Tia Sofia

Tia Sofia's enormous joy and personality are obvious - she lifts everyone she meets 

For me, part of the joy of exploring is finding those stories. My quest is aided by living in a place where I don’t have a car and really don’t need one, given the very sensible mix of retail places in every residential area. That means I either use the abundant forms of public transport or walk. Whenever I have the time (and it’s not pouring rain), I choose the later. I try to stay off the main streets and travel the network of pathways that honeycomb the town. It gives a better view of how folks live.

A recent stroll took me down one of these small paved pathways near my apartment. The homes in my neighborhood are modest by American standards. They are neat, but generally not as well-maintained as in the US – many have faded or peeling paint and torn or missing window screens. The yards are generously landscaped, but without grass lawns or neatly clipped shrubs – mostly unruly flowering plants and vines. As I wandered this sunny morning, I was suddenly stopped by the smell of delicious fried food, which I found wafting from an average looking home. When out came a short, wide jovial woman and sold a bag of her goods to a young man.

That’s when I met Sofia – or “Tia Sofia” as she likes to be called. As I passed by, I commented on the wonderful smell and on that basis, she invited me in. One of the many benefits of Peace Corps service is that we stand out as one of the few, or perhaps only, gringos in town. As such, we are curiosities and often get special attention, especially as we speak the language – unlike the tourists. So, over some very strong coffee (pre-mixed with sugar) and outstanding empanadas, Tia told me her story.

Sofia grew up in a tiny village upstream from the big Changuinola dam. When she was a small girl, her family made a trip to the “big city” of Almirante and she was hooked by the bustle and excitement. She decided that she wanted the city life and moved to Changuinola when she was 14. She worked for 10 years at Chiquita bananas in their packing operation and sending money back to her family in the jungle. At some point she started bringing her home-made empanadas ( corn tortillas with a spicy meat filling) into work with her for lunch. Some of her co-workers tasted her fare and soon she was bringing in extra empanadas and selling them to other workers. Soon, she added hojaldras (fried bread) and patacones (fried plantain discs) to her menu.

One day she realized that she was making as much from her cooking as she was getting paid to pack bananas and decided to strike out on her own, now selling her wares in front of the Chiquita packing house. Then, she started selling to local roadside stands that just sold morning coffee and foods, but had no kitchen of their own. She bought a house and got married (her husband died 5 years ago) and got some of her family to move to town. They get up at 3am and start cooking, then distribute the food all over town, mostly on bicycles, but sometimes use public transport.

A few years back, due to public demand, she expanded into the tienda business. She has a little store in the front of the house that sells more things than can be imagined in such a small place. As we spoke about everything from the Peace Corps to Donald Trump, several folks came in for supplies and a neighbor came by to check out the gringo. She absolutely loves what she does, including giving credit to those tight for cash. Her joy of life is palpable and infectious. As I left, Tia stuffed more empanadas, hot from the kitchen, in my hands and made me promise to come back. I plan to do just that.

Such are the rewards of a simple morning stroll in Changuinola, Panama.