Comarca de San Blas - The land of the Kuna

The "Comarca de San Blas" (Comarca=district) is an autonomous region that consists of the Archipelago de San Blas and a 226km strip of Caribbean coast from Punta San Blas in the northeast of Panama, to Puerto Obaldia, near the Colombian border, in the southeast. The island of Porvenir is the administrative center of the San Blas Comarca, or Kuna Yala, the land of the Kuna.

The San Blas Archipelago is a series of 378 islands of which only 49 (depending on who you ask) are inhabited by the Kuna Indians . The rest of the islands are mostly left to coconut trees, sea turtles and iguanas. On the inhabited islands, so many traditional bamboo-sided, thatch-roofed houses are clustered together that there is hardly any room to maneuver between them. Most of the inhabited islands are close to the mainland as all natural resources for the Kuna's are there. Water, firewood, construction materials as well as the giant trees from which the Indians make their dugout canoes. They burn the inside and then hollow out the trunk of the trees.

The Kuna Indians have governed the region since 1920s, when the Panamanian government granted the tribe the right of self-rule following a Kuna uprising. Today the Kuna not only govern themselves (each inhabited island has its own chief) but have two representatives in the Panamanian legislature, as well as the right to vote in Panamanian elections.

The Kuna are a fiercely independent people who try to maintain their traditions in a changing world. In a protectionist move, the chiefs of the islands passed a law several years ago that prohibited outsiders from owning property in Kuna Yala. This forced out the handful of foreigners living on the islands and is a direct result why there are only few very basic places for visitors to stay can be found on the islands.

Although the Kuna are increasingly being paid in Dollars for their goods and services, the district's principal currency for the longest time was the coconut. The Kuna grow coconut like crazy. Most of the nuts are exported to Columbia and with the sale of molas, coconut trade is the most common source of cash income for the tribe.

Visitors coming to the islands are enchanted by the beauty of their surroundings and the Kuna's way of life, but reality is that behind the scenes the Kunas are struggling to maintain this way of living and the ownership of their land. The coconut trade is in decline, and it is becoming increasingly difficult for the Kunas to earn a living. Tourism is therefore seen by many as the answer.

Tagua nut - the vegetable ivory

We just added tagua nut carvings from Panama as a category on World Travel Art and like to share some of the benefits of this renewable product from the rain forest with you.

The tagua nut, known as well as the "vegetable ivory" is the seed of the female nut palm that grows in parts of Central-, and South America. Female palms bear clusters of large, brown fruits. Each fruit has woody, pointed horns and contains several large seeds. The seeds have an outer shell and a large white endosperm. When the seed is mature it has a texture, hardness and color similar as animal ivory.

Tagua is a sustainable product with several important benefits to the rain forest and the forest people.

• When the female palm starts producing seeds, they can yield over a century or more as much ivory as the trunk of a female elephant. This fact indeed can have an impact on preventing poaching and the illegal trading o mammal ivory as more consumers fighting to protect endangered species being killed for their ivory.
  

• All harvesting of the nuts, which does not harm the tree is done manually and is a labor intensive task. It does ensure income to the rain forest people like the Wounaan and Embera of the Darien Region in Panama. The construction of the Panamerican Highway through parts of their homelands has resulted in deforestation and they are unable to life their traditional tribal lifestyles. Being part of the tagua trade does provide another way to support the families and has given back self-sufficiency and pride to the forest people of Panama.

• Another important benefit of the trade is the environmental aspect. As long as there is money to be made in growing these trees and keep them harvested, it will provide an alternative to cutting down rainforest for farming. It is estimated that product such as the vegetable ivory can generate up to five times the income of banana plantations and cattle ranches.

Tagua was exported in the early 1900's in large quantities to the US and Europe where it was machined and formed into buttons, piano keys, chess set pieces, cane handles, jewelry and dice just to name a few. Synthetics later replaced the tagua nut on the production lines and today it is a popular material for making eco friendly jewelry and beautiful carvings.

Carving has always been a means of artistic expression for the men of the Wounaan and Embera, although formerly they mainly carved woods. The carving of tagua nuts became a natural adaptation of their traditional skills.

Many of the tagua nut carvings from Panama depict the nature of the rain forest but as well sea creatures and other animals. In addition to figurines and jewelry, the nut is also commonly used for making everyday eating and cooking utensils. The nut is being carved with hand tools and polished with a series of fine abrasives. Larger carvings are made out of more than one piece of nut. Other colors are produced by dyeing the nut with natural extracts of plants, and earth. High quality India inks are used on the pieces with colored details.

A market visit in Guatemala

While living in Central America for almost 10 years, we had the opportunity to explore all of the seven countries on this tropical isthmus that connects North America to South America. During our travels we visited many fabulous, colorful markets filled with arts and crafts from this part of the world.

One particular market, about 87 miles northwest of Guatemala City and north of the beautiful Lake Atitlan with its surrounding volcanoes is being held twice a week in the large, indigenous town of Chichicastenengo. The local's claim that the market has existed for over a thousand years and it is not only a market , but as well a spiritual center for the proud Maya community that still lives in the surrounding hills.

On Thursdays and Sundays, the calm of the town with its cobbled streets and adobe and wood houses is awakened at dawn as the stall merchants prepare to do business. A few locals in Panajachel, where we spent the night told us how crowded and how many "touristas" there would be, but we found our market experience enchanting.

The rows of stalls which had existed for generations had grown on top of each other but if you looked slowly in between the clutter and slow chaos there were real gems to be found. Nothing cut and polished but real honest "sink your teeth into kind stuff" was what we found.

Beautiful Mayan calendar wall hangings woven and hand stitched with heavy yarn of green and earth toned strands of natural dies, wood carvings, baskets, pottery, endless woven textiles and masks used in traditional dances. From the shadow's of Don Enrique's mask collection crept out a wooden coyote head. Its long canine snout hung down to just touch the top of your sternum as you placed it over your face and its teeth just showed under carved gums smiling a sly yodel dog grin.

As we walked the market taking in the scents and sounds of our surroundings, I found a shy grandfather who leaned with his elbow on a stone wall at the periphery near a narrow alley. He was disengaged and seemed surprised when a big "gringon" showed interest in him. He had placed next to him three very old machetes with their leather fringed scabbards.

My Spanish was very passable after all the years in Nicaragua and I introduced myself. He looked out from under his battered straw cowboy hat and greeted me back. We found it hard to communicate at first and evolved to talking with simple words that use hands and eyes to help the meaning. I asked him if I could touch the blades and remove them from their covers. He very quietly agreed with a nod. So just the two of us went about looking at what he had hoped someone would deem valuable enough to take home and reward him for his efforts and the long walk back to his house.

I pulled loose each of the three and could see that they had been someone's pride ages ago , but that like this old man were past their age of prime. I selected one that had a wonderful cast pewter handle that terminated at the butt into an eagle's head. The eyes and mouth had been carved by the forger. Inlaid in the grip on one side was antler and the other was obviously a repair in the past with a piece of hard wood from the farm, carved and fitted.

Every so faintly visible on the sides of the long thin blade was the original manufacture embossing. Made back in a time when people were proud of their products and each piece was formed and fitted by hand. On the left as you held it, feeling its heft in your wrist, was a bull rearing with its front hooves stomping the ground and surrounded by flourishes and swirls of leaves and vines that work their way towards either end of the blade. The right showed the words almost worn invisible by the decades of use that mentions the "Sancerra Hms". In researching it, I found it was the Sancerra brothers or hermanos as the Hms stands for who made this machete and the best date we can put on them is the early 1920s. Like old rifles from the end of the 1800s what stories this cherished tool could tell. Alas it is silent in its tale, but we are content to have it share our wall space till it's ready to tell what toil it has done.

There was no negotiation with the old gentlemen. No haggling back and forth, stomping of feet and false exits no hem and haw. He and I stood alone at his wall and he quietly mentioned a price and then looked up at me with thin eyes. I respectively paid him and wished him well and once in the car regretted not turning around and buying all three.

The best deals are known in the soul and I feel good that for one day back when, I helped bring something good to this old man and he shared with me an old friend of his that I put to rest on my wall at home.

African Batik Art

The art of batik or wax painting is an ancient craft and technique used in Africa and many East Asian countries for decorating fabrics. The batik images or effects are achieved through the principle of wax and water repelling each other, called resist dyeing.

The artistic expression of working with melted wax on dyes is similar to that of painting with watercolor, oils or acrylics and the designs can be as complicated or simple as the artist's desire.

Since batik is a method of painting "negative space", the artist has to envision the complete design in-between shapes and figures when deciding where to apply the next color and the next application of wax.

Wax is painted on to the fabric and the color is filled into the fabric between the wax. The most popular ways of applying wax are either by painting it on with a brush or by pouring the liquid wax on the cloth. With a series of dyeing, drying and waxing steps the individual colors of the batik are applied.

After the last dyeing, the fabric is hung up to dry. Then it is ironed between paper towels or newspaper to absorb the wax and reveal the vibrant colors and fine crinkle lines that give the batik its character.

African batiks are unique pieces of art handcrafted by talented artisans. If you like to decorate with textiles or showing off your love for unique fabrics, then African batiks are definitely for you.

From home decor to quilting and other crafts, batiks will enhance any project with true African flair. Frame a batik, transform a batik into a wall hanging by simply stretching it with bamboo poles, make a pillow case out of batiks, decorate a handbag, make a lamp shade or incorporate a batik into your quilting project.

Let the batik speak for itself and let the beauty be in the eye of the beholder.

Visit us at http://www.worldtravelart.com/ for a great selection of African batiks from Mozambique and Tanzania.

World Travel Art - On walking safari in Zimbabwe

This story took place in Sango, a part of the Save Conservancy in Zimbabwe near the Chimanimani mountains on the border with Mozambique.

After lunch, we headed for a light snooze and we thought with a bit of luck it might turn into a real nap. But Dusty's radio rudely erupted and broke the silence. The insistent Motorola seemed to think nap time was over! Various pairs of partially open eyes were watching Dusty as he managed to half jump and stumble forward increasing the volume of his radio. It could be the sighting of Wild Dog, Buffalo, Rhino or just about any of a hundred other reasons that had to do with Sango's day to day responsibilities of the ecologist, hunter and guide manager Dusty.

SANGO BAYSEE JEU COPY? There it goes again. Dusty, who knows every spot where reception can vary makes his way to the edge of the woven canopy which forms the Great Hall of Sango Lodge and holds the radio towards the open blue sky. We are all up by now and curious.

Dusty's interest and body language was flashing that this time we got a winner. Maruding packs of Wild Dog perhaps? Battling Nyatis or as we know them in English, Cape Buffalo perhaps? The radio held his full attention while walking towards the rack of rifles, he glanced back at us and nodded. The brief conversation ended and he picked up the bigger of his two rifles, his 375 H&H. Looking over his shoulder as I ask him "Whatta we got?", he tells us to get ready NOW as the scouts have spotted and are tracking rhinos. Did he just say Rhinos? One is a bonus, but he is talking about multiples here. "What do you mean Rhinos? I say, "yeah" is his reply "and they are not sure exactly how many".

The rain in the last month in eastern Zimbabwe had been the heaviest for several years and the vegetation had responded in spades. Everything was green and the leaf cover was heavy. A bad thing when you have to keep track of one of southern Africa's worse tempered members of the Big Five. Lucky for us we had some of the best guys in the world doing the hard work for us.

We quickly gathered our kit which was always piled near the door and consisted of camera, binocs and our camo tracking jackets and joined Dusty who had already fired up the topless Landcruiser. In less than three minutes from the call, we pulled out of the camp and headed for the obscure turn off where Dusty had arranged to meet the guides.

There are Scouts at Sango that are partially paid for by the WWF(World Wildlife Foundation) that do nothing but monitor the growing Rhino population. They tag all of the animals and even use radio collars on select members of the population. As we drive down the trail recently cleared of fallen trees from a wind storm and hungry elephants, we pass the two bicycles of the guards sitting against a Mopane.We reduce our speed down to a fast crawl not wanting to make any more noise than necessary. A few minutes more and we see one of the Scouts in his dark green uniform. He is standing in the shade of a tall Acacia tree and signals with hand signs. He immediately puts his finger to his lips to insure that we remain as quite as we can. Dusty stops the engine and we get out leaving the doors open. Joshua as he is introduced to us is one of the stars of the group protecting Sango from poachers. His area of responsibility is limited only by the travel of his precious charges as they wander over the 850,000 square acres of the Save.

We quickly follow him to a larger clearing of an area of perhaps two football fields. Scattered are standing tall trees of perhaps fourteen to twenty inches in diameter and up to 50 feet in height. The clearing is surrounded by small dense Mopane trees and the jumbled up scrub that is this part of Africa. There are thorns here that set the patent for how to poke people. The small ground Acacias with their three inches hypodermics drawn and Wait-a-bit thorns which must have been named by some proper Englishmen. Properly named they would have been Stop-Dead-In-Your-Tracks-or-Will-Rip-Flesh-Off-Your-Bones thorns. Joshua is soon met by Chema his partner in this dangerous chess match they play every day. They are unarmed to insure that they will not put themselves in situations where the Rhinos safety may be compromised.

The five of us gather behind the largest of the two trees and they start to tell us what has happened. Due to the thickness of the scrub they can't be sure of the number of Rhinos but there are at least four of them. We have hit the two-horned jackpot only we don't know where it is. They had followed the radio signal of one big male. The rhinos had come to feed in the clearing when the radio call first came in. After Joshua called us a young Bull Elephant decided to join the party and charged the other animals causing them to leave the scrub. He soon followed suit and we could hear him trumpeting in the near distance of no more than a few hundred yards. Joshua and Chema after finishing their tale of the last twenty minutes action suggested that we start off following the last trail into the scrub. We walked to the edge and just as we started to enter the thickness of the Mopanes, today's peanut packing neighborhood bully decided on an anxiety check by lasting through the air his various victory calls all the while crashing through the smaller trees. Dusty turned at this and looked at us as we brought up the tail end of our group. His rifle, which was at the lower end of acceptable calibers for helping to keep us from becoming the white stuff between an elephants toes, suddenly seemed much smaller than it did in the truck.

He must have read in my mind and even though we had the confidence to follow him to what could be a bitter end, he turned and said that he was not comfortable leading us into what could become more of a situation than we desired. All of this because somebody in a jumbo sized grey wrinkled suit didn't like the way we smelled. We had to trust him when he said that there was no way with one rifle we were going to dance with a combined twelve tons of fun and fury. Fine by us! He instructed the Scouts to go in and recon so we could have some idea of where everyone was positioned. We agreed wholeheartedly and dropped back about 75 meters and took position between another set of bigger trees where we received instructions to make like a squirrel if things did not go our way. Going our way meant that one to five multi ton pissed off bad asses would just stay where they were. There has to be respect of the ground rules.

Joshua and Chema disappeared for about 25 minutes while we waited tucked in behind our potential arboreal fortress. We could hear the young bull breaking off branches to feed on the newest leaves at about then o'clock to our front. We could hear the grunts and squeals of the Rhinos off to our right at about two o'clock. What I would have given for a silent aerial view. Their slightest sounds were still loud enough for us to pick up. The boys came out from just about where we heard the rhinos. They waved us towards them. I heard Dusty quietly open the bolt and check the 300 grain solid tip shell in the chamber. It was Showtime! He held his rifle at the ready across his chest and led ourselves after the scouts. We walked as silent as prey can.

Chema had a plastic bottle where he constantly puffed out a small cloud of ash to check the wind direction. Ash is the one thing that will not alert African wildlife due to the regular incidents of wildfires in the prolonged dry season. Everyone who gets to this point of foot pretty much knows that both Elephants and especially Rhinos have bad eyesight. It is their smell and hearing which are well developed and help make up the difference. In our gang of five, each of us were separated by no more than two feet.

Now the game was changing. We no longer had our nice Acacias to scamper up. The scrub, we were now walking in or rather stalking in, was at the widest enough to hide a kitchen spoon behind. If one of the three guys in front of us screws this up we will be real glad we're paid up on that full coverage third world medical insurance. Oh Yeah, and a side order of common sense cause it seemed like somebody was missing some right now.

Chemma puffed his small ash cloud every ten seconds. I liked that. There was no licking of fingers and holding them in the wind to see which way it was coming from. Has that ever worked anyway? We listened intently about how to stand still and how to climb as fast as you can. When do we know the difference? When I tell you, says Dusty. I looked around and figured quickly that it also was easy to calculate especially as we had no trees around us. The scenario ran through my mind of trying to play ring around the Acacia with some huffing prehistoric beast with a nasal hard on trying to skip a step and slide into home with me being the plate. Chema puffed and we slowly moved forward down what was clearly a game trail. Off to our right, there was a tearing noise. Something was ripping up grass. Are you kidding me? We are close enough that just on the other side of some scrub bushes that we can hear eating sounds. Not cracking bones from a Lion kill that can carry across the night air but soft fresh grass being pulled out of the ground.

Walking like this in Africa brings out all the buried senses we humans have and have forgotten to use. Walking in the neighborhood with big powerful animals that don't really like you brings back some basic instinct on remembering how to listen and sense movement and yeah, we can smell. Now why is it that I don't quite have that lucky feeling right now? Could it be because the last grunting feeding sound has not come from us?

Joshua, who is quietly leading the way ever so slowly now steps into a round clearing of no more than 15 feet in diameter. He stays at the edge and moves slightly to his right. He stops suddenly which causes all of us to freeze. Dusty is on high alert. If there was an alarm light to flash it would beeping out full red. Having gone way beyond yellow or orange levels his head twists to look behind us. Oh great, now that would be a scene. To have someone come in the backdoor especially as our trail is a one way corridor through spines and thorns of all types and shapes. Josh now stops moving forward and steps to the side which allows Chema and then Dusty to step into the arena. As my wife steps one foot forward to follow him, he suddenly raises his hand to stop her and me. He slowly points across the flattened opening to some three foot high dead grass under a small Acacia which is no more than two Lincoln Continentals away from us.

As I am stopped on the trail, I crane around and am able to see a pair of torn grey ears that are flipping back and forth like radar. We know deep down inside that eventually they will stop on our group which is now glued together. I see that Joshua's eyes are wide and I take that to mean its not a good thing. He is screaming without a sound to Dusty and is holding his hand palm down parallel to the ground like he is showing the height of something. Dusty turns from his hips to not move his feet and looks me right in the eyes and mouths the words BA..BY. Now I have read enough over the years to know that if you are going to mess with anything in the world we know then don't let it be a mother and sprout. Irregardless what species it is, what country, time of the year etc.. You don't get between maternal instincts especially when mama weighs about a ton and the best part of three quarters.

Dusty's hand is waving us back now and it is seriously apparent that Joshua and Chema have made a potentially fatal mistake. They knew there were several Rhino of the meaner version in the vicinity. They had tracked a couple of males but due to the growth had never been able to see the spoor of the young one. There is also the confidence that when the Bwana or "Boss" is with you and he is armed well then you do things knowing that he will save the day. As I start to turn and move back down the path, I catch a final glimpse of those ears which have now stopped searching and have triangulated on us. I see in the eyes of the Scouts that they now know of their mistake and everyone is trying to move behind Dusty's mystical 300 grain protection. She had us in her sights but she just could not se us. Then she lifted her head from the resting position. She has had enough data now to move to the next level which was to raise that massive horned battering ram head of hers just in case there might be some ass whooping needed. Dusty's hand is moving faster as he mouths GO to us. No Kodak moments here. The guides slip behind him and cover my wife.

Dusty is now slowly heading backwards watching his feet and waiting for her to jump to action. We are seconds away from disaster. If she raises her head four inches more she can see our forms. If he has to fire there would be no round in the air to scare her. This was Mega Mom coming to rescue Baby. We are trying to move as quickly and quietly as we can knowing that more excitement than anyone needs is just around the corner. As if there wasn't enough going on, our friendly Jumbo decides to get in the action and launches his best cavalry charge blast no more than 60 yards away. A lot closer than he was when we entered the scrub. We keep moving another ten yards. Still no sound is made. No nervous laughter. No exhaling of held breath and slapping on each backs yelling out....."ShoooWeeee", that was a close one!". It still is a close one. We managed to move as quickly as we can to cover what is the longest 60 yards in Zimbabwe. Before we get to step into our main clearing, Joshua who has taken point peers to make sure we are not walking into the waiting arms of our rambunctious trunked friend.

The way is clear and finally we all step out with Dusty still watching our back. We walk the 250 yards to the olive drab cruiser and finally can exhale and try and slow down our heart beat. My wife says that was the biggest adrenaline rush she has ever had. Her blouse was actually moving over her heart. What made this such a ride was the sounds all around us and knowing that they came from two of the Big Five. What a day it was !

Swahili, the Language of the East African Coast

The Swahili or Kiswahili language is of Bantu origin and the most extensively used of the hundreds of Bantu languages in Africa.

The word Swahili means "the coast" and early Arab and Persian merchants that traveled or moved there used the name for the coast and its people.

The Swahili vocabulary has words from Arabic and other languages like Portuguese, English and German which shows how any language that grows and expands absorbs other vocabulary over time. The language developed and spread through the expansion of trading links of coastal towns with the interior of Africa. Swahili became a way of communication between people at trading-places that did not share the same "home language".

Swahili is still widely spoken in East African Countries. Especially in Tanzania efforts were made to promote and preserve the language. It became the national and the official language in Tanzania. Kenya kept Swahili as the national language but all official correspondence is in English.

On the margins of the present Swahili-speaking area, and this includes the border areas of northern Malawi and Zambia as well as the southern Somali coast and the northern end of the Mozambique coast, you should not expect everyone to know Swahili. You might encounter as well something which at first sounds as if it might be Swahili but turns out to be the local language, which has absorbed words from Swahili.

Still, as a foreigner, some knowledge of Swahili will enable you to make yourself understood throughout much of east and central Africa. I was fortunate enough to take Swahili lessons while living in Tanzania and as much of a challenge as it was I loved every hour of it.

Frankincense - An Ancient Trade

Frankincense from the Sultanate of Oman made a considerable contribution to the wealth of southern Arabia in ancient times. Greece and Rome bought massive quantities for their religious rites, with Emperor Nero burning more than the annual harvest of Arabia at the funeral of his wife Poppaea alone. Gradually demand dropped though it remained popular in the Arab world.

The Dhofar region of Oman is believed to have been one of the main ports for exporting frankincense in ancient times. Still today, one of the worlds best quality frankincense is found in the Dhofar area, inland of the mountains affected by monsoon. At the heart of Dhofar is Salalah, located on the southern misty coast of Oman - about a 1,000 miles from the capital, Muscat. Entire souqs in Salalah are dedicated to selling this product of Dhofar’s heritage and other traditional perfumes.

Incense from the Boswellia trees is first harvested when the trees are about three years old. The precious resin drops are harvested by making an incision in the bark of the tree. The white latex-like substance is later collected and, when dried, becomes crystalline.

Frankincense remains a symbol of Omani hospitality. Its fragrant resin is today burned throughout the Sultanate to welcome guests and its aromatic oil is one of the primary ingredients used in Oman’s legendary perfume, Amouage – one of the most valuable scents in the world.