Oh Matthew...

Word spread fast that Matthew was coming to Belize inspiring fear and trembling among the Belizeans. They didn't know what to expect so they prepared for the worst. Keeping their children locked indoors and covering their windows they waited until he came with his wild fury.

No this is not a recap of August 2009, before I moved down to the obscure little country. It is in fact the story of last weekend when Hurricane...err... Tropical Storm Matthew made his crash course to Belize. A storm that I didn't even know about until Thursday night when roommate Jeremy said "What are we going to do about this storm?". (I thought he was talking about the thunderstorms that come every single evening in PG.) So I responded

"Young Jeremy we will do what we always do, read our books maybe drink a beer or two"

" Uh no I mean the hurricane coming towards Belize"

"Hurricane?"

Jeremy shrugs, " I guess, all the Peace Corps are on standby and schools are all canceled tomorrow"

"Oh... well that sounds kind of serious"

(We JVs are generally the last to find out news with no TV or radio)

So we were unsure what was to happen next. It looked like we may be spared as the storm was aiming for Belize City ("Ha! those suckers" we thought) But Matthew had other plans for us and said "Sike! I'm coming right for YOU". Fr. Jeff our fearless leader eventually made the call Friday afternoon that we should get the heck out of town and make our way to city as soon as possible. So, my roommates and I, began to pack. In case you haven't experienced it, packing to evacuate for a hurricane is a crazy process. "what do we need?" "what if the house gets blown away?"(a strong wind makes our house sway) "How many pairs of boxers do I need?" "What do we do with the dog?"etc etc.

Off we raced in the truck... driving at a bit of a crazed speed... unsure if we were going to make the infamous Kendell Bridge in time before it flooded over and cut us off from safety. The Kendell floods during every major storm which is a real pain for those trying to go either north or south. In August I, and my fellow Belizean travelers, had to be ferried over the raging flood waters on a small boat because the bus couldn't pass. Safe? No. Adventurous? Yes.

We made the bridge and the water was low... a good omen.

The driving got a bit more intense once we reached the mountains in the middle of the journey. We reached the mountains the exact same time the rain started pouring and the sun went down. Not a good combination for the driver (me). So white knuckled for the next hour or so I wound our truck through the blind curves and steep descents with the poorly functioning windshield wipers at full speed.

At last we had made it to the city.

Long story short, we spent the weekend in the city with our amazing fellow JVs and the Jesuit community hosting us, displaced peoples from the South. We got lots of wind but not much rain in the city, and from what we heard, PG had the opposite, all rain no wind. (Also during the gale force winds I decided to give myself a haircut... mind you I haven't cut my hair in the nearly 14 months I've been here. pictures to follow. So it was a quite a big deal)

What does one do after fleeing for his life from an unknown powerful tropical cyclone?

Celebrate of course.

Upon coming home, my beloved Miss Cathy, the 60 year old cook for the priests, said "Of course this Matthew was a softpop hurricane, just like the other Matthew is a soft pop" ("Softpop" in kriole means a wuss. A name that Miss Cathy dubbed me due to the 49596 times I have been sick in this country. haha Generally it goes like this "Softpop if you put your hand in my food again I will BEAT YOU! we love each other.)

It was great to have an impromptu adventure to the City with my community mates. Now we have the irksome task of putting our lives back together post chaotic packing spree. Though it is nice to have that problem at all rather than the alternative.

Many thanks to the SJs and JVs up north for greeting, feeding and hosting us.

(note: as of this writing there is a 40% chance of a tropical storm forming off belize's coast..... gotta love hurricane season in the caribbean)

pictures and poets..

A few pictures supplemented with the words of some of my favorite poets.
Enjoy.

"I've heard within my inmost soul

such cheerful morning news,

In the horizon of my mind

Have seen such orient hues"

-Thoreau

" The world is charged with the grandeur of God

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to greatness, like the ooze of oil"

-Hopkins

"I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings.

The coming down is the hardest thing"

-Petty

all photo credit to roommate jeremy.
checkout jer's blog (on the right) for more pictures

Wednesday Morning...

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Thanks for the great poem Cyril!

wonderings of a wanderer

I don't quite have a full blog decided on so I will just write a few of the many ideas I have flowing around my mind these days. These will be completely undeveloped thoughts but I think an insight into what someone is thinking about can be just as informative as what they say.

-Year two has begun, the new community has unpacked and is getting settled into their lives and work here. Its a bit strange, or was at first, to be in a place that I call home, in a country once foreign but now comforting with people though, who are new. Much of my first year was spent asking questions to Pat and Emily about what they have learned, what the meaning of certain cultural norms, how to properly express something in Kriole etc... and those are the questions being asked of me. Funny, after being here a year, I feel like I know so little... but compared to Jeremy, Al, and Kathleen my 13 months of time here is a wealth of knowledge.

- Work is beginning to have regularity again as the school year begins. Despite working in the Parish , my work is primarily with schools so when schools out it makes work less consistent content wise. I have 30 retreats between October 1 and December 1! So I think the next few months are going to fly by when the intensity picks up.

-Feeling really good about being disconnected recently. The distance from Belize isn't that far from the States though at times it can feel like the other side of the world. But recently I have been really appreciating the fact I don't have a cell phone, shaky Internet access, and starting this summer, No facebook account. The seeming "lack" has created for me a really nice use of time. Spending more time reading,contemplating, praying and swimming is how I spend my free time. (not saying boredom isn't present at times, but rather, how I choose to deal with that is different)

-Time left vs. time here. It has come to my attention recently that the months I have been in-country has exceeded the time I have left. Which from the outside may seem like nothing note worthy but for whatever reason this feels like a huge, scary, accomplishment. Next week will mark my 13th month in Belize, it will also signify that I only have 9 months left. (9 months you're saying, that's so long!) But to someone who will be gone for 23 months, 9 is not very long. I don't want to give the impression that I am pining away to go home, quite the opposite. But the main reason that is on my mind is because I have been scheduling all my retreats from now until Christmas, so seeing December on my planner is scary.

-Gratitude in a variety of forms:I feel really appreciative of Ally, my friend who I met this summer who worked at an environmental NGO in PG, who just sent me some cookies and bomb dandelion tea. Which makes me grateful for all the other stuff that's been going on in my life. (Gratitude has a way of multiplying itself once you start to pay attention). Feeling grateful for my brother, Nick, who constantly goes out of his work day to help me with little things that are much harder to do from Belize (contact people, or send faxes for example). In turn, feeling really thankful for all the people who are supportive of my work and time in Belize, who send me a little love in the mail, or shoot me an email to let me know I am being thought of. For someone on the receiving end of all these blessings it makes my day that much brighter.

-Wondering if I will be able to work on Spanish in the remaining 9 months. Self teaching has never really been my thing (the exception being the pogo stick in 5th grade). I have a textbook from 1989 and I am hoping for the best, haha. I hope to make my way back to El Salvador this year so by hook or by crook I'll get by.

- Looking forward to getting engaged in activist work when I get home. Recognizing my own limitations as a foreigner here and respecting my role as a volunteer. Here to accompany the people of Toledo on their journey, bearing witness to their struggle but not here to work for structural change. That has to come from the Belizeans themselves, if I did that, it would be just as oppressive as those aspects I want to change. The struggle must come from the roots. Being in a place where I can not get political helps me appreciate the power I will have when I get home.

-Smiling as I realized this morning at the All Teacher Mass and Meeting to start the school year I knew every single person in the church, about 200 people, and everyone of them knew my name, despite most of the teachers living and working in remote villages. It was one of those moments reminding me of how cool it is to be here... here is a group of 200 teachers, that teach in nearly every single school in the Toledo district and they all smile and greet me by name. An unofficial signifier in my mind, that I have been here a year.

Please excuse my ramblings. I'd love to hear what each of you are thinking about these days.

Namaste-
Matty

"Give your hands to serve, and your heart to love"- Mother Teresa
(yesterday would have been Mother Teresa's 100th birthday)

Summer update.

I may be a dreamer,

but I believe in faith

Only in the darkness can you see the stars ablaze

In my darkest hour I shall keep my strength and say

"Go and let your fire live"

- Trevor Hall 's song Many Roads

Well once again, the elusiveness of time has passed me by and its been two months since my last update. lo siento.

Whats happened in my life since then?

Well year one as a JV has come to an end. I am officially in my second year. (In Belize we end up serving for 22 or 23 months rather than 24) So according to the Calendar and by default... Pat and Emily my second year roommates moved out. So I am the only JV in PG as of now. This was a time I expected to be a rough transition. But reality frequently surpasses our expectations. Yes, it was sad to see Pat and Emily go. But I had a great surprise to help deal with the transition.

One of my closest friends came at exactly that time. In typical G style she bought her ticket last minute and it was wonderful to have her here. For me this year, there has been a bit of anxiety concerning friendships and relationships from before I left. People change and move in different directions so there is a worry that one's former relationship will grow stagnate or just fall off completely. G and I were so pleased to pick up where we left off 11 months ago. With all the loud, embarrassing outrageousness we are quite used to.

It was really great to share my life and work and Belizean friends with someone I am close with from home. That is something I have struggled with since being here, how does one relate this experience to everyone back home who doesn't have a clue what I am talking about. Well frankly you can't expect anyone to understand. Normally, the outlet for this frustration would be Community. But seeing as my community is not in the house with me at the moment it was really wonderful to share it with someone from home.

(A side note about our relationship: So G and I are quite close I met her and her man, Brian, at JCU. So her whole visit we called each other "cousin" to clear up any would-be issues. And in fact, this is the perfect way to describe our relationship. *Momma G and Dr. Larr- are you opposed to me calling you Aunt and Uncle? I'm going to take that for a test drive when I get home, just so you know.)

I had warned G before she came that hurricane season is underway and she might be sitting in my shabby shack of a home for the 2 weeks she was here. But luckily we had amazing weather! My work has slowed down (retreats follow the academic calendar) so I had plenty of time to show her my life. We hung out with my friends, drank the local beer. Visited I think a total of 5 waterfalls. Had a near death experience in a cave. Went kayaking through the peaceful mangrove swamps. We stayed with the wonderful Salam Family for a night to experience what Maya village life is like. G was taught how to make corn tortillas, a prerequisite to become a suitable wife in Maya culture. (Brian, sorry pal according to Maya customs you picked a sorry excuse for a mate haha). We went on an illegal border crossing adventure to Guatemala. And to top off her visit we went snorkeling out in the Barrier Reef off the coast. Spending the day on a sailboat enjoy the weather, the company of our international snorkeling friends, feeding nurse sharks, swimming with fish and a manatee (that I thought has going to eat me). It was really quite amazing.
But outside of sight seeing and hanging out it was a really great time for deeper discussion concerning the reality of Belizeans. The ideas of oppression, liberation, simple living, intentionality, poverty, charity vs. justice, the role of the Church, and solidarity with the poor were all subjects that carried a lot of weight in our time together. The reality of underprivileged Chicago primary school students that G teaches and the students I work with had quite a bit of comparisons. It was also interesting talking with one of my best friends who is about to start the next chapter of her life with the man that she loves about her joys and concerns. Especially someone in such a vastly different place than I. Different yet so similar. (Don't worry mom I'm not engaged to any lovely Belizean ladies.... yet :) G will be going into her second year as a Chicago Teacher Fellow working in one of the roughest areas in Chi-town. Both of us having a much better handle on the realities and uncertainties that are involved in our once scary service placements. Both craving deeper connections with the people we work with and for etc. Both trying to grapple with the realities of injustice abroad and more disturbing, domestically.
But that is the beauty of authentic friendship having a space to share and discuss. Also a space to be up all night scared in a Maya village with no electricity thinking the 30 rats near your bunk bed are going to attack! Or to giggle at the unfortunate British girl who was violently ill during the 7 hour snorkeling trip. (we felt bad but it was also comical, like watching someone trip in public)

After seeing G off my good friend and predecessor Bobby joined me on Caye Caulker for two more nights. Bobby had my job before I did with JVI. So it was great to catch up with him for a bit.

Now I am back to work in an odd limbo between years and communities. Jeremy, Allison and Kathleen (the new kids) arrive August 1st. I am really looking forward to the routine that comes with a full community again, and to meet, hang out and share with the new arrivals.

Next week I move to Barranco, a small village on the Sea, to facilitate a football (soccer) camp there. Which should end up being hilariously embarrassing for my lanky self. (My soccer career ended in the 4th grade at Holy Cross Elementary School.) But its all about the experience right?
Or so that's what I keep telling myself.

Happy July! Enjoy the lazy hazy lemonade sipping beauty of summer.
Matty

The boy with a curse...

Dear Dougie, this one's for you. Due to content and kick in the pants you gave me to write again.

So I have a curse. I thought I could have evaded this curse. I thought the curse would have stayed in the Developed World when I left. I thought perhaps, due to the simple lifestyle I am committed to living down here, the curse would be obsolete. But sadly I am here to say that the curse has followed me to Belize, followed me into the jungle and followed me down dirt roads to remote Maya Villages.

"What is this dreaded curse" you ask? I am cursed with my interactions with machines, more specifically: automobiles. This all started just as I came to an age when I was legally allowed to drive. I use the term legally because in terms of ability I shouldn't have been able to get behind the wheel. The first instance occurred when as a young boy of 15 my dad asked me to start my Mom's stick shift to warm it up before school. Nervous due to the clutch and overall lack of talent, I climbed into the Jeep. The engine coughed and sputtered but didn't turn over. My dad standing nearby said " Put it in First". (He forgot to tell me to keep the clutch down) I did as I was told... and.... you see where this is going.... and drove full speed into my own bedroom. Rattled and nervous to the point of feeling like vomiting I climbed out of the Jeep vowing to NEVER drive stick shift again. (Not to mention embarrassed! Who drives into their own house?! haha)

Next incident involved my getting into a serious car wreck. I was driving a car that wasn't mine. In fact it was a dear friend, and retired priest, Fr. Jake's car. The holiness apparently faded from his use to mine. Long story short, I hit a car who hit a car, a Beemer and a Lexus respectively. ...I know, it was bad. I was hospitalized and thought I broke my neck. The next day I was released, no injuries.

Incident number three: I get rammed by a fellow high schooler on the way to a lacrosse game. Luckily not my fault. Then again the insurance company wasn't pleased.

This brings me to Belize. In my first 2 months in the country I get a ticket because I parked in an area that you aren't allowed to park in. There was, of course, no sign indicating such a rule so I was a bit annoyed but figured " Well Matt you are a visitor here and its your fault".

A few months passed with no signs of the curse. But that usually is a bad sign, like children who are too quiet. Something was bound to surface. Then in the past two weeks the following has happened

- On the way back from a retreat in the furthest village I got a flat in the middle of the jungle with the next village 10 km away. It was about 95 degrees. Well, we jack up the truck take off the spare only to find out someone has taken the tire iron out of the truck. (Who in their right mind takes a tire iron out of a truck that only drives on dirt roads?!) With Pat and I were 10 12 year old Maya children. We sent two boys to walk to the next village, we didn't know how far it was. So for two hours we sat and waited for help. We had no water, we were in the middle of the jungle so there was about 100% humidity and a lot of bugs swarming us. And I repeat 10 12 year children. I was going through all I could remember from Bear Grylls' survival information, except I could only remember the episodes where he is trapped in the Arctic, and building a snow cave to sleep in was not helpful at all.

After two hours we get help and make our way home.

-That weekend we are driving to the river. The river is the ideal spot during the heat, the sea is warmer than bath water. On the way back with two families in the back seat the truck breaks down. Not only does it break down but a freak rain hail storm begins. Just my luck. We sputter and break down after going about 20 yards. This continues for about 3 miles. By the end of the trip which normally takes a half hour (it took us 2 and a half hours) we end up pushing the truck into Ms. Cathy's driveway. She works with us at the Parish. A bus going into to town was just passing as this happened. We caught the bus into town but didn't have money to pay, thankfully the driver realized we were a mess and let us ride for free.

- Next up, within the same week. On the way back from a retreat the clutch breaks and we have to ride for 40 minutes in first gear from one village to the next. We also pop a tire. Double Whammy! (Before this incident I nearly broke my tailbone when I fell out of a tree into the river we were swimming in) We fix the tire, with the help of an ingenious teacher who made a ramp system to lift the truck. (I have a theory that all Maya men are engineers, carpenters, and electricians) The poor trucked limped home with us in it. nothing like a 3 and half hour commute home!

- The next day I get pulled over at a police check point and get a ticket for a tail light and blinker that are out.

Sweet Jesus I should never drive again. But my job has me travelling as far as 2 hours on the road to various villages. Something tells me this will only be the beginning and The Curse will rear its ugly head again.

I hope this entry made you smile, laugh or if you are my mom.... do a jig because I am no longer on the family car insurance.

ps. Doug, I hope The Curse doesn't impede my dream of being a member of the Glenn Gault Race Team. I promise not to touch the cars.

Belizean Sabbath

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