The Isthmian | covering the panama isthmus

Rich man, Poor man, Beggar-man, Thief,
Developer, Warlord, Kuna chief

by OKKE ORNSTEIN

“I’m a practical man”, says the vice-mayor, Santiago Alarcon. He sits behind his desk, adorned with an engraved plaque with the name of his absent boss, Yira Molinar, the causin of TV personality Lucy Molinar who is the new Minister of Education. A Panamanian flag stands next to it and the vice-mayor’s laptop computer takes center stage on the desk, humming along while the highest local official downloads his favorite tunes from the internet. Plastic flowers decorate a small altar behind him in the only office with air conditioning. A football lies on the floor beneath it. “There are all these laws and regulations”, he says, “but you know how it goes. Nobody enforces them or even knows them. You don’t get much further with laws and rules”.

I’m in the Alcaldia of Santa Isabel which is located in Palenque, a small, dreamy village on the Caribbean coast, east from Colon and close to the border with Kuna Yala. Not much ever happens here. The biggest event today was the discovery of a captured leatherback turtle, tied to a tree on the beach like a dog. It’s a protected species, but that status doesn’t change the fact that they’re easy to catch when they come ashore to lay eggs and that they taste good. This one gets lucky: The police arrives, someone from the environmental agency ANAM arrives, the animal is released and long after it has disappeared into the Caribbean waters it continues to dominate the conversations ashore.

KUNAS CUTTING FOREST

Yet while ANAM, the police and the citizenry occupy themselves with the life and times of the turtle, a much bigger ecological disaster is taking place next door. Hundreds of hectares of primary forest have been cut for no good reason. Some of the land has been burnt and yucca and plantains planted. The onslaught progresses at a speed that can only be tracked by regular helicopter flights over the area or by having satellite pictures taken frequently. In 2007, an ANAM report stated that 400 hectares of forest had been cut. It’s now close to 600. That’s more than has been destroyed by the controversial Petaquilla mine or the Hydroelectric dam near Changuinola. And nobody talks about it – except for our vice-mayor and a few others.

That’s because it’s the Kunas.

RIDE THE WAVES OF PUBLIC SYMPATHY

We are used to scenarios in which the indigenous people of Panama, or indeed throughout Latin America, are the victims: Crooks in Bocas stealing land from them, shady mining companies displacing them, energy giants chasing them out of their villages; that sort of thing. But here, in the province of Colon on the border with semi-independent Kuna Yala, the indigenous Kuna tribesmen are the culprits for a change. It’s these Kunas who are cutting the forest, invading private property, destroying fences and walking around waving machetes and guns – all outside the comarca (reservation) of Kuna Yala. Like an invading army of ants they cross the border, tens or hundreds of them, and graze the forest just behind the beach with axes and machetes. From the sky, the area looks like a war zone. And if no steps are taken to stop them, it will indeed become a war zone. Yet the Kunas are cleverly riding the waves of general sympathy for the cause of the indigenous people throughout Latin America, pretending they are defending their culture and ancient rights to the land.

“The Kunas aren’t fighting for their rights or their culture here”, says the vice-mayor. “They are trying to secure their interests and their wallets. There is a lot of potential for tourism in Kuna Yala/San Blas, and they don’t want competition from others just outside the comarca”.

And then he adds, “I think we will have to kill five or six of them. Then they’ll get scared and go away”. I first think I misheard. But Alarcon repeats the statement about ten minutes later in our conversation, and says, “If we don’t stop them they’ll go on and on until they reach Palenque and even further. They’re breaking the law so they have to be punished”. He is indeed a very practical man.

WARLORDS OF THE CARIBBEAN

Some of the land owners whose forests are being destroyed by the Kunas harbor similar feelings towards the indigenous tribe and paramilitary styled solutions are being prepared by some of them. One such land owner, various sources tell me, a French pilot named Francois who has been in Panama for decades, deploys a small militia of trigger-happy Colombians and Foreign Legion veterans who, armed to the teeth with Uzis and grenade launchers, patrol his land to protect it from invading Kunas. The Kunas, unconfirmed reports have it, are carrying light arms and machetes as well. To stave off an armed confrontation there was to be a peace initiative, the local authorities decided. In fact, that peace initiative was set for today in Palenque, but nobody showed up.

LOCAL AUTHORITIES HELPLESS

Thus for now all is quiet on the mesmerizing Caribbean coast. One could stay here for days and watch the waves. Canoes lie helpless on the beach. The local restaurant is decorated with painted fenders and buoys. A dog, the pride of the owner for it is of a special race, is chained to the wall, food lies around it. We sit on turquoise picnic tables eating fried fish. I’m talking with Aldo Cordoba, who works for the environmental protection authority ANAM in the area (but has since been fired when the Martinelli government took over). He agrees with the theory of the vice-mayor about the motives of the Kunas, “They’re afraid of tourism that competes with their own affairs”.

“We’re only with three persons for the whole coast and our vehicles are broken”, he tells me. “Sometimes we get help from the police, but they are understaffed too so we’re basically powerless against hundreds of invading Kunas destroying the forest”.

Frustrated, the ANAM people dedicate their time to the establishment of a new national park, seeing to environmental impact studies, and the occasional captured turtle. A report Cordoba wrote for his superiors in 2007 about the environmental damage done by the Kunas has never been acted upon. Without any significant enforcement in the area, armed militias, local authorities prepared to kill and militant Kunas violating the border of the comarca, invading property and committing environmental crimes, all ingredients are there for the conflict to get rapidly out of hand.

ANOTHER MEETING

So, after more than two years of dragging feet and useless meetings, the Torrijos government finally acknowledged the seriousness of the situation and called…. another meeting on June 4th, in which all parties involved were summoned to participate.

The Torrijos government, by then, was on its last feet and about to be quashed in national elections. Officials were frantically looking for other jobs, safety from prosecution, or both. The meeting was set to start at 10 AM, but the vice-minister was late and eventually didn’t show up at all. And so we were waiting in the beautiful library of the Ministry of Government and Justice, next to the National Theater in Casco Viejo. This library which, oddly enough, has no books, was the first plenary meeting hall of Panama’s National Assembly. A stairway leads to the ceiling. That is, the concierge told me, the secret escape from the minister’s office in case of coups – or Kuna invasions.

But on that day, the minister wasn’t there and the Kunas were not invading but waiting. There was a Kuna lawyer and the Secretary of Communications of the Kuna National Congress, Anelio Merry, the Sub-Secretary of the Kuna Congress Bolivar Lopez and some other hotshots from the tribe.

When the meeting finally commenced, they claimed ancient rights to the land they are invading, even though it is outside the borders of the comarca which the Kunas themselves have recognized. Also, the Kunas haven’t been in Panama forever, but settled in San Blas only a couple of hundred years ago after warring with other indigenous tribes. The Spanish conquistadores would have older claims to the land than the Kuna tribe. Their story was further undermined by the findings of a study by the Agrarian Reform Office (Reforma Agraria). Director Nadia Moreno revealed that in a survey done in 2005 there were no Kunas in the area and that the border of the comarca is clearly defined and really beyond any doubt. She also explained that, by law, land deeds that are dated before the Kuna Yala comarca was created prevail over any claims to that land by the Kunas, even if that land is inside the comarca.

Then Donnie Estrada of the Foundation for the Development of the Caribbean held a presentation. The foundation is an initiative of several land owners who strive for sustainable development of the tourism sector on Panama’s Caribbean coast. One company, Crownland Invest, owns a beach property that borders Kuna Yala. They’re building a small eco-resort there with turtle watching and protection as the main attraction, and manage a foundation that actively protects the turtles when they come ashore to lay eggs. Yet behind the beach, the Kunas are slashing the forest. Estrada showed pictures taken a while ago. Thousands of trees are cut, not even an effort is made to collect at least the wood. Hundreds of hectares are turned into wasteland.

Estrada pointed out that there are several issues in play that should be addressed by different sectors of the government. There is the ecological component, which is the jurisdiction of ANAM. There is land invasion, theft, destruction of private property, which is in the realms of law enforcement. And then there is the guarding of the border, which should be the responsibility of the national government or the state as a whole, claimed Estrada.

He finished his presentation with warning those present that the situation is becoming so explosive that people might get hurt if it’s not resolved soon. The Kuna representatives, already shuffling nervously on their chairs during the presentation, decided to take this as a direct threat. They made a grand show out of it, shouting how insulted they were and then left the meeting, stamping their feet.

Nobody was really impressed, but then the representative of ANAM, a career bureaucrat named Antonio Chang, jumped up and loudly distanced himself from the supposed “threat”. After the show of the Kunas, this was now turning into a very bad theater play. When the meeting had come to its fruitless conclusion, Chang explained that he had to deliver this performance to protect his career, taking into account the coming change of government. I asked him why his office has never acted upon a report about the situation that was filed in 2007 already. He has never heard of such a report, he said.

“How did you get that report?”, he demanded to know.

“I’m not going to tell you”, I replied. “What I want to know is why ANAM hasn’t done anything with it”.

He promised to get back to me. I never heard from him again.

KUNA VIOLENCE

Meanwhile, the Kunas were doing everything in their power to make Estrada’s warning become reality. At exactly the same moment they were making their show of walking out of the meeting, their fellow tribesmen kidnapped three workers from the French land owner and took them to Kuna Yala where they were interrogated and held hostage for several days.

Then they announced on various radio shows that Donnie Estrada was threatening to kill Kunas and pictures of the poor guy were put up in several places.

So a few days later I received a phone call from Estrada. He had made an appointment at the office of the Kuna Congress in Balboa, Panama City, where he would attempt to rectify the situation. Since I had interviewed the vice-mayor of Santa Isabel who stated twice that his preferred solution was to just kill six or seven Kunas to scare them back into the comarca, Estrada was wondering if I would be willing to repeat what I heard to the Kuna officials so that they’d understand that he really was only trying to convey a warning for the sake of a non-violent solution.

KUNAS AND FARC GUERRILLAS

And so on June 6th I met with Bolivar Lopez and Anelio Merry of the Kuna Congress and Donnie Estrada of the Foundation for the Development of the Caribbean. Donnie explained the situation, and I told them what the vice-mayor had repeatedly said when I interviewed him. They looked him up on one of the many pictures they took during the meeting at the Ministry of Government and Justice. Then they backed off somewhat from their hostility towards Estrada.

Bolivar Lopez then said that shots had been heard in the area. Somebody was firing at someone. He confirmed that they kidnapped the three campesinos who were working for Francois-the-pilot. “Unfortunately, they were of our brother Ngobe tribe”, Lopez said. “Our cacique (chief) himself interrogated them and they told him their boss has many weapons”, Lopez added.

Lopez then continued to exclaim how outraged he was by the supposed “death threat” from Estrada, and ranted on about how cabanas could be burned down and other such mayhem in retaliation. I decided to interrupt him. “If this turns violent, are the Kunas prepared for that?” I asked.

Bolivar Lopez answered with a bit of history, “In earlier conflicts when we were attacked, we always formed alliances with others to defend ourselves. When we were attacked by the Spaniards for example, we formed an alliance with the pirates who helped us”.

“And how does that translate into today’s reality?” I wanted to know.

“There are 400 FARC guerrillas from Colombia in San Blas”, he answered, “We could form an alliance with them if we are attacked”.

The FARC – Kuna alliance is, it occurred to me, already a reality. In 2001, while reporting from the Darien border province on the spill-over of the Colombian war into Panama, sources varying from local merchants to policemen told me that the Kunas were supplying the FARC guerrilla camp in the border area with food and other necessities. “You want to visit the FARC camp? Ask the Kunas to bring you”, a hotel owner in Yaviza advised me. That in mind, I decided that Bolivar Lopez was to be believed. They would actually be able to count on the Colombian guerrillas to defend them.

The meeting ended with an invitation for Estrada and myself to visit the upcoming Kuna assembly in Kuna Yala, where Estrada’s foundation would be given time to speak and the issue would, hopefully, be resolved once and for all.

Back home I thought about how these Kunas would be able to drum up support, inside Panama, of Colombian narco-guerrillas the moment they’re attacked – a crazy situation that threatens Panama’s sovereignty and security and that nobody will thus want to talk about. Are the Kunas Panama’s Untouchables? A friend of mine put up one finger in front of me. “Hit the Kuna!”, she said. I looked puzzled at her hand. “Hit it!” So I hit her finger. Immediately she spread her hand, now showing all fingers. “Five Kunas!”

TAKEN HOSTAGE BY THE KUNAS

In the weeks that followed, only fragments of news trickled down from the Caribbean coast. There were some confrontations between the Kunas and the armed men of some of the land owners, but nothing got really out of hand. The country was occupied by the Murcia scandal, the elections, and the victory of Martinelli. But the date of the Kuna assembly got nearer.

“Do you think it’s safe to go?”

I was sitting in the office of Crownland Invest, the day before the Kuna congress. The question came from Max van Rijswijk, the Dutch CEO of the company. They are the owners of Playa Colorada, which borders Kuna Yala and where the eco turtle resort is to be created. Van Rijswijk has been invited to speak at the Kuna assembly as well. For years he has been trying to negotiate a solution with the Kunas. “I would be okay with them using the land they’ve already cut, as long as they don’t come any closer to the beach”, he said. But for the Kunas, there are no practical solutions, because they claim the issue is political. They believe it’s their land, or at least that is the official Kuna spin. And nobody can own land that the Kunas own or face the consequences. Hence the question, “is it safe to go?”

I was not really worried about safety. I’m a journalist, there to report, willing to listen to their side of the story. But van Rijswijk and Estrada were worried indeed. Worried that they would be blamed for actions they have nothing to do with, like those of the Frenchman and his paramilitary force.

“So maybe you should raise the profile of the visit then”, I suggested. “Bring a government official or such, that will make it more difficult for them to do something to harm you if they indeed have such plans”.

That night an earthquake hit Kuna Yala with 6.3 on the Richter scale. I was in a penthouse in Panama City spending the night because we would leave early in a rented plane, and had just turned on the shower when everything started trembling and moving. Was this a sign? And if so, of what? I sat for an hour on the terrace, drinking Costa Rican Cacique, waiting for more shocks and in order not to miss any towers collapsing, and then went to catch some sleep.

A few hours later I reported at the hangar of the airplane rental company at Albrook airport. Estrada and van Rijswijk had taken my advice and invited Jaime Figueroa along. Figueroa was once presented by Martinelli as the new Minister of Tourism, campaigned, and then saw that position given to a Colombian born music producer. Instead, Martinelli made Figueroa President of the Board of Directors of the Panama Tourism Authority (ATP). We chatted about the earthquake, posed for a picture in front of the plane and then it was off to Porvenir, where we’d have to pick up a colleague of Donnie Estrada.

About ten minutes after takeoff I looked over my shoulder through the front window. We were heading for a thick, black soup. Moments later the plane was shaking violently while plowing through almost massive water. We had planned, on my request, to circle a couple of times around the area where the Kunas had cut the forest so that I could see it for myself and maybe even take some pictures. But after one full circle the pilot said that we had to go to Porvenir now or we’d be forced to return to Panama City. After landing, I understood why. The Porvenir airstrip is longer than the small island it’s on as it starts under water already, and then it’s narrow and a bit bumpy. It stormed, it poured, we had the worst weather of the whole region and that meant that we were stuck for hours. First the earthquake and now this! We were doomed after all. Or maybe it wasn’t that bad and we were really part of on old secret Kuna myth, in which first the earth shook and then white men would come down from the sky and rule forever. The weather improved a bit and our flying machine took off again. I figured we still had a chance.

Forty minutes later we landed somewhere in the jungle on the mainland. A launch came to pick us up and ferry us to a small island called Dad Nakwedupbir, where the Kuna Congress was taking place. We walked around a bit, waited a bit, and then had lunch. I learned that one of the Kuna radio outlets had already been talking shit about “Dutch millionaires” who would be visiting, but some houses were flying the Dutch flag and smiles greeted us everywhere, so I assumed the worries about our safety were exaggerated and ordered more beer. Yet smiles aside, the waiting was getting ridiculous. An endless parade of everything from Kunas complaining about lack of fishing gear to international investment bankers and aid workers had to be heard by those assembled in the giant hut, which was jam packed and very, very hot. Those who couldn’t or weren’t allowed to join were looking in through the voids that walls made of sticks inevitably have.

Time was becoming an issue. We had this plane waiting for us and couldn’t fly back in the dark. Sub-secretary Bolivar Lopez assured us that it was “soon now”. And so eventually Max van Rijswijk was asked to speak to the assembled Kuna tribe. He explained what his company was trying to do with the turtle resort and that he wanted an amicable solution to the dispute with the Kunas. He gave it, so to speak, his best shot, but soon protests could be heard. And then the upper-chieftain or sailadummad, Gilberto Arias, stood up and began to yell and scream at van Rijswijk. Others joined the fray, making it impossible for van Rijswijk to even finish his introduction. This was bizarre; why would these people invite van Rijswijk to speak and then not let him speak? The tribe elders were now talking among themselves in Kuna language, and I couldn’t make out from the various comments yelled by others what exactly their point was. Then they announced that their “hospitality” would end here and we should leave the meeting. Somehow they had thrown me on the heap with the Dutch millionaires now. We were led to a classroom in the nearby school, and some Kuna officials said that there we would meet with members of a special commission that would deal with the issue. And so we waited and we waited again, until Max van Rijswijk got tired of it. “First they invite me here to speak and then they treat me like shit and then they expect me to wait for some stupid commission? We’re leaving”, he said.

So we walked to the dock to get a launch to bring us to the airstrip on the mainland. Enough boats were available, but nobody to steer them. So we walked back to the village to find a captain. Nobody knew any captains available. The smiles of that morning had turned into blank faces. Finally we found an old man who would bring us ashore, so we walked back to the dock and boarded the launch. Then the old captain disappeared, and we didn’t see him again. We asked where he went, and the reply was “to get gas”. I looked at the tank. We had plenty of gas. Donnie Estrada and his colleague went to find out what the hell was going on, while Jaime Figueroa, Max van Rijswijk and me stayed in the boat. A crowd assembled on the dock, staring at us. Then some guy wearing sunglasses jumped in the boat, took Estrada’s suitcase with his laptop computer and projector and walked away. Another man yelled at us that we had to return to the village to talk with the commission. “No”, said Max, “I’ve waisted enough time on this and we’re leaving”. That was easier said then done because, in fact, the situation was such that they wouldn’t let us go.

“You need to come to the commission or you will have more problems”, one Kuna official shouted. Well, we weren’t obviously going anywhere so we decided to go see what was up.

“Did you ask for someone to get your suitcase?”, I asked Donnie. He didn’t know what I was talking about. “Some guy took your suitcase from the boat”, I told him. He went to look for it and found it standing next to Gilberto Arias, the upper Kuna sailadummad, in the giant assembly hut. He had ordered it to be taken as collateral so that we wouldn’t leave. If there was still any doubt, it now became clear that we were in fact being held on the island, against our will, and on orders of the Kuna leadership.

Back in the classroom, the “commission” convened. The chairman was old and senile, but the secretary of this commission was a smart guy. Judging from how he talked and the way he handled things I thought he had received political training from the Cubans – Cuba at one point sent advisors to Kuna Yala to help further the “Kuna Revolution” – or maybe their FARC friends. I wanted to take some pictures, but he said I wasn’t allowed to.

To call this a “commission” would be a perversion of the truth, because what it really was was a makeshift tribunal. The secretary started reading the accusations from a long list, claiming that van Rijswijk et al had done damage to the Kuna’s plants and trees and they were now seeking damages. This was obviously and certifiably total crap. The Kunas were, by all standards, invading land that was not theirs, cutting forest and planting yucca instead. Even if the legitimate owners of the land had acted against that, how could the Kunas reasonably complain and even ask for indemnification? What was left of my respect for the indigenous tribe now melted like snow in the sun. This had been a trap from the beginning, I realized; invite the most peaceful land owners over under the pretension that they are allowed to address the congress, then hold them hostage and shake them down. We were sitting in that classroom, and outside a crowd of savages was looking in through the doors and windows while making gestures of throats being cut and arrows being shot at us. I imagined myself being tied to a totem pole or in a big cooking pot. Not a pretty picture. Then some guy came in and started to take photos. I took out my camera again and started taking pictures as well.

“Don’t take pictures!”, the secretary of the tribunal yelled at me.

“If he can take pictures, I can”, I replied, and clicked.

“He is on his own territory”, the secretary said.

I had about had it with these Kuna clowns and I didn’t care what they’d do. During the meeting at the Ministry of Government and Justice they were taking pictures and filming all the time, far outside their territory, and now I wouldn’t be allowed to do the same? Fuck’em! Where were our pilots? Couldn’t they just fly over really low, dump some fuel and burn this madhouse down to liberate us?
Meanwhile, I suggested to Max to propose a joint inspection of these supposed “damages” so that at least we could leave now. He made them the offer, told them they could pick the date and bring whomever they wanted to inspect what damage supposedly had been done to Kuna property. After some talking back and forth, the Kuna racketeers could do little else than accept that proposal.

They had also finally understood that taking our party hostage, which included an official of the new Martinelli government after all, would not be without repercussions and so we were finally allowed to leave the island. Jaime Figueroa had waited at the dock with two Kuna policemen while we were being tried by the Kuna tribunal, and was happy to leave when we got out. He told me he’d write a memo to President Martinelli about this whole situation as soon as we’d get back to civilization. All of a sudden there were boat captains everywhere, and minutes later we were up in the air, getting out of the San Blas Kuna hell as fast as we could.

EPILOGUE

At the time of writing, the joint inspection of the “damages”, somehow done to Kuna property outside Kuna property, has taken place. Both the Kuna delegation and the people of the turtle foundation arrived under the protection of several fronterizas, the special police forces in charge of guarding the border with Colombia. Nothing concrete was agreed upon in regard to these supposed “damages”, but at least both parties verified, confirmed by the policemen present, that the “Dutch millionaires” weren’t the ones bringing heavy arms into the area, something the Kunas had been accusing them of. Other than that, nothing has really changed. There are no plans that I know of by the government to solve the situation, but President Martinelli has proposed a highway through Kuna Yala that would connect Panama with Colombia.

The day after these events, Kuna Yala was hit by another earthquake, but they didn’t get the message.

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Related links:

Panama Turtle Protection Group
Fundacion Desarrollo del Caribe
Congreso General Kuna

Tags: anam, arms, colombians, colon, crimes, environment, foreign legion, kuna, playa colorada, rainforest, santa isabel, turtle, war