A Sip of the Chagres
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A SIP OF THE CHAGRES THE LAND OF THE COCOANUT-TREE From "Panama Patchwork" (original spelling) James Stanley Gilbert 1853-1906 AWAY down south in the Torrid Zone, North latitude nearly nine, Where the eight months' pour once past and o'er, The sun four months doth shine; Where 'tis eighty-six the year around, And people rarely agree; Where the plaintain grows and the hot wind blows, Lies the Land of the Cocoanut Tree. Tis the land where all the insects breed That live by bite and sting; Where the birds are quite winged rainbows bright, Tho' seldom one doth sing! Here radiant flowers and orchids thrive And bloom perennially- All beauteous, yes - but odorless! In the Land of the Cocoanut-Tree. 'Tis a land profusely rich, 'tis said, In mines of yellow gold, That, of claims bereft, the Spaniards left In the cruel days of old! And many a man hath lost his life That treasure-trove to see, Or doth agonize with steaming eyes In the Land of the Cocoanut-Tree! 'Tis a land that still with potent charm And wondrous, lasting spell With mighty thrall enchanteth all Who long within it dwell; 'Tis, a land where the Pale Destroyer waits And watches eagerly; 'Tis, in truth, but a breath from life to death, In the Land of the Cocoanut-Tree. 1 Then, go away if you have to go Then, go away if you will! To again return, you will always yearn While the lamp is burning still! You've drank the Chagres water And the mango eaten free, And, strange tho' it seems, 'twill haunt your dreams -- This land of the Cocoanut-tree. This is a collection of E-Mails sent by a group of people unique in the history of the United States, a group who call themselves “Zonians.” Zonians lived, worked, and many grew up, in the Panama Canal Zone, a place which has now been relegated to history. This collection reflects their stories, memories, and thoughts about a strip of land only forty miles by ten miles. Which, for nearly ninety years was one of the most important pieces of real-estate in the world. To the Zonians, the Panama Canal, and the Zone surrounding it, was not just a mere marvel of engineering, or a vital link in the world’s economic and military chain. To the Zonians, it was a marvelous land of never- ending beauty and charm. A land of comfort and security, a land of peace, and plenty. A land of hard work, fun, and excitement, and sometimes danger,. A Land of Forever Summer. A land they called HOME! Like the man said: “Strange tho’ it seems, it haunts their dreams.....” Tom Kinnaird 44.4N 122.7W December 9, 2000 2 From: Linnea <[email protected]> Date: Wed Jan 5, 2000 7:12am Subject: Expatriates Writing offline, so not addressing anything new since yesterday, when I vowed I would never address this Zonian issue again. But, lying in bed early this morning, I kept wondering about the passion that Panama could instill in us who are on these Lists, whether we were there for 3 years or 30 years. I certainly don't feel attached to anywhere else the way I do to the Zone, even after almost 18 years in North Carolina, and I know I wouldn't feel at home again in Oregon. I spent too many of my first years in the Zone being homesick for my family and Oregon. I think if Ron had gotten me out to the beaches and the forests and if we'd bought a boat (with what $$ I don't know), and just been OUT, I'd have adapted more quickly. Perhaps if we'd lived on the Pacific side (sorry), and could have gotten to some restaurants and shopping and up to the beaches, I might have felt less constricted. The housing alone made you feel constricted; you couldn't do much to a one-bedroom 4-family, nor much to any other quarters, and any money you spent you wouldn't get back from your landlord, PanCanal government. But it was home to Ron and he already knew all about the place; he worked shift work in Customs and then Admeasurement, we were raising kids, our parents came to live with us, and I was going to school. It was thanks to FSU that I finally got OUT and saw the country and the forests, etc., talked to people about something besides maids and the Commissary. But why this deep attachment for a place so hot and humid, with cockroaches and sandflies and stale groceries, et al? For one thing, perhaps the primary thing, we were safely in the Zone and could venture into the Canal Zone forests and waterways without fear, something I wouldn't do up here today and perhaps we couldn't do there today. We had the best of all worlds: we could shop and dine and play in Panama and return to our secure little homes in the Zone. We were smack dab in the middle of an exotic world, both cultural and tropical, and didn't have to go out to seek a new experience--new experiences permeated our existence every day--a toucan would fly over, or two maids would call greetings to each other in Bajun, or the scissors grinder would ride up the street on his bicycle, playing his mournful notes on a flute. We could raise our children in what to them was a paradise: endless summer, playgrounds, pools, the jungle and ditches and sawgrass and hair bees and mangos and sliding down hills and all the other experiences CZ Brats so fondly remember. 3 We could drive to work or for groceries in 10 minutes, with glimpses of the blue Caribbean or mangroves, palms, greenery, or the Pacific and royal palms and red tiled roofs, instead of ugly gray stretches of uglier mini-malls and neon signs and car lots under a leaden winter sky. As well as being so tropical, it was very cosmopolitan. We met people from all over the U. S. who comprised the PanCanal workforce, and one had only to go to Colon or Panama City to see almost all of mankind there: Hindus, Jews, Syrians, the descendants of Africans brought to Panama centuries before and those brought to work on the Canal in the--get this--LAST century; Cuna Indians, Dutch, Greeks, Turks, British, American businessmen and embassy people, you name it. All of these groups stood out more than they would in a large city in a large country; most of the time I spent in Panama, the population was about 2 million. This cosmopolitanism manifested itself in the types of restaurants and diversions we could patronize, and I especially think it would reach a culmination in the United Way productions every year, musicals which were as professional as anything on Broadway, where many talents from the Zone and Panama were seen. I think, too, that those of us who fell in love with the tropics hark back to something atavistic; the power of an Eden, the endless summer and greenery and flowers and colorful birds and exotic forms of life, the enormous breathing Pacific and gently lapping Caribbean at our doorsteps, literally if we were in the military or were lucky enough to have homes in Coronado or Gorgona. And there was the underlying fabric of rural Panama where towns and scenes of oxcarts and barefoot peasants and dusty roads took the visitor back centuries, as did the crumbling walls of Old Panama and Ft. San Lorenzo. We had the best of all worlds: small town next to big city, tropical paradise next to the workmanlike Canal and bustling port cities, American housewives in shirtwaist dresses next to Indian women dressed in saris, modern life superimposed upon ancient tradition. Seeing another culture every day pointed up the advantages and defects in our own culture and we came to understand ourselves better. Over and above it all, I think, was the commitment to the Canal, whether PanCanal employee, military, FAA, which bonded it all together, a cohesiveness that seems totally lacking anywhere else. I know Panama has spoiled me for living anywhere but the tropics; I dream now not of Florida but of Hawaii or the Virgin Islands or even Italy, somewhere exotic with lots of water nearby. Since I actually can't go anywhere, I may as well pick an American site. I'm not sure I'd like to return to Panama unless I could go back in time, unless I could return now with lots of money! If we visited or lived in 4 Hawaii, at least it would all be a fresh slate and we wouldn't be comparing what was then to what is now--Our Paradise Lost. Linnea From: <[email protected])> Date: Thu Sep 16, 1999 3:35am Subject: Home Leave "Home Leave". Pan Canal used to give you 40 hours travel time and an additional 40 hours if you spent more than 30 days stateside. That's two weeks free leave. And while you were on leave you were still earning 12.5 hours every pay period. People up here don't believe me when I tell them that. And when I tell them that I took nine weeks leave one summer when I was a third year apprentice, they just flip. Tiger From: Joe DuVall <joeduvall@z...> Date: Thu Sep 16, 1999 5:50am Subject: Re: Home Leave Home Leave was the greatest! Don't forget if you departed your quarters before 6:00 a.m.