How yu di do? Wehdagoan?
Approaching the official three-month marker of my time in Belize in mere hours, I thought it would be appropriate to send out yet another dazzling update from what is still, according to my sources, the birthplace of the mosquito.
Life in Belize is, well, interesting to say the least. I have enjoyed getting to know my housemates as we plug along each day, struggling on our own and together with both big and small challenges, and celebrating - when we can - the small victories that life in Belize City, plagued by violence, corruption, and Carnival Cruise ships, has to offer.
The way I see it, there are two distinct aspects to my life here. One: all that is internal to me and my crazy mind. And two: all that is external, which I see, smell (unfortunately), and hear everyday. Perhaps this is the way that all people's lives are, and it's just a conclusion that's taken me a little longer to come to; in any case, the divide is glaring me in the face - from the inside looking out and from the outside looking in. It has launched me into a never-ending orbit of questions, affirming, disproving and then reaffirming my initial motivations for a program like this, an experience like this, and struggles like this. And, of course, it has not yet ceased to constantly readjust my expectations for what's to come...
What's going on inside? I think about my family and how much I miss them, the newly acclaimed World Series Champions, the undefeated BC football team, the undefeated Patriots, the undefeated Acton-Boxborough Girls' soccer team (GO MARTHA!), whether or not I like my job, what I'm going to wear tomorrow, which book I'm going to read next....things of that nature. I have spent a lot of time curled up the hammock I have hung in my bedroom, escaping to read and write, and reading and writing to escape. I like to think about what I'll cook for dinner next week and what I'll need to buy at the cut-throat outdoor city market (picture Wall Street, except with fruits and vegetables instead of multi-billion dollar funds), and I like to plan different activities that I'd like to do in and around Belize throughout the remainder of my time in this beautiful country. All of these things are nice, and they present themselves with their own challenges and struggles, but they are isolated from - and yet strangely a part of - the rest of my experience.
I was told by a few people before I arrived that the poverty in Belize was of "a different kind." What the heck did that mean? Frankly, I didn't care. With my gung-ho, save-the-day, liberation attitude, it was easy to brush off such comments with some ignorant retort like, "poverty is poverty." I should have listened; the suffering in Belize is, in fact, of a different kind.
As my roommate Trey has said, it would take about 4 years totally "to turn this place around." They have found oil - lots of it. They have jungles, mountains, Mayan ruins, ocean, pristine beaches, islands, rivers, wildlife, four different national languages, countless racial mixtures leaving the people exotic looking and for the most part, stunning. The fruit harvest is plentiful for most of the year, and the fishing industry - along with the SCUBA industry - is thriving. Why, then, is this country swirling down the toilet of incredible national deficit, and tumbling down the international lists ranking safety, living conditions, and education?
Sparing you the history lesson, a political diatribe, and the many examples of suffering families and children I have gotten to know in my brief three months here, I will tell you this: the struggles I have within, including my first-ever experience of homesickness as well as a generally difficult transition from graduating college to entering the "real world," are made more complicated by those structural injustices I witness everyday. Who am I to be worrying about my future when the attendance rates at schools are plummeting all over the city and funding for the public schools is less than the finances our volunteer program provides our five-person volunteer community? Who am I to be feeling sorry for myself when my homesickness pales in comparison to the loneliness that Mr. Lopez, a disabled elderly man who lives by himself at the end of my street and who has absolutely not a cent to his name, must feel every day. These contrasts between the familiar routes of my mind and the utterly unfamiliar route of my reality here have left me, so far, struggling to navigate my way towards some distant oasis of balance.
That said, I am having a blast with the kids I am surrounded by everyday. During their recesses at school (which are approximately every hour!), tons of the infant students - equivalent of first and second graders - come over to the parish office, climbing over me and my desk chair, wanting to play on the computer, and if they're feeling especially needy for attention, they'll line up and say, in unison, "please miss, for some wataaaa!" (please miss for some water). It's pretty adorable. I have to say that I gained myself a good reputation when I dished out the Roche Brothers Supermarket Halloween posters that my mom had sent me last week - a few of the students spent over an hour coloring in every last detail of the poster. Maybe I'm not that different than those little girls coloring; maybe we all need those escapes into our internal lives every once in a while - not to forget the reality around us, but to momentarily negotiate with its immensity and pretend, even if it's just for a minute, that we don't have to look in or out. Maybe we just have to look up.
Congratulations to all my fellow Red Sox fans out there! Oh, and the picture is to show my Belizean-Boston pride - yes, people thought my ridiculous celebrations were rather obnoxious. But they don't get it; in Boston, pride is of "a different kind."
Much love to all,
Molly
