Bloggin' in Belize

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Finally - Photo's of San Ignacio, Belize

Welcome to my world...

Outside the Cornerstone Office



At the Zoo chatting up the Scarlet Macaws



At work taking minutes at the Child Protection Task Force


Pirating at Halloween


Fun with Donated Frames:



The loverly Miss Alissa Swank

Miss Nellie the Cook in Charge


Miss Marta - Cook assistant and prankster


Omar - Working on UNICEF Caring for Children Event

Miss Bethany 

Fire Station

Octavia Waight Home for the Elderly:



Miss Alma Trapp and her bright embroidery


Scenes from walking around town:










Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Day Two, Further Orientation - 24.09.08

This morning I had planned to visit the fruit and veg market again, this time to buy lots of vegies. The produce had looked very enticing, good colour and form I could see from a distance, and fresh coriander herbs as well. I was itching to get down there and have me a market experience. Even though it was in 'office time', I figured it was a cultural activity enough to qualify for orientation.

The market is a small one row of stalls on the edge of a large concrete square. On the weekends I hear it fills right up with all manner of wares and food goodies. I spend just over half an hour perusing and buying. All the stall owners spoke Spanish and were probably from Guatemala. The produce was tidily presented, some fresher than others, and most of it seemed very expensive. Not sure if this is because I am the whitey or not... But it's $3 Belize for a lettuce. This is $2 NZ or $1.50 US. And we're talking a tiny lettuce. There is nothing too exotic away from the norm, apart from a basket full of pink spikey artichoke looking things at the last stall, which are called dragonfruit. Think I have heard of this before but not tried it. Perhaps the Saturday market is cheaper and has more selection. It can't be hard to grow things here as it is always raining at least once a day and the ground is very fertile.

After the market is the cultural orientation with Carmita. Carmita and I sit in Rita's cosy office (the general manager), me sinking into one of the blue cane chairs with rose patterened cushion as Carmita reads through a sheet of advice sitting behind the desk. The desk shows a Jesus plate propped up and a piece of cloth with a prayer stitched on it. The orientation includes warnings about advances from local men who very commonly sleep around on their wives. I mention the the dude who called out to me the other day, and Carmita confirms that the guys are pretty rude here. I haven't actually had anything said to me like that, the whole time travelling on my own. It's only a small thing, nothing scary, but says a bit about the differences in the culture here as compared to other latin countries. The men kinda rule the streets.

After the cultural orientation I went to do more reading of the UNICEF Situation Analysis on Children & Adolescents (2004). It's the most recent stats I could get my hands on, and it's been invaluable at identifying areas of need.

It seems that women have a very difficult time getting employment here. They finish school, and are literate, at equal or better rates than the guys, but post-education they are expected to get married and have kids I guess. According to this study women are only 20% of the workforce, so I guess people just don't hire them. This results in another cycle of poverty and violence. If a women has children or not, she is almost forced into having a relationship for financial support if her parents cannot support her. This creates a large power difference in the relationship and breeds circumstances of domestic violence due to a womens inability to leave the financial protection of the relationship.

Sound familiar to anyone back home? This can also occur in Australian and New Zealand culture. But at least there is welfare support, even if it does mean raising your family in near poverty. It is probably closer to the time in which our grandmothers grew up and raised families. But at least they probably had more opportunity to work, even if in a limited range of occupations.

At 1pm it was time to help the 'House Manager', Miss Nellie and her assistant Miss Martha, to feed the school children on the food program - I love how the women here are called 'Miss'. Miss Nelly and Miss Martha are two middle-aged women who arrive everyday at 8.30am to start cooking up the lunch for all the volunteers and 25 school children (about 35 people). They start by creating a mound of white rice and a mound of red kidney beans piled onto the wooden kitchen table. From there, they can pick out the stones and bad beans and then start the cooking. It ends in a tasty feast that sometimes leaves leftovers for another meal at dinner.

A number of small plastic bowls filled with food are taken downstairs to an area at the back of the office where the school chilren come to eat every lunch hour. Rita joins us, and I ask her how they choose who is eligible for the lunch and she explains that they get a notification from the school at the beginning of the year on which of the children don't bring lunch with them. Cornerstone then makes an investgation into the childs home to assess their level of need and places them on the food program. The kids arrive and all look pretty healthy and normal. They are all about 12 and under.

After lunch Carmita invites me to go with her and Darlene to meet Melissa Jenkins at the Women's Department. I was a little reluctant at first, but it turns out to be a very valuable excursion.

The Women's Department has emerged progressively from the first grass roots womens organisation in the Cayo District, called the Women's Desk, in 1979. It started out focussed on violence against women and that has continued as it's core focus, with government adopting them in 1985 and now they are housed under the Ministry for Human Development in the center of town. Melissa is a funky gorgeous young woman who couldn't be older than 27 but gets a helluva lot done with a lot of energy. Melissa introduces us to the Safe Schools program that is starting next week and it sounds like just the sort of work I wanted to do with teenage girls. It is also already resourced and has the approval and support of several school principles.

The department also needs people to do 'Skills Training' that teach local women any type of skill, as a hobby or as employable skills. So I've shown my enthusiasm for both the school program and the skills training and will go away and assess the options and work involved.

Back at the ranch that night, Darlene, a fellow volunteer from Alberta, Canada, cooked up an impressive amount of spag bol for everyone as part of a regular dinner night. Ends up being 'just the girls' including Miss Carmita and Miss Nellie at the table, all sitting around a big pile of spaghetti and salad over a blue checked table cloth and tropical flowers in vases that Darlene picked today. We chatted, watched geckos on the ceiling, over fed ourselves and afterwards watched "Sex and the City the movie". A true girlie evening.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Day One, The Beginning - 23.09.08

My first day in the office and I was a little tiny bit nervous I guess. I had my instant nescafe coffee with fake powdered creamer for milk, and went downstairs into the office - a dark, cool basement space (as in cooler than outside) with three private offices and an open area with 6 computers dotted around amongst the book shelves and information posters.

I was introduced to the administration person, Vanessa, and Carmita the program director. Carmita printed out a little schedule for the week for me that was fairly sparse. They like volunteers to take it REAL SLOW for the first 2 weeks while they observe and absorb the goings on here. I think it's to lessen culture shock and also stop people diving into projects too quickly and stuffing them up.

I spend the rest of the morning reading files on the shared drive that prove really informative. Elliot shows me briefly around the wiki he has proudly created, which keeps track of all the project files and histories of what people have done in the past - however it's in it's infancy and there isn't much of use there yet.

I find and read the "National Gender Policy" drawn up in 2002 on the basis of another study called the "Situation Analysis of Gender" which I can't find anywhere, including the net. I just wanted to know the raw stats on gender inequalities here in Belize, as a good starting point to my research and action.

Lunch is served in the upstairs kitchen, cooked lovingly by Miss Nellie and Miss Marta. Beans, rice and chicken with tomato and lettuce salad. Not bad! The boys pile up a small mountain of food on their plate and chow it down before I've finished mine. There are only two guys working as volunteers here, Elliot the administrator of volunteers and general IT guy from London and Kyle, who started here in a separate organisation, working for the Peace Corps and has been here a year and 3 months. Kyle's from Connecticut and works with 'youth' - school kids - doing sports and activities. Kyle has some quirky stories to tell about his experiences here so far, and after lunch we go on the 'walking tour' - part of the orientation schedule.

It's a pretty hot day though and not the best time to be walking around, but nevermind. I'm tough. We start out for the vegetable market and on the way as we chat, a local calls out something from behind us. I tun my head and see a tall skinny rasta looking dude on a white horse. He's meandering along, and when I turn back, he yells out "that's a nice piece of ass" and laughs. I am so embarrassed. I groan and say fuck off under my breath, not daring to incite more "compliments". I really try and ignore the remark but it got to me - even though I was with someone, it was actually more awkward and embarrassing because someone was with me. Come to think of it now, he could've even meant Kyle anyway. ha ha.

The tour is mostly focused on food, and I learn after a few days here that this is a general preoccupation in San Ignacio. Many of the volunteers sit around talking about food a lot. Haven't really figured out the reason why or what this reveals about the lifestyle here yet. I guess there just ain't much else to satisfy the senses perhaps... ;) Practically no talent, no pretty water views, no gorgeous architecture, although the buildings here have there own charm. Worn out weatherboard hovels with colourful washing hung across balconies. The occasional cool breeze is reason to shout hallelujah. Sounds of parrots and other birds occasionally delight, through the noise pollution of dogs and trucks. Frogs chime when it rains. Geckos click on the ceiling while the electric fans hum the night away.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Leaving and Arriving - 21.09.08

Today Belize City was a ghost town. The sun was blinding and burning down hard. Everything looked over-exposed. I put up my umbrella for the first time for sun and not rain. 

It is Belize Independence Day, 27 years since independence from Britain, and everything in town is closed. Ended up going to the only supermarket open to buy breakfast and waved down the next taxi to get me to the bus stop asap. It was a middle aged spanish speaking lady in the cab, who had wilted bougainvillea tucked into all the ceiling handles. She was a dear, took me back to the hotel and then on to the bus station and when she said goodbye, almost hugged me. I felt it too. It's as if she knew I was off, on to a new big adventure, and she was the only witness to it. So she played family for me. It was very sweet.

The taxi lady called over a boy to help me with my 10 ton bag (loaded with stationary goodies for the Foundation). He was only about 13, small build, and struggled a lot. Would've been easier for me to carry it. An elderly man ended up taking it from him and getting it to the bus and I paid him $3 belize dollars. The bus was supposedly 'first class' ... ha ha. It was an old school bus from the States with no air-conditioning. And it was a 3 hour trip. Half of it spent with a grandmother and her two grandchildren squished in next to me - but I was still comfortable. I ate my breakfast, sweet bread rolls, and broke them to share with the little girl next to me. The grandmother smiled warmly at me, then proceeded to swear at someone on her cellphone. Things are not as they seem here...

I arrived at 3pm and wanted to get my weight-lifting set to the nearest hotel, quick smart.  It was still baking hot even though now I was in a valley in the mountains. I went up the stairs of what looked to be a funky little hotel and walked straight into Nanna land. I didn't care. They showed me the room which was cheap and it had cable tv and a fan and double bed. Bathroom on the outside. That'll do. The old lady clasped her hands around my face, told me I was very pretty and welcomed me to her country. Odd. Welcome to San Ignacio.

Somehow I figured out that they spoke spanish and they were delighted. I felt like the prodigal grand daughter. In the room there was a pink dolly lamp shade, the sheets were pink with flowers and polka dots and the word 'pretty' all over them. I collapsed exhausted and tried to have a snooze but a very noisy parade stated up outside for the Independence Day celebrations. Booming marching drums continued for a while, until I just thought - hey I'm missing out here big time. Better get me downstairs to film the celebrations. 

I grabbed the video camera and scampered down the street after the scantily clad dancers. There were lack luster army marchers, kids in wheelchairs and young brown thin girls shaking their arse in tiny colourful costumes decorated with beads and gold fabric. I kept filming as I walked down, and it occurred to me that Cornerstone would have a float.  Eventually I noticed a float pumping out cool local music, very beatsy, with a Cornerstone sign. Behind followed kids and a mix of white people in cornerstone t-shirts. I jumped in of course, and introduced myself to Irene and Darlene, and then they introduced me to Elliot, who had received my emails. He seemed confused about who I was but eventually clicked.

I walked with them in the heat for a while until we reached the Cornerstone offices, where Elliot explained that the volunteers stay upstairs, not separately down the road as I had thought. I didn't need to go to the hotel after all but now I had paid so one more night of privacy wouldn't hurt. I bailed pretty quickly after this, abandoning my fellow volunteer loyalty for cable tv, a fan and a siesta. Leave the loyalty for when I am living there.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Saturday Night - 20.09.08

Later that day... when I go for dinner I spot a flyer for a major concert featuring four Ragga MC’s. It’s expensive but sounds worthy. Unfortunately the boys are initially pretty reluctant to go anywhere… they just want to drink beers and watch the fireworks from afar.

Eventually after many beers I convince one of them to check out this concert. We catch a cab down, which is a large 4WD which stops to pick up other people as well. We get out at the sea front boulevard as traffic is piled up outside the venue. People are sitting on the concrete retaining wall drinking, eating and listening to car stereos. We are the only white people around. One guy comes up and says he can sell us cheap tickets and get us in before the cue. On listening to the performance we decide it’s not worth it anyway.

Another older guy comes over and advises us not to give anyone any money and tells us there’s more parties and clubs happening further down. I decide to trust him and we follow him as he rants about Belizean society. We pass several places blasting music out. I would be happy with any of them and are just keen to check out the local ‘scene’. We end up at a club playing loud ‘Punta’ Music. The place is packed and after we get our beers and sit down I tell the guide we’re happy on our own and give him $5 Belize. He goes, but 10 minutes later he comes back again saying that he has to teach us to dance Punta style.

I look around at the dance floor and watch what the women are doing and it’s basically gyrate on the men. The men hardly move at all… one is just smoking and leaning against the wall, his girl vibrating her arse against his groin. I hope this isn’t a symbol of the gender relations here – but I have a feeling it could be.

Welcome to Belize

Finally got this blog up and off the ground! I've been in Belize 2 weeks today, but will painstackingly upload some of my past journal entries so I can start from the beginning... because I'm like that...

Way way back in a City not far from here...

20.09.2008
Belize City, Belize

I have been preparing all morning to go out into the 'Belize' environment and just as I leave the comfy hotel a very heavy down pour starts.

It's been a slow luxuriating morning of reading in my very comfy, 100% cotton sheets and 3 real pillows bed. I decided to take it easy as things have been moving pretty fast lately and I start 'work' on Monday and want to feel refreshed and not exhausted from too many buses, bad beds and hurried tourist tours and shopping. Also after arriving in this new country last night I have become wary of disorientation and overwhelming myself as this is a very different place from where I have been. The locals speak perfect English for a start!

Crossing over from Mexico into Belize the first things I noticed were the signs in English. As if it were a trick I obsessively read all of them - 'Tangs supermarket' 'Shari's Hair Salon'... I was a little in disbelief. Everyone is African Belizean, apart from a few young girls who looked Mayan. When the kids come on board at Orange Walk (to sell oranges) I was unsure whether to speak Spanish or English.

Same thing happened on arrival in Belize 'City'. I had been expecting a metropolis, forgetting that the entire population is barely over 300,000. Hard to imagine. Really hard to imagine. Of course the city can't be more than 100,000. The bus station is tiny. Too late to find the info counter (I doubt one exists anyway), I was at the mercy of the cab driver to take me somewhere decent. Well the area didn't look very decent but the hotel inside was very cozy. For the third time in a week I am handed a key for a number 33. How odd. My age. I guess I can take that as a good sign.

Outside this morning I get a glimpse through the curtain of the street scene below. A tall Creole man is slowly and thoughtfully setting up his pirated CD stall on the side of the road. Another is sweeping. Everyone seems to get around on these cool, sturdy looking bikes.

Last night at Orange Walk we stopped in front of a govt. building with camo dressed guards protecting it with automatic rifles. The building was decorated with little triangular flags and big national flags. Some posters announce the celebration of 27 years of independence from Britain on the 21st of this month. Tomorrow! I have unexpectedly stumbled on another independence celebration, but this time with staying in a hotel I have no-one to share it with. And Belize City does not look friendly and safe to walk around at night, a white woman on her lonesome.

The rain stops and I go for a walk around the streets for a nosey. There are very few modern, well built buildings around here. Most are decrepid wood board housing, flakey paint and falling apart. There are a few concrete constructions inbetween. The town is small, quiet, not too dirty but certainly not flashy. As far as I can see there isn't even a 'mall' for the richies to hang out in, although there are a good number of late model 4 wheel drives... how odd. Later this is explained by a volunteer. As the US market is going bust, the cars are being picked up cheap by Belizeans. Even though the Belizean dollar is pegged to the US dollar at 50%.

On returning to the hotel I hear voices on the balcony. It's fortunately a couple of young aussie guys having beers and I join them later on in the hopes of dragging them out with me so I can see the Independence day celebrations in the park.