Tia Sofia, The Hospital and World Cup Finale

Tia Sofia - a bundle of joy

I headed over to Tia Sofia’s house in an early morning rain, to watch Panama’s last game in the 2018 World Cup against Tunisia – their best hope for a win. I found no Tia, but a small group, praying and led by a woman whose tones are usually reserved for Televangelists. I had the distinct impression that someone had died and stayed outside, until someone came down the street and informed me that Tia was in the hospital, having “fallen” while cooking her breakfast foods the day before.

I forgot the game and walked nervously to the nearby hospital. The place looked deserted, with just old fellow at the front desk, who directed me to Sofia’s room. The hallways, too, were void of activity except for the dull tones of the soccer game, playing in some far-off room. Tia and 3 other patients were packed into a room that was likely meant for 2 and was asleep. So, I walked home to watch the game alone in my room.

Raul Mena is the big regional hospital, part of Panama’s public health system of universal health care. While the care is free, it may not be the best. The facility looked worn and crowded, but quite clean and neat. They must use the same disinfectant as the US, as the place had that distinctive “hospital smell”. Tia had no monitoring equipment attached and the room had no TV. The floors had that 60’s black and white checked tile pattern, with a green lane up the middle.

Moment of joy as Panama scored an early goal against Tunisia

I went back to my apartment to watch the game alone, arriving just in time to see Panama score their first goal. From the reaction of the team and crowd, you’d have thought they had just one the finals. Two Tunisian goals quickly dampened early hopes of a Cup win for Panama, as they lost 2-1 and finished last in their initial Group G. While not a stellar performance in their first-ever World Cup, I will never forget the excited celebrations when they qualified to go to Russia, nor the moment I was moved to tears at their pride as their team took to the World Cup field for the first time and stood for the anthem.

After the game, I went back to the hospital, now in pouring rain, to see Sofia. The place had returned to a normal hospital bustle, but Tia was still asleep. I finally found a cooperative nurse, who explained she was medicated and maybe I could come back that night or in the morning. Her remarks were curt and muddled, but I did hear “heart problem” and “blood clot”, neither of while were encouraging.

I returned last night, to find Tia surrounded by a group of well-wishers, many of whom were clearly praying. She looked dazed and weak. When I shouted out her name, she had to ask someone who it was. I’m not sure if her vision is impaired. This morning’s visit was no more satisfying as she was sleeping again and no more information was forthcoming from the staff.

It saddens me to she this woman, who is normally so vivacious and full of life and joy, laid low like this. But, such is life. It’s also a reminder that Peace Corps service allows us to share in not only the joyous moments, but suffer some not-so-happy ones, as well.

World Cup Game 2 – Panama vs England

It was rainy, grey and overcast this morning, which pretty much set the tone for toady’s game. I went over to my new friend Tia Sofia’s house / empanada factory. She makes huge quantities of empanadas, tortillas (the thick hockey puck kind) and hojaldras (fried bread) every day and sells them to breakfast stands all around town, delivered by a cadre of boys.

The first WC game was standing room only, but today there were only about 15 of us, perhaps due to the nasty weather, the early hour (7am on a Sunday) or being 9 to 1 underdogs with little hope of winning. In any case, the bloom was definitely off the Panamanian rose. Everyone stood and sang the Panama Anthem really loud, but without the hugs, tears and emotion of the first game. Still, I doubt many Americans even stand for the Anthem at home. Even the announcers lacked the enthusiasm of the first game. Some of Sofia’s crew of delivery boys were returning from their routes and joined us. No problem with child labor here.

England scored almost immediately, and the crowd seemed resigned to the eventual outcome. But, Tia kept serving us her delicious empanadas and coffee (with the sugar already in it – the way Panamanians like it) and cheering us up. It also seemed to relax the viewing protocols compared to the first game. Though this was only my second viewing of a soccer game, I think I have discerned the etiquette.
1. Some quiet conversation is allowed, though eyes must never leave the TV screen.
2. Conversation MUST be in some way related to soccer.
3. Everyone stops talking and rises whenever Panama takes a shot on goal.
4. A loud groan is required when they miss.
5. When the Panama goalie stops a shot, standing and loud cheering are required
6. EVERY foul of an opposing player is “fingir” (pretend or fake) and every foul against a Panamanian is a real and violent atrocity. Appropriate gestures and shouts are required.

I still find the whole foul process somewhat comical. Players fall to the ground holding some body part as though it is broken and grimacing so hard it hurts to watch, often waving at officials to notice them When the foul is called, they jump to their feet and smile, as though acknowledging the farce.  This game was chock full of fouls. While my crowd screamed “fingir” and “tramposo” (trickster or fake) at the opposing team, they were quick to smile and wink whenever Gomez – their best “trickster” – drew a foul. As “tramposo” sounds very similar to Trumposo, I may have introduced a new term into the lexicon, much to their delight.

During the long half-time break, I asked around about local feelings on The Invasion, citing my conversation with Jimmy Vegas the day before. One man said it was “very bad”. He had been visiting in the City at the time and tried to leave. Everyone trying to board busses out of town were taken to a holding area near Albrook and not allowed to leave for 6 days, with little food and water and no bathroom facilities, though they were not otherwise abused, they slept in their clothes on the ground. He could hear the constant explosions and fires lit the night sky. But, the majority felt far removed from the Invasion atrocities here in Bocas. “It was a City problem and didn’t concern us.”, was one woman’s response. This feeling of “Two Panamas” – the City vs everyone else is pretty common.

At this point, the score was already 5-0 and Sofia brought out the beer, which was consumed at an alarming rate, considering it was before 8 in the morning. These guys can really put it away. And fast. To my surprise, some folks left after the 6^th English goal. Too bad, as Panama scored their first World Cup goal with 15 minutes left in the match, which greatly animated the crowd and was replayed over and over and over by the clearly partisan announcers. Beer consumption increased accordingly. The final score of 6-1 was a tad embarrassing, but Panama had already saved face in their WC debut with that single goal. Panama is an odds-even match for Tunisia in what will likely be their final 2018 World Cup game on Thursday. It was still raining as I walked home.

Operation Just Cause – Up Close & Very Personal

Panama City slum burns - US Military stops fire and recue

Having spent most of my time in Panama in rural areas away from the City, I never got a sense of lingering animosity towards Americans. Sure, I hear questions about American gun violence, our constant wars and why we would elect a raging racist lunatic as President. But, that is more puzzlement than animosity or dislike. Besides, we came out looking like the Good Guys when we gave Panama the Canal and all its trappings, right?

Any civilians on the streets were sent to holding camps
Anyone fleeing the round-up was shot

This morning, I met a man who did hold a grudge and was determined to explain why, albeit in a very civil tone. His name was “Jimmy” Vegas, a former Colonel in the Panama Defense Force – a paramilitary wing of the National Police, as Panama officially had no military. To start with, his father was an MP with the US Army in the Canal Zone and left his mother and 3 sisters when Jimmy was 12. Beyond that, he was with the PDF during “Operation Just Cause” (which he simply calls The Invasion) and witnessed first-hand the many abuses and violence of the US Military invasion troops.

Panamanians could not understand the needless destruction

He felt the whole invasion was unnecessary, as there were many in the PDF who would have been very willing to help the CIA or Special Forces capture Noriega. In fact, he was part of the attempted coup 2 months before the invasion, but was never discovered. He says the biggest US blunder was a lack of intelligence – not knowing where Noriega was at any given time. Noriega and the PDF knew well in advance that the Invasion was coming and he moved 2 or 3 times a day. Jimmy was told of the Invasion 3 days before it came and was given orders to “stand-down” and give no resistance to US Forces. Why Noriega did not escape, either by boat or air, puzzles him.

He does not begrudge the US for wanting to capture Noriega, but feels that the way they did it was horribly and unnecessarily wrong. While there were some tactical strikes to destroy Noriega’s boats and aircraft, Panamanians were aghast at the huge 29,000+ force that attacked the City with tanks, gunships and RPGs. He watched as thousands of civilians were rounded up and sent to holding camps – basically anyone who was out on the streets, old ladies and children included, many of whom were beaten if they resisted. Some were shot for fleeing.

Just as bad was the property destruction caused. Jimmy was at the PDF HQ when it was attacked. While he escaped with just a broken hand, the attack caused fires to spread rapidly through the shantys of an adjacent poor neighborhood. Even worse, fire and rescue were prevented by the US Military and hundreds of civilians died or were injured and thousands left homeless. There were also 2 civilian apartment complexes that were attacked by gunships for unknown reasons. Many more were injured there.

As the walls closed in on Noriega, he fled to the Vatican Embassy for shelter and the US Military famously used loud rock music to drive him out. No one in the area could sleep for days. Thus, Jimmy views the transfer of the Canal to Panama, not as a gift, but as something paid for by the destruction, deaths and disabilities needlessly caused by the US.

While my “Peace Corps Card” got me off the hook, he was insistent that I let my fellow Americans know what “really” happened – which obligation I have now fulfilled.

Service Summary Video

Some of the Barriada Santos Water Committee show off their new spring catchment (toma)

The community worked really hard, carrying 5000 lbs of
materials, building new tomas and laying almost a mile of
PVC pipe. I'm SO proud of them.

With just 6 weeks left before leaving the beauty of Panama, it's time for my traditional "Service Summary Video". 

700 folks in small rural towns got new or improved water service, 8 communities got water committee and/or community trainings and I got to learn about cacao and banana 

One of the families that got new water service - obviously happy

production first hand. And spend some days on gorgeous white-sand beaches.

Peace Corps service of helping people and promoting friendship and peace is not "work" - it is a joy.

If this video or the blog has in any way inspired you to consider Peace Corps service, I invite you to talk to me or see the website at 
www.peacecorps.gov

To view the video : click here

Panama’s World Cup Debut

I just watched Panama’s first ever World Cup game in a room packed with some 35 Panamanians. I can only describe the experience as being thrust into some alternative reality – something like what I felt in a room full of LSD-tripping people at Stan Grof’s workshop at Esalen.

As the Panama Anthem was played, the entire room jumped to it’s collective feet and sang at FULL throttle. People on the TV were crying, the announcers were crying, people in the room were crying and I was crying. It was such a moment of national pride that their team had even gotten to the games. It was overwhelming.

I now understand why the announcer talk at full scream and beyond – so they can be heard over the audience. They were so clearly partisan it was frightening. Nothing good to say about Belgium – they always seemed to miss goal by a mile, while the Panama team was OH so close. Whenever the ball got to the Belgian side of the field, their voices hit frantic levels.

I was struck by how theatrical players became when they felt they’d been fouled. They fall to the ground grimacing so hard that I was sure they’d never get up. Of course, they jumped up smiling as soon as the foul was called. I was assured by my friends (with a smile) that this is just part of the game. I should note that this is the first soccer game I’ve ever seen start to finish.

At the end of the first half, the score was 0 – 0 and the crowd jumped and cheered as though in victory. I was informed that, against a far superior and experienced team like Belgium, a tie was just as good as victory. From my limited view, it did seem like Panama had controlled the ball better, with 63% possession time.

As there are no commercials during play, the advertisers compensate with a full 12 minutes of non-stop ads at half time. Virtually all were for fast food (Pizza Hut, McDonalds etc), banks pushing personal loans or new cars. None of which speak well for Panama’s future.

My other note is that cursing in English (esp Fuck and Shit) seems to be an international language. If my lip-reading skills are at all accurate.

The second half caught me off-guard when the teams came out in different uniforms and went downhill from there as Belgium scored 3 goals to none for Panama. With each Belgian goal, there was more head shaking and less enthusiasm. 

As the clock ran out, the room got really quiet and everybody made a fast exit. The only phrase, repeated often, was “Wait for Sunday. Wait for Sunday” – when Panama will play it’s second World Cup game vs England. They are 8 to 1 underdogs.

Going Back (to Nassau Hall)

The gang of 3 old room mates - together again after (too) many years

Outside the entrance to our Cuyler Hall room

After my little “incident” with TSA, I continued on my way back to my 45^th Reunion at Princeton. In the JetBlue gate area, I spotted two young ladies from the Class of ’13, headed back to their 5^th and obvious by orange shirts – a color not common, except among a species migrating to NJ at this time of year. We found two more Tigers on the plane and were joined by a sea of orange and black gear in the Newark airport, all massing toward the NJ Transit train south. The short ride was filled with tales of Reunions past and revelations of odd college nicknames. At the end of the PJ&B “Dinky” tracks, we scattered across campus to find our respective classmates.

With Fred just before the Reunion mayhem started

My first stop was the relative calm of a restaurant on Nassau Street, where I saw my dear room mate and friend Fred Drake and met two beloved Facebook friends - Fred’s wife Marie and Bill Piper, two of my favorite and most thoughtful posters on FB. From there the whirlwind blur of Reunions began. I stayed in a lovely dormitory room in Holder Hall a was delighted to find the scent of wood and ancient plaster walls is exactly as I remembered it 45 years ago.

The medieval staircase up to our room

One highlight of the weekend was visiting old dorm rooms with Fred and our third intrepid room mate Brad Shingleton. To our slight dismay, all our old dorms had been brilliantly remodeled to ADA and energy conservation specs. My old freshmen room had been converted into a womens’ handicap bathroom, nulling our old treks down 2 flights of stairs to use a bathroom. Only our Sophomore room remained intact, with memories dripping from every crack and window. The other salient event was the P-Rade, an orange and black procession of every Reunion class, which I best describe as watching your life pass before you in reverse. Just a few minutes into the march across campus, local lightening strikes caused its rare cancellation. Undaunted, the great Class of 1973 took up its banner and continued the trek alone (after the sound of thunder dissipated) to a hero’s applause from the bystanders. In sum, it was a glorious time with old friends and some new. I was a bit surprised by the number of slow walkers, hearing aids and knee scars among my classmates. My only complaint was the loud volume of the dance bands, which may just be a sign that I too am growing “old”.

PG in his robotics lab

After Reunions, I continued my US vacation with a visit to my dear friend, adviser and adventurer PG Randall and his wife Louise at their new Chestnut Hill home and a visit to his national award winning robotics lab at Chestnut Hill Academy. Then a rainy visit with Dave and Kathleen Phillips in Beach Haven, NJ and a wonderful time with sister Darcy and BIL Steven in Norwalk, CT, complete with sea-going adventure. I did most of the travelling via train, which I found to be prompt and well done. Sadly, visits in FL with son Alden and family and sister Robin had to be cancelled due to a stomach issue. Though I did get in a visit with one of my oldest friends Pete Travis.

Now back in Changuinola, I need some rest.

(note-many of the photos are courtesy of Marie Drake and her keen photographic eye)

Cacao - The Cautionary Tale (Goyo Detention)

One of the highly suspicious blocks of cacao

I never thought of myself as a terrorist, never felt like one or looked like one, never thought I’d be mistaken for one. So, imagine my surprise when I heard the words “Sir, please come with us.” and  found myself escorted in the company of 3 TSA agents to a back room at the Ft Lauderdale airport. One was carrying a clear plastic bag containing my shoes, belt and pocket contents. Yes, I was nervous.

In the small back room, I found my backpack inside a steel box and was asked what I was carrying – clothes and cacao, which none of the agents had heard of. At that point a supervisor appeared and asked me to open the bag and remove the contents. With the 10 neat little paper bags of cacao spread at the bottom of the box, the supervisor repeated the question of contents – cacao, the stuff you make into chocolate and I offered the supervisor a smell. This only prompted a request to open one of the bags. With the dark brown cacao now fully revealed, he finally ventured a cautious sniff and then requested I open a block, since everyone knows that the best place to hide a plastic explosive is inside a chocolate flavored shell.

Now, we were joined by yet another agent with a box of electronic gear, who took little paper test tabs and rubbed them on me and the cacao. After the device failed to detect any real explosives, the mood lightened considerably. It seems my cargo had the same electronic scan signature as plastic explosive and the good TSA folks were just keeping us all safe. The broken block was left behind, in hopes that some tech person can re-calibrate the equipment to exclude cacao as a suspect threat. I also discovered that a good sense of humor is NOT a prerequisite to TSA employment.

And I continued my travels to deliver cacao blocks to friends and family along my trip.

I should note in fairness to TSA, that I was wearing a bright orange shirt and carrying 20 solid blocks in a small backpack. Highly suspicious, indeed.