The watermelon slice war, even if it seems unbelievable
One Tuesday in 1856 in Panama, American citizen Mark Oliver stopped at a watermelon stand with slices laid out in the sun. He was drunk. He reached out, picked up one of the best pieces, took four or five bites, spat some seeds onto the ground, and continued walking aimlessly. The shopkeeper, José Manuel Luna, came out behind him shouting, demanding the amount: five cents. In the argument, the shopkeeper brandished his knife, and the other drew his pistol. It was clear. There was no turning back, but a friend of the scoundrel, more aware, covered the debt, and at that moment someone nearby snatched Mark Oliver's pistol. That ended a couple of hours later in a brawl of gunfire and machete blows, with a death toll of 16 Americans and two Panamanians . All dead. It happened near the trans-isthmian railway station, built in 1850 by the gringos in the La Ciénaga neighborhood, next to the Seafood Market.
In the midst of the fray, a train arrived with 940 American men, women, and children caught between two fires at the station. The police arrived an hour and a half later, calmly, when the old knives were already skewering Americans. Shortly after, the acting governor of the Federal State, Francisco de Fábrega, also showed up, dressed as if for a reception at the Great Gatsby mansion. He placed himself authoritatively in the middle of the fray, and someone put a bullet through the top of his hat . He soon gave the order for the police to occupy the station, and it turned into a hysterical rat trap. Nothing more was heard of Mark Oliver, the man who had lifted the smiling slice of watermelon.
With the bodies strewn in the streets, Panamanian diplomats blamed the US for the disaster. They requested letters of recommendation from the consuls of France, the United Kingdom, and Ecuador to attach to the official accusation. The US authorities disliked the reports and accused both sides of being traitors for siding with the islanders. The report from the special commissioner appointed by the US government was still missing. He took his time and delivered it six months after the incident. He accused the black Panamanians of attacking and robbing the Americans . He also called the Panamanian authorities incompetent, demanded compensation, and suggested the immediate occupation of the New Granada area, where everything went wrong because of an uncle who had stolen a nice slice of watermelon.
On September 19, a detachment of soldiers sent by the United States took over the station. They stayed for three days. No one revealed themselves. Not a single shot was fired, not even in the air . And they withdrew. But the poison was already within the territory. In 1857, Panama agreed to compensate the United States and delivered $412,394 in gold for the victims. The Yankee authorities didn't distribute their share to those affected until 1865. It's just not a good way to understand it.
But all this had been brewing before, as often happens when you dig into the reasons for the world's stupidest wars. In 1846, both sides had signed the Mallarino-Bidlack Treaty . The first paragraph of Article 35 read as follows: "Citizens, vessels, and merchandise of the United States shall enjoy in the ports of New Granada, including those of the Isthmus of Panama, all the franchises, privileges, and immunities in respect of commerce and navigation now enjoyed by citizens of New Granada." Yet another beautiful precedent for Trump's tariff policy.
Resentment grew in the years following the signing of the treaty, so when Mark Oliver approached the watermelon stand with that sway that drunks have when they walk, things were well on their way to leaping with perfect agility through the air. The watermelon is, by nature, a festive fruit, a sweet and refreshing dead weight with a severe green exterior. Sometimes, as happens with some things in life, you don't quite know where to put it so it doesn't start rolling on the table. In some groups of friends who go on excursions, it's customary to go to the mountains or the beach with one of these specimens, and there's always someone who has to carry the watermelon. While choosing the best place for lunch, he keeps it in his arms. Sometimes it's resting on his stomach, and when he can't take it anymore, he slides it up towards his collarbones to bring it back down. Until it splits in two, the watermelon hits the ground, crushing your arms, and no one takes home what's left . In Panama, that humble shopkeeper had reached the limits of his patience after years of loading and unloading large pieces to display at his street stall. How could someone so seriously tired of his miserable existence not start such a silly war? Little did he know what could have happened.
It only took one slice, a suspicious and drunken American, a weary people, a few righteous machetes, and a superb revolver. In the ranking of wartime absurdities, this one deserves a place of honor for its tropical nature. Come to think of it, in all the wars in history, the victory of either side in conflict is only half a watermelon. The other half is what has always been called the losers. That's how the world is divided. A slice of this fruit contains everything one should know about life. What a simple barbarity.
elmundo
