January 25: The Last Few Days
Well, I’m back home, taking hot showers and goggling at all
the white people. But I have a few more thoughts in me about
Belize. If it’s not as interesting because the dramatic tension
is gone (or for any other reason), just let me know.
First I want to tell you about my last few days. One of the
special treats when I was feeling up to it (or had been thoroughly
awakened by the buses) was to get up and watch the morning dispersion
of the black birds. The crow-equivalent in Belize is a beautiful
bird – large and very glossy with an ivory beak and an ivory
eye and a few longish, trailing tail feathers. (That’s the males,
the females are a much muted version, of course, and quite a
lot smaller. When I first saw them, the only way I could tell
they were the same species was watching the mating behavior.)
They all roost together in a grove of trees down by the river
about a mile and a half from my apartment. And apparently I’m
lucky not to live down there, because they get up at dawn and
they’re very noisy about it. I can hear them where I live, but
it’s just more background, like the dozens of roosters. After
waking up their neighbors, they scatter throughout the town,
swooping along several fly-ways, one of which goes right by my
balcony. They fly about 4 or 5 feet off the ground in batches
of 10 to 20, throwing in some interesting acrobatics every once
in a while. This parade goes on for about 20 minutes.
It’s a great way to start the morning. I got up and watched
them on Wednesday morning and was so pleased that I decided to
do it again Thursday, my last morning in my apartment. I got
up early enough to get the coffee made before the show started,
poured a cup, unlocked and opened the balcony door, sat my chair
outside and prepared to be entertained.
The first thing I saw was a dead cat in the road. And no matter
how I maneuvered, I could still see that dead cat. So I went
back inside and finished packing. I don’t mean to hit you over
the head with this, but I will point out that it seemed to me
to be a perfect image for Belize – nature with all its finery
and teeth, pulling on your sleeve if you’re tempted to romanticize
too much. The only thing that might “improve” the image
would be the buzzards (called locally “John Crows”)
gathering, but the cat was too fresh.
Thursday night, however, we were back to lyrical. Tony and
Therese had a going away party for me. None of the staff from
Pelican could come (it’s high tourist season and everyone’s working
overtime), but the Naturalight staff and their families were
all there, as well as Therese’s cousin Marlon and Dr. Pete and
two visiting physicians – the husband, Mark, an opthamologist
and the wife, Kathy, a pediatrician. They were in town as part
of a 3-week sweep through the country (sponsored by someone,
I forget who), examining eyes and children. I had noticed new
glasses on a few of my acquaintances, but not too many. Mark
said that in general (except for diseases) people’s eyes in third
world countries tended to be better later in life than in “civilization.”
He is starting to work with another opthamologist whose theory
is that the natural light rhythms for babies, unmodified by night
lights and often subject to practically no artificial light at
all, is a big factor. So try that out on your daughter-on-law
and see what she thinks.
Phyllis and Rose (Tony and Therese’s domestic help) had put
their heads together and decided to make my favorite Belizean
meal for the going away party. No, not stewed chicken and rice
and beans, but “Black Dinner.” Black Dinner is a mestizo
dish, flavored with a paste made (I think) from burned tortillas,
peppers, tomatoes, onions and herbs. It’s basically a chicken
stew – sometimes with vegetables, sometimes not – that you
eat with corn tortillas and hard-boiled eggs. Since this was
a special meal, we got the kind without vegetables. I never did manage to convince these people that I really like vegetables.
They’re still eating plenty of protein to generate energy for
fishing and farming. I brought some of the flavoring paste home
with me – recado – and intend to work on a “healthier”
version.
The entertainment that night was the eclipse of the moon.
Tony and Therese’s new place is right on the beach, so it was
another spectacular lunar experience. Of course, it was warm
enough to be out on the verandah and since I was the special
guest I got to lie in one of the hammocks whenever I wanted and
also have my wine fetched and dominate the use of the binoculars
(I was polite though). One interesting part of watching the moon
disappear was having the reflection on the water disappear, almost
as soon as the first discernible “bite” was taken out
of the bottom of the moon. Until we figured it out, everyone
just had a sort of edgy feeling of things not right and too dark
before much of the moon was even gone. The peak (nadir?) of the
eclipse was about 10:30 there, about the time I went back to
Pelican Beach to spend my last night. So I got to watch some
of the end of the eclipse lying on the dock in a last farewell.
The little fidgety birds were somewhere else for the eclipse
though and I didn’t stay awake long enough for them to come back.
So that was the end, except I convinced the cook to make me
fry-jacks for breakfast even though they were feeding 150 members
of the US Army who are in the district building new schools.
That is, if their barge of supplies ever comes. I was sorry to
leave at the beginning of another interesting event. Unfortunately,
the most evidence of the Army’s arrival at that point was a number
of dead stray dogs and cats (my morning experience apparently
among them) because they and the strays just don’t have the mutual
rhythm of driving and dodging that has kept the strays alive
so far. I will resist the temptation to reach for a tortured
allegory about the “help” we give third world countries.
With a little more perspective, though, I might have some
more observations about the society. But not for awhile. And
actually I think it may take the next trip before I’m up for
writing some more.
Thanks for listening.
