A Snippet of Life in Balboa Panama

Give a child freedom and that child will use every ounce of it and then some! Freedom of body mind and spirit was my blessing early in life at a time when I never thought of not having freedom. I did not even know what the word freedom meant much less understand what it was to not have freedom. I explored and played and lived in my imagination along with living in a world of wonder.

While living in Panama for 3 1/2 years my world was constructed of jungle, reptiles, insects, water, military events, and family. During the day my parents were involved with military life meaning my father was off teaching jungle survival and or drinking and my mom was at the NCO Wives club sewing for theater productions or playing softball. On weekdays my siblings, two brothers and a sister who were, 9 1/2, 7, and 5 years older than I, spent their days suffering body pinches, ruler whacks, and face slaps combined with loving prayer at parochial school. I remained at home with a nanny. As I grew in age my ability to explore and run and mimic airplanes in a nose dive grew also. My nanny did not have to worry about whether I would wander too far because the Panamanian Jungle created a beautiful boundary which I obeyed. The dense wall that separated our stilted home from hungry mouths and venomous bites was created by Mother Nature. Mother Nature wove everything green and vine like and tree like into a living tight knit community of flora and fauna and then glued it all together with the sounds of the jungle's  inhabitants. I knew by instinct that I was not to penetrate the jungle wall and my instinct was sharpened by stories my father recounted to us children. His stories included head hunters he met deep in the jungle and my father would show us kids a real shrunken human head to prove his story was real. I believed my father. I believed the sounds of the jungle. I did not enter the living green wall. 

(http://www.voodooneworleans.com/shrunkenhead.php)

Several times a week my father attacked the jungle wall with a machete. Slinging his machete arm way up over his head he then would drop his arm with a swinging force so hard the green of the jungle flew into the air as did rich smelling chlorophyll laden plant juice. This act of hacking at the jungle was necessary to keep the verdant labyrinth and its inhabitants away from the house. My father became a two legged Army Ant with a purpose. Part of the keeping the jungle away from the house was because of Army Ants and you don't want to be in their path. Nothing that can be dismantled with a their mighty jaws is sacred to Army Ants and the platoon does not like going around anything. I remember my siblings deliberately scaring me with stories of Army Ants carrying little children my size away. I believed them. I still believe them. I still respect the green wall of any jungle and its jaws.

(Panamanian Jungles courtesy of Google Images)

My mom is still upset and angry with Army Ants because of the night they devoured her prized Hibiscus bush. The army left nothing behind that would qualify as beautiful much less a beautiful Hibiscus. As for me? I did not miss the Hibiscus because I had other important business to attend to. My days were spent with my friends not with Hibiscus bushes. My friends were a parrot named Baby, a marmoset monkey named Monkey and a Doberman Pincer named Incus. Sometimes, even though I could run, I enjoyed playing with a baby walker. The purpose? There was no purpose but there was a lot of fun to be had! The walker was like a scooter, powder blue in color with pastel plastic beads to push back and forth and a wooden handle bar. I could get that scooter going fairly too fast around the yard while the parrot clung onto the handle bar screaming, "¡Momma el griterío del bebé!",  "Momma! The baby's crying!" The monkey would jump around nervously from me to the back of the scooter to me to Incus's back screeching, "Hey Parrot, will you shut up!". Incus the Pincer would keep pace just behind the rest of the show and protect me and my friends from anything that may have tried to creep out of the jungle.

(La Porte Baby Walker 1950's)

Being a child demands the use of imagination and the world I lived in made it impossible to avoid the use of imagination. My imagination allowed me to hear the jungle chewing. My imagination helped me see the head hunters peering at me as they clung to trees like big spotted leaves. My imagination helped my speak Marmoset when I needed Monkey to stop pulling on my wisp of hair.  I believe that Baby and Monkey and Incus could hear and see what I did because we would all talk about what we were seeing and hearing, and my imagination would not let my friends lie to me. I had no concept of 24 hour days, I only knew there was daytime and night time. Daytime was when me and my gang played all day only stopping long enough to eat something and then back to pretending I was hunting for sloths, and armadillos and red eyed toads while flying my bomber plane around and under the house. At night, the family was home and life was really different.

I loved my siblings and I so wanted to be a part of their life. I was so happy when they would come home from school because then I could hear all about their day as my mom pumped them for information. I didn't even mind that no one wanted to talk with me, because I was satisfied just listening to what it was like in the world outside of our house. Eventually, I would manage to make each brother and my sister yell at me as I would pester them to play. With so many years between us it was difficult for my siblings to relate to a young toddler such as myself. I wanted their school books. I wanted their model airplanes. I wanted my sister's glass horse collection. I wanted my mom to snuggle and hug and kiss on me and I wanted my dad to show us all his latest prize from the jungle. When my father would return from the jungle he would take us outside to see his latest acquisition of snakes and bugs he had collected. He would teach us the proper names for the snakes and insects and any identifying marks and features.  We learned what was poisonous and what was edible. Yes, we ate bugs and snakes. Maybe that is one of the reasons why today I will try anything because I have tried so many exotic foods in my life.We all would listen intently as my father spoke and demonstrated the "how to's and the what not to do's" because we knew there would be questions asked that had to be answered as proof that we had listened to our latest lesson. My father would say, in Spanish with a Gaelic accent, "look look" and if we were not paying attention we would receive a slap on the top of our heads. After our lessons we would all return indoors for a family meal that usually was accompanied by a heavy rain storm. It rained a lot in Balboa Panama where the average rainfall is slightly over 90 inches and where a 3 minute downpour can sometimes drop almost 3 inches of moisture. We were drenched a lot but that did not matter. Well, getting wet mattered to my mom because the rain would ruin her hair but to me? Nope, just more fuel for my imagination.
I lived so many adventures both real and in the land between my ears by the time I was 3 1/2 if I could have kept a journal I would love to be reading it today!
Maybe, after I get some rest, I will share more Panama with you and maybe I will leap back to Alabama or saunter on over to Mississippi or fly to Texas or road trip you to Arizona with me. Well, eventually I will take you to California oh, and Arkansas too!

(Maryanne Hughes Mesple in Panama 1955)

to be continued ...

(All stories blogged by me are my property and protected under copyright laws. No part may be used or reproduced in anyway without my permission ~ Maryanne Mesplé)