Panama Is Not That Postcard: The Earthquake Also Shakes the Foundations of Our Inequalities

On October 9, the ground shook in Panama. We were frightened, looked up at the buildings, thought about our families, and felt relieved that the towering skyscrapers did not come crashing down. But today, with fear still lingering in our throats, we must look beyond Cinta Costera and Costa del Este. Panama is not just that postcard image of towering buildings we show to the world. Panama is also its rural regions, farming communities, artisans, agricultural workers, and the towns and villages that are too often left off the map of national priorities.

Today, we are hearing the names of communities that many people may not have even known existed. Tonosí, Mariato, Torio, Mata Oscura, Madre Vieja, Isla Caña, Llano de Piedra, Macaracas, and so many others. These communities did not suddenly appear because of the earthquake. People live there. There are stories, livelihoods, families, and ways of sustaining life that rarely become central to the country's concerns. It took the earth shaking for many people to turn their attention back to these territories, places that have endured institutional neglect for far too long, communities that have learned to survive on their own.

And as we look closer, we find damaged homes, affected schools, families in need of food and water, and people who do not know how they will rebuild their homes. The United Nations estimated that approximately 38,000 people needed humanitarian assistance following the earthquake. These are not just numbers. We are talking about people who are living in fear, who have lost part of what they spent years building, and who need concrete solutions.

There is something we cannot lose sight of: not everyone faces a natural disaster under the same conditions. For some families, repairing a home will be difficult; for others, it will be practically impossible without assistance. The inequalities that existed before the earthquake do not disappear when the ground shakes. On the contrary, they can become even more deeply entrenched. That is why talking about reconstruction also means talking about social and racial justice, about who receives assistance first, which communities have their voices heard, and which ones are once again left waiting.

In La Arena de Chitré, Afro-descendant artisans have suffered damage to their pottery kilns. These kilns are not just structures. They are essential to their work, their livelihoods, and the knowledge that has been passed down through generations and sustained within their communities. When these kilns are destroyed, so is their ability to continue earning a living from their craft. Rebuilding them must be part of the response. It is not enough to focus solely on damaged homes. We must also consider how people make a living, the work they depend on, and what they need to rebuild their lives.

And then there are the children. How do we explain to them that their home is no longer safe, that they have to sleep in a tent outdoors, or that they do not know when they will be able to return to school? A news report about children who had to sleep in a vehicle after losing the safety of their home reminds us that behind every disaster are young lives also carrying the weight of fear and uncertainty. Many schools have been damaged and need to be assessed before they can reopen. A school is more than just a building. It is a place to learn, a place where communities come together, a place of protection, play, and connection.

Children's needs cannot be pushed aside or treated as just another statistic in the emergency.

We must also talk about the responsibility of the State. Humanitarian aid is urgently needed, but reconstruction requires resources, planning, and transparency. Media outlets have reported on the exceptional contracting procedures authorized during various emergencies, including the current one. This makes it even more essential for the public to know how funds are being used, who is being awarded contracts, and what results are being achieved.

We are not claiming that corruption has occurred in the management of resources related to this earthquake. We are saying that an emergency cannot be used as an excuse to avoid accountability. When public resources are at stake and people have lost so much, transparency is not optional.

History also compels us to remember. In 1991, Bocas del Toro experienced an earthquake that claimed lives, left people injured, and destroyed numerous homes. Years later, testimonies were published from families who reported having waited a long time for the materials they needed to rebuild their homes. We cannot change what happened, but we can ask ourselves what we have learned. Are we going to accept that rebuilding a home becomes an endless wait for those who lack the resources to do so? Will history repeat itself? Will another emergency become the opportunity that some have been waiting for to enrich themselves? 

We are concerned to hear from people in affected communities who feel that assistance is not reaching them as it should, and that their demands are being dismissed as gossip or unnecessary complaints. Asking for water, food, materials to repair a home, or support to restore one's livelihood is not stirring up drama. It is expressing a basic need. We must listen to the people, verify what is happening, and respond. We cannot dismiss the voices of those living through this emergency while people elsewhere tell them how they should feel.

At AfroResistencia, we want to express our deepest solidarity with the affected communities, from Tonosí to Bocas del Toro, including Mariato, Torio, Mata Oscura, Madre Vieja, Isla Caña, Llano de Piedra, Macaracas, and so many other places. We call on everyone who is able to contribute to visit donation collection centers and provide food, water, building materials, or whatever they can offer. It does not matter how much we can give or what form our contribution takes. What matters is that aid reaches those who need it and that communities know they are not alone.

The solidarity of our people is essential, but it does not replace the responsibility of the State.

We need immediate assistance, materials to rebuild homes, support to restore livelihoods, and safe conditions for children and adolescents to return to their schools and educational spaces. We also need communities to have a voice in the decisions that shape their recovery, and we need the resources allocated to this emergency to be managed with transparency and accountability.

On October 9, the ground shook and reminded us that life can change in a matter of seconds. We were frightened, and we still carry that fear in our throats. But today, we also have the opportunity to stand with those affected, to support them, and to demand a response that does not reproduce the same inequalities that have always existed. Because Panama is more than the postcard image of its towering buildings. Panama is also its people, its communities, and those territories that cannot continue to be made invisible until tragedy strikes, they become headlines, and only then do we learn of their existence.

At AfroResistencia, we stand in solidarity with the affected communities. Our people need us, and we must show up for them.