This semester one of my courses included the short story “Hombre y mujer” by Panamanian author Carlos Oriel Wynter Melo. Students generally respond to provocative takes on issues related to gender. For some reason they are more comfortable confronting these subjects than they are with ones related to race or ethnicity. It was nice to add Wynter Melo’s voice to the canon of Alfonsina Storni, Rosario Castellanos, Isabel Allende, and Mario Benedetti which I have used in the past to provoke dialog about the tensions that exist between genders.
The students reacted positively. This can be measured by the fact that several have focused on Wynter Melo’s story for their final papers. The subtle introduction of the supernatural served to entertain and grasp attention. Of particular interest seems to be the closing line:
The students reacted positively. This can be measured by the fact that several have focused on Wynter Melo’s story for their final papers. The subtle introduction of the supernatural served to entertain and grasp attention. Of particular interest seems to be the closing line:
Sí, pero no llores, gordo. Los hombres no lloran.
These words push the story from a simple caricature of gender issues to something more complex. They evoke stereotypes and the impossibility to enter someone else’s experience; they problematize the narration in such a way that it ceases to be simple and becomes one of those texts that lingers while you try to find words to express your interpretation.
In this relatively recent interview, Wynter Melo talks about influences, giving a special place to Octavio Paz’s Laberinto de la soledad. Today I discussed this same book with a student in the context of a conversation about postcolonial cultural meshing. Wynter Melo’s past includes Jamaican immigrant grandparents who came to Panama at the time of the canal’s construction. This brief bit of biography that I know about him combined with Panama’s reality as a place where worlds have met for generations, suggests a man who is sensitive to the syncretism and tensions that Paz described.
This understood, it seems that one of his concerns is the impression that his homeland is an unknown for many people. Speaking about this issue in the same interview, he emphasized that outside Panama:
In this relatively recent interview, Wynter Melo talks about influences, giving a special place to Octavio Paz’s Laberinto de la soledad. Today I discussed this same book with a student in the context of a conversation about postcolonial cultural meshing. Wynter Melo’s past includes Jamaican immigrant grandparents who came to Panama at the time of the canal’s construction. This brief bit of biography that I know about him combined with Panama’s reality as a place where worlds have met for generations, suggests a man who is sensitive to the syncretism and tensions that Paz described.
This understood, it seems that one of his concerns is the impression that his homeland is an unknown for many people. Speaking about this issue in the same interview, he emphasized that outside Panama:
casi nadie conoce nuestra historia
To confront this dearth of knowledge, Wynter Melo’s recent publications include Panamá: el dique, el agua y los papeles. While I haven’t read this book, it appears to be an attractive nonfiction open door to a part of the world where -be it thanks to the canal or as a place to hide money, as revealed by the Panama Papers- cultures, people, and languages have long come together.
Here is his short story “Hombre y mujer” which I found in the anthology Una región de historias: panorama del cuento centroamericano.
Here is his short story “Hombre y mujer” which I found in the anthology Una región de historias: panorama del cuento centroamericano.
