well like always, where has the time gone?
wow. I really don't know where to begin? I've had dengue, witnessed the arson of my neighbor's home (the house of the eight year old that was killed by a stray bullet) enjoyed the wonderful feeling of coming to work in the morning to see kids, that left prison, back on another charge, felt the absence of my friend at work after his car was fired upon by an m16 (a women guard was shot in the head, I walk past her post multiple time a day), experienced my first hurricane, hurricane richard, a.k.a. the dick storm, biked over 60 miles one weekend with Brian visiting different kriol villages out in the bush, seeing the baboon sanctuary, feeding monkeys leaves after calling them down from trees (very fun), making random rasta friend (he greeted me by saying "are you looking for me," apparently we were), then staying at Shayfon's house.
Shayfon and his brothers Jamal and Tereek live in Hattieville, just 3 miles away from the prison (I walk there after work about once a week), in a one bedroom house, I think about 8 people live there, no kitchen. They are brothers through and through. Everytime I'm they're it's like I walk into the presence of God. They are 23, 22, 21. There is an infant, she's real cute, always welcoming when I come. Brian introduced me to them on our bike trip. Brian met Shayfon last year in the hospital. He was visiting his friend in the hospital and there was a sheet over Shayfon, who was i the same room. Brian exclaimed "Oh my god is that person dead?" From inside the sheet answered Shayfon, "No mon I di live!!!!!" then unveiling his face, smiling, to Brian. Shayfon had just lost his legs. He was shot up real bad and they had to be removed. Also the hospital, KHMH, doesn't have the best reputation, as it's said to stand for "Kill him, murder her." One day, after hurricane richard, I walked over to their house to help Tereek chop the trees that had fallen, these trees being their fruit trees, a main source of their food. (chop is the Belizean verb for using a machete to chop and cut anything and everything, i.e. I'm going to chop the yard). It was a real hot that day, and as I was playing dominos with Shayfon and friends I had a thirst for some cool water. I decided to go to the chine to get a shilling water (a bag of water, that costs a shilling). "No current mon, no cool water." So I drank some of their water, still thirsting. Tereek and their friend Peanut promptly arrived, bearing freshly fetched coconuts. Everyone got excited. I drank mine, rather I chugged mine, chugged and chugged and chugged, dripping from my face, cool, cool, fresh, coconut water. I smiled. Everyone around me was smiling, laughing, grateful. I was grateful. How could something like a cococut, bless me so. It gave me happiness, they, Shayfon, Tereek, Peanut, Rondean, Darrel, gave me happiness. They have nothing, yet they are happy. All they're trees were just blown down, they have no mom no dad. Yet they were happy. Gratitude is a gift. This is a moment I will never forget, and will live with me until I die. I hope that I may be as grateful for all the things I have, food everyday, clothing, books, a house, friends, as they were for those coconuts.
I could go on and on, but I won't. If you have any interests or something you would like me to elaborate on, send me an email, landolfej@gmail.com.
There is one thing I realized this past month. They culture I grew up in Bloomfield Hills, Mi is equally disconnected to the culture of Belize City as it is the culture of Detroit City. It took me to come all this way to realize that, and just how segregated our world is. But despite the violence, there is music. In the next room there is a Garifuna music practice getting ready for Garifuna Settlement day on Nov. 19, I must go listen.
Love always, always love, and be grateful,
Jon
Awaken!
Tomorrow was born
from today
