blogging is hard

How una da du?! (how you all doing?!) Yes, I'm slowly learning some Belizean creole, and yes I'm slowly learning how hilarious I sound trying to do it. I've witnessed it received many different ways in Belize City. Some are: amazed, confused, curious, intrigued, excited. I know I can absolutely survive without attempting to speak any creole, but I myself am amazed, confused, curious, intrigued, and excited about creole. I feel if I at least make an attempt, I'll be able to connect with others on a deeper level, especially with the youth at the prison that I will be working. With any new language, it's difficult at first, I can barely understand what anyone is saying.  But ya know it's all about humility anyway, no true? Luckily one of my community mates, Brian Peck--a second year volunteer from Warren, Michigan--speaks some creole and taught me a little. But the best way is to just sit and listen to belizeans talking to each other. Everyday, I learn and understand more and I'm slowly getting used to the accent. I mean it's based in english, it could be harder.

Let me just say that this whole blogging business is hard. There is just so much to write about: what I've done, what I've seen, what I've heard, what I've learned, what I've ate, what I've thought, what I've blah blah blah...it's endless. Another thing is that it's hard to find a balance to how I want to convey my experience. On one end I don't want to romanticize Belize and it's people and on the other I don't want to exploit them. Being mindful of that will certainly be a challenge, as well as the fact that I'm not going to be able to share every shaping aspect of my experience. That being said, I am open to suggestions, throughout my shaky blog experiment, to what sort of things you as the reader would like me to shed light on (But let's first see how the first few blogs go, if at all).

I guess I'll try to fill in a tiny bit of the gap I've created since my first entry.
I last left off as I was leaving NY for Boston College for a two week orientation (also known as the Big-0, which is phase I of orientation--I'm now currently in phase II, in-country orientation).

So the BIG O.Yes, I know,  euphemism sounding for sure.

I finally arrived! I crossed the f-ing country to get there. I was so excited, but at the same time emotionally exhausted. What do you expect?, I had spent the previous 4 months saying good-bye. All 33 JV's of the 2010 class were there. Whooho! Early departures to Belize and Micronesia and late departures to Chile, Peru, Nicaragua, and Tanzania. As well as 16 Rostro de Christo volunteers going to Ecuador.  49 of us in total. I'm still amazed at how a group of strangers and form such strong bonds in a couple weeks. They are all in my thoughts and prayers and I truly feel connected to them and look forward to keeping in touch. They're a wealth of support as I begin my experience in Belize.

I don't know where to go from here because I'm not a fan of chronological explanation, so I'm just going to write about how I feel right now, probably a bit scattered/stream of conscience, but thus is my mind..so sorry.

Beginning....NOW!

I'm in Punta Gorda (PG), with the greater JVC Belize Community for the finale of phase-II orientation, on the parish computer, the parish being St. Peter's, which is also a school, which is probably one the largest in Belize, around 900 students from infant-one to standard-four (first to sixth grade, schools are based on a British education system). One of our volunteers, Jeremy (whose blog can be accessed in my blog list. and is much more concise that I), works in the school library teaching reading.

I have f-ing fire ant bites on my left foot. And they hurt! Just as I was sitting down to blog, John, who works here came in and introduced himself to me and said "where do these supplies go" He had Father Jeff's (the JV ICC, In-country Coordinator and head of the Jesuits in Belize) truck from Belize City(which I may sometimes refer to as the city) packed full of all sorts of great stuff. John literally just pulled up from the city. I open the the back pulled the tarp, and like 15 machetes spilled out. Which got me really excited and also think to my self, "Self, all this food and tools would be very handy in a zomby apocalypse." So I day-dreamed as we moved the tools (weapons), books, beans, beef broth, and futbols (This is the last time I will write soccer on this blog) into the parish shed. When there was nothing else to move, my day-dream continued, only until I felt a hot pain igniting my left foot. Fire Ants!

Last night we had a spirituality night, which I and the other 1st years lead. It was a sort of examination of conscience/meditation with the theme of transition, as each first year and second year are in a transition into this new year of volunteering. As I looked back throughout these last 4 weeks of orientation is said to myself, "Self I have so many amazing memories and feelings to look back on these last four weeks. As major feeling was the feeling of numbness. Perhaps because I'm in  this new country filled with an amazing bouquet of diverse culture and I'm living in community with 6 complete strangers. Really, who are this people!?  I mean it is what it is. Community is hard no matter who the others are. You really have to learn to sacrifice and forgive when you live in community (I'm sure this subject will come up in a latter blog, so I'll move on).

The preview I have received since I arrived in country (A day later than planed, Thanks American Airlines :)) has really excited me for this upcoming year, let alone these next two years.(Which I recently realized is a long time). I also feel very grateful and a lot of awe. Last night when I thought of these feelings I thought about my trip coming down to meet up with the PG house. We had to be down here Saturday night, as on Sunday we were going to Baranco, a Garifuna village (an afro/ameroindian people), for mass and a tour of the village and temple. We, the Belize city house, were also invited to the wake and funeral of  the mother of one of the women, Miss B, that works at the St. Martin Parish in the city(which is right behind our house). The ceremonies were taking place at Gales Point, which is sort of on the way to PG. By map is looks right on the way, but by road not so much. If you google map gale's point, you will find that it is a thin peninsula, 50 yards at its widest and 20 at in thinest, surrounded by lagoon, which is filled with manatees and crocks. The village miss B is from inhabits this thin peninsula. The peninsula itself, is split by the one road in town, which is literally the only road capable of being built on this thin piece of land. It's crazy that people call it home, I'm so jealous. It's a creole village, and bwai the creole they speak is the real stuff. The wake was Friday night, so 5 of us took a bus along the western highway that goes towards Belmopan (the capital), and then got off at the road that goes towards gales point, a dirt road know as the coastal highway, to hitchhike the rest of the way, and two of us, I included, waited for one of the 3 buses that left at 5 (but didn't leave until 545) which the family paid for. I'm very happy Jess and I took the bus, one because the other group waited almost 4 hours for a ride and two it was a lot of fun. We got a ride out of town (which is what Belizeans call downtown, confusing, I know) to our bus from our neighbor Lennox. We waited a bit, the crowd increased in dozens by the minute. By the time the 3 buses arrive there were around 300 people waiting to go down to the wake. One thing Jess forgot to tell me about buses in Belize is that when your bus pulls up YOU RUN! By the time I cognitively understood there was a race to win I saw Jess already on the bus, and miss B stopping the crowd from entering the bus yelling "This one's for family only! JON GET ON!"  The ride down was an exciting, crammed, whirl wind of sensory overload. The only thing I was certain of was that this wake was going to be one hell of a celebration for Miss B's Mom. The wake started at 9 and went until sunrise. It was filled with singing, libations, drumming, dancing, eating, and more singing. When the drumming began I had to remind myself that I was in a Caribbean nation and not back in Ghana. The rhythms were creole and from gales point, but  obviously rooted from west africa.  I couldn't believe my eyes then, and now I feel immensely honored to have been able to witness and partake in such an event.

Needless to say I didn't sleep much that night, but I did manage to find some rest out on a dock, lying under a sea of stars, where my community mate Alana came looking for me as I didn't return from my night's swim.
Thankfully, during Saturday's afternoon, after our privileged witness of the funeral, the 7 of us got a hitch down to Dangriga in Kareem's pick-up, a little less then an hour away. Flying down the rocky road, crammed with 5 other bodies and their luggage in the back of the pick-up, I felt only right to pull out my harmonica and harp my feelings' melody.  We arrived at the Dangriga bus station to catch our bus down to PG. As we hauled pass a brief vista of Victoria Peak, the countries highest point, I was in the midst of telling Brian a climbing story when both my arms and stomach began to swell out to hive status and itch like the fire ant bites on my left foot. "I don't think this is good," I said, and Jess our chosen go-to community nurse agreed, so I took some benadryl. The sleepy side effects of the drugs mixed with my lack of sleep caused an induction of off and on consciousness making a frequent stopping bus ride very confusing as everything I looked over there was a different person sitting next to me. As the bus made it's final stop my brain was out of my head as I stepped off the bus into PG and walked to the house. I was greeted by the PG community, ate some chili and then slept in till midmorning. When I woke my brain was back. I was in PG and I have been enjoying my time here ever since. I'm going back up to the city on Thursday, taking Father Jeff's truck, as on Friday I have my first meeting at the Prison. It's pretty nice that I already knowing my boss, as Pat, another community mate, is the principle of the youth school. My first day of work is Monday. And this Saturday our house is having a giant bbq, inviting much of the local community to come meet Christin and I, the new JVs in the city.
That's all you're getting for now, (way more than you probably wanted) until next time.

Jonathan

squished in pick-up back 
with curious mayan family 
few words shared but smiles

days go by
new smiles are now gone
more to meet