A Thief, a Crabby Island, and a BDE
Within a couple weeks of arriving at Marina Carenero, we settled into a rhythm and met most of the other people at the marina. Even though we’re only a 45-second water taxi from the Bocas Town, it’s been mostly peace and quiet.
During our second week, we’d woken up and were having coffee. I walked to the marina bathroom while Shawn read the news. She heard someone come aboard, thinking it was me, but then saw an unfamiliar face peering into the boat. Shawn made a surprised sound and the stranger took off.
The following week, we were still asleep at dawn. We were both startled awake by a loud thump. I looked aft and saw the companionway hatch was wide open.
“You didn’t leave the companionway open, did you?” I asked, knowing Shawn wouldn’t do that - the mosquitoes and chitras would devour us. “No! Of course not!”
I jumped up and walked out and onto the dock. A woman was walking away, holding a bag and heading towards the communal kitchen. As I got there, she was taking items out of the refrigerator. I was fuming, and confronted her.
¿Por qué subiste a mi barco? (What were you doing on my boat?). I had no idea if she was a local, and guessed correctly she spoke Spanish.
I was looking for my husband.
Your husband is not on my boat. Why would you think that?
Someone told me he was on your boat.
I don’t know who your husband is, but he is not on my boat.
OK, but someone told me he was on your boat.
He is not on my boat.
Someone told me he was on your boat.
I lost my temper and began yelling at her.
Your husband is not on my boat! I don’t know your husband. Do not ever come aboard my boat! This is the second time you have come aboard my boat without permission!
But someone told me he was on your boat, she repeated while she continued emptying the refrigerator.
It is never OK to board somebody’s boat without permission! You do not have permission to be on my boat! Do not set one foot aboard my boat!
By then, my yelling had woken up the night watchman, who walked over and began talking to her.
I walked quickly back to Miette to grab my cell phone and return, just as the watchman was telling her I’ve told you before, you do not have permission to be at this marina. You need to leave.
I snapped photos of her, in case she’d robbed anyone. I had no idea what she’d put into the bag besides what I saw her take out of the fridge.
The watchman went to talk to the police, who knew exactly who she was, and supposedly went to remind her that she’s not allowed at the marina.
Although we haven’t seen her since, she returned the next week to take more things from the kitchen. The night watchman then put a lock on the door, which is no more than a wooden frame with a wire mesh nailed to it. The next night, she’d pulled the wire mesh away and squeezed in like a raccoon. Within a couple days, the marina staff nailed more boards over the screen, and continue to leave the kitchen locked overnight.
On the day I’d yelled at the thief, I’d talked to one of our neighbors later that morning - George, from a Dutch island in the Caribbean. He said it was his food that she’d taken out of the fridge. He wasn’t angry, said it was just food.
It checked my anger. I’m not excusing theft, but what if she was only hungry? The poverty on this island was a shock to us. The village nearby is only barely a step above a shanty-town. I don’t know anything about this thief. Maybe her husband ran off, leaving her with hungry kids. If I see her again in the village, maybe we can talk about it. I’m not as angry, but a stranger poking their head into your home while you sleep, uninvited, is unsettling. Unless she’s deranged, I’m sure she could understand that.
Most of our days at Carenero are uneventful. The locals and marina staff we do meet were reserved at first, but as we made the effort to start conversations with them in Spanish, they’ve turned out to be quite friendly. The dock master, Virgilio, who is in his 50s or 60s, has 20 sons and daughters. Every time I meet a new local, I ask if they’re one of Virgilio’s kids. The guy said yes, another guy, the night watchman Alfonso, laughed and said, no, but he’s my cousin. I said that I suspect half of the island is related to Virgilio, which got a chuckle out of him. Maybe!
We take walks around the island, take the trail across to the uninhabited beach, take another one back across, and back to our boat. If there is anybody in the world that thinks crabs are cute, this island would be paradise for them. Saying “you can’t throw a rock without hitting a crab” isn’t an exaggeration.
One Friday afternoon, Shawn noticed some of the local children dressed in colorful outfits going to town with their parents. She overheard someone saying it was some kind of festival.
I grabbed a camera and we took a water taxi to town. There, we discovered a huge parade celebrating the Día de de la Etnia Negra (Day of Black Ethnicity). Roughly one third of Panamanians claim to have some degree of African ancestry. However, all of the children of the nearby islands were parading, regardless of heritage: Black, Hispanic, Chinese, Ngäbe and other indigenous people, and mixes of all of the above except the Chinese, who appear to remain separate.
Each group, followed by a loudspeaker or car with outrageous trunk- or roof-mounted stereos, had three choreographed songs to perform before they’d move on to the next block and repeat. There was even a marching band. The choreography was mostly low key, some of it tasteful, and some imitating gestures and thug-poses you might see in a rap video - just short of crotch-grabbing. As the afternoon wore on, they parade’s enthusiasm flagged.
The day was oppressively humid and hot, so some of the kids in the parade are looking worn out. But then there’s the following photo:
When taking photos of crowds, I’m usually focused on one or two people, and later enjoy seeing what I missed at the time I pressed the shutter button. The little girl to the left was not in the parade, and probably just tagging along with a sibling. Maybe she just forgot her costume, but that didn’t stop her from joining in. Look at her: huge grin, arms spinning, as free as the wind. She was dancing with more spirit than the group behind her, having a Best Day Ever - a BDE.
When anchored in spots that draw tourists, we’d occasionally been annoyed by people being loud and partying, but then remember that they are probably on an exciting tropical vacation. While it’s a normal day and ordinary scenery for us, they are having a BDE.
Unless they’re on jet-skis, you can’t hate someone having a BDE.
I love this photo because this kid is reminding us: go have more BDEs!