March Madness

We are truly in the middle of March madness! For reasons unknown, in the middle of the dry season we are under a ton of water. It has rained buckets all day and it's playing havoc with the net. Hopefully this time I'll get this published. Here are March's pictures:

First picture: It was a gorgeous day. Beautiful blue sky ... and a bright, perfect rainbow. I think the picture turned out well.

There are chickens everywhere in Belize. I'm not sure I can live in a place, any longer, that doesn't have roosters crowing at all hours. Here we stopped at a garage in Belmopan - the cosmopolitan capital city of Belize. The mechanics worked around the chickens strutting around the garage. The dogs just ignored them.

Here are my young women at girls camp. You can tell by the blue 'blouses' that they are all beehives. Left to right: Juana, Kori, Marcia, Modesty and Veronica. I didn't lose Kori once at camp. She was the only white face in a sea of black.

The picture doesn't really do this justice. It is the nest of a Jabiru stork. Jabiru are the largest birds in Belize. They are about five feet tall. You can imagine how big the nest is.

The big hike of the month was up to Ben's Bluff. It's only four km but mostly uphill in the sun. Pretty nasty! This is the view from the top. The peak on the left is Victoria Peak: the highest peak in Belize. It's an amazing site but I'm still undecided if it's worth the hike.

As you can see, Kori is done with pictures ... and so am I ... for now. Have a great April everyone!

technology

Contrary to popular belief, Belize, despite being a third world country, has technology. Living in a first world country (as most of you do) you are used to having your lives enriched by the invisible hands of technology. Here in Belize, technology is ever present but never invisible! Let's begin with CD's and DVD's. We have them. All of them. We even get the DVD's of new movies ... before the movies are out of the theatre. Yes, that's right, Belize has always been and is still a country of pirates. We have stores full of pirated everything from CD's and DVD's to game systems and games. The biggest and best we've found is. CDPlus in Belize City. That's right CDPlus. Same name; same logo; same movies and music just with photocopied jackets. Pirated technology continues through the entertainment field. It too us a long time to figure out why our TV channels tended to change over time. Now we know. The cable company pirates the cable. Every now and then the companies change the codes and some guy in some cubicle somewhere spends the next little while trying to break the code. Sometimes he gets it and sometimes he finds the code for a new channel. Just like Forrest Gump's life, our TV viewing is like a box of chocolates - we never know what we're going to get. Need internet? Stick an antenna out in the sea where it can grab those net waves and bounce them back to you. The best of Belizean technology comes when we go to the bank or other upper-scale stores. You know, the ones with automatic doors. The automatic doors in Belize work like a dream. They are well dressed security guards that open the door when they see you coming or going. So that's the upshot of Belizean technology in the 21st century.

mutant genes

It came as a revelation to me this week that I have a mutant gene. Don't start feeling superior. I know a lot of you share this mutant gene with me. It is the gene that somehow blocks from our mind the pain, anxiety and frustration of an experience and leaves us brainwashed into thinking we loved it. The problem with this glitch is that it leaves us willing and ready to do it again. Two of these experiences that come readily to mind are giving birth and girl's camp.
This week, Kori and I spent two days at Belize's first LDS Young Women's camp. It was a nation wide camp and we had about 80 girls and leaders show up. Here's how the week (OK be technical then - two days) went:
Our little group of five girls and two leaders need to be in Belmopan by 10:30 Tuesday morning in order to hook up with the bus to camp that will be coming from Cayo. Here is our first problem. I don't remember it being so difficult to find transportation. I'm sure that for the other girl's camps I've gone to transportation to camp is simply an issue of making a 'phone call. So I look into hiring a van. (our truck is too small to carry us all and luggage) That will cost us $200. Now, I'm willing to pay that but I have to defer to our Branch Pres when he says I need to find another way. I am not to use my own money! (since when have priesthood leaders been so difficult, ladies?) So after much thought and consternation we decide we will have to take the public bus to Belmopan.
Side note: I have seriously avoided the public buses. They are buses that no longer pass inspection for the States and Canada so they sell them to Central American countries. They have varying sizes of wheels and break down constantly. They stop for everyone that hails them on the road and that means stops sometimes every 15 feet or so. They also stop and let people off whenever they need off. There are bus stops but they are only suggestions - a bus stop is wherever people want on or off the bus.
We decide our best bet is to catch the 8:30 express bus to Belize City. (I said the same thing but the express to Belize City stops at all bus stations along the way) We are all at the bus station at 8:00, excited and happy. The bus arrives and we head out. After putting our luggage on the ground by the bus we hop on and I am pleasantly surprised. There are comfortable seats and A/C. It looks clean and inviting. The problem? There are no seats left. We get off the nice, clean, A/C bus and grab our luggage. We move over to the bus beside. The broken down looking, dirty, ugly old school bus does have seats available so we pile in. It's not so bad. I'm a little impressed. We get to Belmopan in good shape and about 1/2 hour early. The Belmopan kids are already there. Three of them including the Laurel that is acting as their leader. We hook up with them and the excitement grows by three more kids. We wait ... and wait ... and wait ... and wait. Now the excitement has morphed into boredom and hunger. We do what any self respecting leader would do. We give them money for snacks and the video games in the station. That keeps them happy for awhile. When that wears off, we tell them to eat their mandatory bag lunches since it's almost lunch time anyway. At 11:45, the bus shows up. Yay!!! Excitement is back!! We get all settled on the bus with the loud and annoying branch that comes to every girl's camp everywhere. Only this one doesn't speak english. They are from Melchor, Guatemala. We start off. And then we stop. We are now at the parking lot across the street from the station. We will be here for 1/2 hour while the annoying Spanish branch that decided the mandatory bag lunch rule was just a suggestion, buys lunch.
Finally we arrive at camp and go through the usual registration chaos. Get tent assignments and settle in. They have split the girls for tents instead of leaving them with their branches in the hopes of encouraging friendships and cutting out cliques and put a leader in each tent. We go with it although it wouldn't have been our first choice. Kori is a little left out because she doesn't speak or understand Spanish and doesn't speak Kriol although she understands. She's OK with that. First aid goes well as does most everything that day. The night is a usual camp night with girls running everywhere and screaming all night long. I fondly remember leader's tents where we could hide and were able to get a wonderful night's sleep despite the girls (that's the way it works, right?) One of the girls doesn't have a pillow so I give her my blanket to use. Now I am cold so I can't sleep. I put on socks and curl up in an effort to conserve body heat. Oh for the girl's camps of past days where the girls were organized and leaders didn't have to give away their own comfort to keep the girls happy. (I know that's the way that works!)
The next day we split the girls according to age and send them off hiking with professional scout guys. This is genius as far as I'm concerned. The scouters have whistles and an arsenal of hiking songs to keep the girls entertained. And for those too cool to sing, the scouters are also fairly easy to look at and that keeps those girls (and leaders) entertained. All the leaders have to do is follow along and enjoy the hike. Well, the leaders that get to go. Because of cutting grass on the trail (the kind that cuts you not the other way around) the girls must be in long pants and tennies (actual shoes). Kori doesn't have her tennies. She forgot them. I give her mine. Veronica doesn't actually own long pants she only wears dresses. I give her mine. Now I have to hang out at camp without any girls and with nothing to do for two hours. (thank goodness for girls that forget their stuff!!) The camp proceeds pretty much as expected. Some girls get bored, others get hurt feelings, the girls are always hungry and the firesides are great. Girls sneak out of activities (although here it's because there is never enough time to bathe and Belizeans MUST at all costs bathe at least twice a day) We lose Pres Munoz' son who has come for a few minutes to bring food in and find him holed up in a tent with three girls. Deal with that. (of course girls at home never break the rules)
The trip home is another adventure. Our bus will arrive at 12:00 noon. So we are waiting on the porch at 12:00 noon with bag lunches and luggage in hand. The boys start to arrive and those buses take out the girls. Pretty soon all the girls are gone except the annoying, loud Spanish branch, Belmopan and us. So we wait .... and wait ... and wait. Finally at 2:30ish our bus arrives. The girls start throwing luggage on and claiming seats before the boys can even get off the bus. We are on our way!! Our branch needs to load last to be off first so we are waiting at the back of the bus for the other girls to finish. Why are the bus guys on the ground by that tire? We now wait ... and wait ... and wait while they change the flat tire (of course it's the one on the inside). Then we load up and get on. There are no seats. We pile the girls up three to a seat and finally get settled. I sit down and realize that my legs don't fit. There is less than a fist sized space between benches. Girls and leaders find ways to sit - sideways, with knees up and feet on the bench. lying across each other, whatever works. The seat backs are so worn that the metal frames are almost totally exposed. Even so it only takes about two miles before all the girls are asleep. Even in these conditions I get a little lump in my throat as I look at the girls snuggled together asleep with new friends and old. Some of whom don't even speak the same language. Doesn't matter. A sea of black faces with one white one thrown in and that doesn't matter either. It looks like every bus I've ever been on going home from girl's camp. A bunch of girls who, whether they realize it yet or not, have discovered that they are sisters. I love girl's camp. Even knowing it's the product of a mutant gene, if I can - I'll go again next year.

A rose by any other name

Have I done a post on names yet? They are all starting to blur together. (That could have something to do with the fact I sat by the window in church this morning and whoever was sitting downwind of the window was smoking something sweet and decidedly NOT tobacco-ish) At any rate, if I've done it before, here it is again - if I haven't done it before, here it is for the first time.
Women's names here are often concocted with the ending 'eisha'. We know a Caneisha, Zaieisha, Taneisha (and their sister Nancy). Often the 'eisha's are named for their fathers. For example: Daneisha's dad is Dan. (and yes, we know Daneisha as well) Other female names of note would be Analia and Amalia; Felona and Falina. Even if you think a name is familiar, you may well be mistaken. I know how you all want to pronounce Patricia but the Patricia we know is pronounced Pat - ree - sia (with the accent on the 'ree') The 'th' sound, as in Ardeth, is pronounced 't', as in Ardet. Never take a name for granted. Always have them pronounce it.
Men's names get a little trickier (believe it or not). They are often more common - Troy, Mark, Isaac, etc but there is also the out of the ordinary - Glenford, Harrison, Alwen, etc. Where it gets tricky with men is - they all have nicknames. And their nicknames are the names they always prefer. It is how they introduce themselves and how everyone knows them. So if you are looking for someone and only know their given name, not their nickname, you are out of luck. So Troy becomes Lucky, Harrison is Solo, and so on. Some of the guys I know only by their nickname are: Leche ('milk' in Spanish) and Lobos (wolf in Spanish). By far the best nickname I have run across is Greg - more commonly known as Ayatolla.
It is unusual for girls to have nicknames but Brynn is the exception. For some reason 'Brynn' is an incredibly difficult name for Belizeans and Latinos alike. Consequently the Belizeans call her Brinda and the Latinos call her Brine. Kori cashes in because no one can seem to tell them apart. So Kori is often 'Brinda' also.
When Rafe came down at Christmas, he was bound and determined to get himself a nickname. To make it easy, he had one in mind. He decided to go by 'Cracker'. This lasted until he met his first Belizean: 'This is my son, Rafe' says I 'Hi Romeo' says the Belizean. Sure enough, Rafe was, and still is Romeo, to the Belizeans that know him.

The Others

I know it's been a week and some of you will start complaining soon about the lack of new reading material. Truth is, I have been sort of hibernating and enjoying having my house to myself. (not that I didn't enjoy the company, I did. It was just so much!) Consequently, I have been sitting here trying to think of something ... anything that might hold your interest. Well, something funny did happen last night and, with a little background, I think it will do. I have told you a little about all the amazing and wonderful people that live in and around Hopkins. I haven't told you much about the others. This is about one of the others.
The expat population of Belize seems to be rather heavily weighted to those that did way too many drugs in the 60's and those who just didn't fit in anywhere else in the world. There are, of course a few exceptions to that rule - (while you may disagree) I would like to point out that I did no drugs in the 60's and believe I fit in wherever I go. At any rate, one of said expats owns the 'resort' next door. Her name is Trish and the run down excuse for a resort that she owns is called Kismet.
Trish, for reasons known only to herself, quit paying her water bill 5 years ago. (water here costs $10/month) The town council, for reasons well known and understood, cut off her water shortly into the 5 years. This seriously annoyed Trish and she retaliated by digging down to the water line, cutting a hole in it, inserting a hose and running it to Kismet. At this point you must understand that the genetic/cultural/whatever makeup of Belizean people makes it virtually impossible to keep a secret. It didn't take long before the council became aware of Trish's little skimming scheme and she was once again thwarted in her effort to find free water. After that, I have no idea what she did for water ... until our resort came along.
About once every two months or so, someone catches Trish, with a five gallon pail, stealing water from the taps behind our villas. Alfred must have looked like a soft touch the first time he caught her because, in response to his 'what are you doing', she replied that she had no water so she had no choice but to use ours. I don't think she thought he was such a soft touch after they finished that 'conversation'. From this encounter, Trish learned to avoid Alfred. She didn't learn to avoid Johnny, though, and so he was the next to confront her with her pail at the taps. I guess she must have decided she had outworn her welcome with the five gallon pail because, last night, she tried a new tactic.
We have been without water since two nights ago. So last night Peter went out to check the tanks and make sure we would have water this morning. As he is checking, he trips over a hose attached to one of the tanks. I'm sure there were a few choice words involved as he unhooked the hose and started to pull. At this point, Trish must have noticed her hose was leaving of it's own accord and she picked it up on the other end and started to pull. Peter yelled for help and a couple of guys came to be on his 'team'. Trish must have had some help too because a fun and exciting game of tug-of-war ensued. Peter's team finally won and he pulled in his prize - about 100 feet of hose. He tossed it out on the lawn and this morning it was gone. Don't be sad, I'm sure we'll see it again someday soon.

Bug and Pedro and Vets in Belize

Cool title, no? I don't know if you have met Bug and Pedro but here they are:

After writing that intro I started searching through everybody's pictures and discovered we have none of Bug and Pedro together. So I guess you get more of the story than originally planned. Here is a picture of Bug (eating), Pedro (directly behind Bug) and Stella (watching Bug intently). Notice Stella isn't mentioned in the title of the blog - that's foreshadowing.

So one night this little kitten comes up on our deck and just peers in the window out of the dark. Of course the kids go crazy: look Mom, she loves us; She's so hungry; We'll just feed her this once (right). Well, be proud of me, I held out for about a month. By now the kitten is looking pretty rough and she is still coming around. We call her Bug because she is attracted to the lights of our house at night just like a bug. We start to feed her. Pretty soon she brings her two kittens around. I can't believe it - she can't be even a year old and she has kittens. Of course we name them (Stella and Pedro) and we put out enough food for everyone. Bug will let us go on the deck while she's there if we don't make a move toward her but the kittens won't let us anywhere near them. Soon Bug and Pedro begin to fatten up a little and the white of their fur turns from yellow to white. Stella's not doing so well. Eventually Stella quits coming by and we know she was just too sick to make it. It's sad but we still have the other two.

Kori spend hours on the deck. She reads out there, does her homework, talks, sings, brings food and eventually I look out and she is petting Bug and Pedro is sitting on her lap. It took literally months. Now we are to the point where Kori can pick Pedro up and cuddle her on her lap. Bug still doesn't like to be picked up but will let any of us pet her. Pedro will only let us pet her (yes her - we couldn't get close enough to tell when we named her and now she's stuck with it) if she is eating. Not much gets between Pedro and her food.

Then we find out there are vets coming to the area to do spaying and neutering. They will do 100 animals in a week. We are thrilled. We get our cats names on the list. Now we just have to catch them, box them and get them to the vets. (I hear all you cat owners starting to laugh) We start on Monday. Kori puts food into the boxes. Bug is having none of it but Pedro hops right in - there is food involved. Kori shuts up the box and Pedro doesn't even notice. this is going to be easier than we thought. I hold the box closed while Kori tries for Bug. Pedro finishes eating and the fight starts. She is little and I am big and somehow I still lose. As she runs away I go inside to stop the bleeding and bandage up what remains of my hand. We give up for the day. Each day we try again and by Thursday neither Kori nor I knows if we will ever be able to regain full use of the bloody stumps that used to be our hands. I know when it's way past time to call in the troops. I 'phone the vet and ask the trick to boxing cats. She tells me not to use a box. Apparently a pillowcase works better. Today is the vets last day so I am willing to try anything. Kori and I each grab a pillowcase and what's left of our courage and go out on the deck with a can of tuna. In about one half of a minute, I have Bug in a pillowcase. Who knew? Kori, on the other hand, is once again bleeding, rather profusely, from both sides of her right hand. We decide Pedro can stay whole but off we go with Bug.

After peeing all over the pillowcase and us, and ripping a hole in the resort's really expensive pillowcase, Bug settles down for a nap. By the time we pull up to the house the vets are using for their office, Bug seems like the perfect pet. Kori and I have learned our lesson, however and suggest they not open the pillowcase. They assure us they will sedate her through he cloth and then open it. We can take her right in. So in we walk. And stop. There in front of us is a dog with all her insides on the outside. They could have really warned us that they were doing the surgeries in the waiting room! Luckily neither Kori nor I are squeamish. The vet just keeps snippin' while we hand Bug over to another vet and promise to be back for her in an hour. They check Kori's hand and dress the wound and we are on our way.

Pedro gained herself another month of fun but there are more vets coming next month and now we know the pillowcase trick. Her days are numbered.

And that's a trip to the vet in Hopkins!