Going to these little jungle towns in the Comarca of Panama is like going to another world. In some ways, it’s so much more uncomfortable than the world I usually live in: no flushing toilets, no showers, very little food variety, lots of dust and bugs, under-fed pets. And in some ways, it’s such a luxurious experience: waking up in the morning to the sun slowly rising and an orchestra of birds’ song, seeing unadulterated starry night skies, hiking through the rainforest to find waterfalls and breathtaking mountain views. It always happens that my first night there I want to leave, and after the 3rd day I want to stay.

On this trip, I saw old friends and I made the first steps in some new relationships. The community in Soloy knows me best. I lived with them, ate with them and bought some bags. As requested last time, they introduced me to a very very old man who knows the Ngobe legends. I have digital recordings (video and audio) of him telling and singing the old legends. I got the feeling it would take a week to tell all the stories he knew.

It was magical. I feel lucky that I get to preserve some of this for my grandchildren, and for the Ngobe grandchildren. I will post them on another page soon.

I also saw some bags in Soloy that were made in another village called Boca Balsa. They were superbly fine. When I showed them to other Ngobe women, their eyes bulged. So my friend Adan (an intelligent young Ngobe man working hard to develop the region) took me on the 4 hour hike up the mountain to meet them. Adan looked so agile and easy climbing in front of me. I tripped along in my expensive hiking boots, half alive, and we finally arrived.

Their area is gorgeous, but very poor. This community is much more remote with much fewer facilities.

I discussed with the women there the concept of fair trade. I spoke in Spanish and Adan translated in Ngobere because most of the women only spoke their native language.

For the second time, I was struck by how easily they got it. I walked them through the thought process: “Imagine how many days it would take you to make this bag from start to finish if you worked 8 hours a day only on it. Now figure the amount of money you need to make per day to provide a good life for yourself and your family (food, education, etc.).” Of course, in these villages this conversation takes about an hour.

But once they all agree on the time it takes and what a fair wage is, they jump easily to what the fair price of the bag is. They tell me with conviction. I’m impressed by this because, in this village, none of the artists can read or write. They have no education in economics or business or anything. But it seems that the value of one’s time is universally understood.

I forgot how things are in this region. I truly do not know when I will be able to come back and buy more bags: it depends on how quickly I sell them. But the other truth is, for most of the women who make these bags for me, there is no way of communicating except by telling them. No phones. No email. No mail. So I took a deep breath, and made my best guess. I told them October.

I am coming back in October. So now, the women are working, making bags with extra dedication because someone said she’s coming back in October to pay them a livable wage.

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