|
Time Among the EmberaIn Panama’s jungles, a native people cling to an ancient way of life.By Patricia KatzmanMention Panama and you’ll find most folks associate it with the famous canal, the infamous Manuel Noriega, or a recent movie starring Pierce Brosnan. They probably won’t tell you that within its borders, seven indigenous cultural groups live much as they did before Columbus. Back in the mists of time, one such group, the Embera, migrated north from South America to Panama’s forbidding Darien region. Over the last quarter-century, a few of these families pushed further north, settling in the jungles bordering the Chagres River -- a scant two-hour journey from cosmopolitan Panama City. From its headwaters in the Darien the only impenetrable gap in the Pan-American Highway from Alaska to the southern tip of South America -- the Chagres River feeds into Lake Gatun, world’s second-largest man-made lake and one of the longest stretches of Panama Canal crossing. Bordered by ten-mile swaths of jungle, left undisturbed to protect its watershed, the 50 mile-long canal runs from the Pacific to the Atlantic across Panama’s narrow “waist.” A few small Embera communities are scattered in this border wilderness, largely protected in national parks, including 318,000 acre Chagres National Park and adjoining 55,000 acre Soberania National Park. Friends Ariadna, Carlos and Steve share my interest in surviving pre-Columbian cultures, so early one morning we set out from Panama City to visit Embera Drua, a jungle-secluded community overlooking the Chagres River.
It is near the end of dry season and the river is low. The receding water has left wide muddy shoals teeming with foraging egrets, massed thick as blankets of undulating snow. Dozens of pirouetting yellow butterflies float from the jungle, escorting us past wading blue herons, river turtles clustered on jutting boulders and blue-black cormorants spreading iridescent wings to dry in the sun. Wreathed in butterflies, we zip past a few solitary Embera fishermen. Frolicking children surround a woman standing knee-deep in the river, vigorously scrubbing laundry. Drying clothes drape a beached cayuco on the shore. The children wave excitedly until we round a bend, losing them from sight. The butterflies drift away, back into the jungle. The Chagres winds between steely shale canyons and low vine-festooned banks in a treacherous, ever-changing landscape hidden beneath towering old-growth rainforest; a soaring impressionist’s canvas of lush green hues, spattered with red, yellow and white flowering trees. Dancing like fairy dust on beach-umbrella leaves, slivers of golden sunlight penetrate the shadows beneath the jungle’s dense, tangled canopy. Clamoring birds twitter, chirp, squawk and whistle. Johnson helps us identify tropical kingbirds, tiny three-inch honeycreepers, bright green parrots and a pair of raucous macaws. Aningas perch on exposed branches of skeletal drowned trees, kingfishers and swallows skim the greenish-hued water. High overhead circling hawks drift effortlessly on thermal air currents and dangling oropendola nests sway in lofty branches like hundreds of dirty brown socks hung to dry. Panama possesses the greatest biodiversity of any Central American country. Four monkey species, tapirs, sloths, coatimundis, armadillos, deer, anteaters, peccary, and five cat species, including the magnificent, elusive jaguar, inhabit this awesome wilderness. Among the reptiles are crocodiles, a variety of lizards, turtles, and frogs. And, while most snakes, like the giant boa, are relatively harmless, we don’t want to encounter a deadly coral, bushmaster or fer-de-lance. Halfway through our journey, a gentle rain brings cooling relief from the sweltering tropical sun. Seeping moisture veils the jungle in steaming mists, mutating the clear forest-scented air to an oppressive humid musk. When a blood-curdling shriek echoes through the trees, sending shivers up our spines, Johnson laughs. “Only a little bird.” There is no humor in the grim carrion birds circling low against a background of leaden sky. They are reminders that this awesomely beautiful wilderness holds a life and death intensity. Soon, the clouds drift away, leaving the jungle vibrating with the keening, chain-saw whine of rain-refreshed insects. Birds chime in, voices raised in joyful, surround-sound cacaphony. We watch a three ft-long iguana, camouflaged in jungle greens, scuttle from the water’s edge. White and yellow butterflies dance over the river. When a six-ft. pale green vine, looped around an overhanging branch, suddenly straightens and slithers away, Johnson again chuckles, “Only a vine snake.” Like the iguana and snake, most forest creatures are well disguised. Startled animals, concealed by curtains of trailing vines, crash from the riverbank into the forest’s sanctuary. In a sudden frenzy of shaking branches, howler monkeys bellow “keep away” warnings. We waste no time passing these guys with the nasty habit of hurling feces at trespassers! Safely out of pitching range, a trio of annoyed, furiously hopping keel-billed toucans provide a comical interlude. Soon we begin to hear distant musical trills and rhythmic throbs backgrounding the bird and insect chorus. Beyond the next bend in the river, Chief Atilano and Embera Drua’s welcoming committee, complete with flutes and drums, wait on the stony shore.
Atilano escorts us to the slightly larger “community” platform, where two rough-hewn benches have been installed for visitors. He leaves us with Miguel, who speaks Spanish, a few knowledgeable elders and a couple of curious kids. Miguel tells us he was 20 when the families moved here from Darien 25 years ago, and although many Embera have Spanish or English names, they also retain traditional names, usually those of native animals. They cultivate only what they eat; plantains, corn, root crops, bananas, and a few other fruits. Fish, abundant in the river, is the staple protein. On rare occasions when meat is desired, hunters always in pairs will “go out to the jungle” with 12-ft. spears, often dipped in poison obtained from poison dart frogs. When they return with a deer, spider monkey or wild pig, it is shared among the community.
Women dress in brightly colored skirts fashioned from a length of fabric wrapped around their waists and men wear loincloths called “hajua.” Both men and women wear colored beads and adorn their bodies with black paint in complex designs. The beautiful children seldom wear anything other than paint until they are two years old.
Our time among the Embera is almost over. The day has passed much to quickly among warm, quiet people who lavish their cherished children with love and care. We have been welcomed as friends by kind, generous people; shy, charming women and gentle, smiling men. The late afternoon sun dips behind a wall of towering jungle as we leave Embera Drua. We leave with more than our haul of baskets and carvings. We take with us a new appreciation for simpler ways, demonstrated by dignified, unassuming people who shun the material possessions so important to our own culture. We promise to return. And a last note: That snake on my arm attracted both surreptitious glances and outright stares back home in my neighborhood supermarket. It’s not often a conventional-looking middle-aged lady with a huge snake painted on her arm wanders the aisles! When it finally faded, I really missed it. For those who don’t want to “rough it,” five-star Gamboa Rainforest Resort features an authentic, on-site model Embera Village. Each day, members of a nearby community arrive to demonstrate their art and life ways. Baskets, beadwork and carvings are available for purchase. Before you go:Panama Tourism Bureau (IPAT) Ancon Expeditions Experience Panama Tours Panama Travel Experts: Getting There:COPA Airlines Where to Stay:Caesar Park: Gamboa Rainforest Resort: Holiday Inn: Country Inn and Suites: Canopy Tower: Melia Panama Canal Hotel, Casino & Conference Center
Near Colon, the former infamous School of the Americas is now a 5-star
luxury resort. Dining:Las Tinajas: Text and Photographs: Patricia Katzman |
|
TM
Our transport up the river is a 15 ft-long cayuco
carved from the trunk of a giant tree. Crewing this monster hollow log,
outfitted with a modern outboard motor, are two handsome youths clad in
loincloths and bead necklaces. Although neither speaks English, the young
man who introduces himself as Johnson, speaks Spanish. The other guy just
smiles and nods.
Led by scampering children, we straggle up slippery mud
steps carved into the steep riverbank 240 ft. of them! High above the
river, Embera Drua’s 17 families live in traditional thatch-roofed,
open-sided platforms, elevated 10 feet above the ground as protection from
marauding animals and insects. Supported by sturdy pilings, the house
platforms are built of deceptively fragile-looking gira, a strong wood that
resembles bamboo.
Attractive people with straight black hair, liquid
brown eyes and clear café au lait skin, the deeply religious Embera embrace
an ancient mythology. Traditional, spiritual medicine is practiced in
concert by a “Jaibana” (spiritual man) and “Katwua” (herbalist).
Derived from the juice of jagua fruit, the body paint
serves as an insect repellant that lasts about two weeks before fading away.
Multi-talented Miguel offers to decorate us, so Ariadna, Steve and I get
ornate bracelets painted around our wrists. But Carlos wants a huge snake to
cover his back. I’m jealous, so Miguel creates a nasty looking fer-de-lance
on my arm, stretching from wrist to elbow.
Accepting an offered meal, I fervently hope it won’t be
monkey. Across the platform, a kneeling bare-breasted woman plops something
into a pot of oil sizzling in a blazing wood fire. Shuddering, I fervently
hope the oil will not splash. Fortunately, it doesn’t. This unique culinary
arrangement prompts another question, “Won’t the floor burn?” “No,” says
Miguel. “Look closer. There are bijao leaves under a layer of sand. They
don’t burn.” We look. They don’t. And happily, lunch isn’t monkey. It’s
tilapia, a common river fish. Served in smooth brown bowls -- the hollow
shells of a coconut-like fruit from the samtotomo tree and accompanied by
deep-fried green plaintains -- it is delicious! After devouring every
morsel, we are presented bowls of cool water with floating anise sprigs to
rinse our hands. Imagine, finger bowls in the jungle! I dribble some water
on my face. The fresh herb scent lingers.
A few Embera communities welcome tourists who bring
dollars that will purchase gasoline for the outboards, cooking oil and a few
other staples. True artisans, the people earn these dollars by selling
beaded necklaces, baskets and carvings of wood or tagua (ivory nut).
Baskets made from native plant fibers, including those
from huge chunga and naguala palm leaves, are used for household chores and
storage as well as for sale. After the leaves are harvested, their threads
are stripped, cleaned, dried, dyed, dried again and finally, woven by the
women into beautiful baskets with traditional geometric designs or native
animal representations. The women also create the dyes from natural sources.
Embera men are devoted carvers, and talented Miguel has
almost completed a perfectly proportioned, 12-inch harpy eagle of rock-hard
cocobolo wood. Panama’s national bird, highly endangered harpys are the
world’s most powerful birds of prey. Miguel puts his hands together,
stretching his fingers wide to show the breadth of a harpy’s talons.
Tiny tagua (tah-gwah) carvings are uniquely original
artworks averaging about two inches high. Tagua, “ivory nut” is a palm seed,
slightly larger than a golf ball, ivory colored inside, with a thin brown
skin. Painted with natural dyes, these wonderfully detailed pieces most
often depict native animals, fish or flowers.
