Danny and I spent the summer finding our bearings and adjusting to life in the bush. People always ask us how we are doing out here and my answer is usually the same…”every single day life gets better and easier.” We had to learn so much in such a short amount of time and when I really stop and think about the past 7 months I realize that how far we’ve actually come.
Community based training, although only a few months ago, now seems like a distant memory. Since our plane touched down in Belize we’ve moved a total of 9 times between hotels and host families. We’ve lived with 3 Mayan host families making up a total of nearly 20 people. We’ve learned how to make Mayan food and how to say about 200 words in Q’eqchi. We’ve seen weather ranging from a cool 78 degrees to a scorching 115 degrees. We’ve logged countless hours on buses and I’ve read 17 books. I think of these numbers and many more and still can’t believe we’ve been here for 7 months. The time is going by so fast. We are thankful because we miss our families, but as the weeks fly by we are constantly reminded to live each day to the fullest.
Our site is nestled in the forests of Belize. As I was walking down the only dirt road that runs through the village, a blind man in our community walked by. He’s a former Tumul K’in student and I was fortunate enough to see him graduate in June. As we passed I called out “Yos, shikwe” and he said “gud aftanoon”. It still amazes me how quickly people switch between English, Mopan, Q’eqchi, Spanish, and Creole. I’ve listened to one conversation between two people that included all of those languages rotated with perfect fluency and ease. Anyways, as we passed I started to think about the sounds of the village. I am continuously in awe of the magnificence of the trees, river, thatch houses, etc., but I had never simply closed my eyes and listened. As I walked I paid special attention to the sounds of the village and this is what I heard: chickens clucking, ducks splashing in the mud, children playing, horses clomping on the dirt road, trees rustling, dogs barking, marimba music, a motorcycle passed, the river calmly swooshed under the bridge, crickets chirped, the list could go on and on. I realized that even though the village is small made up of only a couple hundred people, it is completely alive. The peaceful sound of people living simple happy lives is something that will stick with me forever. There is nothing like the sound of kids playing in the river. They are so happy and carefree. This is a great place to grow up.
Speaking of moments, sights and sounds that you never forget….last week I was teaching my “life skills” class to a group of 25 kids under a thatch roof when all of a sudden the rain started pouring down. I could never accurately describe what rain on a thatch roof sounds like, but it’s safe to say that it is one of the most peaceful and serene sounds in the world. It’s a sound that slows your breathing down and makes you stop for a moment to give thanks to the universe. Yes, it is that wonderful. So, there I was teaching Mayan high school kids the importance of setting goals and advocating for themselves while the rain pours down onto the thatch and drips down in perfect little beads off the edge of the roof. It’s hard to explain, but in that moment I gave thanks for all the people who helped me get to this place in my life. Life isn’t always easy here, but moments like that serve as a constant reminder that in the Peace Corps and beyond life is made up of those little moments. It’s our responsibility to notice them, appreciate them, cherish them, and live for them.
Danny is sick of me saying this, but I truly believe that “you see what you look for”. I am choosing to look for beauty and magic, and I see it all around me.
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