Remembering Sunsets and Bare Feet

By Rachael

for Literary Nonfiction, ETSU, Fall 2004

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Contributor’s Note

The author is an undergrad student at East Tennessee State University. She is majoring in English with a minor in Journalism, and plans to graduate in December 2006. This is her story of a summer spent in Belize. After graduating, she plans to return to Belize and write a book about the Garifuna culture.

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People say when you experience something for the first time, it stays with you forever. I continuously think about all of my first experiences in Belize. I don’t want to lose one second of memory from that trip. It changed me and made me a better person. What started as an escape from reality, grew into realizing I would never be that close to reality again.

“Falla-fashin monkey cahn buy good soup guh dung a gully go eat dutty soup.”

“Follow-fashion monkey cannot buy good soup, so he goes down to the gully to eat dirty soup.” ~Old Belizian Proverb

My eyes couldn’t stay still. There were so many sights to see and take in. I took special notice of the barefoot and half-naked children running down the dirt road beside the bus, women with babies strapped to their backs and a basket full of fresh produce in their arms, and the men speeding along on bicycles ringing their bells for all to hear. When I decided to jump a plane to a foreign country, I never thought twice about how much my life would change. The events that took place during the summer I lived in Belize remain vivid in my mind. I still dream of bright red sunsets and water that is so crisp and cool, it takes your breath away. Every time I get in my car, I remember the long hike to church and how having more than one pair of shoes is such a blessing.

I stepped out of the smelly airport with my backpack on and bus ticket clenched hard in my hand. That smell, the stench of something rotten, still haunts me. I gag whenever it nears my nose. I would later learn that the smell came from the enormous trash piles that lay along the country side. What appeared to be mountains of trash to me, were someone else’s chance at survival.

“Git on da bus, pritty gurl.” The thick accent and enormous, dark hand startled me. The bald headed bus driver smiled at me and motioned. I laughed nervously and smiled at him, but averted my eyes because I felt like an exotic animal in a zoo. He had laugh lines around his eyes, and smelled of peppermint. I reluctantly boarded the bus. As it sped away, I started to think long and hard about what on earth I was doing in this place. I kept telling myself that I needed to become independent. This was a good opportunity for me, leaving everything familiar behind in the airport.

Two hours into the bus ride, I began to cry. Small tears at first, but then enormous sobs. Being a daddy’s girl, I was already missing him. He had begged me not to go, he pleaded that it was too dangerous. I just smiled and gave him a big hug. I knew that he wasn’t really trying to make me stay at home, he was just expressing his love. The woman sitting across from me offered a tissue. Somehow, I think she knew what I was feeling.

When the bus pulled up to my home for the summer, it wasn’t anything I had imagined. There was a tall fence that surrounded the house and iron bars covered all the windows. Was I in jail? I noticed a shower out on the patio. It was surrounded with a plastic curtain that had blue butterflies on it. I began to think a cold shower would feel wonderful, but out in the open? I would rather go dirty than to shower where all the Belizian men could stand in awe. How would I survive this heat? I began to think of my mom. She was still yelling out instructions for me to drink plenty of fluids and not to talk to strange men as I was boarding the plane. Drink plenty of water. If a person could drink their own sweat, I would have been in business. Later I would discover that my mom snuck some iodine tablets into my bag with a note that read, “I mean it. In case the water isn’t clean.” What a wonderful mother I have. She is always taking care of me.

A crowd of people stood outside the front gate. An older man was standing in front of the gate handing out bags of rice and beans. I made my way through the crowd and upon approaching the gate, I felt as if everyone was watching me. They were watching me. Even whispers in a different language send out the vibe that someone is talking about you.

“De American gurl be her now,” shouted the old man. I followed his voice up to the patio. A small girl came running down the steps and waving wildly. She kept shouting my name over and over. Soon I was surrounded by eight little girls jumping up and down, chanting my name. They led me into the house and to my room.

My room was so tiny that the twin-size bed barely fit. How it got through the door frame, I will never know. I threw my backpack down and ran to the window. I could see for miles. I watched every sunset that summer from my bedroom window. It didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing. I would run home right before dusk and sit at my window until the colors faded into darkness.

When it came time for my first meal, I was served something that looked like rice and wet dog food mixed together. The next two days, I lived in the bathroom. I thought of my dad again. He had taken me to the doctor’s office to get the immunizations I needed to go on this trip. The nurse stuck me in both arms and legs about two or three times each. They even made me take a rabies shot. Heaven forbid I come home foaming at the mouth. I was so sick and sore from the shots, I couldn’t walk. I remember my dad carrying me like a baby to my room. I started smiling as I pictured my father carrying his daughter around like she was two years old again. He brought me my favorite food that I eat when I’m sick. McDonalds and ice-cream.

Laying in the bathroom floor, I would given anything for a McDonald’s hamburger and coke. They didn’t have McDonalds in the village, so I settled for some water. At least my mom would have been satisfied.

My first shower in Belize was the worst experience of my trip. I had been warned about scorpions, but hadn’t actually ever seen one. Well, just so happens that one of those creatures decided to crawl into my towel and hide from the water. When I went to dry myself off, it stung me on my shoulder. If I hadn’t already drawn the attention of the Belizian men by showering outside, I certainly attracted attention with my screams of pain.

The first Sunday of my trip, everyone was up and about extremely early. I was about to find out why. A three mile walk to church? I stared blankly in horror. I love to hike and backpack in the mountains every chance I get. But for some reason, this time I wanted my car. How simple it would have been to jump in the Camry, roll the windows down and blast the radio. Well, not in this place. When I say walk three miles, I don’t mean on a road. We hiked through the jungle, across an old swinging bridge that could have fallen down at any moment, and waded through knee deep water that smelled of dirty diapers.

My days in Belize were mostly spent wandering around the village, and helping in the clinic when I was needed. During my free time, I thought a lot about home. How I missed it. Why on earth had I ever wanted to leave the comfort of familiarity? Strangely enough, life in the village had become familiar. I considered building my own hut and living there forever instead of returning home. Yeah right. I knew where I belonged, but it was nice to experience a different culture.

On the plane ride home, I was given funny looks. I knew it was because of my appearance. I was extremely tan and my hair was in braids. My clothes were dirty and torn. One of my shoes was being held together with duct tape. I hadn’t showered with real soap all summer, so I know I smelled awful. I probably smelled like garbage, but my nose didn‘t know the difference anymore. My mom made me wash off with the garden hose before I could come inside the house, and for the rest of the summer, she called me her “Belizian princess.”

This place I had traveled to was surrounded with uncertainty. The people there sometimes don’t know if they’ll survive another week. I was left thinking I had found a little piece of paradise, only to realize it was a chance to discover how lucky I was for the life I had been running from.