As it has come to pass, I struggle with relating my time here into words. In a certain sense, I will never do Belize or JVI justice. There are too many dynamics simultaneously building me up, making me smile, breaking my heart and pushing the boundaries of who I am to ever really be able to articulate them all. So with that in mind I humbly go forth from here.
Weekends here in Belize are a unique creature. Fridays are boisterous, rowdy with most people in this small town out and about. We frequently fall asleep to the sound of Garifuna drums, really loud karaoke (the Belizean national pastime), or a car parked on the street blasting one of four songs that are popular in Belize. Saturdays are slow with some form of nightlight. And Sundays... well we will get to that in a bit. This past weekend was typical (except for the next three paragraphs), more or less.
Friday, Pat and I were bored out of our minds and decided to go do something. Emily had secured a dinner invite at one of our friends' houses. Lucky! So it was just the two of us to find dinner and something to occupy our time. It was approximately a thousand degrees and we set out. To where we did not know.
Our long and exciting journey brought us to the local "Chinee Restaurant" ( Chinese food place) which is a half a block from our house. There we indulged in overly greasy fried chicken and french fries. It is important to note that this is not traditional American fried chicken. But rather just a full cut up chicken, bones, innards and all and its all dumped in a fryer. The fries are also put in the same deep fryer so they taste more like chicken than french fries. Mmm delish.
We spent the better part of an hour eating our fried chicken bits with our attention to the TV in the corner. TV watching is also a luxury. We watched some mindless show on the Animal Channel , or Discovery channel or one of those amazing bits of television. After our dinner, our faces covered in chicken grease we waddled home. I noted to Pat that this is what it must feel like to be old and living in the midwest... when Denny's or I HOP becomes the big family outing(no pun intended). We shuddered at the thought.
We spent the rest of the evening sweating, reading and sweating some more. Emily came home for some quality community time (read: sitting, talking and sweating). And we continued to talk despite all of PG losing power on and off for the next three hours. Losing both electricity and water is a sometimes daily experience.
Saturday, after Pat and I came home from work. Yes, we work on Saturdays. More sitting, more reading. Then we decided to go to the river to swim, despite living directly on the ocean, rivers hold more appeal (you always want want you dont have right?) because they are much cooler, faster moving, shaded and much more culturally Belizean. 90 % of Toledo does their bathing, washing (both bodies and clothing) and swimming in the river. So off we went for a few hours to the river. It was a really great day being together just the three of us. I ended up running into some boys who I led on retreat who showed me how they jumped off a 25 foot high tree into about 3 feet of water (Maya children a like miniature super heros). So it was also a cool time for the boys to bond without me being "Mr. Matt" or "Sir".
Excuse me for that elaborate review and introduction. The point of this entry was to discuss the day that follows Saturday. Traditionally named Sunday, or as I like to call it: The Belizean Sabbath. On the Belizean Sabbath we are generally up early, Mass is at 7 am. Which makes the BS much longer than you realize. This past BS I read two hundred pages of my book, put it down and went for some lunch thinking it was about 3:00pm, to my shock it was but merely 10:15 am. Sweet Jesus its going to be a long day I think to myself.
The Sabbath is traditionally held by Jewish people from Friday at Sundown to Saturday at sundown. The Belizean Sabbath is a bit different as you will soon see. My only interaction of Jews participating in the Sabbath growing up was watching as they marched in their black, pants shirts, ties and top hats past the pool on a weekend when I was doing Cannonballs into the deep end. Needless to say from my perspective it always looked miserable. Also barbecuing with the Hedgepaths at the pool is another interaction I have had with Jews observing the Sabbath. (But I'm no Jewish expert but I think Mr Hedgepath broke every single rule of the Sabbath on those festive nights). The idea behind the Sabbath is really nice tradition, a day of doing nothing but prayer and thanksgiving for the week and to get ready for the week ahead.
In Belize, a pretty laid back country to begin with, takes that to the extreme. (I don't mean in the Hisidic Jew sense of not flipping light switches or using pens). But nothing is open in PG on Sundays. I don't mean only some places. I quite literally mean ghost town. (Think DC in August when Congress is on recess times 15). B.S. is family day, where someone, generally a daughter or mother puts food on the oven and the whole family sits around and eats and drinks heavily all day. Kind of a weekly "forced family fun" like my Mom used to make us endure as children where she would lock the house and not let me or my brothers out. Including CR who was about 19 at the time. Except in Belize there is no Dominoes Pizza or "Boy Meets World".
You might see where that puts Pat, Emily and I on Sundays then. On the couch, reading or talking (notice the trend?). Only to break the monotony to go for a run or a bike ride. Some days the Belizean Sabbath feels like cruel and unusual punishment, something similar to what convicts in lock down feel like. Even if there was something to do in PG, which is rare, there is definitely nothing to do on Sundays. Other times it feels absolutely perfect, relaxing and rejuvenating. (More in line with the real Sabbath).
In the age of the Blackberry and Internet on one's cellphone Americans have forgotten how to rest. Even on vacation you notice people pecking away sending emails and memos that are "urgent". Taking away from time with one's family and blurring the line between a work week and the weekend. Belizeans have it right, sit around, enjoy some food, perhaps a rum and coke, enjoy your family and just be. Work is for Monday. It truly can wait. These are things I hope to take with me from Belize, though I have a feeling once I enter the RatRace again it will be harder. But an emphasis on people not places or things or doing are the sermon to be taken away from the Belizean Sabbath.
Mozeltov!
Matty
