Conga Queen

The United States Government wanted to provide economic assistance to Panama after the fall of Manuel Noriega. A small part of that assistance was to send a National Guard Engineering Battalion to build a road between Nombre de Dios and another small village just south.

I have never been one to question the wisdom of the military so when I was assigned to a Military Police Company as a Major of Artillery in charge of security I took it in stride. I knew nothing about building roads, military policing actions, or security. I was sure that my three weeks in Panama were going to be a cross between SNAFU and FUBAR. Oddly enough things went smooth because I made a command decision and turned everything over to an MP Captain and stayed out of his way.

Having the captain run things allowed me to roam around the jungle area and visit those places that were off limits to the troops. Some one had to recon those areas to make sure those who were not supposed to be there were not. Might as well have been me. Apparently the GI’s were behaving themselves because I never did find anyone where they were not supposed to be.

My snooping took me into Nombre a lot. I made friends. So good of friends in fact that I would eat lunch and most of my dinner meals at what passed for an outdoor café.

To call Nombre a town would be giving it to much credit. It did have a school and a church with no pews, a clinic which I never saw open, an out door bar supported by telephone looking poles, and a combination grocery store and oriental restaurant, which to call it such is a stretch. But what made Nombre alluring were the many huts made from plywood, most resting on stilts surrounded by a beautiful bay with a black sand beach.

I quickly made friends with the town’s chief law enforcement officer and mayor. They introduced me to this old black lady whose house rested on stilts just off the lagoon part of the bay. I never really understood why she took a liking to me since we did not communicate very well. I spoke no Spanish and she spoke only a smidgen of English. But regardless I would sit on her porch in the evening, listening to the waves break upon the shore, watch the stars and moon glide across the Atlantic side of the Panamanian sky while drinking a beer perhaps, which cost twenty-five cents. She may have wanted me around because I would bring her fruit and MRE’s the soldiers did not want. It was a fare trade as far as I was concerned.

One evening while protecting my country from the onslaught of some creature from what I referred to privately as the Black Lagoon, I heard the faint sound of drums and beautiful voices in the distance. Through a communication system that the lady and I had developed she told me the people were practicing for the visit of the Conga Queen.

Two nights later I had organized a cook out for some of the neighbors. I had one of the guys go buy beer and steak to feed twenty or so and only insisted that the local yucca root be sliced like French fries and deep fried. This party cost me less than $20.

We were done with our meal when a delegation of sorts came to the party. They informed the gathering that the Conga Queen was about ready to begin but did not want to start until the American’s showed up. ( I did not mention that I needed help in my recon that evening so asked the Captain to come along.)

It seemed like the entire village was there waiting for us. The village people formed a large circle with the drums and singers I had heard two nights previously congregated at one arc. In the middle of the circle was this very tall black lady, wearing what reminded me of African dress and adorned with a large Carman Miranda headdress.

She swayed and back and forth looking as though she was in a trance but in reality just dancing and ignoring the crowd. Now and then a male would jump into the circle make stalking like moves towards her and she would still ignore the advances and when tired of her intruder she would just wave him off and then another would enter the arena. I got the impression that I was watching a mating dance or a ritual related to a hunt. I never did find out exactly what they were doing.

The Conga Queen eventually started undulating and swaying over to where I was standing and took my hand and led me to the center of the circle. I was supposed to do the same thing the other men had done, but could not really get into the ceremony. I just sort of stood there rocking back and forth feeling very awkward. I was finally waved away by the Queen to my great relief.

She took a short break and food was served along with some pretty good tasting stuff I was sure was loaded with alcohol.

She returned to the circle, the music began and everything started repeating itself, but this time the men who jumped in the circle were more aggressive and she just as aggressive would wave them off. It was like none were good enough for her.

Having been embolden by the beverage that I had grown very faun of I walked into the ring, took the Conga Queen in my arms looked up into her eyes and told her that she was going to dance the way I wanted to now. The crowd was very delighted.

We did a belly rub sort of dance to a slower beat than had been played and things were going along just fine. Then the music started getting faster and faster and all of a sudden the Queen grabbed my butt with both and hands and started humping me right there in front of everyone. I tried to extract myself from the embrace but to no avail. The crowd was cheering and whistling and creating all sorts of noise. Then with one final lunge to my mid section or there a bouts, the Conga Queen dropped to the ground and seemed to have fainted. Two men came out and led me away from the Queen and the crowd started clapping. The Congo Queen stood up bowed and the show was over.

One of the local villagers came up to me with the Conga Queen in tow and let me know that the Conga Queen wanted me. I was a little confused at first but eventually figured out what he meant and gracefully declined. I told the interpreter to inform the Queen that I was greatly honored but I felt that she was mistaken about my animal prowess and would be greatly disappointed with my real life performance.










Conley McAnally









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