Where does the time go?! I know this is a question I posed on my last post, but as you can see and tell by gap in blogging I am not the best at keeping track of time. As my community mate and co-worker slash "boss" at the prison (haha...boss), Pat, once said, "Days and weeks go by slow, some slower than other, but months go by fast."
Throughout last week I had the idea in my head that I would go down to PG (Punta Gorda) for the weekend to see the other JV community and get out of the city for a bit....When Friday morning came I put on the same outfit that I wore this morning for 7:30 am mass at St. Peter Claver's in PG and that I'm stilll wearing at the moment and put $30 belize in my pocket, well aware that it costs $44 Belize round trip to PG. my outfit: my favorite plaid shirt that I call my tunic, as it only buttons up from the breast to the neck, my sweet reversible belt that I've had for ages, my semi-nice pair of kakhi pants I purched at the thrift store down the street from my house back in Michigan. I think Miss Lena Noecker helped me pick them out. Thanks Lena! Over my usual bowl of oatmeal breakfast I decided that if the spirit moved me to go during work I would go. Go to PG....but I would only be going with the clothes on my back, the money in my pocket, and my prison id, which most people in Belize, authority included, seem to respect. That's all I carried physically, yet I carried more.
Perhaps what I carried was the front, or mask, that I put on everyday as I walk to and from the bus stop, or when I walk into the prison. I show no fear. I'm tough (or at least I try to be). My skin is thick. I make jokes that I normally would not, just to try to connect. Perhaps I do this out of fear. I mean I feel I'm beginning to connect just fine with the boys, at least as much as a white person can with a group of Belizean teens in prison. Well I know most of their names now...slow steps.
Maybe the mask I wear is just a mirror of the mask that almost everyone in there wears. Some of the boys wear it out of fear...there scared shitless...there 13,14,15 years old. They should be in a real school, not locked up like a stray dog. I used to think I was a wild stray, perhaps I am, but this wild stray has never actually been sent to the pound. I would be scared too. The real gangsters, the murderers, they seem to be the most personable and nicest ones, and some of them are big boys, and if I was one of the little ones and maybe only in there for something less, I would be scared. Maybe I wear my mask just to see them eye to eye. Maybe take it off here and there and see what happens. Maybe when I take it off, some of the kids will take their's off too...and I've noticed this..they're scared and when you show them a little light, they run to it...and open themselves up....just a little bit....as their mask, their wall, whatever you want to call it....is hard to unlock and break down...but that's all I can ever hope for, is that they try.
When I got to work the threatening clouds, drove me into the Directors office to see what the head guard had to say about classes happening or not....As Sambula is in Canada on vacation for three weeks, the new guard in charge, Dugul, was more worried about solving recent issuses at the camp. The moment the rain begin to drown out any sound in the office,"No class." Any rain puts the entire prison on lockdown. Rendering my job useless, though my presence is always welcome during those times to hang out with the guards and other staff. It was 9 am....maybe this was the sign I was waiting for. I questioned myself about leaving right then and there. But I thought staying dry for the meantime best. From that moment on I was going, and nothing was going to stop me. I decided to stay until lunch and then leave right after. Good thing I stayed, we got our weekly dose of KFC (Kolbe Fried Chicken). My belly now full, I was ready for the adventure ahead.
I knew I made the right decison to go and leave the city for the weekend after 5 minutes of waiting for a hitch to the roundabout in Haitiville, an SUV stopped and said they were going to Belomopan, right where I needed to go to get to the next highway. His name was Omar.
With western highway out of the way, and the sun beating down on me as I walked to the junction to the Humming Bird Highway, I decided to treat myself to a water. $29 dollars left, I walked to the junction a half a mile down the road and waited for the next ride. A man waiting under the shade of a thatched roofed covered bus bench said "You waitng for the James bus?" "Well I'm just going to take any ride." "Good man," he replied to my reply. The James Bus coming from the city went round the round about and headed into Belmopan to the bus station before doubling back towards us, just as a green pickup stopped to the wave of the man The cute country couple in the front smiled as I ran to the back.. I waved to but it seemed the guy new these people. This other man was Clarence, a 26 years old garifuna farmer the lives about halfway down the humming-bird highway. Becoming friendly with him was easy, and his interest in my presence at the prison, seemed to help. He was a very kind, gently, and laid back man. I quickly found out that the people giving us the ride were his neighbors. As we shared stories, he would point out views or random points of interst out for me. He got off at the town before his house after inviting me to come visit him at his farm, where he could show me around. After giving me a fist pound good bye and the truck began to take off, he yelled "They'll stop at their house house, mines the green one just past their's, walk up the highway and you'll get to Valley (a small town). Easy hitchin at the speed bump!"
I said thanks to couple and got a ride out of Valley..first try...."easy hitchin." I saw the green house.
After a total of 9 rides, $1 dollars spent on a 4 mile ride on the James Bus, I made it to the JV house of front street. Only 6 and half hours after leaving the prison, I breathed in the fresh sea air and thanked the breeze on my face. I happyily greeted by everyone, as was happy I came. I was humbled by the people I met, and thankful to be safe and sound down in PG, where I can be unmasked a little more. Many of the people I talked to on my trip down, would tell me and elude to a fear they had of the city once they knew I live there. They all mentioned their sorrow for the killing of the eight year old girl that took place last saturday night, the weekend of Carnival. I told them each that I live a block away from that little girl and the 8 gun shots that were sprayed upon the wooden house, one of which caught her in her sleep, woke most of my house up at 4 in the morning. The shooters were after her brother, who's in a rival gang. This caused much uproar in the community, and many, if not all of the elementry schools marched down the boulevard to the cemertary for the funeral. I remember when I told this news the day after to my boys in class, I felt sorrow from each of them. That same night the girl was killed, a boy that they all new from prison, was shot and killed. Pat says all the kids are good kids, but he said that kid was a really good kid. I think that sorrow led me to this adventure down to PG, but I must say I miss my community back in Belize City, my friends and I miss Belize City. I can't wait to go back.
I must also say I'm excited to be down in PG at the moment. It's great to be down here, and at an exciting time, as this tuesday is the 29th anniv. of Independence day. It's quite interesting to celebrate such an event in a society where many of the it's population remembers the Independence Day.
Well until next time.....Infinite love to you all,
J
subtle glimpses shown
emotion's of mayan's
ruins visited
