The Sounds of Silence

For the past week people of the Comarca Ngabe-bugle have been protesting a proposed mine and hydroelectric dam that is to be put on their reservation against their will. Just like last year, all along the Interamericana Highway - the only trans-country road in Panama - people have blocked vehicle passage with logs, metal street signs burning tires, semi-trucks, and rocks. Travel is impossible, tensions are high, and everything is escalating.

Protesters at Horconcitos, one of the protest sites (photo courtesy of Jack Fischl)

burning tire (photo courtesy of Jack Fischl)

The Ngabe's demand that a government contingent of three people - including Ricardo Martinelli, the President of Panama - travel to the Reservation to meet with its government. Martinelli declined to do this but counter-offered to fly the 'Cacique' ("chief" or "leader" of the Comarca) to Panama City for a meeting, but this time it was the Cacique's turn to refuse.

The protesting continued and the following day a call from Martinelli is all it took to turn off all the cellphone stations in the Comarca. Now protesters wont be able to organize as easily and Peace Corps can't contact me except by sending a radio announcement, which may not reach me. 

On returning home on the fourth of February my neighbor, Victor Salinas, engaged me in a conversation and explained how he views the events of the past few days:

We are rich. We are poor but we are rich. There are three mountains that have gold in the Comarca and outsiders want to take it. What will happen if the mine is built? Multi-national companies will get richer and we will get poorer because the mine would contaminate our land and streams. Animals would die and crops wouldn't grow. Look Choy, the Spanish came here five-hundred years ago and took our land, killed most of our people, and stole all of our gold for themselves. Now these Latinos are trying to do it again but we've learned -we're saying "no more"

On the fifth of February Martinelli sent the police to open up the roadblocks. Armed with rubber bullets and tear gas they faced off against slingshot and molotov-coctail carrying Ngabe's. Four Ngabe's have died as a result of the clashes and hundreds more have been injured, including a couple dozen policemen. Last year, only one person died.

protesters and policemen clash (photo courtesy of www.elnuevodiario.com)

A Ngabe man armed with a slingshot (photo courtesy of  http://www.elpais.cr)    

In my attempt to watch the Superbowl I hiked 1.5 hours to Cerro Sombrero where I intended to catch a pickup truck to the nearest town, Tole. It was an eerie hike. Normally the houses I pass blare annoying Panamanian Tipico music but on this day I heard no music. At every house families were huddled around their radios and listening to the news. Each family was listening to the same station because the others were shut down. Even the people I passed on the trail were holding radios to there ears, hanging on every word the newscaster spoke. This is the most important event to happen to these people since the Ngabe's marched on the capital and won the creation of their reservation back in 1997. It is easy to understand why nobody here can think or talk about anything else. 

Upon my arrival in Cerro Sombrero I saw two large groups of people huddled around two small televisions, watching live footage of policemen clashing with protesters on the highway. I joined the smaller group and was immediately overwhelmed by the site of policemen shooting guns and Ngabe's throwing rocks through tear gas. I almost cried when I saw footage of four men carrying their dead friend through a crowd. They just don't show that kind of stuff in the United States.

Before I could process what I just saw a truck pulled up and interrupted our fixation on the television. The driver stuck his head out the window and yelled to us, "muchachos, lets go! Grab your machetes and rocks -we're going to defend the Comarca! Hurry! Lets go!" Upon hearing these words a group of men ran toward the truck. Armed and packed like sardines in the truck bed they sped off down the road to Tole. I felt uncomfortable being the only gringo there and knew I needed to leave but before I could another truck pulled up, filled with men, and  it too raced off down the road.

At the departure of the second truck I hiked home. During the hike my head filled with pressing questions: How will all this end? How many more will die? Am I in danger? How many more days will my food last before I need to re-stock? How can I contact people and be contacted without cellphone signal? Will Peace Corps remove me from my site? If so, how will they do it? After these questions sat with me for a while my worry subsided and as my thoughts shifted I began trying to process what I was experiencing. Immediately I remembered the protest movement in the United States. You can imagine the shock I felt when I had a momentary epiphany that these two groups of protesters - however different they might seem - are actually fighting the same forces: the power of money and extreme inequality. 

When I got home I glanced at the calendar. Below February 5 was written "Superbowl Sunday." As a sports fan dying to see the rematch of the greatest Superbowl ever I was surprised that in the excitement of the day I had forgotten about the game and furthermore, didn't mind missing it. Noam Chomsky once said, "One of the functions that things like professional sports play in our society and others is to offer an area to deflect people's attention from things that matter." 

With this sentiment in my thoughts I couldn't help thinking about the hundreds of millions of Americans who, glued to their televisions and watching the Giants cream the Patriots yet again, had no idea Ngabe's were being exploited and killed not too far away. 

And probably never will.