Beisbol en Panamá

27 May 2012.  Sunday.


What a pleasant afternoon it was.  A couple weeks back we discovered that each Sunday there is baseball at the local baseball stadium.  Today we decided we must try it out.  We were already in town, so it was easy to hail a taxi.  However, because the ball park was in the opposite direction from home, our usual destination, the taxi driver instinctively swung the car around and headed toward home.  We got him to stop quickly enough, but then a confused conversation ensued.  When I concluded he was not going our direction, we hopped out of the taxi and crossed the street to the spot where we began.  After a few confused looks and hand signals from the taxi driver, he turned the taxi around and we hopped right back in the same car.  Off we went.

A couple of kilometers later (all uphill), we arrived at the stadium.  Admission was free, so in we walked.  The grand stand was not large, but there were bleacher seats for maybe 300 or 400 people.  Only about a hundred were there today.  The game was already underway, so we just grabbed a spot on the bleachers and began to absorb the experience.  Quite a few people were watching us as we walked in and climbed to our seats.  As we settled in, it was hard not to notice immediately the play-by-play announcer.  He was standing on top of the scorer’s booth immediately behind home plate.  With a microphone in his hand, and powerful speakers to broadcast his insight, he was talking non-stop.  I mean non-stop. 

His only breaks came between the half-innings.  Then he rested while lively Latino music entertained us.  In his first break after we arrived he came right over to us, and after determining we could speak a little Spanish, he asked a few friendly questions.  As soon as his microphone was live again he presented us to the crowd as baseball fans all the way from Alaska in the United States.  He, and the crowd, welcomed us as I waved my hat in acknowledgement.  After that most of the people returned to watching the game instead of us.

It was a very friendly crowd.  Much cheering, and no jeering.  No one ever yelled at the umpire—I appreciated that.  And such good behavior despite what looked like a more than ample flow of beer throughout the stands.  Beer and soup.  No hot dogs.  You could get an empañada if you wanted, but the soup was almost as popular as the beer.  Each bowl (of soup!) contained a nice piece of chicken.

The teams were all local.  We saw the end of one game and the start of a second, so we saw 4 teams in action.  It was adult league ball.  Lots of 20- and 30-somethings enjoying the activity.  The best of the teams was mostly young guys—much faster and a little less rusty.  Some of the men on each team had similar uniforms, but others wore completely different colors.  Like maybe at one time they had enough uniforms, but some had long since disappeared.

Of course I noticed the umpires.  The plate umpire was fully equipped and in a typical umpire uniform.  The base umpire wore the right pants, but the shirt wasn’t quite right.  Both of them seemed experienced, but their mechanics were clearly not learned at the Jim Evans Academy of Professional Umpiring.  At one point I was afraid the first base umpire was going to have to make a call at third base while still standing behind first base.  He was lucky not to have any close calls to make from so far out of position. 

I itched to get into the game.  Maybe in our next assignment I’ll find a place to umpire some games.  Baseball is the national sport of Nicaragua, you know.

When it was time to go, we waved goodbye to our fellow fans and hailed another taxi back into town.  What a fine afternoon.

It's For the Birds

29 May 2012.  Of course the main reason we came to Panama is to learn Spanish.  But we came to Panamá because it also has some fantastic birds for watching.  So we don’t just study Spanish here.  We are birders, after all. 

Some say the most beautiful bird in the world is the Resplendent Quetzal.  The “most” qualifier is debatable, but the “beautiful” part is beyond debate.  We can personally confirm that.  We’ve seen several now on three different outings.  It is a special bird to see.

Since leaving the USA six weeks ago we have seen 140 species of birds, and of them 101 we had never seen before.  Even so, we have barely scratched the surface.  Panama is about the same size as South Carolina.  In that area it has about 975 species of birds.  That is a greater number than exist in the USA and Canada combined! 

About a week ago we visited the home of two birders we recently met here in Boquete.  Would you believe they are from Kodiak, Alaska?  They took us out birding a couple times in the forest, but for a real treat they showed us how to see hummingbirds up close.  I mean really close!  Peggy took a picture.

We are now in our 6^th week of studies.  All along we have planned to take a one-week break after week 6, and now it is really close.  We will travel to some different spots and walk some new areas, experiencing Panama and looking for birds all the way.  Can we find another 100 new species in week of more intense birding?  I think so.  I’ll make it a goal.    

Survivor Español

15 May 2012.  After 3 weeks we made it to the end of our first course—Survival I.  Hooray!  But on the first day of week 4—just starting Survival II—we almost voted ourselves off the isthmus. 

That day, yesterday, a new professor introduced us to pretérito—simple past tense.  It turns out there is nothing simple about it.  I know it was just an introduction, and we weren’t supposed to understand or remember it all on the first day, but holy moley.  At this point I can’t really explain my frustration because I don’t understand enough to know what the problems are.  Round 2 of Survival Español is going to be a lot tougher than Round 1.

Take today, for instance.  If there is any group discussion question that frightens me, it’s this:  What was the best experience of your life?  At that question my whole life begins to flash before my eyes—you know, like when you’re dying—and with all the blood draining rapidly from my brain, nothing comes to mind as my best experience.  In fact, I can hardly think of any experiences, let alone decide which is the best.  Information overload meets evaluative failure, and nothing happens.  And what could be worse?  The professor expects an answer in past tense Español!  Sheer panic!

The alternative question—what was the worst experience of your life?—is easy.  That answer comes to mind in a single pounding heart beat.  But the professor doesn’t really want to hear me say that my worst experience is being asked to describe in class the best experience of my life using past tense Español.

 

But I really think it’s going to be okay.  Someday soon.  We’ll make it.  I’m sure.

To Cheat -- To Be

3 May 2012.  Today our Spanish professor taught us to cheat.  But she has introduced us to many other verbs, nouns, and adjectives, too, so “to cheat” wasn’t that much of a surprise.  It was okay to cheat, “engañar” she said, by looking in the textbook for help on the answers to our exercise.  So today I cheated, though just a little.

We have been in classes for almost 2 weeks now.  How can it be that we have learned so much, but know so little?  I am amazed at the progress I feel I have made, yet equally amazed at how insanely difficult it seems to actually use my new Spanish in conversation.  But really, we have learned a lot and we’re having fun doing it.

 

We started at the lowest level of instruction—A-1 beginners.  Our class initially had 4 students, but one soon dropped out in favor of more intense private lessons.  That left the three of us, a very pleasant 50-something man from Oregon, Peggy and me.  We and our Profesora Tamara are quite compatible together.  She patiently, slowly and carefully explains things to us in Spanish, in ways that we understand.  And she makes it both interesting and fun.

From the very first day she spoke to us in Spanish, using English only when absolutely necessary—maybe about 5% of the time.  So at first we struggled to understand almost everything she said or wanted us to do in class.  But by the end of week one, we were understanding lots of what she said, even though we couldn’t have said it ourselves.  Toward the end of the first week we had a discussion about our different religious faiths (Christian Reformed, Seventh Day Adventist, and “protesting” Catholic).  La Profesora seemed genuinely interested in that.  We also had a discussion about the economies of Panama and the United States, even about the differences between the Republican and Democratic Parties—try to explain that to your friends in Spanish, or even English!  Today she explained to me in Spanish a story I had seen (but did not understand) in the news on TV about a North American just arrested for a series of 5 murders (of other North Americans) committed in Panama about 3 years ago.  So, you see, learning Spanish here is not just about grammar.

So far we have learned, in detail, how to use only 3 verbs, and 2 of them have more or less the same meaning.  For those readers with unbounded curiosity, the verbs are “ser” (to be), “estar” (to be), and “tener” (to have.)  So we spend a lot of time in dialogue talking “am,” “is,” and “have.”  Sometimes it’s hard to be creative using only 2.5 verbs.

Well, I have (“tener”) some homework, and because I am (“ser”) a good student I must do it now so my Profesora is (“estar”) pleased tomorrow.  Got it?  Bueno!

Three Days In The Life

22 April 2012.  Sunday.  I am sitting on the veranda of our host family home in Boquete.  Thank goodness the veranda is covered, because the rain now pounding on the room sounds like the roar of jet engine—but much louder than you would hear from row 30. We wake up each morning to beautiful partly cloudy skies and very comfortable temperatures.  By the time we have walked the 2 kilometers (or so) into town it is mid-morning and we are hot and sweaty.  Around noon, more or less, the clouds have intensified, and by 1-ish it has started to rain—hard.  At 4 or 5 or 6 the rain stops for the day and the clouds begin to dissipate.  Usually there is lighting and thunder during the rain, but not a lot.  When it rains, it quickly cools down and a 1,000 frogs promptly break into chorus.  That is the way it has been each day—all three since we arrived.  The rainy season started about a week ago.  It will last beyond the end of our stay.

The village of Boquete is located in western Panama in a valley in the foothills of Volcán Barú, Panama’s highest mountain at more than 14,000 feet.  Several mountain streams rush through the valley.  It is green and lush here (remember the rain?) with lots of trees and flowers.  The bird life here is quite amazing.  For instance, in all of Panama there are 51 species of hummingbird.  So far we have identified only Rufous-tailed Hummingbird and the little Garden Emerald.  But we haven’t really been birding yet.  We’ve just watched from the yard and as we walk into town to explore, visit the school, and go to church.  Already we have 5 “lifers” here in Panama and another 8 along the way in Nicaragua and Costa Rica.  But the birds here aren’t all strange.  Yesterday we saw an Olive-sided Flycatcher and Yellow Warbler in the same tree.  In another month or so both will probably be singing to our friends in Alaska like they do every spring. 

Señora Rivera, her daughter and grandson are our host family.  Their home is very comfortable for us.  We have our own room with a private bathroom and entrance.  The rest of the house we share with the family.  Last night we watched the Bocas Tortugas baseball team beat the Los Santos team on national TV.  I watched the umpires pretty closely.  The plate umpire seemed quite good, but the man at first base was clearly having a bad night.  A batter called out at first who clearly beat the throw, and, much worse, he called a balk that wasn’t a balk.  I couldn’t understand the Spanish, but the body language was unmistakable.  After a long and vociferous argument, including some “help” (a no-no for umpires) from the home plate umpire, the balk was “un-called.”  The two runners were returned to their original bases and a run taken off the scoreboard.  Much embarrassment for the first base umpire.  Our first few days with the Roviras have been interesting and fun.  We haven’t been to a Spanish class yet, and the Roviras will not speak English to us.  But smiles, food, and baseball seem to have a universal language.  We are getting along just fine.

What next? Where next?

16 April 2012.  Our 9 month “season” of rest and reconnecting in the USA has at last come to an end.  Today we sit in Managua, Nicaragua wondering what comes next and where.

Well, in the short term we know what’s next.  By this weekend we will be in Boquete, Panama and enrolled as students in a Spanish language immersion program.  We’ll stay a couple months, Lord willing, and maybe, just maybe, we will go home semi-conversational in Spanish.  At least I think weeks of 4 hours of class a day should get us a little beyond ordering dinner at a taquería.

This part of “what’s next” is fun, at least in the anticipation.  I’ve been so excited about it that I’ve been using a few phrases I learned years ago in a community school evening Spanish class.  “Buenas tardes” I said to the official at Immigration.  “Hola” I said to Miguel, the taxi driver, and “me llamo Gordon.”  To the kind woman making up our room here at Nehemiah Center I even dared “¿Como te llama?”  She replied “Dora. ¿Y tu? “  I smiled, and with great satisfaction, replied “Gordon.”  But that and “gracias” is about the full extent of it.

So that’s our near future in a nutshell.  What about after that?  “God is calling me to some kind of justice effort.  Not like the American legal justice system,” I told the Nehemiah Center founder today, “but God’s kind of justice—something to do with the poor, the oppressed, and other down-trodden people God has so much concern about.  I don’t know what that picture of a justice ministry looks like when it’s finally painted, but that’s the basic outline of picture I see.”

Tomorrow we’ll begin to discover what some of the CRWRC's (Christian Reformed World Relief Committee) partners are all about and meet some of the people actually carrying out the work.  First we will visit with the folks at the Nehemiah Center in Managua.  The day after that we will visit the Christian Center for Human Rights and hear about their work all across Nicaragua.

We are very much looking forward to this.  But we are already hearing that as much as is going on here, similar ministries are also underway in Guatemala, Costa Rica, Honduras, and El Salvador.  There are many opportunities—and no shortage of need for volunteers.

So as we go about learning our new language, we must also listen and learn to discover where we are actually being called to go.  Tans go!  Ok,  … but where?

Shall We Call It A Day?

30 June 2011.  It was two weeks ago when we both stopped working to prepare for our move back to the states and to say good bye to all our friends.  We used the whole two weeks, paring down our possessions and packing our bags.  And spending a few last and precious minutes with as many of our Tanzanian friends as we could.  Unlike earlier departures, there was no mad rush to get out on time—we had a leisurely morning greeting all of the last minute well-wishers.

Our departure today was for the last time.  Is the work done?  No, the work is never done, but there are times when one must move on to another calling.  We pray that our presence here will have a lasting impact—that  whatever work God has begun will continue until God says it is completed. 

We have been so blessed to share most of the last three years with our Tanzanian friends at the Africa Inland Church compound in Mwanza.  They showered us with love, and we tried to do the same in return.  It was hard to say good-byes.

So just let me share my parting with my good friend Byemero.  Over the years he and I spent countless hours together, working and discussing whatever cultural or doctrinal issues came to mind.   Each day when we had grown tired from our work, Byemero would ask, “shall we call it a day?” marking the end of that day’s time together.  And so it was today.  There was no good-bye from Byemero.  And none from me.  Our last words were simply these:

“Shall we call it a day?”

“Yes, let’s call it a day.”