Panama Canal
Surrounding the
is A LITTLE SHIRT SHOP in Colon, Panama, on Calle loa
r-piHERE
JL between Avenida Herrera and Avenida Amador Guerrero,
whose red and black painted shingle announces that Lola Osawa
is
the proprietor.
Across the street from her shirt shop, where the red light dis
trict begins, is a bar frequented by natives, soldiers and sailors.
Tourists seldom go there, for it is a bit off the beaten track. In
front of the bar is a West Indian boy with a tripod and camera
with a telescopic lens. He never photographs natives, and wan
him by, but he is there every day from eight
until dark. His job is to photograph everyone
dering tourists pass
in the
morning
who shows an undue interest in the little shirt shop and particu
larly anyone who enters or leaves it. Usually he snaps your pic
ture from
and waits
he misses you he darts across
to take another shot when you come out.
I saw him take my picture when I entered the store. It was
almost high noon and Lola was not yet up. The business upon
which she and her husband are supposed to depend for a living
was in the hands of two giggling young Panamanian girls who
sat idly at two ancient Singer sewing machines.
"You
across the street, but
got
shirts?"
I
Without troubling
if
asked.
to rise
and wait on me, they pointed to a
room and barring quick entrance
glass case stretched across the
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