Senora Camaña has spent her entire life on the storied passageways of Casco Viejo. The large wooden doors to her home, a first floor apartment with three rooms, are always open to the narrow cobblestone of Calle Quinta: her literal and figurative window to the world.

She spends most of her time in her living room, the largest of quarters, where an old television set glows front and center, adorned on all sides by souvenir bottles of wine, dusted family photos, and various religious paraphernalia. A dining room table with six chairs and a plastic table cloth is where her family eats. It’s also where locals wander in around lunchtime from the neighboring government ministries, paying two dollars for some of the most down-home food in Casco Viejo; literally and figuratively, it’s her institution.

Children and adults with government badges alike make their way to her home as if homing pigeons; they come to eat, they come to gossip, and they come to relax. But in the coming months, things may change. The building in which she lives has just been approved for the construction of a new high-end hotel, and while Senora Camaña is one of the few actual rent-paying residents in the building, her rent isn’t financially compatible with such an impressive and large capital project such as this.

It’s a common and increasingly ethical dilemma in Panama’s historic district of Casco Viejo. In the 1950’s, the neighborhood experienced a large-scale exodus, seeing all its elite and well-to-do residents sprawling for Panama City’s suburbs. As a result, Casco took a turn for the worse; the neighborhood becoming overrun with crime, drugs, and squatters, the term used for individuals who found themselves space in the rapidly-deteriorating buildings free of pay or registration.

Roughly ten years ago marked a major turning point in Casco Viejo as a resurgence in interest in the European architecture and rich history began to draw real estate investors from around the world. But with the injection of money, interest, and pride in Casco Viejo, what will happen to residents like Senora Camaña? Residents who’ve not only built a livelihood in the quarter, but who’ve heavily contributed to the very culture and atmosphere drawing tourists and investors to Casco today.

“While it is sad,” says one foreign resident and investor, “it’s a natural and necessary thing for the evolution of this neighborhood. It is fiscally unfeasible to try and reconstruct a building with one third reserved to old-time residents. The squatters need to leave and renovation needs to begin.”

Not all residents or officials agree with this standpoint however. While many squatters illegally occupying buildings, many too are legally paying rent and responsibly adding to the fabric of the community. Some agencies, like Arco Properties are making an effort to maintain the culture by building low-income housing units, and while such units cannot viably be built in the most centric (and most expensive) part of the old quarter, they believe it’s a duty of theirs to preserve not only an architecture, but an established way of life.

So Senora Camaña sits there in her rocking chair, still actively serving food to the community as if there’s physically an end in sight. The moral, ethical and legal battle over squatters’ rights in Casco Viejo is one of monumental proportions: so too is the way in which to handle people like Senora Camaña, whose honorable involvement in the community echoes the responsibility you’ll hear preached by reconstruction executives and socially-conscientious investors.

Just beneath the surface of mock renditions of Casco building reconstructions, lies a very genuine dilemma: one about which Senora Camaña will expectedly fight over with her life.

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Filed under: News on March 27th, 2008