To Panama and back

by Henry T. Byford

This was kept up right-along until the boys who did the hitting must have been tired and lame-shouldered, when peace again reigned in the air. The performance was a relic of old Panama, a musical ruin. Tooting horns and blowing whistles would have been more cheerful and practical.

As the lottery prizes were not to be drawn until noon, nor the bull-fight to be fought until four o’clock, I was very glad to take a drive with Doctor Echeverría and Señor Arango to the latter’s country residence on the “sabanas” or “prairies.” But for the almost continuous succession of courtesies shown me by the doctor and his friends, time would have hung heavily on my hands and I should have seen and understood much less of the real life of the people. My acquaintances would have been mainly negro cabmen and American travelers, and my knowledge that of the near-sighted tourist who travels hundreds of miles in order to get pointers on his guide book and commit a few well-known facts to memory, and recite them incorrectly.

We drove through the town and out on the highway, quite a long stretch of which had been paved by Señor Arango himself. The road-bed was good, but like everything else in a country that had been having revolutions every two years, with access to the treasury, the road was sadly out of repair and must have been very bad during the muddy season. The horse didn’t go fast enough to make the ruts and ridges objectionable, however, and the dust and heat were the only things to interfere with the enjoyment of our drive. Arrangements were being made to repave the highway, which was the only pleasure drive about Panama. This and the repaving of the Panama streets are undoubtedly doing something toward making life livable there.

The highway and surrounding landscape were unattractive for a short distance after passing the railway station. But a little farther on, the road was lined with huts in front of which native laborers who were spending New Year’s day at home were gathered with their families; and it was interesting to study the crowd of mixed races of all shades from the white Spanish to the black negro, in which the Indian and negro blood seemed to play a predominant part. I was reminded of Midway Plaisance at the Chicago World’s Fair and of the St. Louis Pike, minus the hallooing and calling. The low brows, narrow foreheads, coarse features and dark skin gave them a sort of villainous appearance at first sight, but I noticed, upon looking at them closely, that they had a serious rather than sinister expression upon their faces. I also happened to remember that I had not been accosted by a beggar, either in Colón or Panama. Whether this is due to the fact that all men find work; or to the scarcity of tourists to teach them to beg; or to the small number and want of affluence of the members of the better classes, rendering the profession of begging unprofitable; or whether my observation was not accurate, I do not know. I suspect that what little it costs the poor to live, is easily earned, but not so easily begged. However, when the canal is finished beggars will undoubtedly appear, among other innovations.

After we had traversed about a mile of this suburban highway, the road led through a pleasant stretch of mildly rolling prairie-land with scattered woody areas. Occasionally we passed a farm-house without much farm and, here and there, a few grazing cattle. After about an hour of slow driving we came to two or three country residences and soon arrived at Señor Arango’s.

It was an enclosure of five or six acres planted quite thickly with a great variety of trees, shrubbery and flowers; there seemed to be a dozen different kinds of fruit and flowering trees, many of them not indigenous to Panama. Flowers unfamiliar to me grew in great profusion upon bushes and small plants, and the ground was strewn with limes, mangoes, and other fruits whose names I knew not. Hence, a short walk was a walk of great interest, and was especially pleasant because of the dense shade afforded by the thick foliage. The house was a story and a half high. One side of the lower floor was entirely made up of wide doors, allowing it to open up almost as completely as if it had no wall on that side, and the porches were wide and covered by the projecting roof. The windows and large door spaces could be closed with lattice-work that kept out the sun, but not the air. The furniture was rustic but plentiful. A dark-skinned native lived apparently in one of the outhouses, but could not have had much to do except to watch the fruit grow, and eat it, for the place was evidently quite capable of taking the care of itself. The foliage was too thick for a shaven lawn to be cultivated under it, and there was no spring and autumn “taking up” and planting of delicate bulbs, or covering of roots in winter, etc. Once planted things required almost no care; flowers and fruits matured and fell and began to grow again. After a pleasant hour spent in looking about, gathering nosegays, tasting fruits and cooling off in the rustic shade, we started back.

Farther away from the town in the same direction Señor Arango’s father had a larger summer residence, and still farther up the isthmus had a farm of several thousand acres with large droves of cattle. The sabanas are well adapted to cattle-raising and good beef is plentiful on the hoof. But the transportation facilities are poor, for the country has neither highways nor railways.

As we rode back we found the boys in the city setting off fire-crackers and enjoying themselves as well as they could in a city with scarcely any street-space or yard-area. Otherwise the only activity noticeable was the passing of lottery ticket venders offering their goods for the drawing at noon. The hotel was more quiet than usual on New Year’s day, for the father of the proprietors (two brothers) had died the day before and was to be buried in the afternoon. The barroom was closed and but few visitors were about except those who came to visit the chamber of death.

After eleven o’clock breakfast we went to our rooms to take a short siesta, agreeing to meet again at half past three and go to the bull-fight. I lay down as on the previous day and began thinking of the mestizo bell boy. He did not appear, but my thoughts of him kept me awake until time to get up and go down-stairs. I had conquered him, but I could sleep no more.

Descending the steps, I noticed that the funeral cortège was preparing to leave. The body had lain in state all day and had been visited by many people. Some services were apparently being held in the room, but I heard neither singing nor other music. A crowd of citizens in black clothes, and with silk hats that had evidently been caught in many a shower, was waiting in the corridor near the street door. When the body was brought down from the silent room, instead of being put into a hearse, it was borne through the streets by the pall-bearers, and followed by the relatives. All went on foot and I suppose that the burial was in some church in the neighborhood. It was an exceedingly silent and sensible funeral, but probably could not have been conducted so simply and quietly in a large city. I was told that the deceased was Jewish, a fact which may have given the peculiar character to the ceremony. At any rate, it seemed in good taste for a man thus to leave the world more quietly than he had entered it.