Actually, most of our time since my last post was devoted to trying to get Larry's foot healed, making it through the multitude of holidays, and planning for B4B. So there was very little of general interest to report with the exception of our acquiring Finnegan, a handsome and well-behaved golden retriever, from Doc and Charly, whose new digs were too small for his largeness of body and temperament. He has brought a degree of happiness and tranquility sorely needed after last year's medical woes. We also were very saddened in December by the death of our good friend Randy Watts (of Randy and Maryellen, with whom we spent a memorable weekend in Bocas shortly after our arrival and about whom I've written often) after a long battle with liver disease.
Life was disturbed for everyone at the end of January, however, when the indigenous Ngobe-Bugle (NB) went head to head with the government over mining concessions in the NB comarca, semi-sovereign native land of the tribe located largely in our province, Chiriqui. The government had breached a former agreement with the tribe and given copper mining rights to a Canadian company, provoking the NB to protest in the only effective way they know: blocking the Interamerican highway with debris at various points throughout the country. The initial blockade lasted about two weeks, cutting off travel and commerce throughout Panama. After two or three days, there was no gasoline or propane to be had in Chiriqui, no meat and vegetables entering Panama City from our region, and a scarcity of supplies everywhere. We had full tanks of gas in both vehicles and a large propane tank, so were able to last it out, but some folks were actually reduced to walking for days. The initial blockade eventually ended and negotiations were entered into with a Catholic bishop serving as mediator, but they broke down from time to time and new blockades on new roads appeared. A police station was burned to the ground in San Felix on the western edge of Chiriqui, arrests were made, one NB was killed, and no one had any clear idea of what was going on or what would happen next. A blockade was set up outside our neighboring town of Volcan, local thugs joined the action, the police station there was burned and banks were sacked. Although there were no threats against expats in particular or the Panamanian people in general, the disagreement being between the Indians and the government, this made us all a little tense. So far, however, there have been only a couple of half-hearted road blockages north of Boquete on the road to David, lasting a few hours. Negotiations have begun anew at the City of Knowledge in Panama City with a U.N. mediator having replaced the bishop. The government folded on the issue of mining in the comarca, and now the dialogue has turned to hydroelectric projects in and affecting the region. If the negotiations are going badly, the NB throw up a blockade somewhere. So we never know from day to day if and when we might again be cut off from the country and world at large. Travel of any kind is made exceedingly difficult and risky. Lots of folks were stuck somewhere between Panama City and David for days during the height of the crisis.
But if one has to be isolated, this isn't the worst place to be. Chiriqui is the largest agricultural region of Panama, so chances are that we won't starve. For the most part, life has gone on as usual here. (Cliff Thaell, the former Leon County Commissioner, and his family were here for a few months during the worst time, and he reported having been in communication with Lucy Morgan of the St. Pete Times, who, aware of the situation in Panama, had inquired about my wellbeing. Cliff told her he assumed I was fine as he had just observed me enjoying a beer with friends in an open-air cafe downtown.)
We did make it into David last Thursday to check in with Dr. Pretto about Larry's foot, the wound on which still has not completely closed. He declared the foot substantially healed and unlikely to be at risk for reinfection. Larry is walking without aid of any sort and, finally having become free of ongoing pain and therefore being able to maintain a normal sleep schedule, is in good spirits. He still soaks the foot daily and has been diligent about keeping it clean, but I think we're finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and are reasonably sure that it isn't a train.
I stay busy with B4B, my book club, gardening, and running around with friends. I attended the first-of-the-year meeting of the Amigos of Animales de Boquete last week and realized, about half way through, how it typified life in Boquete. Ruby McKenzie, the founder and longtime president, was relinquishing her post to two new co-presidents and made outgoing remarks summarizing the organization's many successes. She spoke of the thousands of animals neutered, the receipt of a grant from the SPCA International, the receipt of thousands of dollars from B4B, the receipt of an anonymous $10,000 donation, the efforts to acquire property and build a proper clinic. The meeting was held in a small dwelling in a downtown residential area owned by Amigos de Boquete, an organization which provides lunch to Boquete school children, funded by local resident Phil McGuigan's family foundation and law firm back in Chicago. (Phil's wife, Alicia, is one of the incoming Animales' co-presidents.) The back of the building actually contains a residential area populated by a Panamanian family, while the barred but otherwise open-aired front is the Amigos de Boquete office, storage, and meeting area, which also contains three computers to be utilized by local children. All three computers were occupied while set-up was going on, but the users eventually moved aside. During the meeting, however, children came and went, neighborhood dogs dropped in for affection from their Animales stewards, and an occasional chicken strolled through until chased out by the dogs. No one missed a word or even stumbled over one. Serious business, life and death matters and high financial stakes, was reported and debated amidst the ongoing neighborhood life, all participants serenely oblivious to distraction. And when refreshments were served, everyone--children, dogs, chickens--participated en masse. Charming. None of the stuffy, closed-door meetings I grew up on.
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