Pictures in my Mind

   More Letters From Hawaii

         Pictures in my Mind 

 I now realize that I was too hasty in trashing some photographs taken in Panama, some fifty years ago. They exist now only in my mind. And if I could show them to you you would see in one, an old couple, they are brown-skinned, and she is holding a plate in one hand, and a fork in the other. The old grizzled -looking man is holding up a very large pork bone with both hands, and mimics chewing on it. The place is a wedding reception in a small village along a dirt road, which became the Pan American Highway. The name of the town is either Pina Nome(no may), or David (Dah-vid). 
 I attended the wedding at the request of my boss, Devore, who was in charge of the photo lab there in Coco Solo, Panama. He knew that I had been trained in a photo studio back in the states, and that I had shot a number of weddings. Devore had a friend who was a teletype repairman, married to a local girl. I think it was her sister who was being married. Get the connection? I jumped at the chance for adventure, and leaving the base. 
We arrived at the village, and discovered that we had the only car in town. The single connection these people had with the outside world was electric lights. Men came to the wedding on mules, while women carried jars on the top of their heads. The bride and groom rode in the car to the church, and were photographed in it. Following the wedding mass, I took all the usual photos.

The reception took place in the family four room house with a tin roof. So many attended that the reception spilled out into the yard. The father of the bride must have saved for a long time to provide a case of Scotch wiskey. There was also a native drink called "chicha fuerte" This was made from ground corn meal and sugar, a left to ferment. No distilling here. It was referred to as "strong corn." And it was! The main entree was roast pig. Music was provided by large drums and guitars. I remember a young girl standing in one corner, singing a solo. The music continued late into the night. I fell asleep listening to the pounding drums. In the morning I called upon my high school Spanish, for breakfast. We were the only English-speaking people in the village. I remembered a Spanish children's song,"Give Me Bread and Cheese." Coffee, needed no translation. And as for eggs, you never say "Have you any eggs?" This is considered a sexual insult. Rather, you should say "Are their eggs?" This information could save you a slap in the face, or a punch in the mouth. Anyway, I was fed, and my huge hangover retreated somewhat. As I write this there is still the sound of drums in my mind. 

              Aloha
              Grant