Balseria Part 3: Post Balseria Self-Promotion

(February 19 – 22)

Now, if I'm going to unnecessarily take a four foot branch to the leg, I want some credit.

A few hours later

Back in my site, I made it my mission to show everyone my injured leg, in order to prove that I played. So, the morning after balseria, I limped out of my house, intending to flash my leg and tell my story to anyone willing to listen. I've been doing this ever since. The way I see this wound, I only have about another day, max two days, to milk this. Then I'll just be walking around telling people that I threw balsa, without the marks to prove it. That's a short window for self-promotion.

Everyone's first reaction is laughter of disbelief. Reenactments have had people doubled over laughing. While everyone may know about balseria, few (relative to the total population) ever actually play. So I'm getting mad respect. Especially when I tell them that I hit the other guy more than he hit me.

During my self-promotion, one guy told me that I only got hit because a pregnant woman was watching and slowed my jumping. He said I should have immediately applied some of her saliva to the wound after getting hit. Sometimes the right answer is also the most obvious one.

The promotion is working too - I've had multiple people stop me on the street and ask if it was true that I played balsa. I flash my leg and tell the story. Word of mouth, baby.

On Saturday (the day of), I didn't think I'd be able to walk the next morning. My leg hurt so much that night, I applied the most Panamanian medicine possible - Vicks. No matter what happens to you here - catch cold, bruised leg, severed arm - they apply Vicks.

While I definitely limped on Sunday, I also played two games of baseball, so I guess I didn't get hit as hard as I was thinking I did.

A week later

This may sound strange, but I'm actually slightly disappointed that I didn't sustain a more serious injury. Maybe every two days, I'll jab my leg with a balsa stick on the exact spot of the injury to maintain the wound. Then I would be the stuff of legends: the gringo that threw balsa with the locals and sustained an injury that never healed.

In any case, I guarantee one thing: I will not be remembered for the work I did in this community, I will be remembered as the gringo that threw balsa and got tagged in the leg. And I'm fine with that.