Paget's Belize Journal #38

December 31: Some Christmas Experiences

I had quite a nice time over the Christmas holiday even though
nothing topped the moon, caye, shrimp and Chardonnay of early
in the week.

Christmas Eve I went visiting with Therese and the kids to
see her sister (fruitcake, cashew wine) and her mother (fruitcake,
rum popo - a yummy and potentially lethal eggnog) and then
to their house to cook a little (get the scotch eggs ready, make
the strata). Christmas day I spent with Tony and Therese and
the kids. It was pretty typical. We opened presents and had breakfast.
Tony and I played with Daniel's new games, the kids built grand,
elaborate things out of their new Legos, Therese and I worked
a crossword puzzle and cooked. Then we ate and cleaned up and
then the day was over. We had turkey and ham, as did everyone
who could afford it I gather. This is the only part that's traditional
apparently. No one worries much about the side dishes, ours were
turkey dressing, broccoli and rolls. Also I made lemon tarts
and walnut tarts.

I got some nice gifts and some silly ones. A hair barrette
with an iguana on it, some body lotion and emery boards (which
I had asked Santa for and received, even here in Belize!) and
a coconut grater that is really a work of art. Also opened my
presents from home, which my sister had cleverly sent along with
me. All good and useful here.

I was full up with children by the end of the day, however
adorable. Three of T & T's and six more neighbors. Surprise!
Christmas is noisy here. Children of all ages running around
throwing strings of fire-crackers at each other. Big ones. Tony
had to forbid them in the yard AND forbid them within 50 feet
of his kids under any circumstances. No accidents that I observed,
but it's a miracle. Oh, and the statue of Jesus got repaired
and replaced in the church yard before Christmas. Not exactly
a miracle, but nice.

On Sunday, Laura and I went to Mile 25 on the Hummingbird
Highway to visit Mike, the transplanted Oregon farmer. He has
40 acres (but no mule) in the rolling foothills of the Maya Mountains.
Most of it is planted in citrus and pineapple. 7,000 pineapple
plants make a beautiful field and since pineapples throw out
five runners per plant, next year he's sure he'll have 35,000 pineapple
plants. Who am I to have reservations?

Much of the agricultural development here is experimental,
attempting to find something more lucrative than citrus. Mr.
Serano (my landlord) and Victor (Laura the winemaker's significant
other), for example, both have farms close to town and are involved
in some kind of pepper plant project sponsored by the government.
And complain about it mightily because the guaranteed price is
not good enough to do more than scrape by and the government
takes 12½% for research and evaluation. But I think that's
the point of the experimental programs, to see if they pay. Apparently
this one doesn't. And, of course, I'm not the one sweating away
in the tropical sun planting and hoeing.

Mike also has a good-sized truck garden and a variety of other
plants and fruit trees - plantain, banana, sapodilla, something
called a mammi fruit (but I was wrong, no watermelon). He gave
us samples of everything even close to ripe. I had fried plantain
for breakfast today, prompting Therese to say "Breakfast?
Oh, you Americans!" I guess it's a lunch food.

Mike lives in a one-room cabin, just two years old, with an
outhouse down the hill a ways and the shower under the house,
on the ground level (up on stilts, as I described before). The
view is magnificent, he got electricity last year and the bot
flies are only bad in the heat of the day. It surely is a different
way to approach life. Here I thought I was roughing it with no
hot water.

On Monday I went in to the office for awhile and then was
rewarded for my dedication. When I came out the "John Canoe"
dancers were entertaining for the patrons of the little bar across
the street (ABC Cool Spot). There were three drummers, four or five chanters
and about 20 dancers. They just took over the street in front
of the bar and any cars that came along stopped and the riders
got out and watched the show. The dancers are all dressed alike,
apparently as an Englishman named John Canoe. White shirt with
green, pink or black ribbons criss-crossed like bandoleers, white
knee-length shorts with 2" bands of little shells tied on
at the knee. Elaborate headgear that in no way resembles a helmet
or a tricorn, but who knows what those mad Englishmen wore out
in the noonday sun? Most disconcerting, all the dancers wear
a mask that is made out of pink mesh with blue eyes and a prissy
little mustache.

The dancing goes like this. The crowd makes a circle with
the drummers/chanters on one side. The dancers line up on the
other side of the ring and one-by-one dance into the center and
then back to the end of the line. If the Punta was all in the
hips, this one is all in the legs. Very, very rapid skittering,
jumping movements, making the shell rattles sing but your feet
never get far off the ground. This is apparently pretty intense,
because the each dancer only lasts about 30 seconds. The very
best dancer did some more elaborate steps, I'm pretty sure he
was simulating a charge on a horse. For the tourists they have
a speaker who explains the action, but for ABC Cool Spot, there
wasn't one.

A couple of days later, I saw the masks for sale
in a shop (BZ$30) and there was also a pink and blond female
mask, so I guess I didn't see the whole show. Might happen yet.
I understood this was originally a training dance for warriors,
but I don't know what the female masks have to do with it. Everyone
has been very clear though that there are no female dancers,
no matter what kind of mask they're wearing.

Well, today is New Year's Eve and we're closing down a little
early. And shutting down the server and everything else except
the security system just in case the coming of the millennium
is a little rough. So I'll talk to you all next century. Stay
safe.