Caye Casa Seasons Greetings

 

Happy Holidays

Creole

     English is the official language of Belize; but, in truth, for 95% of all Belizeans, English is their second language.  Many speak Spanish or Garifuna or one of 5 Maya languages or German or Chinese or, my favorite  - Creole. 

     Here, in no special order, are three of my favorite sayings in Creole.  First, imagine the sun beating down, the salty smell of the sea, the lazy island time we all appreciate and a group of good friends gathered under the shade of a few palm trees.

"Da how?"

"Don't study her."

"From ever since."

             Said in greeting, given as advice, and placed in history, these, to me, need no translation.

"What part of the iguana do you like, Miss Julie?"

I was walking in the middle of a narrow stream on the edge of a tropical forest with a group of brothers who had been hunting iguana.  They'd been successful and wanted to share.  After I stopped laughing, I told them they could have my portion. 

People eat the strangest things here.  Strange, to me - not to them.  When I first went to a fish market, the vendor teased me because I said I didn't want the eyes of the snapper, nor the head. "Lone fillet?  You miss the best part, lady."

I've also been offered and eaten: cow foot soup, pea soup with pigtail, shark, and gibnut – which is also known as "the royal rat" because it was served to the queen when she was here during the last century.  

They tell me iguana taste like chicken. I still don't know what part I like best.

Cultural Differences

Here, if you hear: "I give you my word; I'll be there before the weekend."  You should have asked:  "Which weekend?"  It's important to pin down the speaker. Not only could it be the next weekend, it could be months from then. However, the person will appear.

Here, if you hear: "I'll be there shortly."  You might have to wait a few weeks and maybe then it won't happen. It depends on how many other things appear before your interests become a priority.

Here, if you hear: "I'll be there directly." Chances are you'll see that person by the end of the day. Maybe. At least, he won't make any side trips first – unless they are directly on the way. 

Here, time is not specific.  This evening could be anytime after lunch but before midnight. 

"Come for dinner." You invite your neighbor.

"Oh, we'd love to come." 

"Good. Come over after work. Around 6:30."

You work for hours preparing something delicious.  The appointed hour arrives and no one comes.  The next day you ask your neighbor if everything is okay.  Since they didn't come to dinner, you can't conceive of anything short of an illness keeping them away or from at least sending a message.

"Oh, we didn't think we'd come last night, maybe tonight?"

It's not being rude. It's just a different understanding of time, of eating habits, of meal preparation.  Why would anyone make a special meal for neighbors?

"We'll come tonight."

And they do. Around 9 pm. After you've given up, put everything away again and helped yourself to the rum.  They arrive with their three children and a Spanish speaking cousin from Honduras.  And they're hungry.

The word is good; the timing is a little off.  

Fishing Tournament

While captains hauled their catches from the boats, islanders gathered on the wooden wharf to glimpse the biggest fish to win the annual tournament.

Relatives and neighbors of the fishermen greeted each other in English – occasionally joking in Creole or calling out in Spanish as fish were carefully hauled to the weighing station.

Everyone ogled the Kingfish and Wahoo displayed at the end of the pier.

Tourists stood on tiptoes - their voices penetrating: "I wonder how it works? What kind of fish is that? Do you think this is the last day?" They squinted in the dusk and asked each other those questions in English as if they were the only ones watching. They appeared unaware of all others – staring past the islanders at the fish and the fishermen in the same way they eyed Angelfish while snorkeling. "Do you think they do this annually?"

A small boy made white by sun block separated from his tourist parents; knelt beside a pile of thick slimy fish. "Those are Barracudas." An equally small boy with naturally brown skin said. "I caught this one. Today's the last day; but, next year I'm going to do better."

The RT Honorable George Cadle Price

Yesterday, Belizeans watched as the Father of the Nation was buried and his life celebrated. All Belizeans knew him personally. The stories about him are endless, wonderful, and all are something like this – also true.

Mr. Price traveled throughout the country in his signature Land Rover as part of his continuous efforts to educate people about his dream of building an independent nation – Belize - free from British Colonialism. He needed support so he went directly to their homes.

One day in the mid 60's, he arrived in Dangriga at the home of one of his hundreds of god children. While greeting every person by name, asking about past illnesses or troubles, he was interrupted by the arrival of that god son. The boy's grandmother apologized in Creole – which sounded like a song when she spoke.

"This little boy won't go to school. He wants to stay out on the caye with his grandfather."

"We're going to need fishermen, too." Mr. Price replied.

Inside and Outside Brothers and Sisters

Probably the nicest thing about Belizeans is their incredible mix of races, colors, customs and languages.

When I first arrived (during the last century) I was appalled to hear a friend describe people passing in the streets by their ethnicity. He would point with his chin and say: "Oh, he's Garifuna. She's Chinee. He's Ketchie. They're Spanish. Light skin. She's a Coolie gal. Pretty hair. He's a Gringo. He's Creole but from Cayo. Why'd he go dread?"

I thought he was the most prejudiced person I had ever met until I realized he was related to, or knew the families of, most of the people passing by. It is such a small country, adding your background just adds spice to your description. Everyone is related to everyone else which is why a fantastic system has developed to describe relationships.

If you share the same mother, you are an inside brother or sister. If you share the same father, you are an outside brother or sister. Since most people are raised by grandmothers or aunts or older sisters in combinations with uncles, grandfathers and their current wives, the combinations are amazing and entertaining.

So, it's not uncommon to hear two Belizeans talking while pointing with a chin quickly at some person passing by : "I kinda know da one. He's my cousin. He was raised by my other grandmother in Placencia but I don't know him too good. He's my Uncle Neal's outside son by that Spanish Gal from San Pedro. She went to America. Lives in LA. Thinks she's white. Clear, clear skin. Man, with those dreads, she must tell everyone, he's an outside son. You know da who. One of her dark skinned daughters married the man in the lands office in Belmopan. What's his name? I think he went to jail. The one who's grandfather used to haul traps down by Monkey River?" The other would nod and say: "I know da one. His mother is my neighbor's sister's mother- in -law – the Chinee one. Last I heard, they'd moved to Orange Walk. One of his inside brothers is big into sugarcane. I think he has two children by that big Coolie woman who does barbecue by the bus station in Dangriga. "

It’s a rare Belizean family that doesn't include discarded relatives and adopted neighbors. It's wonderful.

Customs and Recycling

A few years ago, I lived on the mainland of Belize in a small wooden house on stilts with a shaded porch overlooking a nice patch of hibiscus, bougainvillea, three mango trees and some beautiful ferns. Shading the entire yard was an enormous avocado tree. Very lush tropical grounds. Plants thrive in that climate as do bugs and various other creatures.

I had invited some new friends over for dinner and one of the women very nicely offered to help me clean up. As I was carrying some dishes into the kitchen, I was surprised - to say the least - as she casually scraped the leftovers from our plates over the railing to the ground below. I'm embarrassed to say that my voice raised at least an octave as I said the obvious: "What are you doing?"

I could tell that she was equally surprised by my reaction. "I'm feeding the dogs. What they don't eat, the chickens from next door will. What were you going to do with them?"

She had a point, of course; but, all I could think was: "that explains the rats."

Directory Assistance in Belize

We love to communicate in Belize. It's a small country with a small population. During hurricanes people are constantly calling radio stations with phone numbers for friends or seeking information about missing relatives. So, I was not at all surprised to hear a message from Mrs. Rita Smith to have her son Massive call her as soon as possible – despite the great weather we've been enjoying.

Mrs. Rita Smith is the mother of our Captain Boxter. She has four sons in Belize - two nicknamed Massive. I called Capt Boxter to give him the message. (He is constantly dropping his cell phone in the water so his number was new and Mrs. Smith didn't have it) He didn't answer because he was snorkeling with Caye Casa guests at Hol Chan Marine Reserve.

A few minutes later, however, he called. "What's my Mom's number? Someone on another boat just hailed me and said Mrs. Smith needs to get in touch with Massive; but, his cell phone has been disconnected because his mother in law used it to call her relatives in the states and ran up a huge bill."

I gave him his Mom's number. "Which number do you have for the other Massive"? I asked. "The one he gave us last time belongs to his ex-wife and they don't believe in electricity. So I doubt it will work"

"Yeah, I know; but, I think they believe in it now because she won a washing machine." Captain Boxter shouted over the sound of waves crashing on the reef. "I wonder why she wants him and not me?"

"Call her and find out. Give her Benedict's number as well." I suggested. Benedict is the fourth brother. "He lives the closest if she needs help."

When Captain Boxter returned later that day, I was anxious to find out if Mrs. Smith was okay and if she'd gotten in touch with Massive – whichever one she needed.

"Yeah, sure." He answered – acting surprised that I was worried. "She just wanted our new cell numbers."