San Blas, April
Down here in this corner of the Caribbean the North East trades are only a component of the daily weather which can be dominated by the local conditions like the Cordillera mountain range which links the Rockies with the Andes forming the backbone of the Isthmus. At its narrowest part only fifty miles separate the Caribbean from the Pacific. Unless there is a dominant weather event the evening breeze pours down off the mountains blanketing the daytime trades for miles offshore. At night here the stillness can be complete.
It’s usually just a whisper of voice or maybe a small splash from a paddle but lying in your bunk you sense their presence, out there in the pre-dawn. The Kuna are up and on their way to work. Back at home the morning commute is that part of modern existence pouring stress to your morning like cream to a coffee colouring the rest your day. Down here, there is no congestion, no gridlock just an everyday open weather event with the elements, sky above, sea below, as the Kuna make their way from the island villages to their small farm plots on the mainland. The villages were moved generations ago for defence to the outer Cays from the mainland. Choice of vehicle is the Ulu which comes in that perennial model the dugout and just like at home where we have rust proofing to protect from road salt here too they have rot proofing covering the outer shell with a layer of tar that if you are lucky usually leaves a streak on your boat’s topsides when they come calling. If you are not so lucky then it leaves a nasty scratch!

Paddles are roughly carved, very wide bladed with a large knob on the top and when sailing it doubles as a steering rudder. The mast is bamboo or a small stripling tree trunk with a smaller one acting as a boom. Together they support a sail which is usually an old bed sheet or sacks sewn together. The whole thing installs and collapses very easily from its lateen type rig. The small farm plots are cleared by burning and machete and can be bananas, mangoes, cocoa, cane sugar and of course the mainstay, coconuts, which sell here for 25 cents each. A family may own a coconut tree or grove miles from its village. Side by side lots are delineated and marked by palm fronds carefully laid out sometimes adding a fallen tree or two. Every coconut is owned by someone.
Helping your selves is a grave offense. They say a family here selling twenty coconuts in a month have enough money to get by supplementing their diets with the produce from their farming along with fishing. The staple here is rice bought off the trading boats. In this part of the San Blas known as the eastern San Blas the villages are traditional and are intent in fostering their way of life. The area where we were heading towards is known as the western San Blas. Villages there have already abandoned the traditional ways probably because of their closer proximity to the rest of Panama. Bamboo and stick have been replaced with concrete, thatch roofs have given way to the tin and the paddle has been replaced by the two stroke outboard. Even in the more traditional villages I have notice the youth here aren’t much different than anywhere else. Dressing hipper with the obligatory cool shades and maintaining a detached attitude modelled on the gangstra hip hop thing that seems to be universal.
The early morning commuters return to the island by noon and most will stop by the boat to give you a friendly hello and offer to sell you whatever they have harvested. By North American standards the sizes are small and have none of the dressed look that signals the modern grocery. The Kuna bake small buns like miniature hot dog buns and on the sweet side. Depending on the time of day you might have to visit several houses to find out who is baking and selling. The cost is 5 0r 10 cents depending on the size or vendors mood. Some canned foods and beverages are available in the small tiendas . For the most part they are the front room of someone’s hut. Men dress like workman in other warm climates. Women on the other hand seem to spare no effort to dress up. Intricate beading makes up a legging on their calves and their dresses are made from colourful cottons topped off by their mola blouses. The molas are known worldwide and their price depends on the intricacy of their designs and stitching. No two molas will be the same. This is a matrilineal society for the most part where the woman picks the man for a mate with the male moving into the woman’s family compound.
The centre of each village is dominated by the congress building where the elders known as Sailas lay in their hammocks hold session to a seated crowd and governing the village and the surrounding areas. At one time the population was as high as 500,000, but now is around 60,000. Marriage outside the tribe is not allowed.
The huts here blend in with the landscape and every family seems to have its own compound enclosed by a palisade of sticks. Kuna are the second shortest race after the pygmies and many times when strolling around I had to duck overhangs or lose an eye. Everyone sleeps in hammocks. In most villages you are not welcome after dark. In the evening from SeaCycle we watched a show a flashlight signals and listened to a steady stream of whistles. We never could figure out whether it was just the younger people courting or everybody having a go at communicating. By 9 or 10 pm there wasn’t usually any sound but the jungle night music with the constant backbeat of ocean surf in the distance.
To be continued...