Points Beyond: Finding Marcella in the Kuna Yala

In 1994 we first visited the San Blas Islands in Panama,

home of the Kuna Indians, and took this picture:

Wichubwalla girls, 1994

The photo has always been a favorite of mine, three adorable girls with an adult woman all dressed in the traditional Kuna garb of mola blouses, wrap skirts, and head scarfs. The three young girls look happy as they each display a pet bird atop their heads. It’s one of the images and memories that lured us back for another visit to this idyllic spot.

And so, nearly 20 years later we have returned to visit the San Blas Islands again, home to the indigenous Kuna Indians who inhabit an archipelago of 340 islands, as well as a stretch of virgin rainforest on the mainland of the eastern Caribbean coast of Panama. Although part of Panama, the Kunas are autonomous and self governing. Non-Kunas are not permitted to invest or buy property in their territory, which they call Kuna Yala. Kuna people are small in stature (only the Pygmies are shorter as a group), energetic, friendly and welcoming of visitors to their beautiful territory.

An island in the San Blas, Panama, home of the Kuna people.

A sailing ulu in the Kuna Yala.

Kuna sisters.

Kuna men are expert seamen, paddling and sailing their dugout canoes - ulus - all over their stretch of the Caribbean while fishing and diving for seafood, providing food for their families, with the excess shipped off for sale in Panama City.

Kuna women are master seamstresses, sewing intricately embroidered molas that they wear and sell to tourists. The Kuna speak their own language, although most also speak Spanish.

Expert seafaring Kuna men.

The Dock at Wichubwalla.

Wichubwalla, Kuna Yala, Panama.

Wichubwala, where the original photo was taken, is an almost perfectly round island, chock-a-block full of homes connected by dirt foot paths. Actually, huts is probably a more accurate description; most are constructed of bamboo sticks with tin or palm-frond roofs. We landed our dinghy at the small cement pier where a large (by Kuna standards) store is located. We checked out the store briefly and then set off along the dirt foot-paths to explore the island. Kuna women stopped us for mola “show and sell” at nearly every hut.

The Store, colorfully painted.

Main Street, Wichubala

Wanna buy a mola?

Although I was interested in their handiwork, I had something else in mind. I was there on a mission: to find out what had happened to the woman and girls in the photo. By now the girls would probably be in their mid-twenties. Would they still live on the island? Were they married? Have children? I had my iPhone in hand, with the original photo loaded up and at the ready.

Typical housing in the Kuna Yala.

From left to right:
Marisol, Niema, and Marcella.
Salina standing behind.

The first group of women I showed the photo to smiled and pointed, jabbering among themselves. They seemed to recognize the girls, and said the woman’s name was Salina, but that she was not living there anymore. They also rattled off the names of the little girls. I asked if the girls lived on the island, but our language barrier became an issue, and they walked me over to a younger woman. I showed her the photo and she beamed...these were her contemporaries and she clearly knew them: Marisol, Niema, and Marcella. She told me that Marisol, Salina and her daughter Niema now all lived in Panama City. But Marcella, the girl on the far right in the photo, still lives here on the island. She is married and has children, BUT, I was told that she was “inferma” - she was sick. It sounded like it was a serious illness, although she didn’t explain further, other than to say that I wouldn’t be able to visit her. I was disappointed, but still excited to have learned what had become of these women.

Pet parakeets.

We continued to walk around the island, found a few molas that caught our interest and bought them. While chatting with one young woman, I noticed a couple of green pet parakeets near her front gate. I remembered my photo with the three girls with parrots on their heads, so I pulled out the photo again to show her the girls with the birds. My new friend squealed with delight. Did she know them? Oh yes, she knows Marcella...and she turned around to point out a boy of about 6 years old standing behind her. This boy was Marcella’s son!

Finding Marcella's son, quite by accident.

Turns out Marcella is her dear friend (possibly family?). I asked about Marcella’s illness; was it very bad/malo? Yes, she said, very malo. And then she said one word, very sadly: “bebe”. A baby. Marcella had lost a baby about one month ago. I nearly cried. Of course she was “inferma”! How devastating. I completely understood now why I couldn’t visit and didn’t even ask...except that my new friend immediately took me by the hand and walked me directly to Marcella’s hut. She marched right in with the photo in hand, Marcella’s son trailing behind.

And so, I found Marcella.

Marcella. Found.

She had the same shy smile and manner. Marcella looked at the picture, smiled and giggled softly, and showed the photo around to the other women in the house. A bit later Marcella’s brother-in-law came running in with his cell phone. He wanted to take a picture of my photo with his cell phone. Everyone was chattering, laughing and enjoying the moment. I was so happy to have found Marcella, but I felt badly about barging into her home while she was still recovering from her loss.

Although she was welcoming and friendly, she looked tired. She was thin and wan, except for a bit of a tummy bulge, evidence of her recent loss. But, she smiled warmly at me and was clearly pleased to have seen the picture of herself. She said she must have been about 8 at the time of the photo, and told me she has three children, aged 4, 6 and 8.

A grandmother brought out some of Marcella’s molas for me to look at, and I was delighted to be able to buy one - a lovely turtle design.

Kuna grandma.

Turtle mola, crafted by Marcella.

Marcella has grown up over the past 20 years, and in many ways, so has the Kuna Yala. In 1994 it really was “...no phone, no lights, no motorcars, as primitive as can be...”. Now it seems that many Kunas have cell phones, and there appears to be electric power at many of the villages. TV antennas and satellite dishes have sprouted from thatched rooftops. The young people want to know if we will post their pictures on Facebook, and some schools have internet access. The forward march of “progress” and technology seems to have reached the San Blas.

Antenna sculpture.

Decorative satellite dish.

Chatting with some Kuna kids.

Yet much seems to have stayed the same.

Although there are plenty of outboard powered pangas, men still ply the waters in dugout canoes under paddle or sail power.
Fathers can still be seen teaching their sons where the best fishing spots are.

And women are still teaching their daughters how to stitch a fine mola. I don’t know what changes the next 20 years will bring to the Kuna, but I certainly wish Marcella and her tribe the very best.