Where to start?

I'm sweaty, I'm muddy, I stink, and I need to cut my fingernails. I left my future home, Cerro Iglesias, this morning after a week's visit, and the title of this entry applies in more ways than one. Where do I start?
A month ago, when we recieved our sites, everyone told me how great my site is and how much work there is to be done. Well, there definitely is a lot of work that needs doing. And maybe my site is great; after hearing about how some of the other site visits went, I certainly don't have anything to complain about. For those of you consulting Panamanian maps, Cerro Iglesias is in the middle of the Comarca Ngabe-Bugle, a semi-autonomous indigenous province, kinda like our 'Indian Reservations.' No casinos though. Or fireworks.
Quick history lesson: The whole Comarca region is mostly, if not entirely, farming country made up of families and communities who grow just enough to survive. Cerro Iglesias is a hub of the surrounding area, with a large school, a coffee cooperative, and lots of foreign and NGO money coming in from outside. So the town is growing, and even though it doesn't have electricity or managable roads, the last volunteer just completed their aquaduct and this summer might be the first that the people don't have to go down to the creek to get water.
So where does our intrepid, terrified narrator fit into all this? Well, he really has no idea. Seriously. Because Cerro Iglesias is somewhat of a sexy place to throw humanitarian money, many projects have been undertaken. The Japanese version of Peace Corps helped build a coffee processing plant three years ago. It sits empty, having never processed a bean. Through a grant from the Panamanian government, the cooperative built a chicken farm. People live there. Through other outside funds, the cooperative recieved a computer to help manage the money they are continuously hemmoraging. No one really knows how to use it. So the potential is there. The resources are there, and the people, especially my counterpart Florentino, are motivated. Compared to a lot of sites, they are way ahead of the game, and I will certainly never run out of things to do, but I felt overly anxious this week. On top of that, occasionally I feel uncomfortable about trying to change some of their centuries-old egalitarian ways. For example, the cooperative lends money to people for crops or tiendas, and they are deep in the red basically because someone asking to borrow money, or anything else, isn't really a question that can be answered no. For a western practice like money-lending to work, some western mindsets have to be employed, but I feel a little guilty teaching people the benefits of saying no to their friends in need. Despite all that, I'm excited.
The family I'll be staying with for the first month or so while I'm building my house is great. The fabled Ngabe stoicism is practically non-existent; the people are used to seeing new people and even gringos enough that everyone seems openly friendly. My family has given me a Ngabe name, Iyi (ee-gee). And they speak Spanish, even amongst themselves. This last picture is of the road out of Cerro Iglesias as it sits in a cloud.