I had a conversation with my class last week. I gave them a simple journal prompt that asked them what they wanted to be when they graduated from school. Two of my students started smiling at each other from across the classroom. I asked what they were smiling about? They replied that they knew what the each other wanted to be after they graduated. I told them to write in their journals, and that I would let them share their responses after 10 minutes of writing. I selected the two boys first. I asked them to share with the class what they were smiling about. They told the class that ever since they were in Infant 1 (1st grade) they had always wanted to be tour guides in the rainforest. More specifically, they both had decided that they wanted to essentially be naturalists that showed tourists about the natural remedies that the rainforest had to offer.
About a week later, I had the students bring in one natural resource from their communities as an introductory activity for talking about what natural resources the Mayans might have used. I expected the students to bring in fruit and pieces of wood. Instead, the students brought in various types of plants. Of course I don’t remember any of the names off the top of my head, but there were easily about 10 different natural resources from their communities that were used for everything from headaches, to pulled muscles and injured bones. Some of the plants needed to be boiled, while others rubbed onto the skin, while others could just be eaten as is. Now the students could have easily picked any plant out of the forest and pulled a quick one on me, except for the fact that every student in the classroom confirmed exactly what each of the plants was called and what it was used for.
Now prior to arriving here in Gallon Jug, I had only read about the rainforest in books, and seen it on movies. It is a spectacular place. Zoia and I have had the opportunity to drive thru the forest. We have seen foxes, owls, ocelots, snakes, jaguars, and many other animals that have native names that I cant remember. The experience of seeing something for the first time that you have only read about can be compared to the likes of seeing the ocean for the first time. The rainforest is, indeed, a great wonder of the world; a sincerely magical place.
We have been so hammered with rain that all of the rivers have overflowed. Many parts of Belize have called natural disaster warnings. We are fairly safe because the rainforest drinks most of the rain, however the two roads in and out of Gallon Jug have been flooded. One of the trucks from Gallon Jug tried to pass the Rio Grande a couple of weeks ago. I would guess that the overflowed portion of the river was about 100 yards long. The car made it about 80 yards (almost to the end) before the front wheels went up, and the rest of the car continued. There were 5 or 6 dudes (all fathers of children at our school) who climbed out of the windows and swam to the side through a pretty rough current. One of the guys could not swim. He stood on top of the roof of the car until someone threw him a rope. Scary shit! The thought of loosing someone in such a tragedy is a horrible thought within itself, but even worse when you consider the size of our community.
Our community is made up of three entities: Gallon Jug Farm, Sylvester Village, and Chan Chich Lodge. Gallon Jug Farm is where we live. There are 6 other families who live on the farm, for a grand total of 19 people, including children. About 3 miles away is the village of Sylvester, where most of our community lives. Approximately 30 thatched-roof houses surround our futbol field, and extend from one riverbed to another. The village has one store, a community center, two churches (one Catholic and one Evangelical), and of course the futbol field. There are probably about 150 residents in Sylvester Village. The 3rd point in the triangle is Chan Chich Lodge, which is about 3-4 miles from Gallon Jug and Sylvester Village. Chan Chich is one of the worlds premiere jungle lodges. Tourists pay big bucks to come stay in the jungle, ride horses, hike, bird watch, and relax. There is a small village that makes up the workers of Chan Chich. I would guess that the population of Chan Chich is about 50.
Our entire community is no larger than 300 people. As you can imagine in such a small community, there are not many secrets. Bonchinche is people’s favorite past time. Everyone is quite literally related to one anther. One family’s grandfather was sick last week. As a result of his illness, the family went to go visit him. About 1/8th of our school was missing.
I was told that a National Geographic photographer/USC professor came out here to photograph something or other. He ended up visiting our school. He told our principal that in all of his travels throughout the world, he has never seen more “pure” children. The word “pure” is a perfect description for these people. They are genuinely beautiful, gracious, gentle, and caring people. Their physical characteristics are strongly Mayan, with significant traces of Asian ancestry, as the Mayans probably crossed the Baring Strait from Mongolia. The Mayan hierarchal system is vaguely familiar in our community. Certain families rise to the top in regards to school achievement, more desirable jobs, and social networks, while others follow different destinies.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Keepin' Busy
We just came off a long weekend for Pan American Day. I have heard two sets of stories about Pan American Day in Belize. Some celebrate it as “Columbus Day”, or the day Columbus bumped into America, and others celebrate it as the day that the Mestizo people traveled South into Belize from the Yucatan Peninsula.
We have started to figure out how to mix up our week day nights after school. I have been getting rides into Sylvester Village a couple nights a week to play futbol with the fellas, and Zoia started her first dance class last Thursday at the village community center.
The “community center” was a large open space with about 5 beds in it and a pile of old 80’s donated books. We cleared the beds away, hooked up the music, and waited for all the dancers. About 15 women, myself, and Paulisito (also my right fullback) got it cracking as the whole village looked through the door. The dance class has some serious novelty value in these parts. Zoia broke it down as usual, and everyone else tried to keep up. She taught some cumbia, merengue, salsa, and a little reggae. The women, and Paulisito, ranged from ages 10-40. It was a good time, but next class Zoia will close the door, so the whole village doesn’t act like it’s a performance. The women were justifiably real self-conscious.
Since the adult class on Thursday nights was such a hit, but also such a spectacle, Zoia has created a class for the girls of the school two days a week at the same community center. Right now she is teaching hip-hop on Mondays, and African on Wednesdays. The movements are very new for the girls, but they seem to enjoy it very much. Those same two days, I coach the boys futbol team on the village cancha. Our team is 14 boys ranging from 4-8th grade. I take Siboney for the first half of the practice, where she attempts to do jogging warm ups with the boys, and then proceeds to cry at half field when she cant keep up. I then take her to the dance class for the second half of the class, where someone in the village inevitably buys her a dulce, and she jumps on the beds in the community center for the rest of the class.
When we are not teaching dance class or playing/coaching futbol after school, we are working. The school has very high expectations, and as with any teaching job, there is lots of planning to be done. Prior to arriving, we had this notion that we could kinda cruise on by because we were in Belize, and for some reason there wouldn’t be high expectations. I think Zoia and I would both attest to the fact that we are working harder here than we have at any job in the states.
There are also days when we are not coaching or teaching, when we are able to take a ride on the horses, take a jog around the farm or on the airstrip, feed the chickens, or pick fruit from the farm (bananas, oranges, mangoes, avocados, or breadfruit). There are obviously no restaurants nearby, so we cook every night.
I will spare you all another long futbol story, but will add that I had a hat trick in our last game at Indian Church a couple weekends ago. Apparently the little Belize futbol circuit here has never seen a gringo who can play a little. You would think that there might be a little love for the newcomer, but instead the hate seeps out of peoples pours. Apparently teams are out for me now. Great. Our team advanced to the second round of the tournament, where the competition gets much harder. Our next game is against Pine Ridge in the village of Guinea Grass. We play on Nov. 2nd.
We are trying to get our hands on a car, but with our remoteness it is very hard to get anything done. A whole day excursion is basically necessary to make it out of the bush and into some towns. Not to mention the fact that we are in Belize, and things move a bit slower in the tropics than they do in the states.
We are enjoying ourselves, and try to inhale the beauty of the rainforest as much as possible. We are slowly learning about the natural remedies and birds that surround us. We are in the midst of the rainy season. A relatively fierce rainstorm has come thru Gallon Jug just about every day for the last month. Apparently the village will easily break its rainfall record for the year. Many villages South of Gallon Jug are being flooded as a result of incoming Guatemalan rivers that are rushing really hard this time of year.
We have started to figure out how to mix up our week day nights after school. I have been getting rides into Sylvester Village a couple nights a week to play futbol with the fellas, and Zoia started her first dance class last Thursday at the village community center.
The “community center” was a large open space with about 5 beds in it and a pile of old 80’s donated books. We cleared the beds away, hooked up the music, and waited for all the dancers. About 15 women, myself, and Paulisito (also my right fullback) got it cracking as the whole village looked through the door. The dance class has some serious novelty value in these parts. Zoia broke it down as usual, and everyone else tried to keep up. She taught some cumbia, merengue, salsa, and a little reggae. The women, and Paulisito, ranged from ages 10-40. It was a good time, but next class Zoia will close the door, so the whole village doesn’t act like it’s a performance. The women were justifiably real self-conscious.
Since the adult class on Thursday nights was such a hit, but also such a spectacle, Zoia has created a class for the girls of the school two days a week at the same community center. Right now she is teaching hip-hop on Mondays, and African on Wednesdays. The movements are very new for the girls, but they seem to enjoy it very much. Those same two days, I coach the boys futbol team on the village cancha. Our team is 14 boys ranging from 4-8th grade. I take Siboney for the first half of the practice, where she attempts to do jogging warm ups with the boys, and then proceeds to cry at half field when she cant keep up. I then take her to the dance class for the second half of the class, where someone in the village inevitably buys her a dulce, and she jumps on the beds in the community center for the rest of the class.
When we are not teaching dance class or playing/coaching futbol after school, we are working. The school has very high expectations, and as with any teaching job, there is lots of planning to be done. Prior to arriving, we had this notion that we could kinda cruise on by because we were in Belize, and for some reason there wouldn’t be high expectations. I think Zoia and I would both attest to the fact that we are working harder here than we have at any job in the states.
There are also days when we are not coaching or teaching, when we are able to take a ride on the horses, take a jog around the farm or on the airstrip, feed the chickens, or pick fruit from the farm (bananas, oranges, mangoes, avocados, or breadfruit). There are obviously no restaurants nearby, so we cook every night.
I will spare you all another long futbol story, but will add that I had a hat trick in our last game at Indian Church a couple weekends ago. Apparently the little Belize futbol circuit here has never seen a gringo who can play a little. You would think that there might be a little love for the newcomer, but instead the hate seeps out of peoples pours. Apparently teams are out for me now. Great. Our team advanced to the second round of the tournament, where the competition gets much harder. Our next game is against Pine Ridge in the village of Guinea Grass. We play on Nov. 2nd.
We are trying to get our hands on a car, but with our remoteness it is very hard to get anything done. A whole day excursion is basically necessary to make it out of the bush and into some towns. Not to mention the fact that we are in Belize, and things move a bit slower in the tropics than they do in the states.
We are enjoying ourselves, and try to inhale the beauty of the rainforest as much as possible. We are slowly learning about the natural remedies and birds that surround us. We are in the midst of the rainy season. A relatively fierce rainstorm has come thru Gallon Jug just about every day for the last month. Apparently the village will easily break its rainfall record for the year. Many villages South of Gallon Jug are being flooded as a result of incoming Guatemalan rivers that are rushing really hard this time of year.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Goal Maestro!
Well Sunday, alone, was worth the price of admission for moving down to Belize as far as I’m concerned. I was picked up at my house around 9 am to embark on the journey. I boarded the bed of the pickup truck where I was greeted by 2 of my students, una senora vieja, 3 of the other players, a couple futbol fans from the village, the coach, a bag of platanos, and a bucket of okra. I later found out that there were about 7 people inside the truck. Needless to say, we were rolling deep. We caravanned with 3 other trucks that had a similar set up. We drove about 2 ½ hours through the jungle and the Mennonite community to the pueblo of San Felipe. One of the trucks broke down right outside of San Felipe. Most of the Gallon Jug community has roots in San Felipe, so we spent the next couple hours greeting family members, eating, dropping off bags of platanos, and trying to fix the broken car. At around 12:00 it was time to head another 15 minutes north to the pueblo of Trinidad for our futbol match. We had adopted 3 more players in the bed of our pickup truck as a result of the broken down truck.
Now I knew that Belizeans took their futbol seriously, but I had no idea that this particular tournament was of such a magnitude. There were to be 3 games that day. The field was packed with fans from the 6 perspective teams, blasting reggae music, a few vendors selling tamales, tacos, and empanadas, and of course your pueblo borachos. We watched the first game, and started to stretch and get suited up for our game.
The match: Gallon Jug vs. San Lazaro. Considering the remoteness of our village compared to the rest of the pueblos, we probably had a good 25 fans. Our coach pulled us together, and went through the starting lineup beginning with the defensive line. As he got to the front line, I listened up for any indication of my name; Alec? Alejandro? Gringo? Nothing. But he did mention the name of the starting center forward as “Maestro”. All of the guys pointed at me in case I didn’t catch that one. What a fitting name for what I was about to teach on the field that day.
This game was no joke at all. Each team lined up on the sideline facing each other. Both teams walked to center sideline, and then turned in and proceeded towards the center of the field walking side by side. As we got to center field, all of us were to face each other. The ref said his little schpeal; we shook hands, and then took our positions. At this point, I noticed that nobody was in any rush to start the game. Instead, all of the players turned to the sidelines and started to wave for the next 5 minutes. The crowd erupted as they made it clear which team they were supporting. Apparently this was our moment to soak of the spotlight, and wave to our fans. I really had no choice at this point. I had to represent.
About 15 minutes into the first half, my partner, Neto, controlled the ball at about ¾ field and dished it out to me on the right flank. I took about three dribbles past my defender until I was about a yard in from the 18-yard mark, and nailed it into the lower left hand corner. Goal Maestro!!! The crowd went wild.
I continued to play the rest of the first half pretty much out of my mind. I had a header off of a corner kick that hit the post, and a connected bicycle kick off of another corner kick that didn’t have much power behind it, but looked cool nonetheless. We scored another goal off of penalty kick as a result of a handball in their box. The opposing team scored a break away goal late in the first half, and the score at half time was Gallon Jug: 2, San Lazaro 1.
Pretty much the theme of our halftime speech was Ganas! Y Animo! About 2 minutes into this very inspiring speech, it started to pour down rain. This torrential downpour lasted for the next 45 minutes, which just so happens to be the entirety of the second half. The second half was a hysterical mud fest mess. We were pretty much playing in 6-8 inches of water and mud. There was absolutely no soccer being played. Players were slide tackling every chance they could, wrestling in the mud, and attempting to dislodge the ball from the mud any way they could. I thought the fans might take cover as a result of the storm. Nope. Every man, woman, and child manned the storm and continued to cheer for this mess of a half. Final score Gallon Jug: 2, San Lazaro 1. We won, which means we head to the pueblo of Indian Church this Sunday.
We all jumped back into our trucks, and headed back to Gallon Jug. The drive back was not short of celebratory cervezas and pan dulces. About 2 hours into the ride back, our car pulled over. Apparently Mexico was on the other side of this river that we were driving next to. We each paid a $2 customs fee in order to get in a little boat that some dude rowed about 100 feet to our neighboring country of Mexico. By this time, it was probably about 6pm, and I was pretty warn down from the game, the cervezas, and the 2 hour ride in the back of a pickup truck, so I was wondering why we were now heading to Mexico rather than heading back to Gallon Jug? Apparently groceries are considerably cheaper in Mexico, so all of the woman went into this little grocery store and stocked up, while the men relived our victory. We loaded the boat up with all of our Mexican groceries, and got back on the road.
By this time it was about 7pm, and we were all a bit tired from the excursion. About an hour from Gallon Jug, we approached a river that had completely overflowed the road. I would guess that the overflowed portion was probably about 200-300 yards. Cars were pulled over, as people stood next to the overflowed river, and scouted it out to see if it was passable. We saw some cars headed our way from the opposite direction, so we decided that if they could make it, we could. With my main man, Neto, behind the wheel, we went for it. Now I still think that it is a miracle that we made it through this road because I could not see the road through this water, so I’m guessing that it was about 2 feet high.
In any event, we made it through the overflowed river, and headed another 45 minutes through the jungle back to Gallon Jug with a Jesus-esque miracle, a victory, and some Mexican groceries.
Now I knew that Belizeans took their futbol seriously, but I had no idea that this particular tournament was of such a magnitude. There were to be 3 games that day. The field was packed with fans from the 6 perspective teams, blasting reggae music, a few vendors selling tamales, tacos, and empanadas, and of course your pueblo borachos. We watched the first game, and started to stretch and get suited up for our game.
The match: Gallon Jug vs. San Lazaro. Considering the remoteness of our village compared to the rest of the pueblos, we probably had a good 25 fans. Our coach pulled us together, and went through the starting lineup beginning with the defensive line. As he got to the front line, I listened up for any indication of my name; Alec? Alejandro? Gringo? Nothing. But he did mention the name of the starting center forward as “Maestro”. All of the guys pointed at me in case I didn’t catch that one. What a fitting name for what I was about to teach on the field that day.
This game was no joke at all. Each team lined up on the sideline facing each other. Both teams walked to center sideline, and then turned in and proceeded towards the center of the field walking side by side. As we got to center field, all of us were to face each other. The ref said his little schpeal; we shook hands, and then took our positions. At this point, I noticed that nobody was in any rush to start the game. Instead, all of the players turned to the sidelines and started to wave for the next 5 minutes. The crowd erupted as they made it clear which team they were supporting. Apparently this was our moment to soak of the spotlight, and wave to our fans. I really had no choice at this point. I had to represent.
About 15 minutes into the first half, my partner, Neto, controlled the ball at about ¾ field and dished it out to me on the right flank. I took about three dribbles past my defender until I was about a yard in from the 18-yard mark, and nailed it into the lower left hand corner. Goal Maestro!!! The crowd went wild.
I continued to play the rest of the first half pretty much out of my mind. I had a header off of a corner kick that hit the post, and a connected bicycle kick off of another corner kick that didn’t have much power behind it, but looked cool nonetheless. We scored another goal off of penalty kick as a result of a handball in their box. The opposing team scored a break away goal late in the first half, and the score at half time was Gallon Jug: 2, San Lazaro 1.
Pretty much the theme of our halftime speech was Ganas! Y Animo! About 2 minutes into this very inspiring speech, it started to pour down rain. This torrential downpour lasted for the next 45 minutes, which just so happens to be the entirety of the second half. The second half was a hysterical mud fest mess. We were pretty much playing in 6-8 inches of water and mud. There was absolutely no soccer being played. Players were slide tackling every chance they could, wrestling in the mud, and attempting to dislodge the ball from the mud any way they could. I thought the fans might take cover as a result of the storm. Nope. Every man, woman, and child manned the storm and continued to cheer for this mess of a half. Final score Gallon Jug: 2, San Lazaro 1. We won, which means we head to the pueblo of Indian Church this Sunday.
We all jumped back into our trucks, and headed back to Gallon Jug. The drive back was not short of celebratory cervezas and pan dulces. About 2 hours into the ride back, our car pulled over. Apparently Mexico was on the other side of this river that we were driving next to. We each paid a $2 customs fee in order to get in a little boat that some dude rowed about 100 feet to our neighboring country of Mexico. By this time, it was probably about 6pm, and I was pretty warn down from the game, the cervezas, and the 2 hour ride in the back of a pickup truck, so I was wondering why we were now heading to Mexico rather than heading back to Gallon Jug? Apparently groceries are considerably cheaper in Mexico, so all of the woman went into this little grocery store and stocked up, while the men relived our victory. We loaded the boat up with all of our Mexican groceries, and got back on the road.
By this time it was about 7pm, and we were all a bit tired from the excursion. About an hour from Gallon Jug, we approached a river that had completely overflowed the road. I would guess that the overflowed portion was probably about 200-300 yards. Cars were pulled over, as people stood next to the overflowed river, and scouted it out to see if it was passable. We saw some cars headed our way from the opposite direction, so we decided that if they could make it, we could. With my main man, Neto, behind the wheel, we went for it. Now I still think that it is a miracle that we made it through this road because I could not see the road through this water, so I’m guessing that it was about 2 feet high.
In any event, we made it through the overflowed river, and headed another 45 minutes through the jungle back to Gallon Jug with a Jesus-esque miracle, a victory, and some Mexican groceries.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
My Dance With Chango
For those of you who have known me for long enough, you know that I’ve done a few stupid things in my life, but this one may just take the cake. We encountered the biggest storm I have ever been a part of last night. There were rumors going around about a cold front from the North headed our way. Yesterday was extremely hot and still, and apparently those two ingredients (warm front and cold front) meeting is the recipe for a pretty nasty storm.
At about 7pm is when the rain slowly started to fall, and very soon after, the lightening and thunder. At about 7:15 I realized that there was a big possibility that I had left my computer plugged in, with the window open, in my classroom at school. Not thinking about the implications, which is pretty much the impetus for all of my stupid actions in life, I threw on my raincoat and shoes, and headed into the storm. Zoia cursed me out the door, and Siboney just looked a little bit confused. I imagine that it is a bit confusing to have a superhero for a father.
Now in my defense, my initial plan was to run to our principal’s house, which is only about 20 yards away, in order to borrow his car. Upon approaching his house, I found him, his wife, and his daughter kinda huddled together with all of the lights out. I asked if I could borrow his car. “Car died on me today” he replied. He also told me that he was worried the students had not closed the windows to the computer lab that day.
Well me being the brave hearted soul that I am decided that I would take one for the team. “Give me the keys to the school and your flashlight!” Climatic music begins now…
My dumbass ran 100 yards through a wide opened farm to the school, as lightening literally danced around me. (I realize that this story may seem a bit embellished, but please bare with me). I got to the school. Computer was safe and sound in its bag, and computer lab windows were totally shut.
As I’m running around the school checking these things, I can hear Zoia from the loft yelling my name. I called back up to her that I was OK. Now as I was preparing for my trip back up to the house, and lightening and thunder began to get closer and louder, I realized that I was in quit a predicament. Thoughts of spending the night at the school crossed my mind, but that would a punk way to end the story.
Probably not to your surprise, I took the brave route again. I laced up my North Face amphibious shoes and ran zig zags back up to the loft. I later realized that you run zig zag when your being chased with guns, but at the moment, the same rule applied. So I ran zig zags back up to the loft, and was untouched by Chango and his compadres.
I opened my door, and expected to be embraced as a soldier should upon arrival from battle, but was instead greeted with some more cursing. Sweet! We turned out the lights, hugged eachother tight, and trembled at every sound of thunder that rocked our little loft on the hill all night.
At about 7pm is when the rain slowly started to fall, and very soon after, the lightening and thunder. At about 7:15 I realized that there was a big possibility that I had left my computer plugged in, with the window open, in my classroom at school. Not thinking about the implications, which is pretty much the impetus for all of my stupid actions in life, I threw on my raincoat and shoes, and headed into the storm. Zoia cursed me out the door, and Siboney just looked a little bit confused. I imagine that it is a bit confusing to have a superhero for a father.
Now in my defense, my initial plan was to run to our principal’s house, which is only about 20 yards away, in order to borrow his car. Upon approaching his house, I found him, his wife, and his daughter kinda huddled together with all of the lights out. I asked if I could borrow his car. “Car died on me today” he replied. He also told me that he was worried the students had not closed the windows to the computer lab that day.
Well me being the brave hearted soul that I am decided that I would take one for the team. “Give me the keys to the school and your flashlight!” Climatic music begins now…
My dumbass ran 100 yards through a wide opened farm to the school, as lightening literally danced around me. (I realize that this story may seem a bit embellished, but please bare with me). I got to the school. Computer was safe and sound in its bag, and computer lab windows were totally shut.
As I’m running around the school checking these things, I can hear Zoia from the loft yelling my name. I called back up to her that I was OK. Now as I was preparing for my trip back up to the house, and lightening and thunder began to get closer and louder, I realized that I was in quit a predicament. Thoughts of spending the night at the school crossed my mind, but that would a punk way to end the story.
Probably not to your surprise, I took the brave route again. I laced up my North Face amphibious shoes and ran zig zags back up to the loft. I later realized that you run zig zag when your being chased with guns, but at the moment, the same rule applied. So I ran zig zags back up to the loft, and was untouched by Chango and his compadres.
I opened my door, and expected to be embraced as a soldier should upon arrival from battle, but was instead greeted with some more cursing. Sweet! We turned out the lights, hugged eachother tight, and trembled at every sound of thunder that rocked our little loft on the hill all night.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Nature Has Blessed Thee
The Independence Parade was a blast. The whole school met at the river in Sylvester Village, where 90% of the students live. We all grabbed our maracas, flags, banners, bicycles, and got in formation. We marched through the village. People poked their heads out of their casitas. Independence Day doesn’t really ring true to many folks in Sylvester Village because many of them don’t have original roots in Belize. Most of our families have roots in Guatemala and El Salvador, however with 26 years of independence, folks are beginning to feel a stronger sense of nationalism.
The parade stopped in front of the one store in town, where the girls performed their little dance routine. In addition to some pretty basic reggaeton dance steps, Zoia added some sort of modern dance summersault that had never been seen before in these parts. After the dance, and summersault, the parade regrouped and headed through the second half of the village. We continued to march until we ended up on the futbol field. By this time, most of the village had gathered on the futbol field where we sang the national anthem. All of the futbol players continued their game as if it were any other day, except for one dude who stopped in the middle of the field and paid tribute to the national anthem.
Though we wanted to make it into some of the towns and cities to take part in some carnival/independence day activities, we are carless. I did take a ride with our principal to Blue Creek. Blue Creek is a Mennonite village about 45 minutes outside of Gallon Jug. Pretty Wild. The Mennonites are essentially an autonomous community that is entirely self-sufficient. They are mostly Canadian trained in some sort of trade. There is very little mixing that goes on in the Mennonite community, thus making their genetics pretty untainted. They all kind of look alike, and Im not sure if that is necessarily a good thing. In any event, we were able to get our groceries, get our car fixed, and buy some chicken feed for our principals chicken coup.
We headed back to Gallon Jug for a short week of school. Zoia and I are attempting to negotiate our jobs as teachers, and our jobs as parents. I think that Siboney is just now realizing the change that we have imposed on her. For the first couple of weeks, she was going with the flow, but now she is realizing that it is back-to-school season, and not necessarily at Hope Day Care anymore. She will inevitably catch on.
We continue to learn more about the ecosystem that we live in. We have a pretty consistent jogging schedule that forces us to be aware of the different types of trees and animals that live around here. Some of the animals live a little too close for comfort. Since our arrival, Zoia has spotted a scorpion in our bathroom, crocodiles in the lagoon that we swim in, a tarantula on our jog, and there is word of a boa constrictor who comes to visit the loft area at certain times of the year. Sweet! (No worries though. The scorpions and tarantulas are not deadly in Belize, and the boa constrictor takes care of any rodents in the loft). The crocodile is a different story. We saw one swim away as we approached the lagoon to go swimming. We proceeded to go swimming and canoeing in Laguna Verde as reassured by our principal and his wife who have been swimming in Verde for the last 8 years, and never had any problems. Keep your fingers crossed on that one.
Storms have been coming thru pretty frequently, which are most certainly related to the hurricanes that you all are experiencing in the states. In fact, a tree was struck with lightening about 200 yards away from the school on Wednesday night. The thunder that accompanied that lightening was the most intense thunder that I have ever heard in my life. The shrapnel from that tree exploded about 300 feet away from the actual tree. Wild!
I have been playing futbol with the village team pretty consistently. They are part of a tournament, which will take them to the Trinidad region of Belize for a game next Sunday. From my busted interpretation of Spanish, we will all jump in one of the jugadores trucks and go represent in Trinidad next Sunday. The village team practices every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from 5:30-6:30 in the village. I have been playing well, except for the fact that I can’t see anything after the sun goes down. These dudes play better futbol in pitch black then most Americans play in broad daylight. Around 6pm I am totally worthless, and they are playing at full speed. All I can do is squint my eyes, run around and circles, and say “cruza la!”
PS: I will be stepping up my photo game momentarily.
PPS: Thanks for the comments.
The parade stopped in front of the one store in town, where the girls performed their little dance routine. In addition to some pretty basic reggaeton dance steps, Zoia added some sort of modern dance summersault that had never been seen before in these parts. After the dance, and summersault, the parade regrouped and headed through the second half of the village. We continued to march until we ended up on the futbol field. By this time, most of the village had gathered on the futbol field where we sang the national anthem. All of the futbol players continued their game as if it were any other day, except for one dude who stopped in the middle of the field and paid tribute to the national anthem.
Though we wanted to make it into some of the towns and cities to take part in some carnival/independence day activities, we are carless. I did take a ride with our principal to Blue Creek. Blue Creek is a Mennonite village about 45 minutes outside of Gallon Jug. Pretty Wild. The Mennonites are essentially an autonomous community that is entirely self-sufficient. They are mostly Canadian trained in some sort of trade. There is very little mixing that goes on in the Mennonite community, thus making their genetics pretty untainted. They all kind of look alike, and Im not sure if that is necessarily a good thing. In any event, we were able to get our groceries, get our car fixed, and buy some chicken feed for our principals chicken coup.
We headed back to Gallon Jug for a short week of school. Zoia and I are attempting to negotiate our jobs as teachers, and our jobs as parents. I think that Siboney is just now realizing the change that we have imposed on her. For the first couple of weeks, she was going with the flow, but now she is realizing that it is back-to-school season, and not necessarily at Hope Day Care anymore. She will inevitably catch on.
We continue to learn more about the ecosystem that we live in. We have a pretty consistent jogging schedule that forces us to be aware of the different types of trees and animals that live around here. Some of the animals live a little too close for comfort. Since our arrival, Zoia has spotted a scorpion in our bathroom, crocodiles in the lagoon that we swim in, a tarantula on our jog, and there is word of a boa constrictor who comes to visit the loft area at certain times of the year. Sweet! (No worries though. The scorpions and tarantulas are not deadly in Belize, and the boa constrictor takes care of any rodents in the loft). The crocodile is a different story. We saw one swim away as we approached the lagoon to go swimming. We proceeded to go swimming and canoeing in Laguna Verde as reassured by our principal and his wife who have been swimming in Verde for the last 8 years, and never had any problems. Keep your fingers crossed on that one.
Storms have been coming thru pretty frequently, which are most certainly related to the hurricanes that you all are experiencing in the states. In fact, a tree was struck with lightening about 200 yards away from the school on Wednesday night. The thunder that accompanied that lightening was the most intense thunder that I have ever heard in my life. The shrapnel from that tree exploded about 300 feet away from the actual tree. Wild!
I have been playing futbol with the village team pretty consistently. They are part of a tournament, which will take them to the Trinidad region of Belize for a game next Sunday. From my busted interpretation of Spanish, we will all jump in one of the jugadores trucks and go represent in Trinidad next Sunday. The village team practices every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from 5:30-6:30 in the village. I have been playing well, except for the fact that I can’t see anything after the sun goes down. These dudes play better futbol in pitch black then most Americans play in broad daylight. Around 6pm I am totally worthless, and they are playing at full speed. All I can do is squint my eyes, run around and circles, and say “cruza la!”
PS: I will be stepping up my photo game momentarily.
PPS: Thanks for the comments.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Settling In
We woke up Tuesday morning to something out of a dream. The “loft” area that is our new home sits above the stables in the middle of the Gallon Jug Farm. From what I have gathered, Gallon Jug was named as a result of some Mahogany loggers who used to set their gallon jugs of water under a tree in the area. The area eventually adopted the name “Gallon Jug”. In any event, our loft sits in the middle of a dream-like pasture filled with horses, cows, and one donkey appropriately named Burrito.
We have a good-sized room with a bathroom, and an open kitchen area that sits at the end of the loft. Between our loft and the kitchen sits 3 little rooms designed for guests of the farm. About 100 yards from the loft is Gallon Jug Community School. We scale the barbed wire fence and head through the cow and horse pasture, dodge the doo-doo on the way down the hill, scale another barbed wire fence, and head into the school.
Our students are about 80 k-8 students. Almost all of them would consider themselves Mestizo, with exception of a few Creole students, but all are proud Belizian. We line up every morning and raise the Belizian flag. Every Monday and Friday we sing the National Anthem, which is more like a trilogy. Zoia and I are obviously going to take a little time to learn that one. I do know that the end of the chorus is “land of the free by the Carib Sea”, thus the name of the blog.
Siboney hangs with a woman from the Village, and her daughter Grissy, who is about exactly Siboney’s age. Soon our principal’s wife and daughter will arrive, and Siboney will be hanging with Mikayla, who is about a year and a half. The girls spend their days walking around the farm, hanging out with the women in the salsa factory, petting the horses, imitating the cows, and eating rice and beans. Does not sound half bad to me.
Zoia and I are trying to catch up with our weekly lesson plans and yearly plans, which is always a hustle. There are extremely high expectations for the students and for the school. The community is extremely gracious for our services as educators as they realize the opportunity that their children have. Unfortunately high school is not a guarantee in Belize, so academics are competitive in order to be able to be eligible for a scholarship to high school. Many of the students will achieve scholarships. Many will head to the sugar cane fields, logging teams, or house cleaning after 8th grade. The children are all beautiful and brilliant.
I already have a full sign up sheet of futboleros who are ready to start practicing for the season. Zoia has a full sign up sheet of young ladies who want to be in the after school dance class. In fact, Zoia has already helped choreograph a dance for the upcoming Independence Day Parade this evening. Exciting! The whole school will march around the village, and end up on the futbol field for the big dance exposition to some reggaeton song.
I went and played futbol with the village team last night. They were tough. Bunch of young cats with some serious skill. Afterwards they told me in a thick Spanish/Creole accent “the guys would like to have you on the team”. I made the cut!
We have a good-sized room with a bathroom, and an open kitchen area that sits at the end of the loft. Between our loft and the kitchen sits 3 little rooms designed for guests of the farm. About 100 yards from the loft is Gallon Jug Community School. We scale the barbed wire fence and head through the cow and horse pasture, dodge the doo-doo on the way down the hill, scale another barbed wire fence, and head into the school.
Our students are about 80 k-8 students. Almost all of them would consider themselves Mestizo, with exception of a few Creole students, but all are proud Belizian. We line up every morning and raise the Belizian flag. Every Monday and Friday we sing the National Anthem, which is more like a trilogy. Zoia and I are obviously going to take a little time to learn that one. I do know that the end of the chorus is “land of the free by the Carib Sea”, thus the name of the blog.
Siboney hangs with a woman from the Village, and her daughter Grissy, who is about exactly Siboney’s age. Soon our principal’s wife and daughter will arrive, and Siboney will be hanging with Mikayla, who is about a year and a half. The girls spend their days walking around the farm, hanging out with the women in the salsa factory, petting the horses, imitating the cows, and eating rice and beans. Does not sound half bad to me.
Zoia and I are trying to catch up with our weekly lesson plans and yearly plans, which is always a hustle. There are extremely high expectations for the students and for the school. The community is extremely gracious for our services as educators as they realize the opportunity that their children have. Unfortunately high school is not a guarantee in Belize, so academics are competitive in order to be able to be eligible for a scholarship to high school. Many of the students will achieve scholarships. Many will head to the sugar cane fields, logging teams, or house cleaning after 8th grade. The children are all beautiful and brilliant.
I already have a full sign up sheet of futboleros who are ready to start practicing for the season. Zoia has a full sign up sheet of young ladies who want to be in the after school dance class. In fact, Zoia has already helped choreograph a dance for the upcoming Independence Day Parade this evening. Exciting! The whole school will march around the village, and end up on the futbol field for the big dance exposition to some reggaeton song.
I went and played futbol with the village team last night. They were tough. Bunch of young cats with some serious skill. Afterwards they told me in a thick Spanish/Creole accent “the guys would like to have you on the team”. I made the cut!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Touch Down
Well after trying to keep in touch with so many important people with such little computer time in the past week, I decided to try the "kill two birds" approach". This will be my attempt at keeping you all informed and in touch about our travels. If your not interested in reading, no offense taken.
We have been in Gallon Jug, Belize for exactly a week now. We arrived in Belize City last Monday only to find out that we had packed duffel bags to the brim, and forgot the most important things for our actual job--or lesson plans. With ideas of how our principal would react to our only real pre-school responsibility running through our head, we proceeded on. Upon arriving in Belize City, he seemed surprise that leaving our lesson plans in the states was the biggest of our worries. We simply had them mailed next-day delivery to the principals wife who was still in the states, and she would bring them with her in the following week.
We headed about an hour north to Orange Walk Town where we loaded up on a months supply of groceries and vegetables. As we filled the truck with groceries, our luggage, and the principals new text books, we noticed a quickly approaching rainstorm. Cono! The principal through the car in mash mode and headed another hour and a half northwest to a little village where we picked up our kindergarten teacher and took cover under a tree. Siboney, who had been sitting on a plane and in a car for the last 7 hours, finally got a chance to get out and run around with half a dozen little Belizians who were not fazed at all by the little rubia. Welcome to Belize.
We greeted the family of our Kindergarten teacher for an hour or so, loaded up her supplies, and headed back on the road. We had avoided the rainstorm! We headed on another road for about an hour through a Mennonite community and then set out on our homestretch towards Gallon Jug farm. The Gallon Jug road was about a 45 minute journey through 130,000 acres of rainforrest. We were entrenched. About half way through the journey, the principal told us to keep our eyes peeled for wild life. Not a minute after those words left his mouth, we saw two sets of eyes in the road. Two Jaguars playing with eachother. Siboney was sitting with my in the front seat, so you know what her new favorite animal is...No more dinosaurs and sharks. Our principal, who has lived in Gallon Jug for the last 8 years, has never seen two Jags. together before. Apparently quit a sighting. Welcome to Belize.
We continued on the road for another 30 minutes and finally reached our destination at about 7pm, though it felt more like midnight. We entered our room, which is in fact above the horses stables, jumped in our king sized bed, threw on "Shark Tale" and fell out. Zoia and I woke in a very "gringo fashion" at about midnight to drench ourselves in bug spray.
We have been in Gallon Jug, Belize for exactly a week now. We arrived in Belize City last Monday only to find out that we had packed duffel bags to the brim, and forgot the most important things for our actual job--or lesson plans. With ideas of how our principal would react to our only real pre-school responsibility running through our head, we proceeded on. Upon arriving in Belize City, he seemed surprise that leaving our lesson plans in the states was the biggest of our worries. We simply had them mailed next-day delivery to the principals wife who was still in the states, and she would bring them with her in the following week.
We headed about an hour north to Orange Walk Town where we loaded up on a months supply of groceries and vegetables. As we filled the truck with groceries, our luggage, and the principals new text books, we noticed a quickly approaching rainstorm. Cono! The principal through the car in mash mode and headed another hour and a half northwest to a little village where we picked up our kindergarten teacher and took cover under a tree. Siboney, who had been sitting on a plane and in a car for the last 7 hours, finally got a chance to get out and run around with half a dozen little Belizians who were not fazed at all by the little rubia. Welcome to Belize.
We greeted the family of our Kindergarten teacher for an hour or so, loaded up her supplies, and headed back on the road. We had avoided the rainstorm! We headed on another road for about an hour through a Mennonite community and then set out on our homestretch towards Gallon Jug farm. The Gallon Jug road was about a 45 minute journey through 130,000 acres of rainforrest. We were entrenched. About half way through the journey, the principal told us to keep our eyes peeled for wild life. Not a minute after those words left his mouth, we saw two sets of eyes in the road. Two Jaguars playing with eachother. Siboney was sitting with my in the front seat, so you know what her new favorite animal is...No more dinosaurs and sharks. Our principal, who has lived in Gallon Jug for the last 8 years, has never seen two Jags. together before. Apparently quit a sighting. Welcome to Belize.
We continued on the road for another 30 minutes and finally reached our destination at about 7pm, though it felt more like midnight. We entered our room, which is in fact above the horses stables, jumped in our king sized bed, threw on "Shark Tale" and fell out. Zoia and I woke in a very "gringo fashion" at about midnight to drench ourselves in bug spray.
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