Even before my departure to Panama, people began to tell me not to go to Colón, and the warnings only intensified as I got closer. Having previously had little sense that Colón even existed, my interest was piqued by such a formidable reputation, and a few days after my arrival in the country I set off from Panama City for the Caribbean coast where Colón is located.
Colón first took on international significance in the 1800’s as a result of being an important terminus for the Panama Railroad Company. Apparently the railroad was built by Chinese and Indian workers, amongst others, and remnants of those communities remain in town to this day. But the most significant ethnic/racial lineage of the town can be traced to West Indians, who were instrumental in building the Panama Canal (which lets out nearby). Their descendants still make up the majority of the population, and a West Indian-inflected English, rather than Spanish, is the dominant language. It is unclear to me whether economic depression swept over Colón as the result of a single event like the completion of the Canal and subsequent unemployment or through a gradual drying up of resources, but at some point between the Canal’s conclusion in 1914, and the withdrawal of the American administrative and military contingencies on or before January 1st, 2000, Colón sank into dilapidation and neglect. Around 15 years ago, at the time of my visit, the expansion of a large duty-free shopping area held promise of economic rebound, but there was deep skepticism about whether the benefits would reach the local population.
Getting off the local bus and making my way out from the parking lot terminal, I scanned the streets for places of refuge should one be needed and settled on a couple of two or three story hotels with mirrored windows and guards in front that contrasted starkly with the derelict, concrete high rises around them. Continuing to what may once have been a grand main street, I decided to sit in the park-like median to observe the pedestrians. Before long, a middle-aged man came and sat down beside me and began to chat. The conversation quickly led to an account of a “tragedy” that had transpired the week before when a local had asked a tourist for a dollar and the tourist, refusing to part with this paltry sum, had received a savage beating. “Terrible, terrible…” I commented and, anticipating the next portion of the conversation, stood up and said it was time to be on my way. As I was leaving, I heard the man asking if I could spare a dollar.
I hadn’t gone more than a block when a young man in a doorway asked if I was okay, looking genuinely concerned. Some people project an aura of good will that immediately inspires confidence. Adding to this impression was the fact that he was monitoring younger siblings as they happily played on the sidewalk. The young man offered to show me around, and I gladly accepted. He turned out to be a boxer, known and respected by the entire town, as could be seen by the frequent complimentary words of passersby. During our “tour,” two small groups of young men asked him in a fast-paced English dialect that I could hardly understand if they could rob me. The police also stopped us to recommend that the tour be limited to the duty-free shopping mall. But overall our wanderings were undisturbed and we had an enjoyable time strolling, eating lunch, chatting, and viewing Colón.
As the afternoon began to turn to evening, he advised me it was time to get off the streets. He walked me past the hotels I had noted earlier and watched to make sure I got on the right bus to the small town where I was staying. Encountering this sort of generosity is what makes travel worthwhile for me - getting to know a place in the company of someone willing to step up to help a stranger.