Panama 8

Jan 19, 1991

Last night the PNP (note: that is Panamanian National Police) and I went to Numbre.  The vehicle they drive is no good.  It starts easy enough but it quits a will.  Being a Major with the MP's and accompanied by the PNP I figured I would have no trouble getting out of the camp gate.  I usually just wave as I go by the guard.  This time however the PNP car, truck really, died in front of the gate.  Capt Johnson said he had it all worked out if there was a problem getting out and sure enough the gate guards were Engineers not MPs.  The MPs were having a party their last night in the field.  I knew this of course but never thought the MPs would turn the gate guard business over to Engineers.  They began questioning me as to why I was leaving.  After a few minutes of trying to contact the Provost Marshall word came down to let us pass.

The truck finally started and off we went.  As we turned by the store the truck died again.  Anderson, the PNP, could not get it started.  We sat there.  PNP King got in, did something and off we rode through the center of Numbre.  The starter was grinding still, the truck was back firing and the dogs, chickens, and people were scattering out of the way.  We eventually made are way to the little spot by the lagoon where we had been the night before.

There we drank beer, ate shark, yuka and steak.

It was Conga or Congo night in Numbre. (note: a description of this event can also be read on my first blog in October of 2010, there are some difference in what I wrote then and what I wrote later.)  I never did understand if it was Conga or Congo.   Nor was I sure of why the celebration was even taking place.)  Word came from the Plaza area though that they did not want to start the celebration or sing and dance until we showed up.  By this time Johnson, Fluer, and Hosenstine had joined me.  Before this I was the only non Spanish speaking person at the party and only one or two others spoke any English at all.

We all ventured up towards the Plaza.  There sat 3 drummers like you see in old jungle moves.  They began to beat a rhythm.  The women of the village began to sing and then the Queen of the Conga(o) appeared with a tall crown of jeweled and spangled material.  She began to dance and swaying rhythmically that looked like it was some sort of traditional African dance.  While she was swaying a man jumped out of the audience and began dancing also. She ignored him and as he approached her she dodged his aggression while keeping here rhythm going.  I realized that this was part of the dance.  He would accept his rejection and slink out of the circle that had gathered around the Queen and another man would jump in.

The little group we had stood out of course and apparently we were some kind of guest of honor.  I was the highest ranking officer there and the only one in uniform.  The Queen grabbed my hand and pulled me to the center of the circle.  The crowd cheered but none more than my friends who saw great sport in me being embarrassed.  I was no match for the natives, but with the natural rhythm I have I did not completely humiliate myself.  Each one of the Americans were eventually drug out in turn trying to do their interpretation of the dance.

We then returned to the lagoon area.  We drank beer and just kicked back.  All the American left except Johnson and I.  We just listened to everyone else talk, not understanding a word they said.

It was a mellow evening and it was made even more so when 3 guitar's players showed up.  They played Spanish music and one of the ladies began to sing.  Then each woman there took her turn singing making a strange lyrical sound.  While leaning against a palm tree listening and watching there was a power failure.  The music continued and to get more light another log was put on the camp fire and for a moment you forgot the war, forgot the deplorable living conditions that surround you and you were just absorbed in the moment.

Now I might add that all these women were over weight and basically ugly.  I say this so in the later years no one will think that there was anything going on more than there was.  In fact contrary to popular belief sorted behavior among NGs has not occurred often down here.  They talk a lot but do little.

Continued...........