The Two Faces of Panama City
Panama City has two sides; the one most people want to see, and the one they don’t. One group of ex-pandilleros is bridging the gap between the world of luxury tourism and the poverty of one of Central America’s most dangerous cities.
I arrived in Panama City in the peak of the wet season, when the early morning humidity hangs heavily in the air until the afternoon rains come and provide at least a small semblance of relief. I stayed where most tourists stay; in the city’s trendy Casco Viejo neighborhood, an UNESCO world heritage site where travelers from all over the gather to wander around the brick streets and delight in the colorful Spanish colonial architecture, basking in the thick Panamanian heat. Shops and restaurants line the streets with people on the sidewalks urging you in, eager to sell you a margarita or a handicraft.
On the periphery of this 20-or-so-block downtown area lies the other part of Panama City, the sordid underbelly whose dilapidated projects and stray dogs you will not find on any travel brochure. This is the part of Panama City that most people don’t want to see. It is called El Chorrillo, and it lies just beyond the edges of the casco.
An area rife with poverty and infamous for its gang violence, El Chorrillo’s social and economic problems mirror those of many urban areas throughout Central and South America.
The glaring disparity between El Chorrillo and Casco Viejo exists because in 1997, the casco was declared an UNESCO world heritage site, thanks to its historic buildings and Catholic churches that date back to the early 1500s [1]. Almost overnight, foreign financiers began buying up real estate in the casco. A period of rapid gentrification began, but none of the foreign money was reaching the people who needed it most: the natives of the casco and its surrounding neighborhoods. El Chorrillo remained stunted by gang violence — while its prettier sister was evolving into a diamond in the rough.
And I, being a wide-eyed tourist, had no idea El Chorrillo existed right next door until I stumbled upon Fortaleza Tours, a company whose guides are ex-gang members — ex-pandilleros — that lead tourists through the neighborhood into places they wouldn’t dare wander alone. It is along these unpaved roads and among the groups of chattering children that the real essence of life for the average person in Panama emerges.
Fortaleza Tours was started by five former members of the Ciudad de Dios, a violent gang of drug runners infamous in the streets of El Chorrillo. Seeking a way out, the men enrolled in Esperanza, a program started by ex-pats KC Hardin and Matt Landau. The New York City transplants were property developers who saw an opportunity to change the neighborhood, not through the “hard hand” of prison or punishment, but through reintegration into mainstream society [2]. Hardin and Landau wanted to give people the ability to change their own lives. “We approach projects with the intention of getting all the great stuff that urban revitalization brings, without going too far,” Hardin said, “and containing the negative externalities of displacement and cultural homogenization” that often occur when areas suddenly become honeypots for foreign investors [3]. Upon completing the Esperanza program, graduates are given jobs at one of the casco’s hotels or given the opportunity to start their own business; the five El Chorrillo natives chose to become entrepreneurs, and Fortaleza Tours was born.
The tours begin in the American Trade Hotel, a luxury boutique lodge complete with jazz lounge and library. Fifteen years ago, it was a notorious crack house. Yet here we stood inside, the tour guide, Alex, pointing out the meanings of the gang graffiti that covered the building which the current owners photographed and turned into artsy wallpaper.
We walked a few blocks, and it became evident that we had crossed some invisible barrier. Suddenly Alex stopped pointing out historic sites and started informing us how the residents of the projects to our left pay ahead of time for the amount of electricity they want to use. Winding through the streets of the neighborhood past the dominoes tables and chicharrones carts, Alex was quick to point out the memories of deaths and shootouts he had of various corners, how he used to not be able to walk down this block or that block because it wasn’t Ciudad de Dios’ turf.
Some of that has changed now, he said, as police presence has increased in the area due to concerns of tourists being robbed. Though still incredibly dangerous, El Chorrillo is beginning to turn the corner. The founding members of Fortaleza — and their benefactors Hardin and Landau — have proven themselves a shining example of how local community organizations can change the lives of families in struggling neighborhoods. Five former gangbangers have not only transformed themselves into community activists, they have built the foundations to bridge the gap between the picture-perfect world of the casco that most tourists see and the streets of El Chorrillo.
Grassroots peacebuilding is at its finest when members of the community are involved in the revival of their own neighborhoods, their flair and stamp proudly on the projects they undertake. For more information on Esperanza, visit https://www.esperanzasvc.org/ and follow @CEsperanzaPTY. And be sure to check out Fortaleza Tours if you ever find yourself in Panama City.
References
[1] “Archaeological Site of Panamá Viejo and Historic District of Panamá.” UNESCO World Heritage Centre, UNESCO, 2018, https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/790/.
[2] “Panama City Gangs Go from Competing for Territory to Competing for Jobs” McNulty Foundation, 2016, http://mcnultyfound.org/impact/stories/esperanza.
[3] Ibid.
