I walked into the little Panamanian
drug store feeling sorry for myself because I had a nasty cold. Two minutes later I walked out feeling
humbled … and desolate.
Inside there was a mom and her young
teenage daughter consulting with the female pharmacist. My arrival instantly turned the scene
tense. I could sense it – but not
understand it. Then I realized that the
druggist was showing them how to use a pregnancy testing kit.
Suddenly, the insignificance of my
runny nose in comparison with their actual life-changing trauma, just hammered
my heart. I left swiftly – without
buying any medicine.
I swear, if a bishop had been
walking past, I would have grabbed him by his authoritarian collar and shoved
him into the farmacia and said,
“Look at the agony on the faces of
this mother and child. Your church did
this to them. Your perverse desire to
control even the most intimate details of a person’s conduct has cast them into
a pit of worry and despair. By
forbidding her from using a birth control method that actually works, you are
forcing this teenager to make a decision of lifelong importance - even though
she is a half a decade from adulthood.”
“And if she does discover that she
is pregnant, another one of your heartless edicts will force her to have a
child that she does not want. And this
will shut down all of the other paths that her life might have taken had she
been able to remain in school and learn of the many magical options and
possibilities that the wide world offers.”
“So tell me, O holy bishop, for what
vile sin is your church sentencing this terrified teenager to a lifetime of
toil and subsistence drudgery? Oh, yes,
it is because she could not resist the
pleasurable urges that Nature has woven into all young humans of her age. God forbid that someone might savor one
of life’s sublime ecstasies without suffering guilt or other dire penalties.”
*******
Unfortunately, no bishop appeared to
allow me to vent. So I walked through
the tropical heat - stewing in silent rage.
I bought a bottle of water at a little restaurante across from the town
park. I love idling away in this shady
spot and watching the unpretentious passing parade.
As I was finally starting to chill
out a bit, I involuntarily witnessed another disturbing human vignette. A tiny Indio girl came into the café. For years she had been helping her mom sell
limes and yucca from one of the park benches across the street. When she needed to use the bathroom she
picked up the key from the counter. She
had always done this for free, but a new employee, who did not recognize her,
took the key away from her and barked, “50 centavos.”
The lovely little girl was startled
by this unusual request and just stood there confused and speechless. When the waitress repeated her demand for 50
centavos, I rose from my chair and walked over to the counter. It took every fiber of my self-control to calmly
say to the girl behind the counter, “Here’s 50 centavos for the little girl - and
you need to talk to the owner about this.
He is a longtime friend of mine.”
Since I probably looked like a human volcano about to erupt, she handed the
girl the key and a few minutes later I saw her talking to her manager.
After a few minutes my irritation
started to ease and I realized that the waitress was not to blame for this sad
and poignant little scene. But somebody
definitely should be held accountable!
And that’s because it is preposterous and obscene that there is no
public restroom in the central park of a town in Panama, which has one of the
biggest income streams on the entire planet.
A typical container ship traveling
through the Panama Canal will pay over $200,000 for the 48 mile trip that takes
less than a day. And over 50 vessels
transit through each day. For 10% of the
fee from one ship, they could build a palatial bathroom building in this little
park.
Why do governments fail to attend to the most basic
and obvious needs of their people? Since
citizens all over the world are taxed and regulated and even involuntarily
conscripted into the military, shouldn’t they at least receive vital basic
services in return?
Just as these acidic thoughts were discoloring my mood
even further, I noticed some people at a nearby table who were engaged in a
heated argument about the upcoming U.S. elections. But when I tuned into their conversation, I
realized that it was just the same old Blue Team/Red Team antagonism.
I sighed in disbelief that with all of the perceptive
commentary that is available in the alternative media today, this couple was
still locked into the old Democrats versus Republicans mindset. How could they miss the deeper truth that the
entire political process is so profoundly corrupted and metastasized that
governments don’t serve The People – they serve The Rich People? How could they believe that their puppet was
better than the opposing puppet? How
could they not understand that the Malignant Overlords are rejoicing behind the
curtain as they witness this divide and conquer strategy continue to succeed?
*******
Witnessing the sad episodes of the possibly pregnant
young teen and of the confused and startled little Indio girl had emotionally
staggered me. All of this had occurred within
a half an hour. And then to follow that
by overhearing an insipid argument over whose political marionette was best just
finished me off. I took the rest of my
water and headed for the waterfront. Sitting
on my favorite seawall with my toes in the water, might comfort me.
I was pleased to see that one of the semester-at-sea
tall ships, that regularly visit the Archipelago of Bliss, had just dropped
anchor. I sent them a little welcoming bouquet
of hopes as I watched them prepare their skiffs for a trip to town.
I hoped that the school-masters that they had on board
were bold and inspirational. I hoped
that they were questioning conformity and authority - and encouraging free inquiry
and critical thinking. I hoped that they
were alerting their sailor/students to the fact that although the supposedly
great institutions that dominate our world claim to be benevolent - they are largely
malevolent.
That old ship full of young life and new dreams
renewed my battered spirit. I headed
back towards AVENTURA, where maybe I could do a little teaching of my own. Perhaps, with my pen and paper and clipboard,
I could convert the sadness that had bludgeoned me on a sunny day in Panama
into a lesson for the wider world.
