Two twos

This is what a birthday looks like in Belize

The National Tour

So this past week, me and 55 students from Standard VI went on the annual National Tour to get some experiential learning based around the Social Studies section of the PSE. We left on the bus at a little after two in the morning and six hours later we were in Belize City for a whirlwind tour that would take us up the country, across the country, back across, and then down again.

The Met Service
Our first stop on the tour after breakfast in Belmopan was at the Meteorological Service, where we got to see their old equipment and new radar that they haven’t learned how to use yet. This was funny because our joke here is that the weathermen on TV seem to be telling you today’s weather as if it is tomorrow’s and hoping no one will notice. It was fun to see there stuff, though, even though the kids were already exhausted from staying up on the bus all night.

Oren checkin out the crafts at the HOC

House of Culture
Our next stop was at the House of Culture, which was cool because it used to be the Governor’s Mansion while Belize was still a colony. Now, it’s somewhat of a museum and art gallery displaying different kinds of art from around the country. The kids were far more excited about the two giant cruise ships that were parked out beyond the reef on the sea. I don’t blame them, though. Mostly it was old gubernatorial furniture and china.

The Museum of Belize
The Museum of Belize was our next stop and may have been one of the highlights of the whole trip. The Museum used to be Her Majesty’s Prison (talk about a name that asserts colonial power) all the way until 1993 when it was converted to house some amazing collections of Mayan art and jade, old relics from 19th century Belize City, stamps, and a collection of old woodcutting supplies. They had done a masterful job of remodeling the historic building and had even kept one of the old cells to show just crappy it was to be a prisoner at HMP. Another fun thing was that I had just gone over a story about Marcus Garvey with my students and they were able to recall it when they saw a picture of him on a trip he had taken to Belize. Yay for retention!

Old Belize
Finally, we went to Old Belize for a much appreciated lunch and rest. Old Belize is a fantastically strange tourist attraction built for people coming straight off of the cruise ships to “get a taste of Belizean history”. It is home to a beach with a zipline and a waterslide, a bar and restaurant, and life-sized replicas of a rainforest, a Mayan house, old nineteenth century industrial supplies and a recreation of a street in nineteenth century Belize City. The crown jewel in this collection is an actual old locomotive used to carry logs to Belize City. It was a fun way to get the students to see history as not just some artifacts behind a glass. The kids loved the restaurant, which is one of the only restaurants in the whole county big enough to house a group of 60. The other tourists there looked a little offput by the sudden influx of locals, which I found hilarious. The kids were weirded out by the historical recreations of their ancestor’s homes. At the “Garifuna exhibit” of a wooden shack with a dirt floor one of the students said “that’s not what my house looks like!” and one of the others replied “no it’s what they USED to look like!”

And Then,,.
By the end of the day we were all exhausted and took the bus halfway across the country to stay at the Belizean FIFA headquarters in Belmopan. It was an unimpressively small building with an unimpressive football stadium behind it. Actually, for Belize it wasn’t that unimpressive considering that football largely takes a backseat to basketball here. After we showered we took the bus across the rest of the country to have dinner at Hode’s (ho-dees) in San Ignacio, another one of the only restaurants to hold 60. Hode’s however, also had a video arcade and ice cream: pleasant treats after a hard day’s work. So we got back and the girls went upstairs to sleep in beds while we slept on cots on loan from the national disaster relief organization. I crashed hard and Mr. Nolberto was left to manage the 20 boys as their sugar rushes died into sugar comas

National Tour (Day 2)

Those documents are from 1792!

The National Archives
Te next morning we woke up at 6 for another ambitious schedule. The National Archives ended up being far more amazing that I could have imagined and were the highlight of the trip for me and Mr. Salam. I was expecting an air conditioned building with files full of old newspapers and birth certificates. It was exactly that, until the tour guide started pulling out old historical documents and showing them around. There was a census from 1827 that included slaves (with names like “Coffee” and “Rum and Water”). The crown jewel, however, was the original minutes of the Magistrates Meetings from 1797. This was the original form of self-government used by the old Baymen before Belize was officially under the British crown. She even let me hold and read the faded document that listed who would leave or stay during the Spanish invasion that led to the Battle of St. George’s Caye, the battle that effectively ousted the Spanish from British Honduras. So basically I got to hold the document that eventually led to the creation of Belize. I got a tingle in my spine unlike any I’ve ever felt before. Yeah. I’ve seen the Magna Carta, The Declaration of Independence, a Gutenberg Bible, John Locke’s handwriting, and the Book of Kells among many other historical documents but they were all behind layers of bulletproof glass, hermetically sealed, and as distant and abstract as the centuries they were written in. Sure, this document didn’t have quite the same impact on world history but holding it I was awash with a sense of who they people were who wrote it and what they must have felt as their settlement was at the brink of collapse. Ultimately, yes, this document should be preserved and will probably be mere scraps in a hundred year, but I would never trade anything for that feeling. The students, meanwhile got most excited about old postcards of PG.

The National Assembly
After our trip to the Archives, we went across Belmopan to the National Assembly, the seat of the Belizean Government. The capital was actually moved from Belize City in 1964 after Hurricane Hattie when everyone realized that maybe an easily flooded coastal city isn’t the best place for the country’s most important everything. So in much the same idea as Brasilia, they decided to build a whole new city of bureaucracy around which a population would eventually arise. Unlike Brazil, however, Belize only had 200,000 people at the time and through the 80’s Belmopan was a ghost town where politicians would go to get their business done and then get the hell out. In the 90’s however, refugees poured into the west from civil wars in El Salvador and Guatemala, and now Belmopan is one of the three largest towns in the nation. As a product of the Bauhaus architecture of the 60’s the capital buildings are depressing concrete slabs that are supposedly inspired by Mayan architecture but look like a self-important state college campus. On the inside, the National Assembly is a bland concrete building that would be embarrassing as the seat of government of a medium sized town in the States. Outside of architecture, though, it was amazing to be in such an intimate setting as the capital of a nation. I got to walk on the floor of the Assembly, which was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I expected to see Prime Minister Barrow at any point walking in to pick up a forgotten paper or something. And, everyone got a kick out of the fact that one of the Senators in named Senator Salazar.

Western Dairies
We left Belmopan for the western Cayo District where we once again had lunch at Hode’s before heading to the Mennonite settlement at Spanish Lookout. Spanish Lookout was very different from what I expected. Instead of the bearded, blue shirted, buggy driving Mennonites that we have here in Toledo (and no, I haven’t gotten a chance to meet Mary Ragen’s nephew here yet), the Mennonites in Cayo were just a bunch of blonde folks in cowboy hats. The Mennonites are known for the industrious farming, bargain prices on imports, and Western Dairies. We were supposed to have a tour of the dairy but new health regulations didn’t permit it. And a weird thing was that when the students went to go get ice cream, the black students always got served last. Every time. Apparently the Mennonites here have a reputation for being racist. So after getting ice cream, we went to their bargain shopping center for bit, and we finally drove home down to PG.

Final Thoughts
Overall, it was a fantastic trip. I obviously got a lot of it and the bigger nerds in the class were also taking voracious notes. A lot of kids complained that the places we visited were boring, but kids generally complain a lot when they’re tired and hungry. One student complained really loudly that the trip sucked. I asked him what he thought of the trip when we got back from Hode’s and he said he loved it. It was also fun to be with the students outside of class. Generally, the kids and myself are friendly and joking outside of the classroom and it’s only in the class that the battle lines get drawn between me and the trouble-makers. So for two days it was like we were on extended break joking and talking and me sometimes telling someone to stop fooling around or take of their hat. I’m finally developing a relationship with my students which feels great. In fact, at Spanish Lookout I was talking with two of my biggest goof-offs while eating ice cream. During the conversation, one of them referred to me as a tourist obviously meaning it as an insult and seeing 1. if I was sly enough to catch his veiled insult and 2. if I would say anything about it. I would freely admit that I am a tourist but before I was able to say anything, the other guys said “Hey quit it. He didn’t mean it, sir.” He was actually defending me against his friend! So I guess some of the students are beginning to appreciate me, even if they give me crap in class.

I Lost the Crown

Last night we had fish for dinner and I finished quite hastily because I had to go work on my JVC application and lesson plans. Needless to say, I lost the crown for the first time in weeks. Ok, maybe I should explain the crown first. Since my second night in PG, Stefan and Camille have challenged me to an eating contest every dinner. I cleaned them out that first night of the contest (we had fried chicken that night and Stefan was left agape at how much fried meat I could consume in one sitting). However, the next night I was flabbergasted myself when I finished my plate and excused myself, prompting Camille to declare proudly that she had vanquished me and “won the crown”. I had eaten twice as much as she had and in half the time no less! Then I realized that in Stefan and Camille’s eyes, the amount of time sitting at the table is in direct correlation to the amount of food consumed. Since then I’ve held the crown unchallenged (until last night) as I gorge myself on two helpings and then just sit at the table patiently sipping my watermelon or soursop juice and talking to Marion and Patricia about politics or my family or my life goals or whatever. This has become one of my cherished little rituals here, and one of the highlights of my homestay so far. I’m really glad that I’ve been able to live with a family.

Another funny little ritual of mine also comes on Tuesdays and involves my antimalarial. Since I have to take one pill of chloroquine every week, I’ve found that counting my chloroquinet is a fun way to count down the weeks until I’m back in Seattle. Right now, I have 10 pills (10 – 3 weeks after I get back – 2 extra pills just in case = 5 weeks). Can you believe I’m only here for 5 more weeks? Neither can I. Especially since I only have three and half weeks at Claver, then a week in Guatemala with Sean Rawson, then a week in Belize City with the Camp Min crew. I know it’s going to go by quickly. On Thursday, 50 of the STD VI students and all of the STD VI teachers are going on the Annual overnight National Tour to go visit government buildings in Belmopan, museums in Belize (City), and Mennonites in Cayo. I’m really excited and I’m pretty sure I’m going to get more out of the trip than most of my students (yeah, I’m a huge nerd and I’m fine with that). Then next week is my birthday! Sweet!

The Day Jeff Blake Saved My Soul

Sometimes God acts through us. I witnessed this this past week when I got a package from my good friend from high school, Jeff. I opened the package to find a brand new copy of one of my favorite books, The Spitwad Sutras: Classroom Teaching as Divine Vocation by Robert Inchausti. It is about the author’s trials, tribulations, and revelations in his first year of teaching at an all boys Catholic High School in California. Anyone who went to an all boys high school will read it and immediately recognize the themes of pettiness, rudeness, youth, and boredom as well as the usual antics that occur whenever you get more than 100 boys together in one place at one time. Needless to say, this is one of my favorite books for its insight and relevance. Ultimately it is a praise of the struggles and triumphs of the classroom teacher. So, it was exactly what I needed in my life right now. Thanks, Jeff.

Here are two of my favorite quotes:
“’We don’t know how to teach them, ‘ Mike would say. ‘And they don’t know how to learn from us. So they use us as foils to figure out the system, in hopes that they’ll never have to grow up. And we don’t confront them about this, because we don’t have any alternatives to the system. The only thing we offer them is the intolerable option of becoming like us!’”
“To survive as a teacher, one must master the art of creative suffering. Like Ghandi’s nonviolent soldiers of truth, the dedicated teacher must walk into the assault of pettiness and disinterest every day with no expectation of victory – serene only in the hope that the abuse one endures is redemptive and encouraged by the conviction that teaching is, above all other things, an art of endurance.”

These insights have been very important to me as I’ve slowly been able to try to connect with my students over the short period of ten weeks. I think classes are going better but my students are still bored, and petty, and immature. I can’t make them grow up, they have to do that on their own. All I can do is hope that my work is helping them on their road to adulthood. Meanwhile, I’m learning just not to take the crap my students give me so personally.

In other news, the Ministry of Education has been here all week doing assessments and making everyone far too stressed out. I’ve been trying to make it bearable by pretending they are from the Ministry of Magic and are searching for clues to horcruxes among the lesson plans. Volunteers are not supposed to be observed but I got semi-observed twice. Actually, I was subbing in STD IV and was trying to get the students to quiet down. An MOE rep walked in to see what they hell was going on, saw me, heard my accent, shook her head, and walked away. Creative suffering. Creative suffering. Creative suffering…

The Roomie

So I haven’t mentioned this to anyone yet, but I have a roommate. His name is Oscar and he is loud and stays up all night long. And he mostly stays in the bathroom all the time. And he’s a wild gecko. Oscar is a generous soul, because he’s always leaving presents for me. In the morning I will go into the bathroom to get ready to conquer the day and find little pellets of dry gecko crap on the toilet or on the floor of the bathtub. What a guy. Luckily we both like the same TV shows and have had a blast watching 30 Rock together.

Oscar

Oscar's present

Oh, that reminds me that I’ve forgotten to mention another curiosity about life in PG. Almost everyone here almost regardless of income has cable from a satellite in town that picks up a feed from New York City. So I get basic cable (minus Comedy Central and my favorite CBC) plus HBO, Cinemax, TMC, and Starz. It’s a little surreal but it’s also been a great way to wind down after a day of teaching and just tune out for a little bit before writing another series of lesson plans while watching 300 or end-to-end syndicated episodes of Seinfeld. Luckily, I haven’t been bored enough yet to watch the local NYC newscast. So I’ve been able to keep up with college basketball and the state of the gigantic Demorama sandwich (with pork!) of a stimulus package. It’s funny because Marion hates getting involved in Belizean politics and would much rather talk about politics in the States. So I watch Wolf Blitzer with him and then Patricia and I get to find out what’s actually going on in our neck of the Hemisphere on the Belize 5 news while Marion cooks or goes to teach curriculum development at the University of Belize. By the way, the cane riots ended after the first day but the cane farmers are still on strike. And yes, I did get to watch Superbowl XLIII. One of the PeaceCorps folks works at the local eye clinic and gets to live upstairs for free. So she borrowed the projector from downstairs and we watched the Superbowl on a bed sheet nailed to the wall of a Belizean eye clinic. The surreality is just too much to bear. My favorite commercial involved a Koala being punched in the face, but we all got an ironic kick out of a big screen TV commercial that said “If your TV doesn’t say Vizio right here (arrow points to bottom of sheet) you’re not getting the full experience”.

R.I.P. Millard Fuller

A Picture of Millard Fuller and his wife, and Clarence Jordan.

Ok, so this doesn't have much to do with Belize, but Monday marked the passing one of the great Americans of the 20th century. Millard Fuller was a self-made millionaire who one day decided to give away all of his wealth because it seemed to be tearing his family apart. He was traveling through the South with them when they happened upon Koinonia Farm. Koinonia had been quite literally a battle ground in the civil rights movement as a desegregated communal Christian farm at the edge of Americus, Georgia, a town that was known at the time as equal to Selma, Alabama in its racism (I've been to Koinonia, and it truly is a holy place of peace). Once Millard met the founder of Koinonia, Clarence Jordan, the two hit it off right away. Both charged by a calling to do God's work for the poor, they began many projects to get people homes and land in Americus. After Clarence died, Millard used the framework of their work together to found Habitat for Humanity. Rest in Peace, Millard Fuller, and may your calling live on in all of our lives.

They Named a Mayan Village After My Dad

San Miguel

First off, this past weekend officially marked the longest period of time I have ever spent abroad. An important milestone indeed. On Sunday, Patricia invited myself and Kristie and Lauren and their boyfriends to visit her family in the Mayan village of San Miguel. So the Nolbertos (including me), made room for the Minnesotans and the Canadians in the truck and headed into the jungle. When we arrived, we dropped off the kids and Patricia to chat with her family and Marion drove us even further into the jungle to Tiger Cave.

On the drive, I thought to myself that I was entering the Jungle episode of Planet Earth (this made me pretty excited since the Jungle episode is my favorite). Then Jon spotted the national bird (my first wild toucan sighting!) and I knew I was in the Jungle episode of Planet Earth. Slowly, the voice of David Attenborough entered my head and narrated the rest of our journey. Then we got to the cave and walked around the mouth and all of a sudden we were in the Caves episode of Planet Earth. Patricia’s brother James told us that people have walked for miles inside the cave and still not found the end. Apparently the last Classical Mayans in Belize used caves like these to keep fresh water and keep their civilization alive. Of course, I started walking into the cave while everyone else got bored and started swimming in the river. Eventually we had a diving competition and got nibbled by little river fish. It was definitely one of the more awesome days I’ve had in Belize.

Lauren and Kristie summit a rock while Jon and Matt explore the floor. Eat your heart out BBC.

When we got back, the Krisite and Lauren volunteered to help make tortillas (no men allowed) and mostly got laughed at by the rest of the Cal clan. Then we ate a delicious meal of Caldo, a chicken soup (more chicken, surprise surprise). I didn’t get to talk with the Cal’s much, which was regrettable, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned since being in PG it’s that Mayans don’t easily open up to strangers, something which I won’t try to impose.

One thing which I wish I had gotten a chance to talk about was the recent constitutional referendum in Bolivia which granted more indigenous rights than has ever been granted since Columbus got lost on his way to India (in my opinion, Columbus was an idiot who obviously didn’t know anything about the people he was trying to steal wealth from in the first place and didn’t even know the difference between a Tamil and an Arawak). The referendum took place without any violence, the threat of which, if you didn’t already know, was what kept me from going to Bolivia for 6 months instead of Belize. So I now know in hindsight that I could have gone to Bolivia without a hitch. Ironically, it’s actually more violent in Belize where the sugar cane farmers are rioting in Orange Walk since the government bought a machine (called a core sampler in case you’re interested) which checks the quality of their cane instead of simply giving them a flat rate per pound. So far four people have been injured and one person has died. Don’t worry, though, Mom. Orange Walk is on the other side of the country and there is no sugar in Toledo, so I feel as removed from the riots as if I was in Bolivia. Anyways, I’m glad now that I can graduate with my own class and enter an unforgiving job market at the height of its unforgivableness.

The ladies makin' tortillas.

Belize Fun Fact: The national flag of Belize is the only national flag in the world with people on it.