There’s been a sort of resurgence as of late of one of the most beloved acts from the 80’s that I would like to comment on. Pepina and Tortón, for any person who was born in the mid-70’s to 80’s, will instantly bring up feelings of nostalgia and warm remembrance of simpler times, times when all we had to worry about was to get good grades in school, eat our vegetables and make sure our sock colors matched when we put them on. Things are somewhat blurry for me in regards to the experiences I shared with Pepina and Tortón, but I sure remember what they made me feel; in many respects, the “Pepina y Tortón” show made a very impressionable young boy named Robert catch his first glimpse of sheer, unbridled happiness.

My parents where very overprotective of me when I was growing up. It had its high points, because during my long days staying over at my grandparents’ house while my parents, both programmers, worked around the clock in several banks to get their ATM and account management systems automated, I would learn how to read, write and, oddly enough, play cards and dominoes. A lot of the time I was left to my own devices, and my grandparents would occasionally buy me LEGO blocks (they devised that I loved building crazy things from scratch) and have me sit in front of the TV while I played. One fine day, they left the TV on a channel where these two clowns, a couple, were signing to a bunch of kids, just like me. I must’ve been 3 years old or something, perhaps two, but the moment I first saw them I was ridiculously intrigued by them. It could be because I’d only go out where my grandparents would go, and it was usually to run errands and engage thrilling activities such as buying lettuce and paying for the water bill, but I had never quite seen something like that before.

These two literally colorful people who were together very much like my grandparents or my mom and dad, singing songs and playing games with a bunch of kids who looked nothing like them. The lady clown has this Peppermint Patty dress on, a big, red nose and huge, afro just like my grand dad used to have back when he first met my granny (he’s black), but instead of it having a normal color, it had all of them. And then there was the guy clown, a talk, skinny guy with glasses and blue overalls, a hat and a guitar. They both looked so happy to be with the kids, a lot of them as young as I was at the time, and they were singing songs and enganging in these super awesome games with balloons and running and jumping and prizes. There was a public there too, cheering the proceedings and I was baffled by this. I saw the little logo for channel 13 on the bottom right corner which instantly told me it was Panamanian, and I just sat and watched.

Every Saturday from then on and for many years, I would tune in and watch. My relationship to “El Club de Pepina y Tortón” is as strong as my links to other childhood-defining instances such as my first day of school, my freak-out over my first test because I used the wrong crayola color to pain the inside of the truck (it should’ve been purple and I used red), the time I cut myself with a sharpener in the middle of a test in first grade, the time I peed my pants on 2nd grade, the Ninja Turtles, the “Just Cause” invasion of Panama and how a sniper pointed straight at my forehead with a laser sight as I peaked out a 5-story window, and others. Pepina and Tortón were the happiest people I knew. So happy, in fact, that when moments came where Tortón would get sad or sing a sad song, I was honestly disturbed. I don’t really remember the last show that aired, but I do remember being incredibly sad about it. It was one of those things where “you don’t know what you have ’til it’s gone.”

I was hitting puberty around that time (12 - 13 years old or so when the show ended in 1996) so I wasn’t as invested as I was years prior, but I did feel it as a stark reminder of how we have to grow up. Of course, later I realized that growing up is a complex affair, one that doesn’t necessarily mean renouncing what makes you happy or acting like a kid or liking arguably childish things. Hell, I know people that are 50+ years old that sometimes act like complete children… and I’m sure you know a few, too. Anyway, after “El Club de Pepina y Tortón” ended, I thought that the clowns themselves had decided to “grow up” and move on to other things, so I forcibly decided to do the same.

Years later I saw that Pepina was still doing her thing, going to the interior and hosting children’s parties, and after that I found out that Tortón had gone back to being a full-time musician. In fact, Franz Gutierrez is considered one of the best guitarrists in the country by some folks. Nowadays I have the pleasure of seeing him perform much more now, mostly doing covers of badass songs, and every time I see him he’s always smiling and happy to be there with everyone… the energy is pretty infectious; I am sure it’s the same with Pepina (Damaris Vásquez), who shows up on TV a lot more often now. They look exactly the same as I remember them from 20 years ago. By Cthulhu, I’m so old.

July 19th, 1978 was the first time Damaris took the mantle of Pepina for her goddaughter’s birthday party. Two years later, she met Franz and together they formed “El Club de Pepina y Tortón,” which ran 11 seasons. In 2008 Pepina celebrates 30 years of life as one of the most beloved characters in Panama’s entertainment history, and to celebrate Pepina and Tortón and reuniting in a one-time-only show on August 30th. I imagine they’ll lay the most famous of their 200+ songs for both young and old at the Anayansi Theater in the ATLAPA Convention Center. I’m giddy. I want to go.

Whether you were there to live the magic of these two silly, lovable clowns or not, Pepina and Torton are solid, national truth to the notion that all great things are timeless. You can visit the official Pepina and Tortón website and check out the gallery, read some very insightful stories about their history, leave comments, drop them a line and simply let your inner child come to the surface for a while.

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