the scenery, tackling some boat projects, and beginning to meet the Kuna. Among other activities, we got a chance to try paddling an "ulu." the traditional Kuna dugout canoe. Now, I have many years as a recreational and competitive canoeist, and figured this would be  easy, but the very round bottom, great weight, and low freeboard meant this is not the easiest canoe to paddle I have ever been in! I ended up with tons of respect for the Kuna when I would see them paddling their ulus out in the open seas beyond the reefs, surfing them back in after a day of fishing, or sailing them between islands. 

The next 2 weeks were spend sailing along this stretch of the Panama Coast, know as Kuna Yala. It is similar to an Indian Reservation in the US, in that the Kuna have pretty much total autonomy in their territory, and the Panamanian military and police, along with the US Coast Guard, are not allowed entry.  The Kuna practice subsistence agriculture in the mountains that line the mainland here, typically live in villages along the coast or on islands just off the mainland, and use the islands further offshore to raise coconuts. Coconuts were traditionally the primary source of cash for the Kuna, and supposedly as recently as 10 years ago they were used as cash in the stores or with the Columbian trading boats that provide the basics that the Kuna lack, such as flour. Income these days comes more from the women selling molas and the men catching and selling crab and lobster.

"Mola" in Kuna means "shirt" or "blouse", but has come to mean to outsiders the traditional fabric artwork that adorns the women's blouses. My crew and I seemed to have become addicted to buying molas, as they are very beautiful and very affordable for unique, hand-made art. If you are interested in learning more about Molas and seeing pictures of them, visit my Mola Page by clicking Here.

Along the way, we visited a number of uninhabited islands, remote anchorages, as well as the largest village in Kuna Yala:  Ustupu is reported to have over 10,000 adults. Since Kuna families are often large (no doubt a result of no electricity at night....What else are you going to do in the dark!) I figure the total must be around 30,000 minimum, or about 10 times the population of all of Saint John. The islands the Kuna live on are typically only a couple of acres in size. Every Kuna village I saw was densely populated, with huts packing the islands from edge to edge, and often only narrow lanes passing between huts. But, all around the village might be other islands, the mainland coast and the mountains that have no almost no one living on them, so there is plenty of unspoiled beauty to appreciate. In fact, the Kuna lifestyle, along with rules that prevent outsiders from owning land in Kuna Yala means that this is one of the most unspoiled coasts of the Caribbean!

I have visited  some beautiful places around the world such as the Grenadines and the Azores, and the San Blas would rank right up there with them. But, what makes the San Blas stand out in my mind are the Kuna themselves.  I have had friends who are Cherokee, Lumbee, and Zapotec, who grew up in their traditional communities. I have traveled a good bit in North American and Meso America. But no place have I seen an indigenous people who have kept intact their culture so thoroughly as the Kuna. The Kuna may have prevented outside influences from getting too strong of a foothold, yet they have never prevented outsiders from visiting. There are words in Kuna that derive from  English items brought by American sailing ships 150 years ago. Before that was the Spanish. Later,  the Columbian and Panamanian traders. The number of yachts who visit the San Blas is increasing each year, there is a budding tourist industry, and cruise ships now make stops in one area of the San Blas. The Kuna do not shut out the world, but they regulate in what ways they interact. They do this primarily by allowing outsiders to visit, but not to stay. Mostly, though, they live their traditional lives because they choose to. Many Kuna young men go to school in Panama City. Numerous Kuna have lived part of their lives outside Kuna Yala in places like Costa Rica, Panama City, and Boca del Toro. Yet, frequently, they return to their homeland and return to their traditional ways of life. In Kuna Yala, if one is a Kuna anyway, one need not worry too much about having food to eat, a roof over ones head, and friends and family to appreciate life with. Sure, you are expected to help farm or catch the food, but there will be something to eat. Sure, cash, and the things cash buys might be limited, but I can see the wisdom in deciding to spend ones life fishing each day instead of laboring in the city. And the payoffs seem to be there as well: I rarely saw a Kuna who was not smiling! They are quick to laugh and seem truly to enjoy life.

One island captured my heart in particular: Mormake Tupu, or Maquina, as it is known in Spanish  Mormake Tupu is a small island with about 300 people living on it. While it has the densely packed huts of most Kuna Villages, it also has a few more trees rising in the courtyards of the family compounds to give it a greener look than most. It is a simple, traditional village, with no  electricity (some villages have a few solar-charged streetlights, and at least two I know of have a generator they share), a small school that goes through middle school, and a main community building, known as a congreso. There are also two churches on the island. The congreso is where community business is transacted, headed over by the "Sailas" (sometimes spelled Sahilas, it means more or less, "chiefs"). Sailas are elected by the community, but serve for life.  They are always men, and the role is a mixture of political and spiritual. In Maquina, the congreso serves a double purpose: while most villages have a "chicha hut" as well, Maquina does not, so uses the congreso for chicha ceremonies. What, you ask, is "chicha?"

Chicha is a naturally fermented beer, made from sugarcane. Among the Kuna, it is consumed in ceremonies that are celebratory in nature such as special holidays or as part of the puberty rites for girls. My first visit to Mormake Tupu was in order to attend a chicha festival.

When Fellow Traveler first arrived in Maquina there was quite a welcoming party to greet us! First to reach us was an ulu full of young boys with smiling faces! I will presume they were there to satisfy their curiosity since we were a change from everyday life, but perhaps they were also hoping  for the small gifts such as school supplies that some cruising boats bring with them. We had no gifts this trip, but did have a pan full of popcorn ready to pass out!

The next to arrive in the welcoming party where ulus of women wanting to show us their molas. Now some cruisers sit in their cockpits and look on as each women holds up samples of her work in the ulu, but I decided early on that, if we were going to look at their work, we should invite them aboard so they could be comfortable and we could look closely. So, each woman in turn went through her collection. I find my initial reaction is to like all of them, and to be drawn to the elaborate, more expensive ones! But, over time, I have figured out that I particularly like the traditional geometric designs, so that is what I usually focus on.

After the welcoming party dispersed and we had consumed some lunch, we dinghied into the island to look around and inquire about the chicha festival. We were called into the Congreso where we paid the usual fee to anchor and visit ($5 in this island, and the fees go into the kitty for future chicha festivals! Brilliant!). A young man talked to us in Spanish, telling us they were currently testing the chicha to decide when it would be ready for the festival. In the meantime, he said he would show us around the village. Now, when you stroll around any Kuna village, you can count on the young kids running up to you wearing big smiles (and usually little else), taking your hand, and walking with you. Occasionally a toddler had the opposite reaction, bursting into tears at the sight of me and fleeing back to their mothers. No doubt all the facial and body hair leads them to believe we are some sort of wild beast (Kuna are usually very glabrous, with few  men even able to grow a mustache). Of course, any women who did not make it out to the boat  (and even some that did) tried once again to sell us molas. The teens promptly challenged the younger members of the crew to some basketball (very popular in Kuna Yala, and nearly every village, no matter how small, has a court). and demonstrated that height alone does not equal dominance on the court! Eventually the word came down from the Sailas: the chicha festival would be two days later.  

Early in the afternoon the day of the chicha festival we arrived in the village and were greeted by Idelfonso, the guy who had first invited us to attend. In the main cruising season he works as a tour guide, leading people up into the rainforest and to a waterfall with a nice swimming hole he knows. He took us to the house of the girl whose puberty rites where the reason for the celebration. Later that day, at a time only known to the woman whose spiritual role allowed her to determine it, she would come and cut the long, child's hair from the girl. At this point she became a young woman. Traditionally, at this age (she was 12) she is then eligible to marry, but most Kuna now wait until in their twenties to marry. This is something that varies from village to village, however, and even in Maquina, I have one friend who is currently 22, and he married at 16 and his bride was 12. Traditionally, marriages were also arranged, but that has also ceased in most Kuna villages, including Maquina.

As we walk through the village, some of the women asked if we were going to attend the chicha festival and seemed pleased when we said we were. One woman said she was eagerly awaiting it, looking forward to some drinking and dancing! While waiting for the drinking to begin, the young tyke in the photo to the right asked me to take his picture. When I did so, he held out his hand and said, in perfect English (probably the only English he knew) "One dollar!" It is normal to ask permission in Kuna Yala before taking pictures, and many people do ask a dollar for you to do so. This kid's tactic did not work on me, though!

A little later the Chicha drinking commenced. Inside the congreso . The men were seated on one side and the women on the other. Religious leaders, known as Candoles, burn cacao beans and tobacco as incense. Smoking is normally rarely seen among the Kuna, but like bars of the past in the US, the Kuna seem to like to smoke while drinking. Cigarettes are passed out to all who want them, and soon the large hut is quite smoky. Before long the first rounds of chicha started. Five men served the chicha using calabashes, starting with the "sailas" (chiefs), then the Sailas returned the honor, after which the servers went around the room, all the men in groups. At the same time, groups of women come up to fill calabashes for their side of the Congreso. Each group, as it is served,  is expected to chug their portion  simultaneously; to not do so brings bad luck. Sometimes a simple dance is performed before guzzling the chicha, with all the drinkers going around in a circle first one direction, then the other while chanting. Of course, my crew and I had no reservations in joining in this dance, to the amusement of the Kuna.

OK. I know. You want to know what chicha taste like. I suppose I should lie and tell you it is like nectar of the gods. Or perhaps that it resembles rancid frog piss. Of course, I was not drinking it for the taste but for the cultural experience. The first calabash full I cautiously swilled it (is that possible?) just in case it induced a gag-reflex. Well, the truth is, it was ok. I doubt there would be a large market for it outside of Kuna Yala, but neither was it terrible. I would describe it as similar to a hard cider with a bit of a malt vinegar taste. Like most alcoholic beverages, it got better the more you drank.

To answer the next obvious question, yes, much was consumed! And yes, we did get mildly drunk. Before the rum was brought out, that is.... Details did start to become somewhat fuzzy about halfway through the afternoon, but once the chicha was all consumed, the girl in whose honor the festival was held was brought in with a scarf over her head and eyes. Everyone lined up, and someone placed in her hand a calabash of water, which each took in turn, then spit out. This was followed by a (gratefully small) calabash of rum mixed with some water and coffee, which was placed in the girls outstretched hand where each person took four shots in a row and tossed them down. Kuna shots! Being the typical sailor, my taste for rum, and thus my ability to consume it, is greater than for chicha.

At this point, the party began to get more "casual". The Kuna play flutes the same as the tribes of South America, and these were brought out. People relaxed, chatted, danced, sang, and drank the shots of rum that were liberally passed about. Being an aspiring blues harp player, I had my harmonicas with me at the request of Idelfonso, who planned an impromptu jam session in his house following the chicha festival. A guy who had befriended me decided I should play them in the festival, and asked Saila Ricardo, perhaps the oldest of the Sailas, if it was ok. The Saila decided it was fine so long as he could play too. So, with him playing chords I did my best to impress them with a cross-harp lead. Sounded great to me! And since everyone else in the room was equally intoxicated, I had the ideal audience! Finally, with the sun setting and the village getting dark, it was time to retreat to the boat and begin recovering. I regret that there are no pictures of the festival, but we were instructed that they were not allowed during the party. So, as the saying goes, what happened at the chicha party stayed at the chicha party.  Probably a good thing as there could have been some embarrassing photos of me with a couple of flirtatious young Kuna men!

The next day. nursing some wicked hangovers, the crew and I sailed off from Mormake Tupu to explore the unspoiled outer cays of the San Blas. But, I already I knew I would return when I got the opportunity.

Two weeks later, alone and provisioned for a charter with two friends, I needed someplace to spruce up Fellow Traveler and prepare mentally for my charter. Well, no question where I wanted to do this: Maquina! Upon arrival the welcoming committee came out in force once again! This time, in addition to popcorn, I had found a bunch of squirt guns I had picked up on sale for reasons unknown. Tired of having them rattling around in my cabin, I decided they would make the perfect kid's gift. And thus began the World War III of squirt gun fights! Being American, of course, I might distribute some weapons to my friends, but I kept the biggest for myself: THE SUPER SOAKER!!!

The kids were pleased, but the Mola saleswomen were not (I hardly wanted to get pressured into buying a mola from every woman in the village!) . To my good fortune, another boat sailed in within 15 minutes of my arrival, so, with promises to return within the week with my charter guests, who would buy "muchas molas", they paddled off to the latest arrivals to try their luck elsewhere.

The next several days I felt like Captain Cook in Tahiti. Or maybe Lt. Christian (leader of the Bounty mutiny). An endless array of smiling children, friendly kids, and happy adults all stopped by regularly to roam the decks, sit smiling in the cockpit, offer me bananas, crabs (similar to King Crab) and lobster, etc., or just satisfy their curiosity about this gringo sailor.  The teens and young adults, no doubt bored with a village that has no lights after dark (Mormake Tupu is pretty traditional, and has no electricity) quickly adopted Fellow Traveler as the evening hangout, gathering to chat and play cards. The game of choice is Quinientos, a version of Rummy, but played as teams. Well, I love a good card game, so quickly joined in. Of course, the cold beer in the fridge was an extra draw for some, but only a couple of the guys drank beer. Good thing, since those that did drank it to excess! The heaviest drinker was Olo, but he was such a nice guy and a pleasant drunk, it was hard to shut him off. Pardon the aside, but this is a good place to tell you a story about Olo:

Olo and his Ulu.
Olo was the first of the young men to “adopt” me as “anai” (the Kuna word for "friend"). He likes playing cards, but mostly, he likes drinking beer. In return for the beer he drank, he usually showed up with a gift of yucca, fish, etc. He is, in some ways, more typical of Kuna of the past, I think. He did not pursue school past 6th grade (this is a decision made by ones parents, the Sailas, and the individual jointly). At sixteen, he married, and his bride was 12. Now, at 22, he is the proud father of chubby 14 month old. He, in typical Kuna fashion, maintains fields in the hills on the mainland a few miles away, and also fishes with a passion. The typical Kuna day is to depart around 6am for the work of the day, whether fishing or farming, and be back in the village by early afternoon to relax, play with the children, socialize, etc. Travel is almost always by ulu, either paddling or sailing.

Olo’s ulu is a fine example of the Kuna dugouts, with a mast step and supports for seats carved into the wood. The seats are dovetailed into their supports, and the ulu is painted in bright designs. There is only one problem. Olo can not tie a knot for shit. Twice, during afternoon visits , we had to retrieve his ulu when his knot failed to keep it attached to my boat.. Well, the last night I was in Mormake Tupu before needing to leave to meet the charter in Porvenir, I asked the guys to pack it in early so I could get some rest. So, at 10 the last cards were played, the last beer consumed, and all went up on deck to see (see? It was a totally moonless night!) that Olo’s ulu had disappeared again. Se fue! Gone Walkabout. We need to go search in my dinghy. So Olo, another young man named Ida jump in my dinghy and off we go in a pitch dark night looking for an ulu. By the way, the designs on his ulu are mostly on the inside. The outside is blackened wood. By the way, there are reefs all around the area. NP. I have two locals who know where they are with their eyes closed.

Well, an hour of searching accomplished nothing except use all the gas in my tank and soak the three of us with cold salt water, so we return to the boat. There is another ulu there, plus the dinghy, but all decide this should be a sleepover, so I end up with Kuna lads crashed out all over my boat. At dawn we are up and off to search again, easy, I am sure, in the light of day. Well, so I thought. It took a couple more hours of searching before, finally passing right along shore with the motor tilted up to avoid the shallows, they spot it, submerged, and lying alongside a tree trunk where it blended in pretty easily. Upon examing the beach further, I wondered why we looked anywhere else, since it was littered with all the trash from Mormake Tupu that gets dumped in the sea (yeah, paradise is not perfect. In Lt Christian’s paradise, they had a propensity to eat each other. Here they only throw their garbage into the sea).

My charter was rapidly approaching. I have usually done them without crew, but it is very tiring sailing the boat, leading snorkels, doing all the cooking and then, exhausted after a day of work and fun, still needing to do the dishes. Impressed with the young man who helped Olo and I find the ulu, I decided to offer him a crew position for the charter. This decision was made easier by the fact that I could pay him a lavish salary for Kuna Yala without affecting my (rather modest) charter fee. It turned out to be a good decision. The guests enjoyed his company, he did a good job of washing dishes, cleaning the guest quarters, and helping out with snorkeling. He also got us lobster and crab to boot! In addition to his salary, he left with a new mask and snorkel, a valuable gift to a Kuna as it now allows him (or another family member) to earn an income by gathering lobster and crab. These are sold to either cruisers or to buyers who fly in to the small runways that many of the villages maintain. I presume they end up at your local Red Lobster.

Ida, by the way, had never been more than a few miles from his village in 3 directions before the charter. The fourth, he had been 15 miles to Nargana, where he goes to school.  He has never seen a car (There is only one place in Kuna Yala where a 4WD can get in). He is going to be studying computer repair, but he had never used a computer before. Well, my charter guests brought me a new computer with them, so, by the end of the week Ida was pretty proficient with the basics. The only game besides what comes with Windows XP I have is Chessmaster, so Ida figured out how to play chess. He particularly liked the animated pieces in the kid's area of the program. Like most Kuna his age, he is intrigued by the outside world and all the "toys" that it seems to possess, and intends to leave Kuna Yala after he finishes school. But, like others before him, he might someday realize what he is giving up by leaving, and find his way home.

The picture above shows Nubasidup, a perfect little castaway island a few miles north of Maquina.  While anchored there I watched two men trolling for fish in the atoll-like lagoon that surrounds this picturesque little island. They did it in an ulu. Under sail. With one guy on a trapeze that consisted of nothing but a rope from the mast. The helmsman steered with a paddle in one hand and held a handline in the other. Now, living and working in the Caribbean, I have seen many a high-dollar, twin-diesel, tuna-tower equipped, fish-killing machine come back empty-handed after trolling all day. Eight years of pulling lures behind my sailboat as I crisscrossed the Caribbean has hardly depleted the world fish population! So, I was rather impressed when this ulu pulled up later in the day with a boat full of jacks, mackerel, and tunny for sale. And surprise! One of the fisherman turned out to be my friend from the chicha festival. I am not sure exactly what he told his fishing partner, but I did understand “Saila Ricardo” and “harmonica”. No doubt the Kuna word for “plastered” was in there somewhere also.

My drinking companion turns out to be married to a woman from the next village West of Maquina, Soledad Miria, which owns Nubasidup and keeps a caretaker there.  Sometimes this caretaker job rotates, but sometimes people prefer the simpler, more private live on these islands. My friend from the chicha festival is one who does. Again, being matrilocal, he lives on the island owned by his wife’s village, not Mormake Tupu’s coconut island.

Of course, following the charter, I needed to return to Mormake Tupu one more time to drop off Ida and play a last round of cards and drink a few more beers with the guys. I only had 2 days as I had to get to Colon in order to renew my Visa. As I sailed off, I could not decide whether I wanted to proceed through the canal into the Pacific this year, as I had planned, or perhaps sail around this part of the world some more. My crew had found another boat while I was on charter, so I had no commitments to push on....but still I could not decide. Finally, three things came up that made the decision for me. Or should I say, they went down: First, when I finally got my mother on the phone I learned she had been in the hospital. I alerted my younger brother to this, who in learning more, tells me her health is indeed declining. The other two factors are the stock market and bank balance, both steadily slipping.  As Mike, of Katmandu, says, "Money makes poverty bearable." Beyond that, though, I hope to have many more years of cruising ahead of me, but I will only ever have one mother. If I pushed on to the Pacific, it is many miles and months until I get to somewhere I could safely leave Fellow Traveler so I could go back and assist or visit her. 

So, the Pacific will have to wait a year, it seems.  I have an airline ticket back to St John, a job waiting for me, and  a haul and storage arranged for Fellow Traveler. But, first stop, HOLLYWOOD!

March, Colon, Panama

It has been 13 years since I last worked in the film industry. But, they finally called: THEY WANT ME for the next JAMES BOND film. Well, actually, it wasn't me they wanted, it was Fellow Traveler. She has been hired as "background scenery" for 2 weeks, with Colon standing in for Haiti. I am not sure about this background scenery bit, though, because as I type, Mr Bond (well, his stunt double, anyway) is doing a high-speed 180 degree turn around Fellow Traveler with two boats in pursuit and a camera on a crane on another boat shooting it all and contributing their wake. I keep hoping he hits my dinghy as I could use a new one.... Next shot: they blow something up. I was off the boat the day they crashed a couple of boats, but the jump stunt is coming up. Be sure to watch it.... Fellow Traveler's big break!