The end of the world.

“Matthew 24.  No need to say more. The signs are clear,  the end of the world is near. How many oranges did you say you wanted ? “

That’s what we were being told by the very friendly fruit seller in La Palma, – a mere 5000 souls- the capital of the Darien Province. The fruit seller was also an evangelical pastor.

I must have looked quite baffled, so he kindly elaborated. Also his parishers lamented and requested him to stop saying such bad things, he explained. “But I am just repeating the words of God. No mas.” He added with a rather smug little smirk.

In the back of his little food shack cardboard boxes were piled high and on them was stamped “The Samaritan’s Purse”. This is an international, evangelical disaster relief organization. In the name of Jesus, they come to the rescue whenever people find themselves in desperate situations.

The pastor might have been sure of the End of Time, his flock was less convinced of the matter. Everybody looked very keen on surviving this Covid “biblical plague” and they kept looking on the bright side of life. Wherever we went we received cheerful “buenas” coming from behind face masks which were being worn by all. Entering even the smallest of shops meant temperature check, disinfectant hand gel and friendly waves from a safe distance.

So people bravely resisted their pastor’s apocalyptic point of view, and although they were not experiencing the end of the world, to us they were living AT the end of the world.

According to our Panama Cruising Guide, The Gulf of San Miguel is “a wild and in many places fairly untouched stretch of jungle, rivers, mangrove and wildlife” Except for a lost raccoon and some tamarind monkeys, we didn’t spot many mammals on the river Sabana. And because of Covid we didn’t dare intrude into the Indian communities on the river Cucunati. So maybe we didn’t explore deep enough, or maybe the 5 year old Cruising Guide is outdated or maybe deforestation is on the winning hand after all. 

But we did get a feel for the muddy mangroves and the empty pastures lying behind them. On  one of our hikes on a hilly dry tropical trail we came across 4 good humoured chaps who were looking for their runaway cow. Free ranging cattle indeed. They also offered a parcel of their territory up for sale. Apparently, gringos come and buy land plots to build a house on it and watch the river flow.

At first sight, you might think you were tramping through the Ardennes on a very hot summer day. But the little quacks coming from the pond are not made by ducks but by baby crocodiles. 

The few isolated humble abodes we spotted along the river were inhabited by hardworking fishermen,  not by idle gringos. One time we ventured up a creek which was clearly maintained by humans. Sure enough, at the end we saw the fishing nets leading to a house and a man who dropped everything when he saw us coming. He ran for shelter inside the wooden house and we stayed in the mangroves, shouting out greetings in Spanish and requests to step ashore. But all remained eerily quiet except for the squeaks of the ibis. 

According to Ramses, the poor fisherman had taken refuge under his kitchen table with his defence weapon pointed at the door, silently praying for us to disappear. Although we didn’t believe in this Deliverance like scene, we nevertheless wisely decided to dinghy  out of the creek back to the main river again.

But that was already a week ago. In the past couple of days, we sailed back to Panama City, we rented a car and we visited 2 amazing national parks which were all but abandoned due to Covid. The green was pristine and Ramses was delighted to be able to walk in a terrarium, taking pics.

He is on the plane back home now and we are in a  melancholy mood. It’s the perfect time to go scrub the deck and watch the sun go down.