Thoughts from The Mud

It was a little over a week ago that two low pressure systems stalled on either side of the western end of Panama, looking on radar like two giant boobs. These two low pressure systems dumped a ton of rain on Chiriqui and Bocas del Torro, areas where the soil was already saturated by the heaviest part of the rainy season. The result was havoc, and disaster for some, while others continued celebrating the Panamanian independence holidays. Those two boobs of weather would merge in the Caribbean and become Hurricane Ida, which would eventually dump even more water on Nicaragua and El Salvador leaving, at this writing, some 20,000 homeless, 120 dead, and 500 missing. So we should be thankful that the damage was not worse in Panama.

Two of our dear friends lost their dream home, and I have spent much of the past week ankle deep, and once almost waist deep (and needing to be pulled out) in mud and debris. And throughout the week I have had some random thoughts and impressions . . .

I’m not as young as I used to be!

I had plans to get on the elliptical machine and start walking and lose 5 pounds before I left on the ROYAL PRINCESS . . . 10 days from now. But with 66 lectures and talks to prepare for the DAWN PRINCESS world cruise, which leaves a month after I get back from ROYAL, most of my time has been spent sitting at my desk. Well, I’ve lost the 5 pounds shoveling mud over the last 9 days . . . and I feel the “burn” . . . boy do I feel the “burn” . . . of new muscle. I’m shoveling, lifting and working like I haven’t worked in years . . . and chugging Ibuprophen and living for the evening when I can soak in my hot tub. I’ve done this before . . . but I was a heck of a lot younger! My idea of leadership has always been to lead by doing, and so I figure if I expect the Gnobe Bugle guys I’ve recruited to give 100%, they better see the old man gringo giving 100% even if it’s killing him. Well, it’s not killing me, and I’m not going to let it . . . but it hurts! Most of all what hurts is admitting I’m not 20 any more!

“Feed the baby!”

My wife used to run a program for Ventura Public Health working with teenage moms and dads. Sometimes she would accompany case workers on home visits just to check up on things. One one such occasion the baby was screaming and the case worker wanted to discuss available options for the bewildered teen mom, and give detailed instructions on baby care, totally ignoring the screaming kid. My wife’s evaluation to the case worker was, first, “Feed the baby!” Then deal with the rest of the stuff.

Something similar happens in a disaster . . . or, for what it’s worth in grief. One of the things we used to teach in our seminars for people wanting to help folks going through grief . . . or disaster . . . was that they should never say, “If there is anything I can do . . . anything! . . . just let me know.” Or, “What can I do to help?” . . . which is a little better. Mostly people say these things because they want to feel better and no matter what their sincerity it is self-gratifying and not at all helpful to the person in need, who is likely in shock and has no idea . . . but you’ll feel better yourself for saying something polite, if trite. You got eyes! You can see what needs to be done! Do it!

I loved this week seeing folks stop by, presumably mostly wanting to look, and then saying, “If there is anything I can do to help . . . ” when we are trying to shovel out a mountain of mud! Grab a shovel! How obvious does it need to be? We need help! You think a half dozen folks are going to do this alone?

The folks I admire are the ones who just showed up, prepared to work, and started doing the obvious, or folks who just showed up with food, without asking or being asked, since it was obvious the workers had to eat. One gentleman showed up out of the blue up in his cowboy hat and drawl grabbed a shovel and did the obvious, he started digging. Thank you sir! Some folks none of us knew, showed up with meals! Thank you! A Panamanian guard at the guarded, gated community showed up on his day off just to lend a hand to someone in need. Thank you!

Recovery is a grim task.

This has been a sobering week of recovery archeology. And there have been successes. We’ve been able to find three sets of keys in all the mud, Jackie’s wallet and passport . . . not much else, but they were vital items. We’ve pulled out clothes, what’s left of beds, rooms that have been smashed so that all we can tell is . . . “This is green” so this giant hunk of wall came from the laundry on the other side of the house” or “How the hell did the entire kitchen get moved from one side of the house to the other and crushed like an accordion.” All the while knowing . . . if this had happened at night . . . if Brad hadn’t been in the States and Richard (the house boy) hadn’t been in Panama City . . . we would be recovering bodies, not the remnants of a family’s life.

Who’s responsible?

Well, this was a natural phenomena . . . and “shit happens” and tornados, hurricanes, mudslides, wildfires . . . stuff happens, natural stuff. So, I guess ultimately it is God who is responsible. But maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t build housing tracts in areas that are prairie and for eons have depended on wild fires to disperse seeds and procreate the landscape. Maybe, just maybe, we should look at a valley created by what appears, without heavy rains, to be a peaceful little stream and wonder, “How did this valley get cut over the eons?” But we like to pin blame . . . and in this case there may be more than enough to go around.

Why did Panama allow development along a hillside which has done this very thing as recently as 25 years ago and is known by all the locals, who we newcomer gringos usually ignore, to do this kind of thing periodically? Why did they issue building permits knowing this problem? Who approved the plan for the development given these factors? Didn’t this kind of thing show up in an environmental impact study? Oh, there was no environment impact study, even though one was required. How interesting! Why not? And the head of the Junta Technica, a gentleman by the name of Sr. de las Casas, refused to give the required approval to the project and tried to shut it down several times, yet was over ruled by political considerations. [Sr. de las Casas told me this personally several years ago.] And how did that happen, and why?

I remember when we first came to Boquete and started looking around for property and one of the then well-known developers, who really wanted me to buy a house from him, showed us around not only his project but all of Boquete. He spent about 3 hours with us, and we went with him to pick up his son and rabbit at his son’s preschool. He was charming and wonderful, although I think always a bit peeved with me because I didn’t buy from him. At any rate at one point on that tour of Boquete he got a phone call, and when he hung up he was absolutely elated and said, “That only cost me $5000 to get that approved, and I thought it was going to cost $15,000.” I started thinking about that statement this week . . . wondering just what he meant . . . and thinking maybe at that point I should have gotten back on the plane and gone home.

Our new President in Panama, Ricardo Martinelli, has promised transparency and that government and law applies equally to all regardless of their money and political pull. We shall see how successful he is, particularly with out-of-town developers who come with great dreams looking for shortcuts and fast profits.

And, I know, everyone likes to beat up on the developer . . . but, as I said, there is more than enough blame to go around. The developer was just one character in this sad play . . . which could have cost lives. Makes you ask some serious questions about a lot of the developments . . . and high rises . . . under construction in Panama. Mr. President Martinelli take note! If you want foreign investment you better be able to guarantee  a government that works and can’t be purchased . . . and, for what it’s worth, so far on the surface at least, that seems exactly what Martinelli is trying to accomplish.

We have a long way to go to “community”.

There’s a lot of talk about the “expat community” in Boquete, but, after the past 9 days I suspect 98% of it is just talk. A community responds. A community reaches out. A community helps. I’ve become painfully aware of all the times during the past six years when I’ve thought good thoughts about others in need, said prayers . . . but never really done anything . . . except maybe say those dreaded and useless words, “If there is anything I can do . . . ” I’ve been surprised at how few folks have reached out, grabbed a shovel and helped, even within the “gated, guarded community” in which the tragedy happened. Yes, I know people were shoveling mud out of their own homes, and weary . . . but cleaning up mud from your living room and losing everything are a little different! I’ve been amazed at people who wanted to divert Jackie’s attention from salvaging what little was left of his home and his life, to worrying about “his” mud ruining their grass! “His” mud?!? Just because it landed on his house destroying everything, suddenly it is “his” mud? Give me a break! But people are people . . . and if I’ve learned anything in 30 years of the ministry, people are mainly concerned about themselves. You can talk about “saving the world” but navel gazing is a lot more fun, and certainly a less strenuous commitment.

What I find appalling is the comments by some other expats, who for whatever reason didn’t choose to live in this particular development that happens to be experiencing a problem right now . . . trust me, others will follow . . . comments to the effect that, “It serves those folks right!” and they seem to take some kind of personal satisfaction in another’s loss.

Boy, do we have a long way to go in building a “community”!

You learn who your friends are.

I sometimes think that over the years we’ve known them, Brad & Jackie have entertained half of Boquete. Various clubs have enjoyed their weekly hospitality, consumed their booze and wolfed down their food . . . yet have any . . . or better “many” . . . of these folks shown up to help in time of need? Brad was an impeccable host . . . but when the china is all smashed, the booze bottles are broken, the cards are at the bottom of the pile of mud and the fancy gaming table is smithereens . . . where is everyone? [See "Community" comments above]

Pondering the future of Boquete

Sure . . . I do. This is our home. This is where we’ve chosen to live. This is where we are vested and invested. And Boquete will survive, and thrive. There have been bumps in the past and there will be bumps in the future. I remember driving through Vail a number of years ago . . . more than I’d like to remember . . . and saying, “Who in their right mind is ever going to pay $90,000 for a home beside a river in Vail?” Today . . . try $9 million! So Boquete will survive and weather this and future storms. But it is a double whammy . . . a once in 20-year flood last November, and again this November another “once in 21-year” flood . . . that, coupled with a world-wide financial downturn . . . all this has taken its toll. Several well-known, flagship projects . . . mostly at this point fancy architects drawings or partially constructed dreams . . . are rumoured to being taken over by banks, or failing all together. This is certainly a time for caution if you are thinking of coming to Boquete, but . . . it has always been a time for caution! This is not the time to come to Boquete and to be so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, that you leave your common sense at the baggage claim at Tocumen Airport.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all . . .

Yes, we got reamed . . . but driving from Palmira to Boquete in the morning, with the sun shining you are overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. It really is “paradise”. Unfortunately there is no “paradise” in this world that is immune from nature’s occasional rampage or human failure or tragedy. Is it worth it? You’re damned right it’s worth it! I was talking with a local expat who moved here from Carlsbad, California, and in the midst of all this chaos I asked if he missed the traffic and hassle of Southern California, and he looked at me as if I were nuts! Who wouldn’t choose this?  And one of the things that makes living here wonderful are real friends like Brad & Jackie who would do the same thing for us if we were in need.

And would I buy in this particular development again? Yes! It is reality . . . reality, like all reality, of course has a few problems . . . but it is reality, it’s not a pipedream, it’s not “going” anywhere. It is beautiful! We had wonderful friends there and we could walk to their houses for dinner and drinks, and walk home . . . now we have to wend up the mountain on dark and sometimes foggy roads. Yes, I’d buy there again . . . but I would pay very close attention to the construction . . . although in the case of this particular home the construction was the best money could buy and unfortunately no one could build to prevent a mountain from falling down . . . and I’d pay very close attention to the location of the home and avoid being directly up against the canyon walls. I’d talk, talk, talk and talk some more to locals as well as expats. Is this home built on a pad that was carved out from the side of the mountain, or has this ridge or whatever been there as long as anyone can remember? I’d do my due-dilligence and check with engineers, local building officials, and architects – but you should do that anywhere, right?

Anyhow, that’s how it all looks from the mud.

PS – And since we uncovered a few bottles of wine today, I’ve consumed most of a bottle tonight . . . so if I’m being too frank or too honest . . . blame it on the Chardonnay.