excerpts from Portobelo

pieces and stories from my notes Enjoy at your leisure!
link to fotos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2177080&id=1309093&l=b53330bcdb


I couldn’t sleep, got up around 6am. I was at the bus station by 8:00, got on a bus to Colón ($2.50).

Before the bus leaves people come on selling food, small face towels, cds, toiletries. Diablos rojos are school busses transformed into public transportation. The express bus to colon is nicer, with real bus-like seats.

They collect the fare before you arrive in Colon but it did not matter because I was KNOCKED OUT. I must have sense the man close to me because I woke up, paid my fare, then went back to sleep. The next thing I knew, the guy was shouting that the next stop would be Zona Libre, so I grabbed my bag and hopped off the bus like a mad woman.

There was no real need for us to arrive so early, but as neither of us had ever been we did not know. Hindsight is 20/20. We both heard that tens of thousands of people were in Portobelo and we wanted to be able to see the Christ himself. Also, we did not know each other to know how the day would go.

I arrived in Maria Chiquita, a police checkpoint for busses and cars to meet Vida. I did not know she had planned to just get on the bus, so I got off. We waited a bit and boarded the next bus to Portobelo.

Busses could only go so far--- there was a stronger police checkpoint where everyone had to get off the bus. Women in one line (the longest line of course), men in another line, and “personas de mayor edad” in another line. Vida, as a retired woman, got to go into the 3rd line. They barely look in their bags and did not touch them. In my line, however, the emptied the contents of my bag, put everything back in so that it no longer fit, patted me down, then patted me down againand I was on my way.

In the morning there were not too many people there. Well, there were a lot people but we didn’t notice as much because people were spread out. But que calor! It was sooooo hot. I probably spent most of my money buying water.

On the road to Portobelo, we saw many people dressed in the purple robes of El Nazareno and others crawling their way to the church. I knew that this happened, but it was muy muy impresionante to see it in person. Imagine people crawling in heavy robes in extreme heat or crawling in extreme heat with people continuously pouring hot wax on you for what seemed like a mile, easy. Usually there is a person facing them with a model of el Nazareno, swaying it back and forth (báilaselo! Báilaselo! Grita la gente) to imitate the movement of the ocean that carried En Nazareno to Portobelo. This action almost taunts the crawling person to keep going forward like the metaphorical carrot. Some are so bold as to inch along three movements forward, two back--- the same rhythm as En Nazareno’s parade through the streets. Why do people do this? La vida católica is all about sacrifice and atonement, no? People perform this act and promise El Nazareno they will follow His example if he grants them whatever wish/miracle they are asking. The man we spoke to with the wax burns all over (this was very common) said that his son has asthma and gracias a Dios it is very bad but he wanted to keep it that way. He was also asking for his mother, that she remain in good health. We saw many men with purple marks all over their chests and backs. I imagine the marks are a result of their act of penance. I am not alleging that it does not happen, but I did not witness any women receiving hot wax on their crawl to el Nazareno.

We walked around a little before going to the church itself. Although it had not yet reached noon, piles of purple robes adorned the entrance way and the pews were full of people. I had been to Portobelo before and saw El Nazareno behind the glass shelter. Now, He was out in the middle of the church, surrounded by flowers and candles thus far unlit, with people praying on all sides, some standing, some kneeling. To the left of the altar, an image el Nazareno’s face looked out to the church so people could also kneel and pray there. Everywhere you saw purple--- purple shirts, robes, belts, hats, pants, flowers. While some people abandoned their robes upon entering the church, others elected to keep them on.

I wanted to buy a nice set of purple rosary beads- seemingly easy right? But all of the purple beads were very cheap looking.

Since we were there all day, we saw all kinds of people. People of all ages wore robes, or at something purple. American peace Corp workers wore their “cuerpo de paz Panama” t shirts. The majority of people were Panamanian. I saw/heard some white Americans. Vida enjoyed talking to the Reuters photographers.



(and by enjoyed talking I mean she was flirting quite heavily with one of them.
So much so that I did not know if I should walk away! He was talking about his
daughter (19 I believe) and how he does not travel as much for work anymore
because he does not want to leave her. Vida asks, “and your wife?”. He is
divorced. “And what happened?” It was hard for her to be married to someone who
traveled all the time, and she had at least one affair. “While the cat is away,
the mice will play! I am also divorced. Do you think you will remarry?” He can’t
imagine putting another woman through that. His wife did not want to do all of
that traveling and once his daughter is older, he will be able to leave again
more easily. “oh, well I love to travel! I wouldn’t mind at all! You could take
me with you” *I think I was the only one blushing* We “ran into” them repeatedly
throughout the day. )
To escape the heat we went to la forteleza san Lorenzo, not far from the church. I brought a sheet with me to serve as a lawn blanket, the best idea I had all day! (I forgot my bottle of frozen water. Sad) I got to know Vida well. If you know me, I am not a huge talker. I will make conversation, but it would not be the story of my life. With Vida, asking a question was to receive a 30 minute response that may or may not address the question at all. I did not mind since we had a whole day to kill and I am in Panama to research after all, but if you know me, I find incessant talking can be a nuisance. It was ok though.

Unfortunately for us, la forteleza San Lorenzo was doubling as the public bathroom. All day we saw men and boys with their backs scarcely turned before a stream of liquid shot out. In the fort, however, the numbers rose exponentially and the scent became unbearable.

On my rosary mission, I wanted to return to the church. Despite my best efforts, I could not get Vida to understand how my camera worked and thus all of the pictures of me are blurry. (very sad because I was/am going to part of a story in American U’s Alumni magazine, but they need a picture… and one that is not blurry) Sidetracked because Vida really wanted something sweet to eat. Ended up purchasing multi colored beads. Received the blessing from the priest, who was now present in his full purple robes.

Went to get food, and returned once again for the church. This is when we realized how many people were really in Portobelo. The church was almost full but we were able to find space.
People walk from all over—from Panama City even, which is a goodfew days walk away.

The sermon of the mass was predicable but no less effective. Look at el Nazareno, carrying his cross for eternity. That when we have trouble we should not ask God to ease our load or take away the weight, but instead should ask for the strength to bear it and to preserve, knowing that He would never give us more than we can carry. The priest had a compelling and potent delivery. I was trying to listen and translate for Vida, but eventually I gave up and just enjoyed the mass.

People continued to crawl into the church well after the mass started, well into the night. One woman beside me who became my companera commented that the people who crawl in at this hour are not real devotees but instead attention seekers. Since the date does not change for el Nazareno, they time it just right. No matter how or what time the crawlers came into the church, and despite any misgivings people may have about their level of fidelity, the crowd always parted and the path to el Nazareno cleared. Each and every time.

The mass in and of itself was very striking. People continued crawling into the church and every time the crowed parted so the person could get through. From my view, a group of 4 or 5 men took off their shirts, sat in the church swaying back and forth saying prayers for family members whose framed pictures they laid before them. They were taking up too much valuable space according to some, and a fight broke out. Yes. Nos dió mucho vergüenza. A fight. In the church. People in close proximity were able to break it up and the priest continued to give his message of spiritual strength and resolve to the zealous crowd, as more and more people squeezed their way inside. We gave each other the sign of peace; we said the Our Father; we listened to the priest tell us we are stronger than we know. People who carried their model versions of el Nazareno and large wooden crosses began lining up in front of el Nazareno (i.e. pushing their way through too many people) after we said the Our Father. As mass was ending, others joined them on the floor at least 10 rows of people, as wide as the crowd would allow it to grow.

Suddenly, a drum gave a single beat and the church went wild.

Another single drum beat. strong and quick.

And another.

Shouts and cheers arose from those who knew what was coming. The music started slowly, the drum beat as the feature. Slow beats with trumpets as a secondary sound. Synchronized with the drum beat, the people sitting and kneeling on the ground began to sway; the people holding the Nazerenitos began to sway. The excited crowd cheered as the white candles surrounding el Nazareno blazed.

As the music began to start in earnest, Vida and I decided to go outside of the church so we could actually see el Nazareno coming out of San Felipe. THIS is when we realized just how many people were there. We could hardly get out of the church, much less create spaces for ourselves outside. But we did. My compañera went outside as well.

People were gathered as far as my eye could see, waiting to see, and for those close enough to join, the procession. The music blared as crowd outside anxiously and silently awaited, candles lit. The kneelers and crawlers attempted to make their way out of the church. This required others to move out of the church, which took quite a bit of time and convincing. No one outside wanted to give way for the crawlers and the kneelers. As they emerged from the church, the path of the procession mandated that they turn right. Many did not turn and had it not been for the militares, I am sure another fight would have broken out. As people flooded out of the church we were pushed back and back and back. Being tall does have its advantages.

Finally, El Nazareno made his way out of the church.

As soon as he broke the threshold, the militares linked arms, thrust their guns horizontally in front of themselves and made a human/gun shield between the crowd and the emerging statue. Vida and I were separated in the suddenness of this action, but I snapped my pictures, and then moved away from the crowd to call her and meet up so we could leave.

At this point it was after 9pm. We found each other, bought some sodas (where I learned that people do not say refresco for soda. I asked if he had any refrescos and he told me cerveza, cuba libre [which they sell in cans like coke. T hee hee]. He asked what I wanted , I said I really wanted water or coke, at which point he told me he had coke. I asked why he didn’t say that when I asked for a refresco. ‘refresco es algo refrescante. Yo no sé que le gusta usted para refrescarse.’) and walked in a large mass of people to where the busses were allegedly parked.

We had a looooong and dark walk back to try to catch a bus BUT found that there were busses running directly back to Panama City. Vida was headed back toward Colon, so we hugged, parted ways, and got on our respective busses.

It took forrrrreeeeever to travel down the one road that leads to the highway (people walking+busses leaving+cars still coming), so I went to sleep to the reggaeton blasting on the bus (que tengo que hacer pa que vuelvas conmigooo....zzzzzzzz). I woke up to pay my $3 fare, then paid $3 for a cab from san Miguel, where the bus stopped, back home to Paitilla.

I climbed into my bed around 1am, happy I had traveled to Portobelo to see the festival of the black Christ.