Don Quijote de la Mancha and his trusted servant Sancho Panza. My dream of completing High School had become almost a Quixotic quest. Image.
I was eagerly awaiting the beginning of the school year and, soon, my entrance into Abel Bravo College, as my Westindian people proudly referred to it. By then, however, the ability to find work at all, any kind of honest work, had become one of the prime reasons for the demoralization of an entire generation of black youngsters like myself. Colon, not to mention Panama City, had become a desert of human hopes for young job seekers like me and the many youths I was meeting up with who desired to continue their quest of seeking an education at the “College.” Continue reading
