On the 16th a parade was held in Bocas town to celebrate the province's founding. Dozens of delegrations from junior and high schools marched in the parade. Quebrada Pastor's marching band was among them. I have been hearing them practice since July, and have supported all of their various fundraising events, so I had to be there to see them make their big debut.
I woke up at 5:30 and by 6:15, boarded a bus filled with parents, students, teachers and drums. We arrived at the docks in Almirante just before 7 a.m. There are two ways to get to the island. One is the water taxi-- which costs $4 for each half-hour trip. The other is the ferry, which takes 2-and-a-half hours as it trudges across the bay, but only costs $1.
By 8, we were all aboard the ferry, where we stood for the duration of the journey until pulling past all the gringo yachts into the port on Bocas Island. For most of the kids, it was their first time there, and they all felt particularly special to be arriving for such an official purpose.
Whenever I go to the island, I get culture shock. High prices, tourists everywhere, people who speak English. Bocas Island is an international tourist destination. On the 16th, traveling with everyone from my community, I got to see it through their eyes. They are used to Almirante and Changuinola, run-down frontier towns filled with other Ngobes. Bocas is more polished-- fresh paint, nice restaurants, rich people who eat at them.
It was a hot day. No clouds, little breeze and bright, beating sun. The kids marched for three hours, dressed in breathless polyester uniforms. Parents and siblings who were lucky enough to go along followed faithfully along the parade route. Street vendors sold meat sticks, ice cream, slushes, and cold drinks. No one had any money to buy any of it. They budgeted all their money on the ferry fare, with maybe a dollar or two left over to buy a big jug of water.
That day, to me, Bocas didn't seem like a tourst destination. It looked imaginary. From my community, it's only 90 minutes, but it seems like a different world.
But we marched.
1) First-grader Deisy bravely leads the baton twirlers.
2) The tiniest drummer, a third-grader among all the junior-high drummers. Wearing a traditional sombrero and shirt
3) A seventh-grader dressed in the traditional Panamanian pollera outfit.
4) Some gringa on the ferry who met some boys from Finca 30.