Don Quixote, the mayor, and me

On Thursday morning, November 20, I was listening to RPC Radio, which is part of my morning routine while I get ready to go to work. On this day, however, the announcement of an upcoming news segment piqued my curiosity far more than usual. On the telephone, ready to discuss the results of Panama's attempt to set two new world records for continuous reading, was Juan Carlos Navarro, the capital's mayor. Over the previous three days, hundreds of community volunteers had come together at the Albrook Bus Terminal to read Don Quixote de la Mancha aloud for 60 hours without interruption.

My interest in this news item stemmed from having helped to assemble a delegation of 35 volunteers, composed of students and professors from Florida State University-Panama. I also contributed directly to the cause, reading a passage of Miguel de Cervantes's work on Monday evening for five minutes. Thus, when I heard that the mayor was going to address the topic, I stopped shaving, put down my razor and leaned closer to the radio.

Mayor Navarro began his radio appearance by confirming that Panama had successfully broken the record. My reflection smiled with satisfaction in the mirror. The interviewer then proceeded to ask the usual journalistic queries: where, when, and why. Upon arriving at the "who" questions, the reporter put the mayor on the spot, asking him for a few anecdotes about the participants. In my mind, I could clearly see the mayor scratching his head, his gaze turned upward, as he struggled to retrieve a couple of the stories that his public relations folks certainly had relayed back to him. Mr. Navarro first told of a woman who ridden on a bus for three hours from the interior of Panama to contribute her five minutes of reading, and soon after she had finished she hopped back on a bus for the long return trip home.

That's one of the true heroes of the event, I thought to myself, my reflection nodding in agreement.

The mayor then went on to tell the stories of a few other participants before he began to describe one that seemed so familiar that I had to lean even closer toward the radio. "In addition," he said, "an American university professor who is a specialist in Don Quixote joined our effort."

"He's talking about me!" I exclaimed aloud to myself. My face beamed in the mirror.

I am not being ridiculous, or boastful. Allow me a moment to share with you how I arrived at that conclusion. First of all, I am an "Estadounidense" --- a Nicaraguan-American to be exact, born in Los Angeles, California, and having lived three-quarters of my life in the good ole' U S of A. Then, as a doctoral student at the University of Arizona, I wrote my dissertation on Don Quixote de la Mancha. So, you see, up to that point I fit the bill perfectly. (I have to own up, though, to not really being a Don Quixote "specialist." In gatherings with Cervantes scholars I found them far too snobbish for my taste. Thus, immediately after completing my doctorate I plunged into the study of US Latino and Latina literature, far before that field became fashionable.)

From that point on, however, as the mayor's RPC Radio interview continued, my moment of glory began tumbling down rapidly. "This professor is married to a Panamanian," the mayor added.

Well, that's simply not true. My wife, like me, is a gringa; very gringa, from Iowa. She teaches history at Balboa Academy.

"He and his wife live in the United States, where he teaches. They were visiting Panama when he heard about the event, volunteered to read, and then caught a flight back home," and with that Juan Carlos Navarro concluded the anecdotal segment of the interview.

I was stunned. Wait a minute, I thought, he's supposed to be talking about me! But, then, he wasn't really talking about me... or was he? Could the mayor of an important city be capable of twisting the facts? Would Juan Carlos Navarro, under pressure of a live radio interview, dare to ad lib a story from bits of truth his staff had supplied him with?

Momentarily disconcerted --- I could see my bewilderment clearly reflected in the mirror --- I made a mental note to call Mr. Nelson Riquelme, who works in the mayor's Office of Public Relations. I had been in close contact with him while assembling the FSU-Panama delegation. Mr. Riquelme knew of my background, and he knew that I had written my doctoral thesis on Don Quixote de la Mancha.

I picked up the razor and finished shaving. My determination to call Mr. Riquelme the instant I stepped into my office increased with each bold stroke. In fact, I cut myself because I was so flustered that I really couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. But that's understandable, I hope, because I desperately needed to know if Juan Carlos Navarro was indeed referring to me during the RPC Radio interview.

By the time I was splashing on cologne, however, that burning desire to get to the bottom of things had abandoned me. Does knowing the truth about the mayor's statement really matter? I asked myself. Wasn't it far more important that everyone representing FSU-Panama said that his or her time on stage had been absolutely wonderful? Shouldn't it be enough satisfaction for me to know, as each person had reported, that the experience of reading Don Quixote de la Mancha and helping Panama break two world records had been one they would never forget? Although I am a little jaded, simply from having been around this planet far longer than my students, I have to admit that my participation in this event had made an indelible mark in my life as well.

That being the case, then, what would be the point of setting the mayor straight? Worse yet, what if some truly distinguished professor had really participated in Panama's attempt to break the world records, rendering me a small fish, once again, in the vast ocean of supremely gifted Cervantine scholars? If what the mayor has said was true, the resulting humiliation might prove too much for me to bear. I decided, therefore, that it was best to let things stand as they were.

At this juncture I began to wonder if perhaps Juan Carlos Navarro was really a Don Quixote scholar in disguise, posing as Panama's mayor. If that were the case, Mr. Navarro would be well aware, as Miguel de Cervantes had proven, that the truth can be illusory, at times impossible to pin down. In several instances throughout the book, Don Quixote expresses his doubts that historians are getting his story straight. In Part Two of Don Quixote --- which was written as a sequel and published ten years after the appearance of Part One --- the mad knight discovers that, in fact, the chronicler had committed several mistakes in recording his deeds. This, of course, sends Don Quixote into a rage. He curses the historian, accusing him of forsaking the truth in favor of fiction. On the other hand, in spite of the shortcomings, the literary hero feels grateful toward the chronicler, who gave up much of his valuable time to act as the scribe for Don Quixote's remarkable feats.

Did Juan Carlos Navarro, then, in recording my great deed of reading for five minutes, embellish the story, just a bit, for the sake of making my humble participation more palatable for his discerning public?

Maybe so; maybe not.

In Don Quixote de la Mancha, the narrator (Cervantes?) acknowledges that he did not write the story. He concedes that the true author of the book is Cide Hamete Benengeli, a brilliant Arab historian. The voice telling us the knight's tale admits that he simply discovered the abandoned Arabic manuscript in a public market, and then, working closely with a translator, set the tale into Spanish. This, therefore, serves to absolve him of any inaccuracies.

So, I now have to confess that I didn't write this piece. In fact, I found the article in the Albrook Bus Terminal, on a table in the food court, forgotten. It was written in flawless Spanish, and although I did add one or two of my own stylistic flourishes, I am merely the translator.*

* Beginning at 9 am, November 17, and ending at 9 pm, November 19, Panama successfully held a 60 hour reading marathon aimed at setting two new world records: one for continuous reading aloud of Don Quixote de la Mancha (48 hours held by Spain), and the other for continuous reading aloud altogether (54 hours of reading detective novels, held by Germany). Look for Panama's heroic deed in the next edition of the Guinness Book of World Records.

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Don Quixote, the mayor, and me