It is the end of 2023 in a year that we were expected to be as far away from political discourse as would be expected in a country with 4 years between presidential elections. However, given the presence of Trump in the media ecosystem, you’d think that he was still president even though he was voted out three years ago. As we face 2024, an election year, Americans would do good in engaging our seat belts for a possible roller-coaster of emotions keeping up with the political news in the country.
To help me cope with the politics, in the last few weeks I
have been reading about the construction of the Panama Canal between 1870 and
1914. I lived in Panama for 5 years when
I was between 5 and 10 years of age and have visited Panama often as an
adult. So, I would categorize myself as
having more than average knowledge about Panama and its interoceanic canal. However, reading David McCullough’s “The Path
Between the Seas” has been an eye opener.
I remember as a child visiting
the Culebra’s Cut with my parents almost weekly. It was often hosting a foreign visitor to
Panama to show them the Canal from then vantage point of the observation deck
at Culebra. The parking lot was mostly
covered with gravel as I remember it. It
was a fun activity to toss pebbles and stones back into the canyon as far as we
could. Of course, it would never reach
the canal waters but now I think how disrespectful we were at trying to reverse
what cost so many lives to make.
The book tells the story from the perspective of the Americans. As it should.
The Panamanians really only benefited from having been selected by the
French to be the most suitable place for a canal, but is not as if they had
much to say or even contributed much to the cause. The Americans finally decided on Panama
instead of Nicaragua, because they got a good deal by picking up where the
French had failed. Panama as a country
didn’t even exist and only with the support of Theodore Roosvelt, did the few Colombian
rebels in the province of Panama, were able to launch a bloodless revolution
that concluded in the creation of the independent country we now know as
Panama.
In the early 1960s when my family lived in Panama, my father,
Rafael, worked for a religious institution based in the Canal Zone. Entrance to the Zone was monitored and
controlled by the Americans and the Panamanians resented that control as an
abuse to the sovereignty of their land. At
my tender age, I had no idea of the political and territorial divisions but I
do remember the level of organization within the Zone. There were no potholes. The traffic lights were large and clearly
visible. The buildings uniformed and perfectly
landscaped. Mowers were a constant sight
in the Zone. The grass always trimmed
and not a piece of paper floating about or a bare patch of dirt visible. The commissaries where the Zonians purchased
their goods were like huge department stores selling clothes, fresh and canned foods
and toys. What a heavenly place! Returning to Panama City where we lived was like
going to another world where car horns, potholes and traffic jams were the norm
whereas the Zone was the exception.
For years my perception of what the USA looked like was
based on what the Zone was. Little did I
know that the Zone was not a real place.
It was a made-up bubble, like a Disneyland -with armed soldiers within
and the hired help living outside. No wonder
all the Zonians I have met, dream of the wonderful like the had during their occupation. Those Zonians
could truly wear the Make America Great Again hats with pride knowing exactly
where they would like to go back to. The
MAGA chant is also very clear here in the mainland but no many like to specify
how far back in time do they want to go to. The heavens, or hells, of our youth need to
stay where they were. Let’s move forward
in 2024. Let’s survive the attacks on
democracy. And let’s have a future that
we will all be proud of.
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