An Illegal Alien for the Afternoon

One of the new projects I have been assigned to do for SEO is to develop community profiles for the eight villages that our organization is working in. The community profiles outline various aspects of the village including issues concerning education, health, water supply, sources of electricity (if any), religious groups, etc. The profiles allow us, and others who are interested, to have a better sense of what is going on in the villages and what issues need to be addressed. I develop the profiles by traveling into the villages and meeting with various key individuals such as the Alcalde (community elected leader) and the councilmen/women of the Village Council, the Water Board, the PTA, and the community healthcare worker. I have found my work in developing the profiles to be extremely inspirational and life giving as the village families have opened their homes and their hearts to me. To say the least, it has been quite the adventure.

A couple of weeks ago, Donisio (my 19 year old coworker who I work very close with) and I traveled to the village of Pueblo Viejo to give a presentation on the care and management of chickens as well as to start the process of developing the Pueblo Viejo Community Profile. Due to the fact that Pueblo Viejo is almost a two hour bus ride from town, we were planning on staying overnight with a family. Neither of us was really looking forward to the overnight visit and did our best in trying to devise a plan to get to the village, do our work in one hour, and catch the last bus back to town. After realizing that we probably wouldn’t be able to get all that we needed to do finished in that amount of time and the fact that Ms. Dorla (our boss) would be real vexed (Creole for pissed off) if she found out we didn’t stay over, we decided to stick it out for the night.

When we arrived to the village we met with the school’s principal, Mr. Tush, who mentioned that he was going to be heading to the Guatemalan border after school to cross over and buy some items for the school’s Christmas party (everything is a lot cheaper in Guatemala and there is a much larger selection of items – most of which you cannot buy in Belize). One hour and a half later, Donisio and I were jumping in the back of Mr. Tush’s truck to join him and his friend, Mr. Salam, in the journey to Guatemala.

We drove the truck to the next village, Jalacte, where we exchanged money into Guatemalan currency and began our half hour journey by foot across the border. The trail to the border was a very soft and muddy path as it is still the rainy season. Unlike Mr. Tush and Mr. Salam, Donisio and I were not prepared for the trek with our rubber boots – simply the sneakers we traveled to Pueblo Viejo in. About five minutes into the walk we reached a river with some stepping stones – the majority of which were submerged in water. I thought to myself, “What the hell, I’ll just go for it. Having soaking wet feet will only add to the memories, right?” As I continued on my merry way, with my sopping wet feet, we soon came upon a very muddy area. With my ever so graceful moves, I attempted my way over the muddy patch, only to slip with my left foot sending my right foot into the mud – up to my knee cap! Let’s just say that like always, the Belizeans had a good laugh. If I don’t learn anything else from my experience in Belize, I am grateful to have already learned the importance of laughing at yourself in times like this – otherwise, you’re screwed in life!

As the jokes continued about how absurd I was going to look walking through the town covered in sweat and mud, we eventually made it across the border into Santa Cruz, Guatemala. The very moment we entered the country, I became extremely envious of Guatemala. The country was not any cleaner, certainly not any prettier, and not even necessarily any friendlier. What I was jealous of was the language. I was once again hit with the recurring desire to further my skills in the language – my dream to become fluent. After many years of studying the language, I found myself surrounded by native speaking people and realizing that the only way to truly develop my skills is to be fully submerged in the culture --> possible plan for the future??

After a couple of good hours of shopping for Guatemalan goods, we started to make our way out of the little town. On the way out we met up with Felix Cucul, a young guy from Pueblo Viejo who was making his way back to Belize as well. At first, I thought he just had kind of a bizarre and funny personality, but it only took me a few more minutes to realize he had consumed his fair share of drinks and was now carrying home (or attempting to at least) a five gallon bucket of beans and a large duffle bag of clothes. To give him a rest, and to indulge ourselves, wee did what any Belizean would do before crossing back into Belize – stop for a few Guatemalan beers. Though the shack of a “bar” did not have any Gallo beers (Guatemala’s best beer), we settled for some Carta Blancas. Now let it be known that Carta Blancas are by no means a high quality beer, very reminiscent of a Coors Light, but after four months of drinking only Beliken beers, the Carta Blancas were like heaven on earth – light, refreshing, and a perfect companion for the 30 minute walk back through the mud.

As if the walk to Guatemala was not difficult enough, we now had to do it again except this time in the dark (guided only by the light of the moon – no one thought that it might be a wise decision to bring a flash light), a few beers in, and with drunk Felix now being part of our traveling crew. I have to say though, I was quite thankful for Felix to have joined the group because he did serve as a great source of entertainment for all of us. Slipping in the mud, falling over onto the ground, and straying off the path in the direction of the roaming bulls, Felix did a fine job in making me look like quite the experienced jungle trekker. Felix made me look like quite the all-star when we made our way to the point in the path where I had earlier fallen in the mud. Not only did Felix face plant into the mud pile, but when trying to climb out of it, he lost his boot. Never the less, we continued on our way with Bootless Santa – our new nickname for Felix as he carried his duffle bag over his shoulder looking just like the jolly old fat man.

After a few more laughs and a quick stop at the river to wash off all of the mud that I had managed to get all over me, we finally made it back to Belize. For the whole truck ride back to Pueblo Viejo Mr. Tush kept saying me “Trick (his nickname for me as he enjoyed it better than Pat), you have to write about this in your diary!” I promised I would and told them it was an adventure I surely would never ever forget.


Much love to everyone back in the States and the rest of you around the world! Have a very merry Christmas and a blessed New Years!

Oh, and enjoy the snow….as I bask in the sun ;)