Mind-Boggling Post-Script on Pedasi

 

I thought I had said my say about Pedasi, but this keeps coming to mind...it really happened late one evening.  

The child's screams pierced the quiet eventide.  Unrelenting, "OW, OW,OW!".  Gut-wrenching wails of pain.  No way to see through the dense jungle-like undergrowth.  What was the source of pain that seemed on-going; a snake bite, stepping on broken glass, a jaguar attack? No lights on at the nearest dwelling, but a voice heard in the dark, the child taken in, comforted, the screams diminishing.

What appeared to us in daylight is a primitive shack-no power lines strung there, and an outside water source where we watched them brush their teeth.  It was home.  The woman strolled about feeding the chickens, tidying the dog pen, dusting off the bike seat. The man drove off in the shiny new SUV parked in the yard.  In the afternoons we heard the clack of rocks batted by a young boy practicing his baseball swing.  We  pondered the sign at their gate, Jardine de Bruja...garden of the witch?? 

 Stan the Man already described the contrast of the ex-pat enclave. What we saw and heard from our air bnb window, is this the real Panama?

Until next time,

K.