Covering the Past Time of Calvary and Cross
By the way, I’m referring to any foolish narrative or attitude that may affect the thorough acknowledgment, preservation, and promotion of the Zonian experience for the benefit of future generations of humanity.
Before I explain my reasons for choosing a rather pompous title (which paraphrases a verse from Panama’s National Anthem) to introduce one of the most important sections of this magazine, let me digress to wholeheartedly say, ¡Bienvenidos a casa! to all those who consider themselves Zonians and their descendants who live around the globe.
Now, let’s go back to the title of this piece which, in 2024, can well be translated as “Time to quit the nonsense of the past, guys!”
So, what nonsense am I talking about, some of you may ask? To answer straightforwardly, I’m referring to any foolish narrative or attitude that may affect the thorough acknowledgment, preservation, and promotion of the Zonian experience for the benefit of future generations of humanity.
Some of these narratives are the hypocrisy of the aging (but still talkative) Panamanian nationalists who love to brag about Central America’s most modern capital city but say nothing about their grand-children having one of the poorest commands of the English language in the Americas –the pathetic, palpable byproduct of their fanaticism and contradictory mindset; the nearsightedness of the descendants of West Indian canal workers who, despite enjoying decades of success in the land of their former “oppressors” (A success even greater than that achieved by African-Americans in their own country, generally speaking,) continue to boil down the richness of their ancestors’ experience in Panama to the gold-roll/silver-roll injustice[1], and last, but certainly not least, to the stubborn prejudices of not a few Gringo-Zonian old-timers who continue to deny Panama’s rightful sovereignty over the waterway, even as the end of their lives on this earth rapidly approaches.
I certainly hope these words are not misinterpreted (although I acknowledge my inability to prevent that from happening). Am I denying the historical facts that may have influenced the earlier-mentioned discourses and attitudes in one way or another? Am I promoting a life of banality with this magazine’s approach? Surely not, but there’s a time and space for a proper and mature discussion of the said matters, and this magazine is not one of those spaces, at least not in the traditional, often argumentative sense we usually expect.
To err is human and it’s good that I’ve caught my mistake, lest we solely equate the concept of “mature discussion” with confrontation or conflict. As a middle-aged man (one of the youngest of a rare tribe on its way to dying out: the Zonian tribe,) I know that life is short and that drama and discord are stealing away the remaining precious time we may have on this earth.
I don’t know about you guys, but I have no time to be a people pleaser, much less to pledge my allegiance to those trying to push some joyless political agenda upon us.
If you’ve made it this far in reading this, let me commend you for your bravery! It is not easy to digest non-politically correct points of view in this time and age, even if that’s what our soul truly yearns for.
Likewise, it is not easy being a Zonian (Allow me to expand the Merriam-Webster definition to include all those related to the Canal experience in one way or another, regardless of citizenship or passport) as it often means being a misfit or an outcast. As I write this, I think about the tearful elderly lady (a Panamanian of Latino stock I met several years ago) who, back in the day, had to conceal the place of her birth (Gorgas Hospital) when conversing with her fanatical peers, as she would have been considered by them a traidora a la patria[1] for having been born on the “wrong” side of the fence.
The list of those I’m thinking of at this time includes but is not limited to, my Zonian cousins in Texas who, despite having been born to an African-American mother, are still not fully accepted by America’s Black community and, say, the “nerdy” son of well-to-do Panamanians who, despite harboring the feelings of being an outsider along the halls of Balboa High (perhaps because of his heavy Spanish accent,) would have been able to get something going on with the hottest blonde of his class.
White Gringo Zonians, please repeat after me: I’ve got you covered! As I validate your feelings of being considered “tropical weirdos” back on the mainland, I thank God for allowing me to be born and develop in a unique timeframe where intercultural communication, albeit imperfect, is better than ever before.
Time is running out on us, guys. I, therefore, would like to hear about your stories, and it certainly doesn’t matter if your grandparents shopped at the gold commissary[2], you rode your bike to school in 1960’s Rainbow City[3], or if you descend from the Chinese owners of the produce market that once stood on the way to Arraiján. I want to hear about your friendships, clubs, PTA meetings, picnics, marriages, mementos, hiding places, and pets (dogs, cats, iguanas, and monkeys alike).
The time has come to quit all the past-tensed nonsense that has divided us so far, guys. The time has come to embrace the Zonian experience to the fullest! (Jeronimo de la Ossa[4], you’ve nailed it with that anthem, man!)
[1] Gold Roll/Silver Roll: A controversial payment system, established by the builders of the Panama Railroad (19th century) and continued by the Isthmian Canal Company (1904-1960s) whereby U.S. and high-ranking Panamanian employees (generally of European descent) were paid in gold dollars while workers for all other nationalities (Afro-Caribbean, Asian, Latin American, and southern European) received salaries in Colombian pesos (silver coins). Although several highly skilled African American/Caribbean employees were paid in gold during the first years of the American Canal project, this lasted briefly, and the system soon became synonymous with racial discrimination. The rate duality was phased out between the 1950s and 60s.
[2] i.e. White folks.
[3] i.e.: Black readers.
[4] (1847-1907) The author of the lyrics of Panama’s National Anthem.