Short Stories from our Short Site Visit

First Week in our Future Site:
We have definitely stepped through the looking glass here in Belize. So as you already know it started in training. My host sister is Alyssa and my real sister is Kaylyssa. My host mom is Alberta and my real father in law is Albert. Get ready for this…my new host sister is named RAVINA! Ravina is a little younger than Kaylyssa and has two very cute boys with her husband Ovidio. Oh and one last thing, my new host niece turned 10 the day after Alyssa! Through the looking glass I tell you!


Our sweet mini house we have all to ourselves...a typical breakfast in mini america.

Host

Greg usually beats me home from school and one afternoon he was waiting for me with 4 young kids with eager faces. Huh. He started to call to me immediately to check out the cows. What could cows possibly be doing to cause such frenzy in Greg, and most of all the kids who have grown up with the cows? As I started to walk closer Greg got that look on his face he always gets when he tells me a lie, or I am falling for one. I began to get skeptical and around that time I noticed all the kids are not looking into the field but the ground. Where I quickly notice a huge abnormality…a 7 FOOT BOA CONSTRICTOR!!!!! The snake has been killed and there is a notable bulge in its midsection…most likely a chicken. We all stand around, hands on our hips (even the little kids) admiring the huge snake right out of the movies. Later the crowd grows as we drag it up the yard for futre transport. Everyone mainly stands around…a few toes cautiously tap at the large bulge as we discuss how rare it is to see one of this size let alone at all here in Belize. Apparently boas are not that common here and it is quite the conversation starter. After about 20 minutes Ovidio picks it up by the rope and coils it into a large bucket to take it away for disposal. And that was our first encounter with a reptile (other than the copious lizards of course).

We don’t get cell phone reception in either of our villages. There is one way to get it however…by climbing the big hill and holding the phone straight up with speaker phone. This is exactly what we did after our first few days. It was really funny talking to my sister and mom and having to pause as the trucks went by since we were standing on the side of the highway after all. The view is spectacular…jungle as far as the eye can see in every direction. When we passed over the hill at night we found out that you can see the little clusters of light in the jungle that represents the different villages. They did build a huge beautiful new cell phone tower, but it is only for BTL and we have SMART so it is no good. We will probably buy a BTL phone soon though. They had a promotion where you could trade in you SMART phone and get 25 dollars credit in town and my host mom said the line was out into the street! This is the first time there has been reception in the village and it is changing the world here! Just a side note: there are NO cell phone ‘plans’ everyone buys phone cards and that is the only way to do it here in Belize. It is common to hear someone asking if someone has credit so they could make a quick call, or call me back because I’m almost out of credit!

Greg, or Greger as one kid calls him, came home with a funny story of a little girl. He was on the bus home and a little girl found a world map in her textbook (most classrooms in Belize only have a Belizean map…sort of like the Truman Show). So this little girl is looking at it and she points to Canada. She turns to Greg and says, “what village is here?”

Greg's school

We were supposed to go to this all day chess symposium our first weekend. There was a miscommunication and our ride came so late we had already gone back to bed. But I do want to tell you about our hour wait in the dark, in the rain. This is not a complaining story; I actually had a lot of fun. We got up at 3:30, dressed and put on our raincoats and got our umbrellas. There is a large fence around our shop and we had to go through the little person-sized gate by the old water pump. We walked in the quiet rain through the mud and clumsily unlocked the gate and ducked through. We took our time heading down the muddy hill and then set up camp along the side of the road. It was cold and rainy, which we were enjoying. We were both in a pretty giggly mood and Greg started talking some nonsense about, “wouldn’t it be crazy if there was an alternative universe where people wore their clothes wet, and they would quickly go hang them up when it started to rain?” I just stare and respond with hysterical laughter that, “yes Greg that would be crazy.” After about half an hour (our ride said he would be there between 4:15 and 4:30 and it is now 4:45) we start to get bored. We both find ourselves watching the refreshing stream of clear water flow by in the street. We start to push little pebbles into it with our toes admiring the new currents they create. Then without either of us really talking we silently start to make a little damn. We get quite into this, actually picking up the rocks to arrange them just so. We stand up and look at our mini creation…pleased. After another 20 minutes we both spy a dime sized green bug desperately climbing up the few blades of grass to get out of the water. Only to collapse back towards the water as his weight gets too heavy for the height. We quickly decide to build him a damn for him. After several, somewhat forceful attempts, to get him to use the damn Greg picks him up and takes him to the grass. It was 5:15…we conclude our ride is not coming and we go in slightly disappointed but still giggly.

Since we weren’t going to the chess symposium we decided to go to market in town. We proceeded to see every white person AKA all the volunteers and it was a great mini reunion. We ended up in a small restaurant that has $3 fried chicken plates with fries, talking about tortillas. Which were harder, the different ways to make them (on plastics or not) and the much talked about, finicky corn tortillas. I really liked hearing about everyone’s sites and what they’ve been doing. I bought a notebook and we left.

Rayar's 3rd Birthday

Lubantun ‘Archeological Site’ (formally known as Lubantun Ruins):
Greg’s Principal, Vice Principal, several teachers, and the Chairman and his wife took us to Lubantun archeological site. These are pretty well known in the world because one of the three crystal skulls was found here!! There were all sorts of articles about it, and how it has never been kept here in Belize since its discovery and now resides in Indiana of all places. It has a moveable jaw and was sculpted using sand and water only. The ruins were much different than the ones we saw the first week we were here. These were not as spread out, and the rocks were held together by nothing more than force. This site is being reconstructed which means they number all the stones and then dismantle and restack the stones neatly like it was all those years ago. They don’t know much about what was done at this site due to the lack of inscriptions or stellas depicting what went on. They have found lots of figurines and these little one tune flutes hypothesized to have been used for communication over far distances.
There had been a bad storm the night before; so bad that I woke Greg up because I was so scared. I usually never get scared but this thunder sounded like it was right on top of us. It was almost like it was bouncing off the mountains to make it extra loud. Unlike any storm I’ve been in before the thunder went on, back to back, for three hours! I just stared out my window for a half an hour at the light show. We noticed the effects as we passed over extremely swollen rivers and streams to get to the ruins and also when we discovered a huge fallen tree in the middle of one section of ruins! Oh and the newly turned on cell phone tower was no longer transmitting…2 days of glory. Around this area we saw a whole bunch of cahoon nuts. We found these at the other site also and Greg proceeded to try to crack one open. The ladies started laughing and wouldn’t tell us why. Finally the guide said it was due to a saying that when cracking the cahoon nut one must always watch out for the other ‘nut’. The cahoon is actually quite slippery when hit with a rock and has been known to shoot out when it’s struck…good to know.
After our tour we headed up to the Vice Principal’s farm. He had a newly thatched structure that had several hammocks hanging with a perpetually cool breeze. They immediately began macheting coconuts and we all drank and ate our coconuts while having a good time joking around. Then they brought out the most amazing BBQ, with beans, potato salad, coleslaw and lime juice to drink. We all devoured our food then we got cake and fruit as desert. We stayed far later than was expected and we only left when one teacher pleaded for all of us to go so that she wouldn’t miss her bus that was coming in a few minutes. It was really fun and Greg’s counterparts are very funny.

Monday was a holiday…Pan American Day (formally known as Columbus Day) and we spent the morning being taken around my village getting introduced to all the important people; the Chairman, the Alcalde, PTA chairman, leader of the Baptist church, leader of the Catholic church who is also the water board chairman, our host family, the main shops, and the other side roads and where they lead. It was a great morning and everyone was very nice. Several people were already ‘at plantation’ which means they’re working on the farm (think back to Greg’s story).
That evening we went in town to cheer on our host sister at her team’s first competitive game! They have played the other team before and lost 7 nil. We saw several people we know there and they all kind of did a double take since we walked in with a kid on both our hips and one following. The head of the Red Cross recognized us and was shocked that in one week we already had two kids! We were watching Ravina’s kids since she was playing and our host mom and brother were working the door. The game was very exciting, dogs would periodically run across the field, the wall was covered with kids watching the game for free and our team even scored a goal!! The final score was 5-1. I even saw the preschool teacher from my school with her husband and son. The next day at work she told my principal that she was ‘at the game with Peace Corps.’ In the villages we are not Peace Corps volunteers we are the Peace Corps. We are constantly introduced as, “hi, this is Kevina she is the Peace Corps” or “hi this is Greg he is the new Peace Corps.”

Xik
My second day at school I kept hearing the same Ketchi word, xik (pronounced shick). I would just kind of smile and go about my business hoping that they weren’t making fun of me or saying a rude comment. I came home and asked Greg if he knew what it meant but I forgot exactly what they were saying and got nowhere. The next day I heard it again. It is said over and over. I hear it being whispered as children would run or walk past me during break. Even the preschool kids would just stare at me with their big brown eyes and just say…”xik” while smiling. I go home determined; I wrote it down this time. Now I have heard and used this word before as in ‘xik que’ or ‘I am going’ but I could not see how it could make sense in this usage. The first thing I did when I got home was to run to my Ketchi language guide. I flip to the back where the Ketchi to English dictionary is (there is no English to Ketchi part…which would have been extremely helpful in more than one occasion). I quickly turn to the x page when I realize I grabbed my book which is missing a page of the dictionary. Only half of the last column of x’s was printed. Great where is Greg’s?
At last I find it…xik- to go, or ear/earring. It all becomes clear. I have been wearing my watermelon earrings and they were all talking about them! I come back the next day prepared. As soon as someone said it I quickly pointed to my earring and said ‘sentil’ xik’ or ‘watermelon earring’ and the kids became quite excited whispering to each other. Since then I’ve been throwing in the few ketchi words I’ve learned and they kids all get really excited when I do this and the ask me to, “speak ketchi again!”

My libary...well soon to be. Below: the kids at break.

Greg saves the day:
Our first week in our new sites I am surprised to see another volunteer walk into my school! It’s Tracy from the neighboring village and she’s come to ask if I could look at their internet. They have a whole computer lab which recently had the internet reconnected and they can’t open a page. Sure I’ll look at it. So we all hop in the vehicle and I see the beautiful village about 4 miles past the end of mine and it is gorgeous. We pass over a huge river and there are rolling mountains covered in jungle. The town’s houses are sprinkled all over the little rolling hills. We pull up to the computer lab and I do what I know how to do. I try the simple repair, nope. I disconnect and reconnect the modem. I reenter the IP address. Nothing…I refer them to Greg, disappointed in myself. I forgot! I forgot the final step…RESTART THE COMPUTER. So after I was dropped off Greg was then picked up and lo and behold he just turns on the computer and the internet magically works. Everyone asked, “what you do??!” Greg allowed them to believe it was his magic touch and we was named the hero of town. He was treated to lunch, given fresh mango shake, and copious amounts of fruits to take home for saving the day. I’m not bitter. I’m not. Nope.

Neighborhood watch-Belize
I am the secretary for our neighborhood watch. Yup. So here’s how things went down:
There was a murder of a shop owner in our village last month. Since then the community has wanted to do something to make this the safe village it once was…hence neighborhood watch. We’ve seen the signs for it on the shop doors but we hadn’t heard anything until Wednesday when we found out there was going to be a meeting on Thursday! Oh man we’re there! Once at the community center we walk in to see the superintendent of police sitting at the table! The Chairman is also there along with the previous secretary. There are 56 people there, the center is packed and outside of each window (which is not actually a window but a hole with a wooden shutter that is closed when the building is not in use) there are 4 to 7 heads peering in. The minutes of the last meeting are read in depth and then right after the meeting begins the secretary puts the notepad in front of the chairman and goes to sit down. Okay, so who wants to be the new secretary? It is just like any classroom; everyone is adverting their eyes, or calling out names of others. My host mom is nominated, but she declines. Then the old secretary says, “what about peace corps?” There you have it.
The meeting was mainly about electing these special constables who will be trained(2 days) and sworn in from the community to serve as unpaid police. They get id badges, uniforms, and the right to arrest (with force when necessary). They will be patrolling the village until ‘all the bad men run out of town.’ The meeting went back and forth from English to Kriol and thank god I am starting to be able to understand most of it now. We concluded with a date set for the next meeting where the special constables will be sworn in and then we will discuss neighborhood watch. Also, I guess I will have to read the previous minutes…fun.

Fajina (fa-hee-na)
It’s 6:30 and we’re finally on bikes (after a stressful morning trying to organize two bikes with non-flat tires) on our way to my village for the Fajina. This is when all the men come together and ‘chop’ all the community spaces to clean the village. Everyone must come or they pay a fine. My village is off the main highway and once you turn on the gravel road there are several hills before you start to see thatch houses and people. As we get closer we start to see more men walking with machetes in the road. In Belize we pronounce the word ‘ma-chet’ just so you know. We notice a large group of men gathered at the community center all taking different positions to best sharpen their machetes. We are sweating horribly from the bike ride and we awkwardly stand around debating whether or not to take out the machete from the bike, we decide to do so. Now, who should hold it? Greg should. We stand for a while and since everyone is sharpening I urge Greg to sharpen the machete too, you know to blend in. He starts to sharpen it and I am nervously looking around…now we just stand out more since Greg’s technique is…well…different. Now I ask him to stop. Finally a villager comes near us and we begin to talk. He thinks it is good that we’re here to help and we make some jokes about our dull machete and then we stand around some more. One of the teachers at my school shows up and we jump on the chance to stand with someone we know. We walk over and stand with him, there’s little small talk or any talking at all really so we all just stand around looking at our machetes. The Chairman and Alcalda (the village police) come over. At precisely 7:00, with the rhythmic metallic sound of 30 machetes being sharpened, the chairman silently gestures with his machete and the crowd begins to move.
This is perhaps my favorite part. It is very similar to the last performance in a musical where the main characters begin to sing in the street. Our main characters are the Chairman, the Alcalde and some of the elders of the village. They lead the way, and just like in any good musical as we pass each yard two or more men emerge from their yards to silently join in the machete musical. We have a crowd of about 40 by the time we get to the shop by my school where about 20 men are handing out with their machetes. We obviously sand out like sore thumbs, especially me being the only female. One of the men jokingly asks if I want to borrow a machete (Greg and I could only scrounge up one so we were just going to share). The little crowd starts to chuckle and everyone is staring at us. I stop and turn and excitingly and ask if he really has an extra. He is enthusiastic as he answers yes and I quickly say that yes I would love to borrow one. His eyes take on a skeptical look and he asks, with a cocked head, weather I’ve ever used a machete before. “I’ve practiced.” I lie. That is unless you count the one swing I took right before we left…how hard could it be? We walk over and he sends a girl to run and grab it. He introduces himself and we explain who we are and everyone seems to be pleased that we came. After a few more thank yous we rejoin the seemingly unending brigade of men with machetes.
The crowd is pretty quiet and when we reach the football field, which marks the end of the village, we see the chairman silently delegating zones with subtle swings of his machete. Very unceremoniously we take our first real swings with our machetes. I start with a patch of knee high grass. I swing and little has changed…the grass looks untouched, I swing a few more times, with my machete pounding the ground when I don’t get low to angle myself to deliver a horizontal swing. I stand up…my hand is shaking, my forearm is burning. I am reminded of the extreme joy I used to take in mowing the grass back in the states. When we had a yard I took great pleasure in mowing the yard, the monotonous labor with such neat and satisfying results. A slight panic overtakes me, “HOW DO THEY DO THIS!” Okay, some deep breaths and I’m back at it. I glance over at Greg to see the grass flying like everyone else. “I can do this” and I get back to work on the little section around me. There are about 6 men in our area around a shelter. As I keep going I start to get the feel of it. The trick is to swing it just like you’re serving in racket ball except with your back at a 45% angle. I get it right and now things are happening. I come out of my chopping trance to the realization that I am very near to a machete massacre! There are three other men hacking away in very close proximity to each other AND ME! I quickly retreat to the road. Greg joins me after there is no work left and we follow one man who is heading to another group of men further away. They are hacking at quite a large field of waist to chest high jungle. As we walk through the yards I hear “Kevina!” “Kevina!” “Miss Kevina!” from different houses. It is all the students and they are eagerly waving and saying good morning. Some are just staring at me with confused faces.

This is when things really start to happen. Greg and I are now taking down some serious jungle. The satisfying ‘shhhhik shhhhik shhhhik’ of machetes can be heard throughout the village. I get a new rhythm. I chop while pivoting slightly after each swing clearing a semi circle. Then I advance a step and take my semicircle out another two feet. I have a lovely circle of about 7 ft in diameter. No one is laughing at us; no one came up to give us pointers. And in less than an hour we’re done. We briefly visit with the woman we’ll be renting from when we move to my village and they we say our hurried goodbyes to go to the church in Greg’s village to help them board the kitchen they thatched last week. One bike has a blown tire so it is decided Greg will ride ahead (since it is ‘his’ village) and I will join whenever I walk the 3 miles back. About 40 minutes into my walk I see Greg. No one’s at the church and we find out from the chairman of Greg’s village that they will board the kitchen sometime after lunch…Thank god. We go home and proceed to sleep an unmoving sleep until lunchtime.