Kuna Yala

I'm back in Panama City after two unforgettable nights on the island of Nalunega in the Comarca Kuna Yala. The Kuna is one of the world's most successful self-governing indigenous tribes.

Even though I read the Lonely Planet section on a trip there 3, 4, or maybe even 5 times, I somehow overlooked the importance of the line that read, "you'll want to hit an ATM before heading to the Kuna Yala". You'll want to? How about "you had better be sure to carry cash for your stay in the Kuna Yala, at least $50 per night, because there are no ATM machines. If you arrive with $27 dollars in your pocket you will be screwed. Any hotel owner you try to make arrangements with will send you to the police."

This is exactly what happened to me. My attempts to get the owner of Cabanas Ukuptutu to accept credit cards, promises, and Brazilian Reals all failed. At what point he asked me what I know how to do, but he quickly changed his mind and sent me back on a boat to the main island to figure out what I was to do with the police.

I had come here to spend a night or two with the Kuna and then hop on a sailboat bound for Cartagena, in Colombia. The trips are usually arranged in a Panama City hostel, but they all depart (or at least stop) in El Porvenir, the same island divided by the tiny airstrip my plane landed on; the same island on which the Kuna police outpost I was being sent to was stationed.

The police weren't able to do much for me. They sent me to talk to Alexis, who was in charge of all the boat traffic in the Kuna Yala. Before leaving Panama, every captain and crewmember had to visit his offices to get an exit stamp. Unfortunately, my three leads for sailboats (a Frenchmen named David; another Spanish, name unknown; a catamaran called the Mystic Wind) were nowhere to be found. My only possibility at this point was to... wait. I didn't have enough to pay a night in a hotel (the cheapest I heard of was $35), no one accepted credit cards or promises, and there really were no cash machines -- except in Nargana', which was about a 2-hour (or 4-hour? No one seemed to agree) boat trip away. One idea that the police chief had was  that I pay a boatman to take me to Nargana, where I could get cash. Gasoline is $5/gallon and it's a 4-gallon trip (8-gallon?) trip, so I'm looking at $20 ($40?) fare... if I can get my boatman to trust me that my card will work, and that the money will be there.

Waiting on this gorgeous island on this sunny morning wasn't so bad. And all of this was kinda funny to me. I can't help but reflect on some of my other recent travel experiences, in which I suddenly found myself without access to any of my cash, and about how my joking around about "having money -- just no cash!" are hardly funny to those that hear it. Suddenly I'm broke, counting my nickels and dimes... and it's actually somehow refreshing. It's easier to haggle over a price when you really can't afford more. I really savor my last beer if I know I don't have money for another.

While waiting, I decided to check out the museum of Kuna culture that's near the police outpost. I cough up two bucks (now down to $25) and a nice guy named Faustino gives me the tour. Afterwards, when he asks me about myself and where I'm from, I explain my predicament. And then I join him at his spot by the beach, where he sits all day (CTFO) waiting for the next museum-goers. There aren't many. Finally, when I'm about to get up and go for a swim, it comes to him: he has a friend on his island who rents rooms for $7 per night. So after some more (very enjoyable) waiting around, he flags down a boat for me and I'm off.

Also hopping on this boat is Julian, a mochillero (backpacker) from Argentina who had been in Bocas del Toro visiting his brother. He ends up getting off the boat with me on Nalunega, to look for this friend of Faustino. I think he had other plans, but mine probably sounded more intriguing. After all, Faustino's friend was named Archimedes.

And he just happened to be the first guy I spoke to when I got off the boat. After a firm handshake and a few laughs (his jokes never stop cracking), we make the 3-minute trek to the other side of the island and his home. He introduces us to his senora, quite a lovely woman in traditional Kuna dress (the women dress traditionally; the men and children dress like westerners), shows us to our room (we got to choose between beds or hammocks -- we chose the latter), and we were off in his kayak to get dinner.

Yes, the deal was even sweeter. Not only did he loan us his kayak, to try our hand at island transport on our own (women in passing kayaks laughed at us), but for $12.50 per night we got dinner too, and the first night we got comida de dioses: lobster! With rice cooked over a wood fire, some lime, and some hot sauce. It really is food of the gods, because after fighting all the meat out of it's spiky shell and down my throat, I felt great and had tons of energy. Just enough energy to go sit on the pier, drink a beer (I could only afford one... okay, I splurged, I'll admit it -- we each had two), and watch the local teens fish. They have a fishing competition, which is actually somewhat brutal. While pulling each fish out of the water, the kid will yell "big mama!" and then swing it over his head, slamming it against the concrete pier repeatedly until it stops flipping about. Whoever catches the most and biggest fish is the winner, and then all the fish are kicked back into the sea. I have a hard time understanding, having read that National Geographic about fisheries worldwide going 'dry', and having argued with Italian waiters over the bill after they try to charge me 35 euros for much smaller ones than these kids were thoughtlessly wasting as they sweep them back into the sea. But apparently this goes on every night, and there's no shortage. Maybe, I wondered to myself, the fish that are kicked back into the sea act as bait for the bigger fish that the Kuna eat. These bigger fish are lured closer to the island, and the grown-up fishermen have to paddle a lot less to catch them...?

Julian turned out to be a pretty cool guy, and he actually exchanged my 50 Brazilian Reals for $23! He'll have a much easier time exchanging them when he returns to Buenos Aires in two days than I or any Kuna ever will. We sat on the pier talking for awhile, and after the sun was almost all the way down, one of the Kuna teens came over and sat with us. Jose is 19 and lives part of his time in Panama City. I don't think he likes it or his friends, who are self-proclaimed "bad boys" (he asked me to translate, and I confirmed that it meant chico malo). He's a good kid, and as I translated "motherfucker" for him, I could tell that he feels much more at home on his native turf. Jose gave us a real good idea of what it's like to be a Kuna teen. Courtship is watched over very carefully (he's not allowed to be alone with his girlfriend -- if they're caught he'll be fined $10, she $5). Not surprisingly couples marry at a much younger age -- but only then are they allowed to really get to know each other -- I wonder how happy couples end up...?

Jose hung out with us the entire next day and we had a great time kayaking around, meeting his friends, drinking beer, swimming by the airstrip, and CTFO.

I'm out of time. Ask me if you want to hear more, or if you're planning to go. I've got Archimedes and Jose's phone numbers.