Beauty and Struggle

Hello from Belize! This is quite a change from New York City, which I imagine I will understand in a more profound way with each passing day. I landed at the Punta Gorda Municipal Airport at about 2pm local time on Tuesday, where I was picked up by Nana, the Belize country director for Sustainable Harvest international. Immediately we were on our way out to the villages where the current projects were going on. En route to Delores, we stopped in Sunday Wood to check the progress of a solar latrine project. I could not believe that people lived in this village. It was basically a collection of a few tiny, shaky wood houses standing on stilts, with thatch roofs made palm leaves. Horses, dogs, cats, pigs, chickens, and ducks were roaming freely throughout the entire village, and in the homes. Small children, some naked, some minimally clothed, were playing in the dirt alongside the road. My brain could not formulate a coherent sentence to express what I was feeling about all of this, and I think it was obvious to everyone around me. I am almost certain that this is why Nana took me immediately out to the villages to see their projects. Being thrust into that setting immediately after leaving a giant urban setting absolutely dropped my jaw and produced countless emotions, many of which I still have not identified.


That night I was introduced to everyone at the office and showed my sleeping quarters - a bunkbed in a room that also functioned as an office. I went to sleep as soon as I was able since I hadn't slept in something like 4o hours, and since I was positive I would need some rest for an undoubtedly difficult next day. "Difficult" did not turn out to be a strong enough word to describe the work I did the next day. I was woken up around 7am by everyone making their way into the office, and shortly thereafter I found myself in a truck heading back out to Sunday Wood to finish the solar latrine I had seen in progress the day before. I had one energy bar and a nalgene of water with me, since I hadn't had a chance to get any food at the supermarket. By about noon, the relentless sun and humidity had me feeling completely dehydrated, and even worse my nalgene bottle was already empty, with no potable water within reach. The energy bar I had eaten late that morning had already offered me all the energy it could, and I found myself completely humbled. Hermenio, the extentionist I was working with on the project was still happily working away as I headed for the shade to find some relief from the heat and physical symptoms of dehydration. The worst part of it was that we had only the most basic tools needed to complete such a project. A hand saw, measuring tape, hammer and nails, and square are all we had to work with to put up the housing, which consited of 2x4's, plywood sheets, and a zinc roofing. This made the work much more slow and exhausting.


I made it through the day somehow, and at around sunset we were picked up and taken back to the office, where I showered with the cold-water-only hose coming out of the wall in a bathtub, and collapsed onto the bed. The next two days were physically a little bit easier, but just as long and emotionally exhausting. Each village we went to had the same basic, run down appearance. The saddest part is that everyone living there doesn't simply get to pack up at the end of the day and head back to an equipped office, or, worse yet, they do not get to pack up and head home to an industrialized nation after a few months. Please understand that as I describe the setting, I am in no way complaining for myself, because of everyone here I have it the easiest. I have found it difficult to be touched by their setting without making a spectacle of them. I ask the families we work with many questions about them personally and their surroundings in an effort to understand more completely their situation, all the while hoping that I am not offending them or belittling their existence. They are the most welcoming and genuinely friendly groups of people I think I have ever come across, and they are remarkable in their abilities to survive on basically the land they live on.


As this week approaches, I look forward very much to see what I will work on, and what new villages I will see. Each morning I wake up, I have no idea where I am going, what I will see, or what projects I will be involved in, and there is something very freeing about that. My hope is that over the next nine weeks, I can come to know and understand these people and their situation as completely as possible, and show them love as fellow human beings. One thing that really strikes me about these people is that they seem to understand their value as individuals, despite their lack of resources. That is in sharp contrast to the people I worked with in New York, who, as a whole, seemed to feel they had no value because of their lack of resources. Interesting what societal norms and expectations can communicate to the individuals within the society.

The photos, I hope, represent the title of this post. The top photo is of the Caribbean Sea between Placencia and Punta Gorda. It was absolutely stunning, some of the most beautiful land and water I have ever seen. In the next two photos, I tried to show in a small way the struggle of daily life here in southern Belize. There is Mr. and Ms. Jose, who were the recipients of a new wood conservation stove, which I helped build in their home on Thurday. They were so excited to have it, and it was a drastic improvement from the open, wood-burning stove they currently had, which was very inefficient and dangerous to their health. Next you see three young girls playing in the water from the well that was recently constructed next to their home. Finally, this is me on the first day of work, trying to fit the ventilation pipe into the latrine. This was at the end of the day and I was just thrilled to know that I had survived and would get to go eat, drink, shower, and sleep. It really is the small things in life that bring the greatest joy.