The two sides of the divide

 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.