By Serge F. Kovaleski
Washington Post Foreign Service
Sunday, January 16, 2000; Page A29
PANAMA CITY—Nisla Bernachina snarled and waved a finger when
asked for her views on the legacy of the U.S. presence in Panama.
"Satanic," she declared. "Some believe the Americans did all these great
things for us, as if they painted angels in the heavens like Michelangelo.
But
not me."
A virtual town meeting of passersby eager to pipe up took shape in the
impoverished neighborhood of El Chorrillo as Bernachina, 58, discussed
the United States and Panama. The U.S. role here has long been a hot
subject. Now that the gringos are finally gone, having turned over the
Panama Canal on Dec. 31, the discussion is equally hot, but it has turned
to the memories they left behind, to what Panamanians will remember after
nearly a century of highly visible and influential U.S. presence.
Perhaps more than any other Latin American nation, Panama felt the daily
reach of American culture. Legions of U.S. troops socialized in
Panamanian bars and restaurants, becoming patrons that owners often
catered to by serving American-style food and offering menus in English.
One of the first TV stations was a U.S. military channel for the U.S. armed
forces and other Americans who lived in the Canal Zone. Today, English,
with a distinctly U.S. mark, is spoken by many Panamanians to varying
degrees.
Panama's newspapers regularly mentioned weddings and other social
events in the Canal Zone, which had American schools and was subject to
U.S. laws. And besides the 50-mile-long canal, the most enduring symbol
is the U.S. dollar, the main currency since President Theodore Roosevelt
engineered Panama's independence from Colombia in 1903.
Opinions about the United States in Panama are particularly strong in El
Chorrillo, a bayside neighborhood of 25,000 that was the site of the main
barracks of president Manuel Noriega's military--and that therefore bore
the brunt of a U.S. invasion 10 years ago. Although new apartments have
been built, resentment persists among some residents, who argue they
were never adequately compensated.
"I cannot forget how we were left in ruins and misery by the gringos,"
said
Bernachina, whose home at the time of the invasion was destroyed.
But surprisingly, views in El Chorrillo regarding the United States are
as
divided as they are strident. They reflect a widespread ambivalence among
Panamanians about the way the United States handled its role as master
of
the 10-mile-wide Canal Zone and whether the U.S. military's departure
was in the best interest of Panama and its strategic waterway.
National fervor ran high over the long-awaited canal transfer, which
ushered in a new era of sovereignty for this country of 2.8 million people
that President Mireya Moscoso has tirelessly trumpeted. The jubilation
has
also been used by others to vent anti-American sentiments they have
harbored for a long time, their voices finding prominence amid the patriotic
euphoria.
However, polls over the last two years have consistently shown that while
the majority of Panamanians favored the U.S. government relinquishing
jurisdiction in accordance with 1977 canal treaties, they also wanted the
United States to retain a limited presence. A survey of 1,200 Panamanians
published by La Prensa newspaper showed 70 percent feel that
Panama--which relies on a police force for security since its army was
dissolved after the U.S. invasion--is incapable of defending the canal.
"I appreciated the fact the Americans soldiers took [then president]
Noriega away in chains and knowing that if there was a real problem in
this
barrio or in the canal the United States was always close by. . . . For
me,
that sense of security has been replaced by a sense of insecurity,"
remarked Luis Rivera, 44, a tailor stitching cloth in his shop in a dilapidated
apartment building in El Chorrillo.
"I will remember the time the United States spent here like a scale that
tipped to both sides, but mostly toward the side of good," he added.
Graciela Medina, 35, an unemployed neighbor, sat nearby emphatically
nodding. "I would have liked the United States to have stayed because I
have no faith in our government. We are the poor, we are the devils who
are ignored while we have to live with gangs, murder and poverty on every
corner."
She added, "Now that Panama is on its own, I am afraid that things will
only get worse around here."
But Julio Clinger, a jobless 22-year-old, dismissed any suggestion that
the
U.S. presence in this country was positive, shoving a friend who had
expressed pro-American views. Clinger contended the United States
debased Panamanians' self-esteem by fencing off the Canal Zone and
creating self-contained communities where Zonians, mostly Americans,
lived separate lives.
"The Americans manipulated our government and left us feeling like
second-class citizens. That is their legacy," Clinger said.
"Injustice is what I will remember about the gringos, and nothing else,"
chimed in Gloria Maria Urtado, 65, who says she lost an aunt, a cousin
and a nephew in the invasion.
Reflections about the United States have not only been stoked by the
handover of the canal, but by the marking on Dec. 20 of the 10th
anniversary of the U.S. invasion. On that day, about 2,000 demonstrators
wearing black pelted the U.S. Embassy with rocks and paint as they
chanted, "Out with the gringos!" and "Gringos! Assassins!"
A day earlier, a crowd gathered outside the headquarters of the party of
Noriega, a former CIA collaborator who is now serving a life sentence in
Miami on drug trafficking charges, and burned him in effigy. Many
Panamanians blame Noriega as much as the United States for the invasion.
And on Sunday, Panama held its annual day of mourning to honor the
Panamanian students killed 36 years ago by U.S. authorities while
attempting to raise the country's flag in the Canal Zone during a
demonstration. But this year's commemoration took on special significance
since it was the first to be held with no U.S. military to be found in
the
country.
At the Amador Cemetery, where Ascanio Arosemena, the first student
killed in the 1964 clash, is buried, history professor Luis Almanza, 46,
paid
his respects. then offered a list of attributes that the United States
will be
remembered for.
"The canal, good administration, good salaries and cultural coexistence,"
said Almanza, listing the good things left behind. "But unfortunately there
will also be the issues of aggression, as well as arrogance on the part
of the
Zonians and military personnel."
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