The Deported

I was going on my kind little way in Panama City, crossing a street with ceci, after our first dinner here with our friends, looking for an internet cafe, and a big ugly police man requested our ids...i had my driver´s license and my upeace id (he wasn´t amused) and ceci had her international student id (he liked ceci), so he sent her back to our room to get our passports...we were detained across the street from our hotel...meanwhile he walks me over to the pattywagon cause he's enjoying the power trip with the little north american...ceci takes a while cause she can´t find our bags, our friends had moved them to try to bring them to us because they had also been stopped...meanwhile i´m talking with a costa rican woman in the pattywagon (she´s also waiting on a friend to bring her passport), she owns a women´s clothing shop in san jose and just got to panama as well...ceci comes back and the big bad police man, happy with his catch and quietly stroking his powered ego, tells ceci i´m ´scurred´...it was certainly good entertainment and a little thought provoking...

now my second time being detained...but at least this time i didn´t get felt up (oh, switzerland)...

apparently they were looking for illegals crossing through panama, particularly colombians (it´s all really very sad)...ceci´s boyfriend is a colombian refugee so we talked a bit about it...and kandi and joy were interested when they could stop giggling at my mishap : )

amusingly, this happened the night before my workshops on ´conflict, communication, and culture´, and two days of oppression discourse. the workshops went well and i think everyone enjoyed the theatre of the oppressed methodology we explored together (in theatre of the oppressed participants use the human body to sculpt images)...the police officer refused to let ceci and i sculpt him in images of oppression and liberation....