When I arrived in Belize to serve this past summer, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. So…I was pretty anxious when I stepped off the plane to meet a five foot five inch man named Fonz, who would be the groundskeeper at the compound I was working at and who would become my brother. Still, at that point I had no idea all the things that I would be called to do. Don’t get me wrong, I learned all that I had set out to learn, and a ton more, but I couldn’t have scripted a more amazing way to learn it.
My primary objective was to help a native doctor, Dr. Mike, in a clinic, assisting in any way necessary. I use the term “clinic” loosely. One night, after arriving in Mayamopan at around 9:00 p.m., we went to the clinic. Keep in mind that it had been dark since around 6:30 p.m., and when I say dark, I mean DARK. So, when we got to the village, I was totally out of my element. I mean, I had been to the village several times, and was pretty familiar with the people, and they with me, but I hadn’t ever been there at night. Everything changes down there at night. Anyway…we’re driving, and all of a sudden we stop, and Mike says “We’re here.” I was looking around and was like, “Okay, where is here?” We were honestly in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing but high growth jungle on both sides of the road, and just empty dirt road in front and behind of where we were parked. Out jumps Mike and he starts into the jungle. So I just hop out of the pick up and follow him. We walk for about twenty minutes down what could hardly be called a good path and all of a sudden we are in a clearing and there is a hut in front of us. To be honest, the hut was hardly larger then what most people here would consider to be an outhouse. He and I approach the hut, and go inside. The family is ecstatic to see us, and Mike tells me that I have to attend to the daughter while he goes and talks to the mother about the cancer that was going to eventually kill her. He hands me a large manila envelope and goes over to the mother’s cot. As I try hard to contemplate how this family of eight lived in this thirty six square foot hut, I open the envelope. Inside it were three x-rays of a leg. The daughter had a broken shin bone I found as I held the x-rays over a candle. By candlelight I read the x-rays, discovering that she had been x-rayed on two separate occasions, one two months after the other. Her father approaches me and begins to rapidly speak in Spanish and I’m thinking, “Well, my Spanish isn’t great, but here goes nothing.” What had happened was that the girl had not been using her crutches properly, and as a result of this, the crack in her shin had progressed, becoming much worse. So, I begin attempting to explain to her father how she has to use her crutches anytime she walks around so that she doesn’t permanently injure herself, and it becomes glaringly obvious that he isn’t understanding me. Realizing this, I look at the girl who, shrouded in the darkness of the night, is sitting in the corner of the hut and I ask her to come over to us. She promptly stands up and begins to hop over to the two of us, her heel knocking on the ground with each hop. Immediately I grab her father and point to the foot, telling him that is the problem. It was like it all finally clicked with him as to what I was trying to tell him all along. He seemed so relieved that we had finally understood one another. I don’t know, it seems so simple, but that really made me realize that the barriers that I commonly see as being so dynamic are also passable with just a little work. Before I leave, the family completely opens their home to me. They feed Mike and I with food that I’m sure they didn’t really have to spare . It was really amazing.
So, I realize that this is not completely representative of my entire trip…and that this is a little long. But, if you will allow it, I would like to share another story or two. Thanks! One of the most memorable, and touching, moments of my trip was the day that a group of volunteers and I delivered food to El Valle de Paz. Fonz, the groundskeeper, and I had ventured away from the group up a dirt road, and we happened upon a house with a small woman sitting in the front yard singing beautifully in Spanish. As we approached I was listening to her song, and it was amazing. She was singing about how God was always with her, even though her life was in turmoil. So, we entered her yard, at her beckoning and asked if she needed any food. Her response was no. I was perplexed, for she was obviously in need, but she told us that the Lord provided everything that she and her family needed and she couldn’t take it from those who needed more. Then she told us that we had answered her prayers. (Oh, by the way, she only spoke Spanish…just a little tidbit for your enjoyment) I asked how we had answered her prayers and she began to tell us of how she had been praying for ten days that the Lord would send her a way to help the poorest families in the village, most of them elderly, and that the night before we arrived she had actually written down the names of ten families, knowing that someone would come to help her. I was immediately floored, as she began to cry while telling us this. As a matter of fact I’m crying now as I write this and that is just bizarre to me. Wow. Anyway, I immediately said that we would help her. So, she, Fonz, and I went back to the bus and grabbed three large sacks of food to take to the houses. We, along with a few members of the group, set out on a dirt path.
We visited several houses and at each home I was not only floored by the intense poverty of the situations that the people lived in, but by the supreme faith and sincerity of this woman, Mrs. Maria Consuelo Abilar. As we traveled and delivered the food, she talked to me along the entire way, and she told me all about her life. She was an immigrant from El Salvador who had fled during the genocide which her government, funded by the United States, carried out. Knowing much of the history behind this, Mrs. Maria and I became very close. Adding to the closeness of our trip was the fact that I was the only one in the group, save for Fonz, who spoke Spanish, and as such, I translated everything she said to the rest of our entourage. When we stopped at each house, Mrs. Maria would pray before we left in Spanish, while I prayed in English. I will truly never forget the sincerity and deep inflection in her voice as she prayed to a God who was so real in her life. I gained immeasurable spiritual blessings from her during that day. I found myself ending my prayers sooner and sooner just so I could really devote myself to listening to this Godly woman.
By the end of the day, Mrs. Maria and I were extremely close and I would return to visit her weekly for the rest of my trip in Belize. She told me on the Tuesday before I left that she had been writing down the poems and songs that she was singing and reciting throughout the day we spent delivering food for me, but that they were not done yet. I told her it was fine and I could come back on my last day in Belize, that Thursday, to get them from her. However, when I returned, she did not have a book of poems for me, but rather she had embroidered a beautiful cloth for me. It is a gift that I will always cherish. Mrs. Maria never asked anything of anyone in the group or myself, in fact she denied me the opportunity to give her anything. Rather she gave to me every time I visited her. I will never forget her.
There was another activity that I participated in throughout my entire trip in Belize. That was playing barefoot soccer with a group of teenage boys from the village. We would meet up at about three o’clock each day and play down in the village. Limbert, Philiciano, Rudy, Jose and Santos were the names of the boys that left the greatest impact on me. They were just a group of kids with little direction at home, who amazingly were so pure, aside from a minor misstep here and there. I grew to love those guys so much, and they asked me to play on the village U-21 team. We ventured on bike and foot twice to play teams from other villages. We won both games, and it was such an amazing way to become a real part of the village. I can’t even begin to tell you how indescribable it was to walk through the village and be greeted by name at every turn. I truly felt like I was a part of the village and that was an amazing feeling.
Finally, I did a good deal of construction during my tenure in Belize. The most memorable of those experiences being when we built a church in More Tomorrow village. I was working with a group from Birmingham, AL, but I really worked with a Garifuna man named Khorey Williams (Or Khorey G as I called him). He spoke with a thick Kriol accent, and was probably the blackest man I’ve ever seen. When we arrived at the job site, there was nothing but a foundation laid in the middle of a palm grove with two giant stacks of concrete block sitting on it. Immediately Khorey, being from Roaring Creek, asked me to help him lay the blocks as he was familiar with me from the village. He and I worked so hard, probably the hardest I’ve ever worked, and I’m not one who is a stranger to hard work. I was amazed at how much we accomplished, just the two of us, and at how close we became doing something that was so impersonal. I would lay down the spackle and hand him the blocks and he would tap them into place. The rest of the group was working with a native man to More Tomorrow who they were paying to help, and Khorey wasn’t too fond of his way of laying blocks. You see, Khorey worked for years laying block, and being paid by the block per job. So, he was one to get the job done quickly, and we definitely did that. He and I ended up putting up two of the walls of the church building by ourselves, and ended up helping to finish and fix the two walls that the rest of the group assembled as well. All the while he would make jokes about the native man who was doing the other walls. Looking back that is such a fond memory.
I know that was a lot, did I keep you with me? Now I feel as if I should write more, but I know that I could never tell you all that I did. Nor could I express all the ways it touched me. So, I’ll end here. I made friends that will last a lifetime in Belize, and I will always feel a special connection to the people and the place. I hope to go back. I know I will go back.
