This is not much an article or essay as it is commentary on the type of world we live in today, one where at times I feel like I’ve stepped into some bizarre Terry Gilliam-inspired hyper reality of the absurd and I can’t, for the life of me, get out. I was watching the news last week, and one thing that caught my eye was the story of Franco Ramses Aparicio, a 10 year old boy who lives in Chorrillo. As the story goes, Franco Ramses was playing soccer in a recreational area nearby his house in El Chorrillo. It was sunny, kids were happy and everything seemed well… until the turf war started.

The park where kids play is located in the middle of 25th Street. Like most towns of the interior, El Chorrillo also seems to have a Calle Arriba and Calle Abajo, warring factions in a constant struggle to determine who the best side of the street. But unlike towns in the interior, these people settle their differences not by making beautiful parades fun for the whole family, but by shooting each other and everyone that’s in the middle full of holes. The Butter Battle Book, but with a 50 Cent lemon twist. Ramses was the latest in a group of children that included Roberto Harding, 12, and Taquemi Tunon, 10, as victims of these constant shootouts; these kids got shot multiple times in the span of three months…one child a month. It’s like they’re trying to fill a quota.

So now kids are afraid to leave the house to go to school, play at the park or develop themselves in a safe-enough environment because you have these gangs trying to off each other while they listen to (the murdered) Danger Man like he’s the Panamanian Tupac Shakur or something.And just like Tupac, I’d be willing to bet my raccoon slippers that he’s hiding out somewhere in Bolivia where the weed, girls and houses are cheap. Every other year we’ll see some “discovered tracks” and remixes of old songs and no one will bat an eye. But wait! I digress; Panama apparently has its own Ciudad de Dios scenario happening right in its capital city, and judging from news reports the obvious answer is that there is not enough police presence in order to subdue the gangs’ death grips. That would be because most Panamanian cops I know do not have a sense of honor and duty to begin with. Of course, they don’t want to die at the business end of a 15-year old’s Beretta. But if you’re a cop and value your own neck over the protection of your community, I believe it would be a good idea to consider a career change… perhaps in the knitting and being-a-dickless-douche industry. It’s a brimming market in Panama… you’ll do quite well if you put your heart into it.

The community, realizing cops won’t move a muscle out of paralyzing fear, have trucked on trying to continue sports programs that try to keep children away from the gangbanger life. But for the love of Marley, someone, anyone should go in there and assist these noble folks trying to make a difference amidst impossible odds; sociologist (and all-around great guy) Raul Leis mentions in this Dia a Dia piece that having children locked in their homes trumps their capacity for growth and social skills. He continues with an ill-informed observation of video games, TV and the Internet obstructing the child’s ability to communicate and develop necessary social skills such as teamwork, competition and meeting friends. I will not turn this into a pro-new-culture rant, because video games and the Internet now allow people to engage in those very things. The problem here, and Mr. Leis is absolutely right about that, is that there has to be an equal development of the emotional with the physical. No matter how many times I own ass in Halo 3 with a good squad of four, it’ll never beat going out to the park and experiencing teamwork live. The same goes for networking: sites such as Facebook have made meeting people and keeping touch with them infinitely easier, but I can tell you for a fact that nothing beats the warm, fuzzy feeling of greeting someone you truly appreciate with a kiss or a handshake.

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