James Fenimore Cooper,
The Last of the Mohicans
Zonians. To be honest,
before moving to Panama the thought of what had happened to the
Americans who had lived in the former Canal Zone --- for several
generations in some instances --- had never crossed my mind. Shortly
after my arrival --- in fact, the first day that I reported to
work at Florida State University-Panama --- I literally came face
to face with the question.
"I'm a Zonian," Eric Holland said to me during our first
conversation. Eric is FSU-Panama's Athletic Director, and today
he is a good friend.
"What do you mean by Zonian?" I asked back then.
"I grew up in the Zone. Except for four years in the United
States when I went away for college, I've lived my entire life
in the Zone," Eric responded patiently, well accustomed to
ignorance such as mine.
Over the past year and a half I have developed quite a curiosity
about the Canal Zone, in particular about its culture. Sometimes,
when I'm waiting for a taxi in the heart of Balboa, near the former
YMCA Building, I close my eyes and try to envision what the Zone
must have been like 40 years ago, when American colonists had
control "in perpetuity" over the narrow 10-mile wide
stretch of land that crosses the isthmus. My imagination invariably
fails me; I see the buildings clearly, but in my mind's eye the
people are always missing. I simply cannot conceive of how things
must have been. I now understand that this is not unusual. What
I've learned over time is that a person "has to have been
there" to be able to grasp the concept of life in the Zone.
On December 31, 1999, the United States turned the canal over
to Panama. This included all operations, jobs, and properties.
For more than 20 years, the American dominion had been phased
out, starting in October 1979 with the abolition of the Canal
Zone government and police and the transfer of the Canal Zone
schools to the US Department of Defense. As a result of the treaty,
the vast majority of Zonians found themselves forced by straightforward
economics to pack up their belongings and return to the States.
This included many who had lived their entire lives in the Zone.
There were, however, some who stayed.
That option was made easier by one of the better deals offered
to the nationals of an ousted power in a decolonization process:
people who were born in the Canal Zone --- whether or not they
have Panamanian ancestors --- are considered Panamanian citizens,
without having to give up their American citizenship.
I met with a few young Zonians, college students who attend FSU-Panama,
to discuss what the end of the American presence in the former
Canal Zone has meant to them. In a classroom that looks out at
both the Bridge of the Americas and the entrance to the canal,
I chatted with Eric Holland, Stevie Bodden, Salvador Stabler,
Olmedo Icaza, Angie Cruz-Segara, Krista Wiese, and Roy Dalton.
Over slices of pepperoni pizza and cups of Pepsi "Blue,"
they answered my questions.
When asked to define a Zonian, they all agreed that a pure Zonian
is "someone born before 1979," the year the Carter-Torrijos
Treaty was signed. With the exception of Eric, all the informants
were born in the mid-1980s.
"If we use that definition, then, that means that only Eric
is a Zonian, the rest of you are not," I state, worried that
they might be inadvertently excluding themselves from membership
in this elite group.
"That's right. We're not Zonians. Our parents are Zonians,
but we were born after the treaty. That makes us descendants of
Zonians," said Stevie Bodden, who from the onset emerges
as the group's primary spokesperson.
"Do you all agree with Stevie?" I ask.
Every single one of the young Zonians nods.
"But you all got to experience what life on the Zone was
like, didn't you?" I ask.
Once again, they all assent by nodding.
"Describe that life to me, then. I want to understand it,"
I say.
The descendants of Zonians all jump in at once. What emerges is
a picture of utopia, a perfect society of gainful, secure employment
with housing and utilities provided free of charge; free, first
rate medical and dental care; gardens and lawns that were immaculately
kept by Panamanians gardeners contracted and paid for by the Panama
Canal Commission (known in their parents' time as the Panama Canal
Company); excellent public schools; pristine swimming pools; perfectly
manicured baseball, softball, and football fields; spotless basketball
and tennis courts; an infinite array of clubs and activities for
young and old; and an extremely tight-knit community where a family
felt absolutely safe, being able to leave their doors open at
all hours without fear.
"We thought the entire world was like that," says Stevie.
"There was never any reason for us to leave the Zone. In
fact, I was 13 years old the first time I visited Panama City.
I was so shocked to see how big it was. The only time we left
the Zone was to cross over the bridge on our way to the Interior.
But we had everything we needed in the Zone. We did all our shopping
in the PX and the Commissary, paying less for things than we would
in the States. The Zone even had American fast food restaurants
and several movie theaters. Therefore, going into Panama City
was completely unnecessary."
"Was it like that for all of you?" I ask, still stunned
by the revelation that anyone could be happy while living enclosed
in such a narrow strip of land.
Again, every single member of the group nodded their assent ---
with the exception of Salvador Stabler, who was born in Colon
and adopted years later by a Zonian family. Salvador had experienced
life on the outside prior to moving to the Zone, and at times
during our conversation he felt on the margin of the true descendants
of Zonians.
"We had the best of both worlds: the discipline and order
of US society, and for those of us who chose to venture out of
the Zone, the relaxed lifestyle and standards of Latin America,"
adds Eric Holland.
"What is it that you miss the most about life in the Zone?"
I ask the group.
"Our friends who left," everyone answers almost in unison.
"Life became boring around here without them," adds
Olmedo Icaza.
Expanding on what they missed the most, the "Post-Zonians"
compile a long list of activities such as cheerleading, sport
leagues, track and field competitions, alligator hunting in Gamboa,
and so on.
"It makes me a little resentful when I start to think about
all the fun things I had taken away from me," adds Angie
Cruz-Segara. The group suddenly becomes silent, apparently pondering
on their loss.
"Apart from having a way to support themselves, why did your
families choose to remain in Panama?" I ask, cutting through
their thoughts.
Their responses indicate three primary reasons their families
chose to stay. First among them is that their parents do not like
living in the States. Then, every one in the group, with the exception
of Roy Dalton, is of mixed-heritage; that is, one of their parents
is Panamanian. And, finally, their families genuinely love Panama.
"Would you say that Zonian culture has died?" I ask.
Definitely not, according to the group. "The former Zone
really comes to life again during the Christmas vacations and
the US summers. That's when tons of Zonians who now live in the
States come to visit. They miss Panama and feel the need to return.
We have wonderful reunions during these times," says Stevie.
"Zonian culture is also alive in the States. Zonians are
so close-knit that many decided to form 'Zonian' communities in
places like Florida," adds Eric Holland.
What I was astonished to discover during this part of the conversation
was the emergence of a new fad among a segment of young Panamanians:
to emulate Zonians.
"There are Panamanians out there who want to be just like
us. They have adopted the way we speak, the way we look, and our
attitudes, which are more liberal and adventurous than the average
Panamanians. They want to hang out with us all the time. It's
nice, but a little bewildering as well," says Stevie.
Regarding how they and their families first coped with the big
change following the turnover of the Canal, they all expressed
that initially there was a great sense of loss in their households
--- especially after the sudden, massive exodus of friends. However,
all of them state that this has obligated them and their families
to make Panamanian friends. "The turnover of the Canal also
forced us to begin going into Panama City to shop for everything.
I've learned to enjoy that," Krista Wiese adds. And while
these newfound friendships and discoveries have been a pleasant
surprise, compared to glory days of the Zone, life is much quieter.
"How did you fit into Panamanian society prior to the turnover?"
I ask.
"We didn't," answers Stevie. "We seldom left the
Zone. When we did venture out into the city, like to eat at a
restaurant or go to a movie, we always went in large groups.
"To be honest, I didn't start making Panamanian friends until
after I returned from college," adds Eric. "Before that,
it never occurred to me to have Panamanians on my list of friends."
"How do you fit into Panamanian society today?" I ask.
"We don't really fit in," answers Angie. "And it's
tougher for the girls --- Panamanian men accept us, but the Panamanian
women don't want us around. Plus, many Panamanians tend to judge
us through the stereotypes they have of Americans, and not as
individuals."
"The funny thing is that we don't fit in when we go to the
States either. My relatives over there see me as something strange,
more Panamanian than American. I guess we don't really fit in
anywhere except in the former Zone," adds Stevie as the others
nod in agreement.
"People in the States seem cold, while here it's all abrazos
y besos," says Roy.
"When I visit the States I am sad to see that people there
don't realize what a wonderful place Panama is. They think we
live in primitive conditions," adds Angie.
"I find that young people in the US don't even know much
about their own state, let alone the rest of the world. Their
ignorance depresses me," says Stevie.
At this point I proceed to ask each one where they envision themselves
in the future. Eric and Stevie are adamant that they will remain
in Panama. Angie and Krista don't know if their future lies here,
but they are certain that they will live somewhere in Latin America
rather than in the States. Roy and Salvador want to live in the
US for a while, but eventually they plan on returning to Panama.
Olmedo is the only one who says that his future is in the States.
"Are you sad the days of the Canal Zone have ended?"
I ask as my final question.
"No. But then, we were aware that those days were coming
to an end. What I do feel is grateful for having experienced a
taste of what Zonian life was like. It must have been absolutely
wonderful before the Treaty was signed," Angie answers.
"We got to experience three times the things people in the
States experience in their lifetime. You can't beat that. Plus,
we'll always have those great memories that will allow us think
of the Zone as a magical place," says Stevie.
Zonian culture did not seep very deeply into Panamanian society.
A number of wealthier Panamanian families did send their kids
to school in the Zone, and a few things like cayuco racing and
American football have caught on with certain segments of isthmian
society. However, the segregated Zonian existence assured that
the traits and traditions established by the Americans who lived
and worked here for nearly a century remained alien to outsiders.
Thus Zonian culture is destined to disappear. In fact, it's already
becoming a historical footnote. In the end, only the great constructions,
chief among them the canal, will remain to attest that an extraordinary
civilization once dwelled here.
What is surprising, though, is the vigor with which the Zonian
diaspora clings to its past. The tides of history and international
politics have forced Zonians to move on, to seek the higher ground
of economic survival. Nevertheless, their ties to this land, their
yearning for the idyllic life they once led in the Canal Zone,
are as strong as those experienced by any other citizen of the
world who is suffering through the pains of exile.
Here in Panama, however, something of the Zonian culture continues
to survive, to move forward, and to evolve; and so it shall be
as long as we have the children of those who stayed.
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