My first time in Panama, was nothing like the place I had grown up with. We are a family of black American Hispanics, with roots in Jamaica, Costa Rica and Panama by way of my Mother Orelda. The Panama I had known as a child was relayed to me mostly through my Mother's frightened eyes, her under the breath curses, urgent warnings, and her vows never to return. While working as a volunteer at the military hospital in Panama City, Mom met and married my Father, William, a sailor in the U.S. Navy from Greenwood, Mississippi. Dad enlisted in the military at a time when Jim Crow reined in the American South and was stationed in the Canal Zone. The couple had a total of eight children and scores of decsendants. "Why do you want to go there?" Mom asked in her Spanish accented English, upon hearing plans of my initial journey to the tropical land mass which lies oblong between the Pacific and Caribbean oceans. I had already vacationed in Montego Bay Jamaica, so it seemed natural I would sojurn to other parts of our familial diaspora. “Well, technically,” I laughed, “I could drive all the way to Colon from here in Los Angeles.” "It's not an island, it an isthmus" she said with disgust. Those were the kindest words Mom ever had to say about Panama. When we said our goodbyes, she gave me a worried hug and told me to call or email her immediately upon arrival. Traveling solo on the long flight from LAX to Panama City, I hoped but never expected to uncover clues to the demons of Panama that had haunted my Mother for most of her life. *** On the taxi ride from Tocumen International Airport to Las Vegas Hotel in Panama City, we sped along tranquil waters, the color of deep tanzanite. The lush green rolling hills held small homes, near block after block of shops with barato souviniers and gray colored high rise buildings. Most Americans know Panama for the Canal waterway and the U.S. invasion and capture of Panamanian President Manuel Noreriga in the 1980s. For me, Panama was a faraway, mysterious place where Mom had lived but never wanted to talk about. When I arrieved it was Carnival time, the Latin American version of Marti Gras or fat Tuesday, signaling the start of the Lenten season. The food vendors near the Palacio Boliva sold roasted corn on the cob, arroz con pollo, grilled plantatins, and crispy deep fried dough, we called bakes. Calypso musicians grooved on congas and maracs and many in the crowd awaiting dusk and the spectacular fireworks display, reminded me of my cousins, uncles and aunties back in the States . A woman with two golden front teeth smiled and looked exactly like my abuela Estelle. I closed my eyes, slowly moving my hips to the sound of the drums, hardly noticing the friendly, burgeoning crowd around me under the pale moonlight. Panama felt familiar and welcoming as if I had stumbled upon a family reunion I didn’t know was happening. Panama was in my blood and I loved it. Why my mother hated this peaceful place was still beyond me. *** It was not until my second visit to Panama, after my Mother had died in 2017, I finally figured out why mother never wanted to go back to the land of her childhood. I immediately wanted to go where tourists don’t venture. I wanted to feel a connection to my beloved mother by walking the streets she could have walked and seeing the scenes she may have witnessed. In Colon, known as Panama’s “2nd city” I was shocked at what I saw. The streets were lined with children playing in unyielding masses of garbage, rotten food, mounds of papers and containers and dirty diapers. The apartments where the kids lived all had newish looking satellite dishes sitting atop the roofs like oversized electronic ungs. The juxtaposition was jarring. I sat silently in the taxi, staring staight ahead, pretending not to notice the horrific surroundings. The wretched and obvious wealth disparties in Colon would have been too much for a kind and gentle soul like my mother to accept. For Mom, Panama was a place to be from and never part of. Mom's destiny was elsewhere which she realized early in life. And she promised herself she would never look back.