Intergovernmental Organizations and "Cosas"

Ma'am, this is an Arby's...

Location: Panama City, Panama 🇵🇦

I was enjoying the fruits of my bull-market labors in the lovely cosmopolitan city of PTY.

After a big night out with a handful of homies and a group of locals, we all ventured back to my Panamanian fren’s house.

Music was blaring.

Drinks were flowing.

Weed filled the air.

Party favors exchanged.

Now, on occasion, I enjoy a bit of the local custom and partake in a few party favors myself.

So as I am waiting my turn, I notice an older lady straight murking the product. I make a comment to my buddy as we wait:

“Yooo! This abuela is murdering the ‘cosas’ right now. Are you seeing this?!”

He laughs.

Finally, she hands the cosas to others and makes her way into back to the party. I didn’t think twice of it.

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Fast-Forward

An hour or so later…

I run into the old-bat at the party.

She’s higher than a kite and for some reason, decides it’s a good idea to tell me and my buddy her life story — after we make a joke about her ability to consume copious amounts of cosas at once.

First, she proceeds to tell us why she’s in Panama:

“Yeah, I work for an intergovernmental organization, the [rhymes with '“true sin” if you catch my drift]. I’ve been here for nearly 20 years. I’m one of the heads of the office here.”

We chat for a bit about that and how Panama has changed, then she proceeds to dig deeper into her life story:

“Yeah, it used to be so much better here. Everything was cheaper, the drugs used to be so cheap. That’s why I developed a problem.”

You don’t say ;)

I had no clue after watching you rip lines thicker than tubes of chapstick for five straight minutes.

She continues:

“Yeah, it got pretty bad. I’ve got it under control now.”

My face when she said she had her addiction “under control” now…

She’s taking no social cues now due to being higher than a kite, as my friend and I are looking at her like she’s crazy.

She just keeps going…

“Yeah, there was 2-3 years here in Panama where I was, well, sucking dick for this stuff. My salary wasn’t covering my addiction and I was using everyday.”

I couldn’t walk away.

I looked at my buddy and we started rolling with laughter. She could care less and just kept talking.

It started to get dark shortly thereafter.

I mean “darker” I guess. Pretty dark already — because you know…

Sucking dick for drugs while working for an organization that’s mission is to:

“Maintain international peace and security, develop friendly relations among nations…blah, blah, blah”

That’s already pretty dark.

But when you throw on having a pimp who beats you…

Well, enough is enough.

You catch my drift. She was a scumbag who also wanted you to think she was high and mighty because she worked for you know who.

Alas…

My opinion of that organization couldn’t be any lower, and I think Haitians would agree with me.