Ngobe-Bugle Schools Background

Please enjoy a brief 6 minute video of the Molejon people taken by Matthew Salton during the 2006 Mona Foundation visit: view video.

Local Education Initiatives

Molejon School, the first rural school in Ngobe-Bugle area of native Chiriqui Province, and those that followed were started as small local initiatives with volunteer teachers to provide basic material and moral education for children who do not have access to government school because of the extremely inaccessible areas in which they live. As the population of these communities is sparse, the Ministry of Education cannot justify the building of schools and finds it difficult if not impossible to place teachers, who in most cases are non-native and unable to communicate in any language but Spanish.

Native teachers have the advantage of being able to teach in both languages and do not find the harsh conditions unbearable. The formidable challenge of educating native teachers is being partially met through the SAT Project, a rural teacher certification program offered by Rural University in Cali, Columbia.

The schools initially worked in an irregular fashion until 1994 when FUNDESCU (The Foundation for Development and Culture) a non-profit NGO established under the sponsorship of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'is of Panama was established to serve the projects.The Foundation works with a board of volunteer directors who receive no remuneration and operate from Panama City - all the funds it raises go entirely to support the projects.

When FUNDESCU started its operation in 1994, most of the projects in the Ngobe-Bugle were not fully structured. FUNDESCU'S role became one of assisting with the administration and consolidation of the projects, as well as that of raising funds, a process which involved continuous travel to the area for consultation and evaluation. With the establishment of the Ngobe-Bugle Bahá'í Institute Council, the administration of the projects is now in the hands of that body.

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Origin of the Ngobe-Bugle Academic Schools

Since the Ngobe-Bugle people fled to these remote hills to escape European invaders over 500 years ago, the villagers have had no access to any type of formal education. The government does not provide public schools for these long-forgotten people. Most are illiterate subsistence farmers, though they dream of a better life for their children. Many are Catholics, Evangelicals, or practice the native Mama Tata religion, and some are Baha'is. They want to preserve their culture, their religion and their way of life. They may be poor and hungry, but they do not want to lose their identity in exchange for material things.

The villagers came together and decided to ask the indigenous Bahá'íis to help them start their schools. They had come to know through years of personal experience that Bahá'ís believe in universal education, including the importance of education for girls, and that Bahá'ís understand the value of unity in diversity - so they would not be asked to give up their cultural identity or be forced to convert to another faith. They also recognized the benefits of an education based on values and principles, rather than math or science alone.

There is no money to pay the teachers for these academic schools, so the local indigenous Bahá'ís have arisen to offer their services for free. While they receive no compensation, and often go hungry themselves, they willingly make this sacrifice in service to their communities and for love of the children.

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Initial Plans

The initial plans were to obtain financial support for Ngobe-Bugle teachers during the transition period until the community can obtain sufficient funds to support them, and to gradually hand over to all communities the control, administration and financial support of schools beginning in the year 2000. This process would entail training and developing administrative capacities in the community. Initial plans were also made to obtain financial support to continue the education of the teachers with the SAT Program for the next four years and to obtain funds to assist the schools with school supplies, extra curriculum activities, curriculum development and legal expenses.

The development budget for the eight Ngobe-Bugle Schools was about $30,000 per year and included 13 full time teachers at $100 a month for 13 months as required by law, Social Security, training courses, school supplies, activities and legal expenses. The Teacher Training SAT Program required a full-time facilitator/tutor for about $5,000, text books from Colombia $3,000, and other administrative expenses.

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Victorino's Story

The Establishment and Development of Ngabe-Bugle Schools In the Chiriqui Region of Panama, written by Dr. Randie Gottlieb ©2003

A Story of Faith, Perseverance, Sacrifice and Love

"Cuando la carga ya no puede soportar,
y las piernas ya no pueden caminar,
nosotros, la gente ind?gena,
inclinamos la cabeza y seguimos caminando.
No hay nada mis que hacer."

When the load becomes too heavy to bear,
And your legs will no longer take you there,
We, the indigenous people,
Bow our heads and keep walking.
For there is nothing else we can do.

Victorino, a teacher

It's 5 a.m. and dawn's first light spreads like a deep crimson gash across the dark Chiriqui sky. Victorino is already on his way. Every Monday, he makes the three-hour walk from his home in Soloy to Quebrada Venado - high in the lush green mountains of Panama. (The journey takes six hours for those unaccustomed to the steep climb in the jungle's steamy heat and dripping humidity.)

Victorino walks quickly along the narrow trails, in a hurry to arrive by 8 o'clock when classes start. With only coffee for breakfast, he is sometimes overcome by dizziness or muscle cramps along the way, as he winds through green rice paddies, green banana groves, green coconut palms and green moss-covered rocks, gently stepping over endless columns of red leaf-cutter ants marching obliviously on their way - each carrying a mouthful of bright green torn from the rainforest, with the thick red clay earth of Panama underfoot.

A dozen school children have been standing lookout since 7:30. Their parents have been working in the fields since dawn, so the children are alone for the day. As Victorino rounds the last hill, a joyful shout goes up and the students rush out to greet their teacher. He names each name and embraces each one with exquisite tenderness. Then, like a mother hen unfolding her wings to cover her tiny chicks, he puts his arms around them all, as they walk together the last kilometer to school.

Victorino Rodriguez, age 36, teaches full time at the Quebrada Venado school. His classroom holds 34 students, grades K-6, and forms part of a growing system of academic schools located on the Ngabe-Bugle (Guaymi) reservation in the province of Chiriqui in Western Panama. The school teachers have formed an Association and elected their officials. They hope to construct a small office someday and establish a library. But for now, the schools have no books, no erasers or chalk, no staplers, rulers, glue, scissors or tape - none of the typical classroom supplies - just the teachers and their students.

Victorino returns home every Friday evening to spend the weekend with his wife and three small children. The youngest, just turned three, is ill with a lung infection, but there is no health insurance, no doctor, and no money for medicine. The teacher works without salary "for love of the children," he explains "and obedience to my Faith." A small stipend of $50 / month barely covers the cost of rice and sometimes a small package of beans or lentils which he has learned to cook himself over an open fire, after school gets out each afternoon. During lean times before the harvest, he often eats only one meal a day.

The people of Quebrada Venado are grateful to their schoolteacher and treat him with obvious respect. As subsistence farmers, they have no food to offer, but take turns providing firewood for Victorino's outdoor kitchen. They have built him a small wood-framed shelter with corrugated zinc panels on three sides, a packed mud floor and a narrow wooden platform for his bed.

There is no running water, so he walks ½-hour down to the river to bathe. There is no light, no mattress, no blanket or pillow; only a single rusty coat hanger dangling from a ceiling rafter to hold his extra shirt – which is threadbare, but pressed and clean. A worn enamel bowl, the design long-since faded away, and a dented aluminum spoon complete the adornments to Victorino's second home.

Week after week, month after month, Victorino walks alone to his mountain school, to bring the light of education to the students he calls “mis hijitos” (my little children). “Are you doing this for your Year of Service?” a visitor asks. “Seven years,” he replies with a gentle smile.

The villagers understand and appreciate his sacrifice, as they too, have sacrificed much in order to educate their children. “I cannot read or write,” says one, “but my children will learn to read and write.” “The Bahá'í Faith has been a light to our people,” states another. “With this school, our children will be freed from the darkness of ignorance. These children are our future.”

The villagers live in scattered huts that blend into the green hillsides. The native people were forced into these hills by European invaders over 500 years ago, and have lived in the same rustic conditions ever since. The school is the only building in the community. Its construction took three years, as men and women patiently carried bags of cement on their own backs along these same mountain trails, and scooped up sand from the river below to mix with the cement to build their school.

No government schools are provided to these indigenous communities, in part because no certified teachers can be convinced to live in such remote and inhospitable conditions; and in part because they are “just Indians.” Some Latinos in the city still refuse to sit next to an indigenous person on the bus, even if it is the only seat available.

“No one else cares about us,” the villagers explain. “Not the Ministry, not the government. There are lots of promises, but no action. We are a forgotten people.”" So they asked the indigenous Bahá'ís to help them build a school. Some are Catholics, some Evangelicals, some follow the native Mama Tata religion, and some are Baha'is. They know the Baha'is will not ask them to change their faith or their traditional ways.

The Quebrada Venado School is open to all, offering a standard academic curriculum from 8:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., Monday through Friday, with a class on “Virtues and Values” on Wednesday afternoons. There are seven other schools, each with a similar story to tell. The school closest to the town of Soloy is a one-hour walk; the farthest, about twelve. Most of the classrooms are literally “schools without walls,” consisting of a thatched palm roof supported by wooden poles.

Last year, when Victorino was serving in a different community, the Quebrada Venado School was closed for lack of a teacher. Over the years, five of thirteen schools were forced to close for the same reason. Many teachers left to find work in town in order to support their families. Then, about seven years ago, a group of young indigenous Bahá'ís from Soloy got together to consult on the urgent need for education in the rural communities. These youth made a solemn pact to offer themselves as teachers, and to remain for as long as they were needed, even without salary, whatever the sacrifice. Benita Palacios has been serving for nine years; Ismael Atencio for eight; Victorino, for seven. “Our own families are poor,” he says, “but how can we leave these precious children without education?”

Victorino himself is a striking combination of determination and submission, strength and humility. High cheekbones, brown skin and straight black hair reflect his Ngobe heritage. He speaks softly, his voice restrained, yet his eyes are intense with fire when he speaks of justice. His compact body has been shortened by days of hunger; his powerful calves, muscled by years of walking the green Chiriqui hills. His only shoes, worn to holes on these trails, are stained with the deep red earth of Panama.

When twenty school teachers gathered recently in Soloy for an educator's seminar they were asked why they continued to serve under such difficult conditions. And every one of them replied, "For love of the children."

And so, like the silent columns of leaf-cutter ants that Victorino passes each Monday on his long journey to school, unnoticed and unsung, the teachers walk, and the villagers carry their bags of cement, steadfastly marching toward a future they may only see in their dreams.

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Training the Teachers

The Mona Foundation began the support of these 7 tutorial elementary schools in 2001 after a site visit. The visiting team travelled 10 hours on horseback over 5 mountains and 3 rivers. We have provided teacher training, financial support of $12,000 per year to cover the salaries of the 13 teachers to serve their approximately 400 students, and by covering the cost of a teacher certification program for 5 of the 13 teachers. These five teachers have completed all their classes and have graduated! The Mona Foundation has now committed to continue the support of the Molejon School development plan to establish a full high school and the teacher training needed.

Building a Solar Computer Lab

In 2001 with support from the Indiginous Ngobe Council, FUNDESCU, a local NGO dedicated to the social and economic development of Ngobe People, the Chiriqui Ministry of Edcuation, and the local high school in SOLOY, Mona Foundation established a solar-powered computer lab on the grounds of that high school, serving 500 students from the local area. The lab was inagurated in November 2003. For the full story and ongoing developments of this amazing project, please see the SOLOY CTLC section of this website.

Ngabe Bukle Universidad

Following our March 2005 visit and meeting with the National Indigenous Council President, the Mona Foundation accepted a proposal from the Council to help support the establishment of a university. It will be the first of its kind on indigenous land. This is a landmark event for the area because you can count the university graduates in the area on the fingers of one hand.

Patterned after the Rural University in Cali, Columbia, the curriculum is relevant to the community issues and needs. Two "Centers of Learning" established at strategic locations in the area will enable 200 students to remain on their lands while attending the university. For the full story and ongoing developments of this amazing project, please see the Ngabe Bukle Universidad section of this website.

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