The earth smelled of fresh rain the day that I met him. It was mid day and the hot Panamanian sun hung hazily in the sky. I was helping PCV Lorena draft up posters for her trash pick up when suddenly I started to get sick. Maybe it was the heat or maybe it was the non-refrigerated food I had eaten yesterday. As I walked down the covered walkway of the school to go home, I saw beautiful teenaged girl. Tight shiny curls cascaded from a half hazard bun on the top of her head. Her full lips had a trace of lip-gloss and her honey-coated skin was freckled by her nose. She was sitting regally in an old schoolhouse chair. As I walked past I saw that she was holding a shirtless baby. It did not strike me as odd that she could be a teen mother. It’s not rare in Panama nor is it in Philly, What was strange was the baby. Unlike the girl, he had bone straight ebony hair that stuck up around his head like a porcupine, the girl had very large round brown eyes but the baby had almond shaped eyes…
There was no mistaken…this little baby was very Asian. This teenage girl that was holding him was not. He didn’t look blasian or like he was mixed with any Spanish. This was very confusing. The small town that I was visiting did not have a sizable population and no Asian people lived in the town. So where did this baby come from and more importantly, who
m did this baby belong to?
Later that night, Lorena and I sat by candlelight and talked about life. I bought up the little Asian baby I had seen. “Where did that cute baby come from?” I asked. Lauren then told me the sad story of “El Chinito”. Now I will tell you that story:
It does not begin with his birth. To understand how this baby ended up in a home without electricity in the hills of Panama with a Latina parent you must travel a long road to the
capital. This is where his father lived and worked long hours. He owned and operated a small “Chino” or store selling sweets and rice from sun up to sun down. How he came to be in Panama I do not know. Maybe he was born in Panama or maybe the trap of poverty in China drove him to that small chino store on a corner of a crowded and drab street. He kept long hours and was alone for most of the day. It must have been very difficult to be alone and for no one to ever acknowledge that you even had a name. He had lost rights to that as soon as he started the store. He would forever be known simply as “Chino”. At o
nce he decided that he needed a wife. He wanted someone who could work with him at the store. He needed someone who would know that he had a name. Other then Chino. He wanted someone to maybe even love. He was not impressed with the selection of Chinese women around him or maybe no one would have him. So he decided to buy a wife. He bought his wife with the balboas and dollars that he collected by selling candy and rice.
I do not know much about the woman that he bought. I can only imagi
ne the life that she was living in China. A life that led her to be sold to a stranger a world away. She came, learned Spanish and started to work in the store. She soon became pregnant. She had not wanted a baby and soon after the baby was born she sent him back to China to live with her mother. She became pregnant again and again lived with the child for almost a year and sent it to China. The third time she became pregnant she became so desperate and unhappy that not even a month after he was born she gave that baby to a next-door neighbor. This third baby was the little boy I saw that day. “She just did not want him,” Lorena told him.. That was fair enough but how did he arrive to this small town 1 hour away in distance but
a world away from where he was born.
The next day we went to visit Chinito at his home. I came to find out that it was his
home on the weekends. A strong reddish brown woman with an oval face and ponytail offered me a seat on their patio. Chinito was crawling around playing with a used toy bus and odds and ends he would find on the floor. He was a happy baby with bright inquisitive eyes and big smile. I got to hold him and we sat for a while staring into each other’s eyes. He was beautiful. I could not wrap my head around why his family could not or did not want to take care of him. After nearly 3 hours of hanging out at the house I found that “Chinito” was not his given name. His name was Danielle. The woman who invited me into her home was the sister of the woman that invited Danielle into hers. They took turns caring for him. During the week he lived next door to his natural parents in eyeshot of the Chino store. Sometimes his father would stop by late atnight and look at him. During the weekends he was shipped to this small town in the hills where the entire town came to his aid. Making him bottles of warm mild and trying to get him to eat rice. The primary care giver was very worried about what would happen to Danielle as his mother wanted to send him to China when he turned 6. She has fallen in love with him and wanted him to stay with her. Although she did say “He could go to china school and learn to speak chino”. Later that day I held him in my arms and we both held our hands out to play with the wind chimes on Lorena’s porch. As the cool metal touched his hands he let out a giggle. In that moment everything was perfect. The wind was blowing, he had a family, and most importantly he had a name. All of which was as transient as that blowing wind.
The End
Note:
Some people may be surprised that there is an Asian population in Panama at all. However, Panama and China has had a very close relationship for over 100 years. There is a huge Chinese population in Panama. They came originally to work on the canals and stayed. As time passed they became part of the Merchant class and many more Chinese have migrated. The Chinese here by and large own and run small stores called “Chinos”. They sell groceries and clothes and sometimes electronics. Panama also has a large amount of Chinese restaurants and the Chinese population has been so influential on the culture here that Latinos regularly cook “Chow Mein”. The Asians here are referred to as “Chino or China or Chinito or Chinita” regardless of their actual names. It is not uncommon to here a person say to an Asian shop owner “Hey Chino what time is it?” or “Where can I find the soap China?” Danielle’s story touched me deeply. It raised questions about female power or lack of. The obvious lack family planning outreach efforts in minority communities. Danielle's story raised concerns about globalization and the cost of leaving ones home. The displacement that these families encountered in the search of economic advancement saddened me. However the love that the community showed to Danielle filled me with hope.
