- how did you pay for your ticket? What’s your profession?
OK, this is getting annoying now… My ears are still buzzing from the airplane flight and this guy is asking me repetitive questions… so I tell him once again…. slowly this time
- STUDENT
Figure it out buddy… Students some times work, they get student loans, they get money from their parents, etc.
He wrote something on my customs sheet. It read BCC and some other three letters I couldn’t make out… Now what was that about? I was pretty sure those letters meant something pretty important. Somewhere down the line before I get to baggage claim I’m going to be asked more questions…
Passing through Immigration… Check
I’m on my way to Baggage claim, but then… a security guy asks for my customs paper again.
- Where are you coming from? Where are you going?
Same questions all over again. Is this really necessary?
This time he only asks two questions and I’m off. But I had to ask him something, I’ve been asked twice already and I don’t know why:
- How come you are only stopping black people today?
I noticed that while I was waiting for my luggage, two black girls were stopped and another black guy. Those are all the people they stopped. Those were almost all the black people waiting for luggage.
- I beg your pardon sir?
I repeated my question exactly the same way. No attitude, just an honest question looking for an honest answer. You can tell I caught him off guard. Both times I asked the question while looking at him directly in the eyes and without hesitating. It was unexpected.
- I’m sorry sir (he stutters a bit), I’m starting to have a problem with you, what was that question again?
He rests his hand on his pistol like all police officers do when they want to feel in power.
Quick thought: I got a plane to catch and if I’m detained because of this guy, I may not get on it on time…
- Oh nothing, don’t worry about it.
- Alright sir.
I turn in my customs paper, I get my luggage, I think I made it.
Now the customs officer I gave the sheet to:
- Oh, sir, please go through that door on your left and follow the green arrow.
She puts my customs sheet on a purple folder and gives it back to me.
I knew it, it was those letters the first guy wrote on my customs sheet. As I enter, I look around the room and there is about 10 passengers from different flights, I suppose. One white lady and another old white man, the rest are blacks and hispanics. I had to notice it because in a country where 60% are white, the probability theory tells me that there should be a higher amount of white people. At least that’s what I understood from my Statistics class.
Now most of the people have blue folders, I got a purple one… Shit, that first guy made me extra special. He must have not liked it when I made him look stupid when I said “student” slowly.
The officer that attended to me was actually nice. He asked me the same questions all over again, except when I told him I was in Panama he asked me where abouts.
- Albrook, I said.
- Oh that’s a nice area, big and expensive houses around there.
- …
- I’ve been to the Albrook airport in Panama a few times.
- So what is all this about? Random checking?
- Yeah, nothing to worry about, he said.
He scans my luggage with the x-ray machine then asks:
- What’s that round thing you have in your luggage?
He points at my friend Lange’s luggage. I’m doing him a favor of flying it to San Diego and shipping it from there cause its cheaper.
- I don’t know, its my friend’s suitcase.
- You should never take things from friends if you don’t know what they are.
He’s right, but the truth is I forgot what it was. Any answer I was going to give him would have been stupid. So I just spit one out.
- I know, I said. He’s a good friend. I know him well.
Open the luggage, rip the newspaper wrap, uncover the round object… It was a cup.
- Alright dude, have a good one.
- Alright man, you too.
I was walking to my gate, the loud speakers at the airport come off.
“Any remarks or jokes to security may result in your arrest…”
Ooops. Well I don’t opose security, but if I want to know where all the questions are coming from, I think I deserve an answer. An honest answer.
The Swine flu, yet another reminder of how quickly things can change. It was just a week ago when life seemed wonderful and everlasting. Then all of a sudden Mexico City is hit with an outbreak of the swine flu and 150 people so far have died. Now the concerns are high amongst the rest of us here in the country and bordering towns, and I’m wondering what’s going to happen during the next 3 months. Truth be told, I’m glad school has been canceled for the next week at least. I was getting tired of getting up and feeling like I was pretending to be interested in school, especially when I know my passion stands still on business and now socializing.
So now, because of this virus outbreak, we have international students heading back home, people everywhere on the streets wearing masks, a lot of people are paying close attention to the news and are wondering whether they should also go home, and like I mentioned before, school is out for at least one week. I’m not worried about much though. It does worry me that I can get infected, but if that is the case I know I can afford the best treatment available and have a good probability of not dying. I’m also worried that if this virus is not controlled soon, it will affect the number of exchange students coming to Mexico next semester and affect the business plans I had in mind. As for the rest, it is all good. There are only 3 weeks of class left and if my university of the US government decides it is better for me to return home, then I have an excuse not to do final exams. I am still planning on traveling during the summer and continuing my life as usual. Perhaps, I’ll even have time to visit my mom in Panama for a couple of weeks.
Today I’m going to pack my bags and prepare things in case I do have to leave Mexico in a rush. It’s the smart thing to do and I’m going to advice my roommates to do the same. And so I remember positive while I’m swining.
Decisions are what life is all about. I’m happy with the ones I’ve made so far, and if I was to leave this world today I would go knowing that I lived a good life and made the right turns. Living in Mexico has opened my eyes a bit more. I understand myself a little better and I know which are the things that I have to work on. My goal here is to become a more social person. Sometimes my nature to be independent gets in the way of building long term relationships. I still keep in contact with friends in the U.S. and Panama, so I take it as if I’m doing something good in terms of the person I’d like to be in the future. Its hard to have a balance though. Everything takes time, whether I’m working on improving myself by becoming more intellectual or social. I also get tired of talking to people, especially when there nothing new to say (understandably so), but I’m good at faking interest. I’m much better at first encounters and introductions than I am at making relationships last.
This is something that I’ve been thinking about for the past couple of days and I felt like putting it down on paper since I haven’t written anything in a while. I’m out.
My Report: I found this movie inspiring. It remind me of things I really love. Ironically the story of the main character was very much like mine, except I wasn’t about to get married. Most of the movie took place in Panama and it was realistic for the most part. Good movie.
Rating:
About it: Fresh out of high school — and freshly scorned by his high school sweetheart, whom he planned to marry — Conner Layne (Christopher Masterson) embarks on his yearlong honeymoon alone and learns plenty about himself in the process. While trekking through Central and South America, he befriends a young couple (Johnny Messner and Brooke Burns) who help him move forward, both physically and emotionally.
I was just thinking about something I heard Tony Soprano say to a friend of his on The Sopranos. The friend was having business problems and Tony said something about dealing with the situation and not feeling sorry for himself. I don’t really like to take advice from fictional characters in TV shows, but this one is true. I’ve felt sorry for myself many times before and I can say for a fact that it is not good.
It’s like jealousy. I learned a few years ago to control and squash my jealousies. I like to say that “jealousy is a wasted emotion.” You spend time thinking about another person, what they’re doing and what not and you end up just doing damage to yourself. Tracy used to make me really jealous sometimes, especially when I was still in Panama and she was up here in California. I would call her late at night to talk to her and she would sometimes find an excuse to get off the phone or not answer at all. I would call over and over again, spend days thinking about what she was doing and hundreds of dollars I couldn’t afford to spare. For what? She was up here not thinking twice about the way I felt while I was living in hell. What I should have done, since it bothered me that much, was leave her ass right there and then. Done Deal.
I’m working on my Spanish homework right now. Sometimes in class I get the feeling that the professor is sarcastically making fun of me, but who really knows or cares more than I do. She’s always praising my work in class and saying how I get everything right. Whenever she is looking for the right word to translate something between English and Spanish she thinks maybe I can help. Honestly, I think maybe the problem is with me because I’m not used to people praising me. It feels awkward, but I just try to ignore it. The bottom line is she’s saying nice things and as long as I don’t act like I know it all I should be fine.
Today is election day, by the way. I’m casting my vote before class if I can. Polling places are said to be packed all over the country, but I just hope mine isn’t. It’s the first time in my life I’m elegible to vote. When I turned 18 Panama was going through elections that year, but I didn’t qualify on the age requirement by just a few days. The next time there were elections in Panama I was already living in the U.S.
My report: I was only somewhat aware that there was a dictatorship in Argentina and knew nothing about the kidnappings and assassinations. This movie thought me a lot. I always try to guess what’s going to happen next and usually before the movie ends I know how it’s going to end. Well, not this one. I wonder if there are any similar cases about kidnappings in Panama due to its dictatorship era and if so how many are still unresolved.
Rating:
About it: Gaston Biraben’s political thriller Cautiva (Captive) concerns itself with what happened to the children of the people killed after the 1970s military coup. Cristina Quadri (Barbara Lombardo) is the model of a perfect student. Smart and affluent, her life is in perfect order until, one day, she is called from her class and made to appear in front of a judge. The judge informs her that her real parents were killed in the ’70s. Cristina is forced to go live with her grandmother Elisa (Susana Campos), who has spent the past 20 years attempting to locate Cristina (whose birth name was Sofia). Although, at first, she is hurt, bitter, and confused, Cristina/Sofia eventually grows to care for Elisa and begins to research the fate of her parents. Captive was an award winner at the 2003 San Sebastian Film Festival. ~ Perry Seibert, All Movie Guide
Man… this is some bullshit. I just woke and I’m hungry. I’ve got nothing in my refrigerator except for a bag of old spinach, butter and jelly. My car is gone ’cause my brother took it, so now I’ve got to walk over to Carl’s Jr.
My dad is coming tomorrow from Panama to visit for a few days. I’ll buy groceries before then and clean my place a little bit. I’ve got laundry to do too.
I wish I could say more, but right now I need to take a shower and get going. That large size Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger combo is calling me.
I just thought of a few things I learned from this last trip to Tijuana:
My Mexican friends and I use different dialects: I like to say Spanish is the same wherever you go except for a few words, but after seeing my friends talk amongst themselves in Mexico I have to admit that we use different dialects. I try to stay away from words I know people that are not from Panama are not going to be able to understand, like “awebao”, “kabreao”, “vaina”, etc. I know now my friends do the same. They were using words I had never heard before. All of a sudden instead of licor (liquor in Spanish) it is “pisto”, and raza (race) was referred to as a group of people more than what I know it to be. I don’t even remember the words they were using, but 90% of the sentences were spoken in something I didn’t understand sometimes.
Taco shops are serious business: no doubt. It took a census to decide to what taco shop to go to and I see why. It’s an organized business. There are people to help you park your car, they’ve got people that just prepare the flour tortillas for the people that actually make the tacos. There is a big selection of tacos and it was packed. By the way, the women are beautiful…
I can’t go to Tijuana by myself: everybody kept telling me it’s really dangerous. There must be some truth to it. I don’t think I want to find out. They see me over there and they are not thinking Panamanian, they are thinking American so they come to me speaking English and expecting that I pay higher prices. One time they charged me $90 for a $15 bottle of rum..
I was reminded that when you’re a foreigner people like you better, at least initially: everybody is hospitable. They want you to leave with a good impression of where they are from. I’ve always wanted to show foreigners in Panama the best my country has. Oh yes, the women pay more attention to you too. Even if they’ve got a man they’ll be looking at you and curious. If you can speak their language it’s definitely a plus and the women are beautiful… did I say that already? I like my Latinas..
Ah yes… I’m finally over the hardest part of the semester. How did I do? I don’ really know yet. I feel like I did pretty well, but we’ll see when the waves come in. I got the last exam exam on Saturday for my Spanish class. Luckily, yo hablo un poquito de español so it shouldn’t be a hard test. I’m kidding, it’s my first language, bitches…
Relationships man… they are the key to a lot of things. People always go easier on you when you’ve got their emotions on your side. I have a reason for saying this, but I promised my professor I wouldn’t tell. Ya dig?
Even if it seems like it, what I’m about to say now is not related to the previous paragraph: I just discovered Facebook. I mean, I’ve had an account for a while, but I never actually gave it a try. Now I see the power it has to connect with old friends. I mainly use Myspace, but what I like about Facebook is that it makes it so easy to find people I know. I just had to put in some major events that go on in my life like high schools and universities and it found a whole lot of people I know from the past and the best part is that it tells me when I may know somebody else.
I had forgotten all about my friends from Panama. Looking at all those faces it makes me realize how much I left behind when I came to the U.S., how many people I actually know from around the world even though I’m always simplifying my life and how good looking I still am. A lot of them have gotten fat. I’m not even going to try to sugar that. Some of them were already ugly so they got nothing to worry about.
This one friend I found was always tall and skinny. The kids used to laugh at her because she was so skinny. Now I see her photos and I know nobody making fun of her now. I remember she was so excited to ware a bra. In classroom she told me once that she was and let me take a peek. She used to let me watch her get undressed in the ladies locker room after gym class. One time I got caught coming out of there and the professor gave me a detention. That meant I got to stay in school doing some bullshit for however many days my punishment was. It was one of my first detentions and I must have been in 7th grade. Having to stay in school extra long on birthday wasn’t fun. I remember that. Ha!
I see some of my old friends are married. Some pursued their dreams and are actually making them happen. Some I can tell have the same personality they always used to have… shy, friendly, cool, whatever… Some have also moved to other countries and still study just like me… It’s good to see everybody doing well.
Things started getting more and more interesting by the minute back in the room. After drinking the cheap bottle of wine, which tasted horrible but what did I know back then, it was the first time I tasted wine, Louise called it a night and me and Tracy stayed up on the terrace talking. Getting to know each other better.
I remember the conversation was real smooth even up to the point we first kissed. I’m trying to remember how it went exactly, but I can’t. Maybe it will come to me one of these days. I do remember staying up all night ’till the sun came out, just making out to the point my lips were numb. Good lord, I don’t think I have the patience or excitement to do something like that again. That was high school stuff and even though I was already in college to me it was what I should have done in high school, but never did. I was nineteen and that kiss was what I consider my first real kiss. No “I dares” or other type of external pressure. Just a nineteen-year-old guy and a twenty-five-year-old girl getting together because they wanted to.
We didn’t talk about that night again. But the next day we were holding hands on the bus back to Panama City. Again, like high school kids, I guess now we were together… ha!
It was the beginning of the love I’ve discovered for the female body. It’s like they say: once you’ve had it you can’t go without it. Something about the curves, the smoothness, the delicacy and the smell of a woman… I really don’t understand how women just don’t touch themselves all day.
A woman’s body is the most valuable piece of art in God’s gallery. You can admire it for it’s beauty and you can also use it to create more art.
One of my cousins gave birth to her first child this morning at 1:30 a.m. I’m an uncle, even though it’s hard to feel that way. I think it’s only because I’m not close to my cousins or anyone else outside of my immediate family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. It’s still a little crazy that it feels like it was just yesterday when we were playing Nintendo and watching E.T.. When the biggest worry was getting to level eight on Mario Bros. and having a birthday party at Chucky Cheese.
Even though it has been so many years since I last saw my cousins, I can still remember the thoughts going through my mind at the time we were closer. Before I even turned eight years old I remember, for example, that I wanted my mom and dad to become American citizens. This was because my country, while it was occupied by the American military, had territories that were limited to Americans, primarily military personnel. With my uncles being part of the American military, it always bugged me how they could easily cross into Panamanian territory without needing id’s, but for my family to go to their side of the fence it was always much harder and pretty much impossible without the vouch of my uncles. Even at an early age I realized how unfair things could be. Why did I need permission to explore my natal country when others born outside didn’t?
My determination to get American citizenship grew even more when I started traveling overseas. Everywhere I went it seemed like the dark-blue American passport would always open doors much quicker than my light-blue Panamanian passport. At times I was embarrassed of my nationality because it didn’t seem to do anything for me. My American friends were always more at ease crossing borders than I was. They knew that everywhere they went they were well represented. I knew that if something happened, I was on my own. But this the world we live in, isn’t it? It’s not always fair. After 20 years of wanting that American citizenship I finally got it. I used to look at the United States of America from the outside, now I write from within. And in my heart there will always be a special place for that country who gave me my first breath of air, who thought me so much with so little. It’s hard to describe the way I feel about my beautiful Panama, but my eyes water when I think of her like this. I wish she could have given me everything I ever wanted…
I came to America with a different reality. A reality that broadens scales a bit further than the average born American citizen. This reality is the one that tells me that poverty goes well beyond not having a good education, and that dictators, not citizens, really do control the destiny of nations at times. This dark-blue passport I own represents a lot more than a greater freedom to cross imaginary borders. It represents more opportunities and the accomplishment of a life dream.
I would be a fool to not take advantage of the opportunities that have been given to me. It is true that every day presents itself full of opportunities, but if we can’t see them then how can we take advantage of them? We just don’t see things the same way if we’re accustomed to them. We don’t think of every breath unless we’re gasping for air the same way we don’t think of every heartbeat unless we’re having heart problems. This is our world, and as unfair as it can be, it is also a beautiful experience, and I know my nephew already holds the better hand. Welcome to this world nephew.
Saturday was the day that me and Tracy had planned to go to El Valle. I was more exited about the idea of being away from home than going on a trip with her. I really didn’t think of her in a sexual way. I guess it was my innocence.
Somehow we ended up meeting a Native American girl from Saskatchewan, Canada, Louise was her name I believe. Ha… I just remembered having the hardest time trying to say her name right. My English then was not as good as it is now. but anyways, on the way to El Valle we exchanged a lot of interesting stories and got to know each other a lot better. This is, by the way, one of the coolest things about traveling: getting to meet people from other cultures and learning from them. I love that. There we were, a white girl from California, a Native American girl from Canada and a black guy from Panama, all speaking in our own accents and getting along just fine. I would really like for everyone in this world to get the opportunity to experience other cultures and countries.
I had been to El Valle many times before, so I took them to the zoo and we had a nice walk around town also. I remember being worried the whole time because I hadn’t told my parents where I was going. I knew that if I would have asked, they would have given me the usual answer: no. So I had stopped asking for permission on many things for a while now. I would just go places behind their back and hope that I could make it on time for my parents not to find out what I had done.
Tracy, Louise and I were having a good time and before we knew it, I had to catch the last bus home. The two girls were thinking about spending the night and they enjoyed my company and wanted me to stay, which I did. They had already paid for a room at a cabaña, which is like a hostel but you get your own private room with a shower and bathroom. The owner of the cabaña had charged the two girls about $20 for the night. She had said that if I was staying there would be an additional $5 charge. I was trying to stay in without having to pay, but when the last bus back to the city had already left and she saw me there, she didn’t miss the beat and charged me. I mention this because at the time it seemed like a lot of money to me. I had taken that trip with about $11. It always amazed me how people would come to Panama and spend money quite freely, especially if they were from the U.S.. Now I know why.
That night the girls had the big idea of going salsa dancing. I wasn’t into that idea because I was the only guy. If one or both of them got drunk or whatever, it’s all on me. But I wanted them to have a good time, so we went down to this local bar and hung out for a good while. I just kept looking everywhere and watching their drinks. The whole bar was full of guys and a few were brave enough to come talk to us. They would try talking to me in English first to try to figure out which one I was dating. As soon as I replied to them in Spanish they would feel more comfortable and had a few more friends join the conversation. The girls didn’t really get what they wanted ’cause it wasn’t really the kind of bar you go to salsa dance. I was actually glad. We bounced from there, the girls bought a cheap bottle of wine and we headed back to the room…
My report: I liked everything about this film. The story was great, the actors, the scenes… It was interesting from beginning to end. Sometimes it was funny, others tragic or educational. Parts of it reminded me a lot of Panama’s countryside. I really want to start traveling again because it’s something that I really enjoy. Watching this movie reminded me of times when it was all about me and also that it doesn’t have to stop being that way. The end reminded me that life is too short to be wasting it doing things we don’t want to do. When people are constantly doing things they don’t want to do, they are not being responsible, they are being submissive.
Rating:
About it: Mexican-born, New York-based filmmaker Alfonso Cuarón directed this Mexican box-office smash hit about a pair of randy upper-class buddies that sparked some controversy for its frank depiction of drug use and sexual exploration. With their respective girlfriends away in Europe, Julio (Gael García Bernal) and his upper-class friend Tenoch (Diego Luna) are looking forward to a summer full of drink, drugs, and cheap meaningless sex. During a wedding, they meet Luisa (Maribel Verdú) — the 28-year-old wife of Tenoch’s scholarly cousin — and try to convince her to go on a road trip to Heaven’s Mouth, a made-up beach paradise the two claim is on the Oaxacan coast. To their surprise, Luisa — who is looking to escape her troubled life for a spell — agrees to go along. Two days into the trip, tension starts to build between the two friends: Luisa has had sex with each, and now both lads are not-so-quietly vying for her affection. Soon simmering jealousies boil over into savage arguments, threatening to completely destroy their friendship. After an enormously successful run in Mexico and Guatemala, this film was screened to much acclaim at the 2001 Venice, Toronto, and New York Film Festivals. ~ Jonathan Crow, All Movie Guide
My Report: It was a good story. Many things made me think about how things are in Panama, like how all houses have steel fences to keep away strangers and intruders. It could be a true story about corruption, but not one to remember. It was missing the extra drama effect. It would have been good if the movie would have had more details on the drug business. Like how the drug packages were picked up from the seas and who picks the up in the U.S., things like that. Also include scenes with the actual bribes of politicians would have been good.
Rating:
About it: Functioning as an unofficial Spanish-language equivalent of Steven Soderbergh’s muckraker Traffic (2000), co-directors Ricardo Mendez Matta and Poli Marichal’s meller Thieves and Liars traces the web of drug money-related corruption inherent in the Puerto Rican socioeconomic climate. As in the Soderbergh ensemble picture, Marichal and Matta interweave a number of socially relevant stories on various levels of Puerto Rican society - all about the movement of drugs from the Third World to Puerto Rico to the States. In one substory, Puerto Rican man Oscar (Steven Bauer) - in an attempt to gain revenge for the death of a friend - rubs out a drug boss, and thus sinks to a level every bit as dirty and shameless as his victim. In another, two young men, Cheo and Miguel, use drug money to support their needy grandmother. In a third, single mother and airport worker Wanda Velez (Magda Rivera) attempts to navigate her way through the byzantine Puerto Rican legal system, taking on the fly-by-night company that manipulated and conned her. And in still another substory, adolescent Luisito (Carlos Paniagua) teeters on the verge of self-destruction with illegal drug use, despite the constant admonitions of his concerned mother. ~ Nathan Southern, All Movie Guide
My report: I rented this movie because I saw it had comments from Russel Simmons, Whoopi Goldberg and Damon Dash in it. I wanted to know how black people in power felt about the word nigger, and it turned out to be interesting.
The word nigger or nigga is used among black people in the U.S. in many different ways. When I first came to this country I only knew one meaning for the word. It is that same racial slur most people know the word by. But when I heard on T.V. and on songs, people using the word nigga so freely I thought maybe it is OK for anybody to use it. So I tried using the word, but every time I did it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right because in my brain there was already a symbol associated with that word. It also didn’t feel right because no everybody, not even all blacks, feel the same way about it. The first and only time I heard my mom use the word nigger, she used it as a derogatory term towards my dad (when he wasn’t in the room) because they were having an argument. And even then it didn’t make sense that my black mom would try to insult my black dad by using the word nigger… they’re both black! It’s like this one time I was fighting with my older brother so I called him an “hijo de puta,” a common insult in Panama that means “son of a whore.” You see where the problem is? We’re brothers! By calling him a son of a whore, I was calling my own mother a son of a whore. As soon as I said, my brother smiled at me and said “we have the same mother you dumb ass,” we both laughed and that was the end of the fight. Never again did I use that same phrase on any of my brothers.
Here is my problem with the world nigger: it divides people. It divides blacks from all other races, and what’s most important, it divides blacks who are against the use of the word nigger from those who favor it. If you ask me, I would say the use of the word today in Hip Hop is mainly serving the same purpose it did when it was first used on blacks. I heard Chris Rock, a black comedian, say that there are black people and then there are niggers. I say niggers are blacks. He was trying to say that a nigger is a dumb black person who is ignorant and likes being ignorant, they like to “keep it real.” I am against his way of thinking because, again, it does nothing but cause more division.
I’ve heard people say that “nigger” is a racial slur, but “niggaz” isn’t. What? That is confusing, and the truth is that it is just another way to try to make the word OK. In Hip Hop lyrics, the word nigga is used all the time. These lyrics are not being heard by black kids, they are being heard by every race and culture on the planet. As artists, we black people are telling the word that it is OK to use the word nigga, but many times when we hear non-blacks use the word we get mad, why? The reason why is because the word, in many ways, still holds the same meaning it had many years ago.
The word nigga is a double standard and at the same time a form of empowerment. To the black person it could mean “I will use the word nigga because I want to, and no white person is going to tell me I can’t,” it could also mean “the word nigga is for us black people ONLY to use,” or “I am better than that other black person who looks just like me.” If you are a black person using the word nigga, you are using it to rebel or distinguish yourself. Either way, the true outcome is division.
I choose not to use the word nigga because it divides. If I use it it will be in a sense of unity amongst black people and knowing that everyone in the room is comfortable with the word. I truly love my race too much to help shred it apart. I don’t care what nobody, aside from all blacks, think of the word “nigga”. Let’s get our own black culture to unite so we can have a unanimous vote.
Rating:
About it: The biggest names in show business come together to offer their opinions on one of the most inflammatory words in the English language in filmmaker Todd Williams’ revealing and thought-provoking documentary. In its long and complex history, the word “nigger” has gone from a cutting and derogatory racial slur to a term of endearment frequently used by African-American youth culture. Though the word has in a sense been “taken back” by the very people that it targeted, it still has the power to anger and enrage when taken out of its new context. As a variety of celebrities including Quincy Jones, Russell Simmons, George Carlin, Damon Dash, and Bryant Gumbel offer their opinions on this polarizing word, the taboo of language is broken to reveal an ever-changing society that is constantly attempting to make sense of a dark past while simultaneously attempting to build a brighter future. ~ Jason Buchanan, All Movie Guide
I didn’t take any notes on chapters 7 and 8 so I must have considered them stories with nothing too important that I could apply as a teaching. At this point in the book Malcolm went to jail on burglary and received a sentence of 10 years instead of the usual 2 years Malcolm saw other inmates receive. Malcolm says it had to do with him having white girls as partners in crime.
It was in jail when he first learned about the religion of Islam and that’s when his life started changing for the better.
In chapter 10 the following note caught my attention:
… your number in prison became part of you. You never heard your name, only your number. On all of your clothing, every item, was your number, stenciled. It grew stenciled on your brain.
I’ve never been to jail, but this reminded me of when I used to be in boarding school. How everything piece of clothing had to be marked with a number. Although I was only in a boarding school for about three months before I got my chance to move back to the city, I still remember that number from thirteen years ago: 133. The same way I still remember my social security number from Panama and the U.S. and my driver’s license number. Is that what we’ve become? A number? I see the importance of having one; it would be almost impossible to differentiate millions of people without giving each one a unique identifier. It is also important that we not forget we are still humans with personalities that can’t be defined by a number or any other sort of generalized classification.
Since I was a kid I’ve always liked to watch things that would spark my imagination or teach me something. It’s not something I really do on purpose, it just ends up being that way. Tintin is one of those cartoons that would spark my imagination. It started as a Belgian/French cartoon so I’m not sure it ever got to the U.S. but I would imagine so if it made it to Panama. Here’s a full episode.
I am working on the fourth verse of “One Night Stand.” I thought I was moving kinda slow, but it’s been a week and I would have had the whole song already if it was a standard three verse song.
I recorded the first verse and I’m actually riding with the beat, but it sounds very squarish. No flow or smoothness to it. It’s very old school if you know what I mean. So that’s going to be the next step after I finish writing the song. Figure out how to make the vocals sound good. The last thing I work on is going to be the production: dressing up the lyrics is how I think of it.
My little brother, Alex, is coming today from Panama and he will be living with me for the next two years. Well, until the end of the year really cause’ then I’m going down to Mexico for a year and a half to finish my studies. At least that’s the plan.
Back to the vocals though, I don’t know why the vocals that I hear on everything that is on the radio sound so different from what I have. I don’t think it’s the microphone anymore. I think it has to do with mixing, but what? I guess it’s going to be like when I had to figure out how to make the beats sound better.
When I was 22 years old, about a year after I immigrated to the U.S., I was living with Tracy in a two bedroom apartment in La Quinta and everything was going pretty well.
One night, we got a call around 1:00 a.m., Tracy answered the phone and she quickly went from being annoyed to a complete panic. “Please don’t take them, we’ll be right there” is all I heard. As soon as she hung up the phone she asked me to get dressed and drive her to her sister’s house because she was in no condition to drive. At the moment I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was important to her so I got up, got dressed and drove her to her sister’s house. She explained to me while we were in the car.
Apparently, as the police explained it to Tracy, her sister, Jessica, had tried to commit suicide and was being rushed into the hospital. They called Tracy because Jessica has two sons and they needed to leave them in custody of a family member or they would go to a foster house.
I remember later that morning, maybe around 3:00 a.m., a government employee came over to our apartment to check on the boys and interview me and Tracy. In the afternoon I had to go to some government agency, have my fingerprints scanned and sign papers saying I was legally responsible for the well-being of the boys.
I never really stopped to think about how quickly my life had changed. About a year and a half ago I was in Panama living under my parents roof and had no responsibilities. Move forward to a year and a half later and now I had a job and bills to pay, I was living in my own place, with a woman, an 8 year old and a 10 year old. It wasn’t so much about me anymore. The decisions that I made could potentially affect three other people. And that’s important to remember when others depend on you.
It was decided by the court that Jessica was not stable enough at that time to take care of her sons, so the boys went on to live with me and Tracy for the next six months. Those six months brought me closer to the reality that many of us here in this world live on a daily basis. How hard it is to be a parent and to find the balance in everything that needs to be done.
One of my classes this semester is called Inter-cultural Communications and it’s basically about having a better understanding about other cultures and to be open minded.
One of my first experiences here in the U.S. was at the grocery store. I remember I was paying for my items at the cash register when the bagger looked at me and said: “Paper or Plastic.” Today, I know exactly what someone means when they use that phrase, but back then I had no idea. I was trying hard to fit in, I didn’t want to be a stranger, so I gave him one of the most common answers people use when they don’t understand something in a different language: “Yes.” He laughed. He just thought it was funny, and it was, but to me it hurt me quite a bit. Just because I was trying to fit in and I obviously didn’t accomplish that.
It wasn’t until I got home that Tracy explained to me what he actually meant. You see, in Panama there are no options between paper and plastic, at least that I know of. There is either paper or plastic. The bagger could have been a little nicer, be open to the possibility that maybe I didn’t hear right or I don’t know what he’s talking about and explain the difference. But looking back at it now it seems stupid that I didn’t just ask the bagger what he meant. But that was then and this is now.
I’ve actually come long ways from what I used to be. I used to be that shy kid afraid to look at people in their eyes. My heart would sometimes start beating really fast when I approached people. What I am today is a result of determination and practice. That’s all it takes. I will always have a lot to learn, but I know I can make it happen as long as I want it.
P.S.: I’m not full of myself, I’m just trying to make a point.
When I first came to the U.S. from Panama, I remember I had $30 in my pocket. I crossed the border with my dad and my little brother and we stayed for a couple of days in Miami before my dad and brother went back to Panama because my brother was still studying down there. I hopped into three more planes and went down to live in California with Tracy, now an ex-girlfriend. If it wasn’t for my dad giving me a check for $700, I don’t know how I would have made it that first month. But nevertheless I was still broke.
My first memory when I arrived in California was of me going to this fast food joint called “In-N-Out”. Tracy had picked me up from the airport in Los Angeles and it was a two hour drive till we got home. I was thinking that the food was only going to bring me down maybe $6. At least that’s what I would have paid in Panama. But I remember how worried I got when I heard it was over $10. I couldn’t believe it. Now I just think it’s funny, but back then coming straight out of Panama that was like a slap on the face. I mean, we are talking a third of my money, gone in one meal! And I still had 29 days to go with that cash.
I gave Tracy the check my dad gave me and she deposit it to her bank account. I’m no sucker though, I just trusted her like that. It paid for my half of things that first month and after all, she had been waiting for me to get my green card for more than a year and a half. It was hard to communicate with people because their English was too fast for me to understand and there were so many words I didn’t know. Not to mention my accent was hard for others to understand to. I usually had to repeat things two or three times. Tracy was good for me though. I was like a little kid absorbing everything around me. From how to use a debit or credit card to pay at a grocery store to how to get a job.
Yesterday I talked to my grandma for the first time in almost 20 years. I didn’t know what exactly to say when I called because I didn’t think she would know who I was, but she did! I was very happy to hear her voice and hear that she’s getting better. She had a complication with a tumor and it was thought she was not going to be able to live much longer.
At the end of our conversation she said “I love you” and that sealed the deal for me. Just hearing those words from her made me feel part of something bigger. I have many cousins, uncles and aunts from my mother’s side of the family but she doesn’t like us talking to “the Clarkes”, as she calls them. Personally, I know I’m only 26 but I’ve grown up to forget people and live my life. I don’t know exactly what happened in the past, but it has been affecting my mom’s everyday present for a very long time. There’s an anger and resentment that has been building up for way too long and it’s very hard to stop now.
I’m going to talk to my uncle and make time to go see some of my family in Florida. I have to go see them. I want to know how they look now and what they are doing. Aunt Linda is spending some time with my grandma in Florida right now. She is the only other member of my mom’s part of the family that lives in Panama. We chatted for a little while and she sounded great. She seems very sparky and invited me to get to know the family better. Her daughter and sons, my cousins, are all doing well also.
Me and my brothers have always been kept so distant from the rest of the family, I think it’s ridiculous. That’s no way to live and I’m not doing it anymore. I’m old enough to make my own decisions and the Clarkes happen to be a half of me.
It’s late… I spent all day between school and sitting in front of the computer trying to get the gallery on antoniobullen.com to work. I think I finally did. Until I find another bug.
Tomorrow I have a breakfast at 9:00 for a 100% score from a secret shop at work. I also get $100. Not bad… Friday is the last day. I wish I could just focus entirely on my own thing but I know I’m going to have to find another job. I can’t put all the burden on my dad. He’s got his own bills to worry back in Panama.
I met with my counselor today about my International Business program. I want to switch from studying abroad in Mexico and Chile to just Mexico, but at the top university in Latin America. It can happen but I’ll have to spend another semester in the USA before I leave. I’m inclined to make the switch right now cause’ I’ll be saving myself a semester of studies. Meaning I’ll gradate faster. We’ll see what happens.
I feel responsible for my family back in Panama, the wife and the children that I will hopefully one day have. It’s like I need to make things happen. Financially I have to be able to provide for my mother, my father, my brothers if they need me to and even my aunts and cousins.
It would be a very special day for me when I fly down to Panama and surprise my family. I will tell my dad he doesn’t have to work anymore. That he can retire for the second and last time. Give him money that will make any of his material wishes come true. Whether it is to open a bakery or build a church. And if he doesn’t want to open a bakery, I’ll open one in his name.
I will go to my mom’s house and tell her that the mortgage is paid. Create a trust under the family name and give everyone monthly allowances so they can relax and do anything they want to do.
I’ll buy a house in Barbados and give a key to every member of the family. Sponsor a trip around the world for my big brother Alfredo so he can learn as many languages as he wants. And offer my little brother Alexander the opportunity to build a hospital in Panama under the family name.
I will give my future wife the wedding of her dreams, financial security, shopping sprees and anything she wants as long as she does one thing for me: be my half. That means she will never do anything to hurt me. And by “me” I also mean my children and my birth family. She can rest assured I will do the same.
I will do all of these things because I love my family.
