Fast Times in Agua Buena

By Will Woodfield

Note: Hopefully, this will be a regular column detailing, in isolated vignettes, the often-sordid goings-on in my site, Agua Buena, Los Santos. Sometimes written in a sardonic tone, it could be to Agua Buena what Prairie Home Companion is to Lake Woebegone, although I personally think Garrison Keiller is something for L.L. Bean-wearing yuppies to listen to while driving their sports-utility vehicles to the mall. No names have been changed to protect people's reputations. In Agua Buena, no-one's reputation is safe... And finally, Michael "Bäri Kuane" Aumack will not be mentioned in this column, unless, of course, he comes to visit Agua Buena, in which case all bets are off.

Agua Buena, District of Guararé, Province of Los Santos, Republic of Panamá. Easily reached by any transporte heading to Macaracas, as it is en route. Population, 2500. Cattle raising the main source of income, although the 9 mueblerias within the town limits are a close second.

Everyone from Agua Buena is proud of being from Agua Buena. "In Agua Buena," everyone says "the people work hard and the women are beautiful." I've been told this refrain at least ten times. This universally held self-perception is actually very clever: by constantly repeating it, it actually becomes true, regardless of whether it was true to begin with. The congenitally lazy furniture sander is forced to overcome his slothful genetic predisposition and actually sand the living daylights out of any peinadora or gavetero that comes his way, because of the peer pressure that his environment- the populace of Agua Buena- exerts on him. Similarly, because of the pressure to maintain Agua Buena's reputation of beautiful women, the women of Agua Buena will: a), take extra special care to make themselves as beautiful as possible, and b), because they've heard people say so all their lives, they actually feel beautiful, which actually makes them beautiful, since, as everyone knows, true beauty is all about how you feel. It is all an ingeniously self-fulfilling prophecy.

Agua Buena is a pretty little town. But what happens when you scratch this seemingly-immaculate service? What festering cavities lurk within the gleaming white smile? Can an entire community be said to posses two faces, one that it shows to outsiders passing through to nab some cheap furniture, and the other it reveals to its own, or possibly an unwary PCV who has little choice but to reside there for two years? Let us begin the quest for truth..

*

The first day I actually set foot in Agua Buena as a Volunteer, my host family was having a birthday party for little Eduardo, age 8. All the family and friends were there, and Pepe, the next-door neighbor, was filming it all with his new Handycam. The highlight of the festivities was the brindis complete with cake, and afterwards, everyone gathered around the TV to watch the video of what had just transpired.

The kids were almost immediately laughing, especially when Eduardo got pushed from behind while blowing out the candles, ending up with a face-full of blue icing, and the loudest laugher of all was César.

Now let me tell you about César. 4 years old, he is constantly running around in his underwear, often brandishing a stick, like an extra from Lord of the Flies. He reminds me of the Peanuts character Pig Pen, since he always seems to be caked in filth. With big Jughead ears, his is a face only a mother could love. His chin frequently glistens with drool.

César's guffaws drowned out the rest of the little kids' and exploded in a fresh burst when, on the screen, a little girl made a horrible face at the camera. As the footage became mundane again, the rest of the little kids calmed down- except for César, who continued to laugh hysterically.

"¡Cállate!" said Ori, the man of the house and my Counterpart, starting to get pissed off. But César wouldn't shut up. And when, on the screen, a big hunk of cake slid off an old woman's fork to land in her lap, that was too much for César: he collapsed on the floor, howling with laughter.

Ori then intoned the most commonly-heard utterance in Panamanian parenting-"¡Te voy a pegar!"- while loosening his belt and shooting eye-daggers at César, who managed to pick himself up and run outside with the rest of the little kids, still laughing uncontrollably.

"Muy necio," Ori said to me, shaking his head and replacing his belt. "Muy tremendo."

*

Things took some getting used to for my little doggie Nen too. In El Espino, he was used to enjoying his meals all to himself. No longer. In Agua Buena, he would have to contend with the voracious hunger and unlimited cunning of two little land-locked waterfowl.

Three times a day I would feed Nen the table scraps of rice and beans (no Alpo in Agua Buena) but no sooner had he started to eat then two Little Ducks would dart in and start to gobble down the precious chow that was Nen's by right. Nen would let out a big selfish WOOF!- disproportionately loud for such a little doggie- and the Little Ducks would scatter. But then they would rally, and would go in for a second guerilla sortie, and the process would repeat itself.

Watching the Little Ducks wage their own form of blitzkrieg ("Lightning War," from the German) I would think of the Battle of Trafalgar, where Nelson's sleek little frigates effortlessly harried and deftly evaded the ponderous Spanish galleons. Unlike the Battle of Trafalgar, however, though the Little Ducks consistently managed to deprive Nen of a certain amount of grub and annoy him greatly in the process, there was actually enough to go around, and both sides continued to exist and persist in their food feud.

That is, until canine distemper caused Nen to suffer so much that we killed him with a lethal injection. Now the Little Ducks are big and ugly, and will probably end up as dead meat on someone's plate pretty soon. Life can be cruel, and death both merciful and merciless, in Agua Buena.

*

Ori's mueblería is located at the top of El Tute, a high hill in Agua Buena, where cool zephyrs redolent of sawdust sooth the sweaty brow on even the hottest of days. Ori's small army of sanders and varnishers occupy the heights above the road, and are the masters of their domain. When the secondary school girls pass by in their blue and white uniforms, there are the inevitable catcalls and wolfwhistles; all good-natured, of course.

"William Hughes," Tuta began one day as I was sanding with them. Tuta, real name Eliécer, is the undisputed leader of the sanding brigade, a burly man with a big hairy barriga , often revealed as he rolls up the bottom of his tank-top in typical male Panamanian fashion. Tuta is also the master of the "HHUH!," (for want of a better name), that peculiar, guttural, Santenian exclamation of surprise and disbelief that emanates from deep within the diaphragm. The only sound I can compare it to is the grunting of the herds of wildebeest that seasonally came stampeding down the Serengeti plains that I used to observe while growing up in Kenya as a child. Tuta calls me "William Hughes", after the ex-American Ambassador he saw on TV.

"William Hughes," he asked, "¿Cómo se dice 'adios, mi amor' en ingles?" Although feeling like I was adding fuel to the fire, I couldn't resist the chance to teach some English. For some time afterwards, whenever school would get out and the girls passed by, that high hill in Agua Buena would resound with cries of "Goot-bye, my loff!" Of course, nothing really changed; the girls just looked non-plussed.

My lack of participation in the outspoken appreciation of passing females is puzzling to the guys. Though they explain to me that it is all in fun and that the women like it (which seems to be true), I nevertheless refrain myself. This politically correct gringo behavior pattern, seemingly cold in this tropical country, will continue to be an oddity.

*

Well, I hope you've all enjoyed your first taste of Agua Buena, and that your appetites are whetted for more. For, to paraphrase Paul Simon, in Agua Buena there are always incidents and accidents, hints and allegations. Hope you'll stay tuned for some more fast times to come, or even better, come visit me and personally partake of a heady draught of the Agua Buena Experience! See you soon!