Sorry—I, and most of the rest of the island, was feeling a bit the worse for wear.
No, no fight. Just the second most-ardent passion on the island.
Politics?
Yup—politics. We do ‘em with a flare, I’m happy to say. Starting with the caravanas, that snake around the island towns, blaring jingles loud enough to tumble the coconuts (seriously, that’s the name—tumbacocos,—really the speaker that dwarfs an Austin Mini….). Like so many things, it’s very colorful, unless, of course, you have anything you need to do.
Like call your boss, announce “this is where I am” and hold your phone up.
Boss will get it, of course, and hold his phone up.
You’ll commiserate, and agree to meet for lunch.
Well, this election was special, since it offered yet another chance to weigh in on the ever-pressing question of the political status of Puerto Rico.
I’ve written about the status issue before. In my first decade on the island, it was fiercely discussed. Now?
Gone underground.
Nor can I tell you why. It may be that Puerto Rico is so beset with other problems—one thinks of the 1000 murders a year (twice that of New York City) or the unemployment rate of 15%—that no one can bear to deal with another one. And, it’s true, nothing sets off the fire eater (that comefuego down here) than a brisk trot through the status issue.
Or even a stroll, which is how one of the most colorful characters did it. Long, dirty hair, baggy pants, a sign with myriad messages, and most importantly…
…a megaphone!
Look guys, I’m no one to talk—having a voice that can blow a semi from the highway—but a Puerto Rican with a megaphone is serious system overdesign…
So there he’d be, loping down the sidewalk, with his megaphone and…
…a message!
¡La colonia se va! The colony is going!
This confident pronouncement made two thirds of the political spectrum beam—if spectra can beam…
Unfortunately, it was the diametrically opposing spectra.
Both the people favoring independence and the people rooting for statehood (order by alphabet, please note!) agree on one—and only one—thing.
What we got now is a colony.
No, no—cries the middle, those defending the Free Associated State!
It’s a little like the trinity—one of those absurdities where a great deal of verbiage and intellectual energy has been spent uselessly and pointlessly.
But there are those who will fight anyone challenging the contention that Truman and Muñoz Marín sat down representing sovereign entities and negotiated a deal. One that can be…
…improved!
Rather, enhanced!
This notion is perhaps better expressed in lyrical Spanish instead of cold English.
“You mean, you don’t want to pay taxes, but want the vote, but don’t want to fight in the army, and want full parity in ALL federal programs without any of the responsibilities?”
Or words to that effect. Clearly, a gringo singularly lacking in imagination.
Well, the senator, or representative, or whoever he was, finally said, yeah! Great idea! And he was gonna go back home to Nebraska and get everybody on board with it!
For Nebraska, not Puerto Rico.
Well, it was therefore refreshing to hear—at last—a Free Associated Statehooder freely admitting it! And no less than through his very own megaphone!
Yup, so molested (molesto) was he that he bought a megaphone, and was booming out the counter-news.
¡La colonia se queda!
Was I hearing that right?
“Yup,” said Mr. Fernández, nodding his head in wonder.
The colony is staying!
Thus, for several weeks, we had megaphoned ideological discourse. Neighborhood response?
Less than pleased!
Which may be why Germán, that day, finally settled it for good. And he’s a guy of some weight.
Which may be why the colonia se va guy did nothing as Germán snatched the megaphone from his hands, slammed it on the sidewalk, and stomped it to death.
Never did find out what happened to the colonia se queda’s megaphone….
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