1/20/09

I have never been more drained both mentally and emotionally in this way before. I skipped writing yesterday so I must go back and re-cap even though by now yesterday's events seem like a distant memory. We got up and ate breakfast with the crew from the Belize project at Tony's as has become tradition by now. I had re fried beans and scrambled eggs. our first appointment of the day was at the Minister of Education. A man named Mr. Kukul who is in charge of the curriculum for all of the public schools in the Corazol district and has the power to push the government to make our teaching workshops accredited. This would be instrumental as it would give the teachers additional incentive to attend in order to fulfill their hourly requirements for workshops. This man was the highest ranking official we had met with up to this point and neither of us had any idea how he was going to react to a proposal of this magnitude coming from two barely twenty something white guys from the United States. Just to imagine that two gringos were about to sit in front of a Belizean official was somewhat overwhelming. Surely this was appointed by the Lord. We sat in a small room across from a solid wooden desk on little wooden chairs so close that my knees touched the front of Mr. Kukul's desk. His manner was very deliberate and he never smiled as he pulled our proposal from a stack of official looking papers. He had been given the proposal by Zac during his last visit. Zac introduced me and I shook his hand. He proceeded to ask the spelling of my name as he penned it next to the other on the cover sheet of the proposal in order to attach some accountability to it's contents I assumed. In the background, the radio was playing and I could make out the inaugural prayer for the induction of the new President, Barack Obama. Mr. Kukul got right into the program skipping any small talk. He stated that he thought the program was good and the he wanted to support it. Clearly all of the preparation and leg work done by Zac and the other volunteers had given us some credibility. Zac began to explain how we would like to expand the pilot program in the San Narciso school to a handful of other schools in the Corazol region. He was very open to the idea and even gave us a list of schools he would like to see included. He also told us that he would need to get some kind of commitment from the other schools in order to recommend accreditation for the workshops. He then went down the list of schools and told us he would call ahead of our tentative meetings with the schools so the faculty would be expecting us when we arrived the next day. We thanked him for his time, shook his hand, and left his office. My pace out of the office was intentionally measured so as not to look too eager as internally I wanted to sprint out and shout at the top of my lungs to express the excitement I was feeling from this encounter. The meeting couldn't have been more successful by Zac and my measurements. In reality, I had done very little but listen and give the occasional encouraging word. But for me, the experience was invaluable. For the first time during the trip I felt as if I had enough understanding and grasp of the situation around me to jump in and actually help. Zac and I both drove away from the meeting with a renewed sense of purpose and hopeful excitement for what lay ahead of us.

When we arrived back to our room there was a note on the door from Jeremy, "I've gone walking into town until I find the first place that has hot coffee." After driving for a few minutes we found him wandering the streets of Corazol with a bag of bananas in his hand. We picked him up and all went to a little open air restaurant called Joe Mellon's'. Zac wanted me to try the rice and beans as it was a Belizean signature dish and said it was a must. I would find out later that my stomach would not agree with his opinion. We sat and ate chicken and rice and beans witha large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. In the states, when you order orange juice you usually get the crap made by Minute Maid and if you're lucky enough to get fresh squeezed, it only comes in a 4 oz. glass that is hardly enough to satisfy your craving. This was a huge glass goblet full of the real deal with a chunk of ice to keep it cool. Even though it had a few mysterious floaters skimming along the top, it was delicious and cool. It was the perfect cap on the morning's scenario.

After our meal and conversation, we dropped Jeremy back at the apartment and headed to our next meeting. It was with the head of the RC schools which I later discovered stood for Roman Catholic. Like much of the Latin American countries, the Roman Catholic church has enjoyed quite a strong hold in Belize. There are two types of schools in the country, those run by the government and those run by the Roman Catholic Church. It is very similar to the private and public school system in the U.S. Mr. Magana's office was located in a small musty office behind an elaborate Catholic Cathedral just off one of the main streets in Corazol. Inside, the walls were made of large hand chipped blocks painted white with a large antique safe on one wall with the words Ohio and United States stamped on the door just below the large dialed lock. He sat at a large wooden desk with a window to his back that was about seven feet off the floor. It allowed a steady stream of light from the outside to illuminate otherwise invisible dust particles floating through the air. The room reminded me of a scene from Escape from Alcatraz and I was in front of the warden awaiting my cell assignment. Despite the somewhat intimidating surroundings Mr. Magana was very warm and seemed genuine. We discussed the morning's meeting with Mr. Kukul and shared the conclusions from it. We shared the idea to expand the program to the surrounding schools which he too agreed with and assured us of his full support. It was sometime during this meeting that I had the ah-ha moment.

Out of nowhere i just suddenly knew what needed to be done and how the program needed to be structured. It was almost like a moment of clarity where my mind was free of anything that could cause it to be distracted and a laser beam of understanding was pulsed through my mind allowing it to see beyond the present and to know with absolute certainty the answer to a problem. Only the Lord could have revealed such an idea in my head so clearly and suddenly. When we left the meeting and got back to our blue Diahatsu, I began to share my plan with Zac. We would form a Belizean committee made up of one chosen representative from each school in the program. This committee would answer to one man whom we appointed to be the representative for Sports Servants in Belize, Jesus Ek. He was an obvious choice as he has been Sports Servants' number one supporter from the beginning and shares our vision for it's future. Jesus would be responsible for gathering the committee once a month in order to get feedback from the schools as well as help teach and communicate directives from the main Sports Servants headquarters in the U.S. He would also be able to communicate directly with us the needs of the schools and the children in the program. This way, a much needed line of communication and structure could be created to allow Sports Servants to be affective even when there is not a physical presence.

We immediately went back to the hotel Maya and began to writing out the business model and invitation letter. We decided the best way to deliver the information was to package the invitation to participate, curriculum sheet, and a commitment form along with a DVD of previous workshops. This form would be returned with either a yes or no on the commitment sheet to relay the school's intention to participate or not. These sheets would then be returned along with the name and contact information of a teacher representative to Jesus. Once all of the forms were filled out and returned, copies would be given to Mr. Kukul in order to give him incentive and proof that the schools were indeed interested in the project aiding the accreditation process for the workshops. We gathered all of the materials typed up and printed out on Zac's computer and filled manila folders with them. We would take them along to the school meetings tomorrow and deliver them with our proposal to the school's faculty.

It had been a long day of planning and I was exhausted but the schedule for tomorrow was even more gruelling. I was excited and felt a sense of worth for actually being of use for the first time since arriving. I was gearing up for the cold calls on schools we would be making in the morning and felt as if I had found why the Lord had brought me on this trip. My work in the United States aligned very well with our task here. We were essentially selling this program to complete strangers, people and a culture I was completely unfamiliar with. It was just another example of the Lord's faithfulness and strength giving me the means, boldness, and ability to go and do something I truly have no training for or would have previously thought possible. I ended the day with a feeling of peace as I was sure I had seen God move. Little did I know that He had much more planned for tomorrow.

1/19/09

In an attempt to keep up with my writing, I am going to try and compress my stories at the risk of leaving out some details. Today we woke up and Zac had been asked to speak at a local elementary school assembly. Jesus, one of the local coaches/teachers who has been instrumental in Sports Servant's progress here asked him to give some words of encouragement. I first met Jesus yesterday at a local soccer tournament put on by a group that is somewhat like an intramural league in the U.S. We arrived at the school to find the children in the school yard organized and lined up by grade listening to their Principal's announcements for the day. Armed with Zac's video camera, I snuck behind the children and positioned myself to tape his speech. It was good to hear the passion in his voice he clearly has for this project as he thanked the students and teachers for their involvement. He also laid out his vision for the future and his vision for their school to be a model for the other village schools.

After the speech, the kids were dismissed and they filled back to their classrooms. We began to speak with Mr. Moranis, another teacher and another very strong reason for Sports Servants success at San Narciso. As we chatted about how the program has been working and challenges they still face, I began to notice the children walking back into the school yard with toothbrushes in hand. They all stood in line dipping their brushes in a cup of water they held int he other hand and brushed their teeth. It was funny to see and hear them as they repeatedly produced the familiar foamy white discharge one gets from a good tooth scrubbing and then spit it on the ground. Jesus explained it was part of a program put together by Loyola University who brought supplies annually and gave free checkups to the children and other villagers. It helped me to grasp the depth of the needs of these people. They truly are without so much in life that I have grown up with and taken for granted without a second thought. Yet while the clearly absent basic necessities were evident all around me, there seemed to be a common theme of genuine contentment and happiness I was unable to put my finger on. The sadness and despair I would think would be associated with doing without is not as present as I would have expected. In fact, the opposite seems to be true. Most of the people seem upbeat and generally friendly. Being a visitor, I may be seeing parts of society that are not jaded, but I have a sense that the atmosphere is genuine. It makes me re-think and evaluate my own ideas of happiness and what that truly looks like. I am saddened to say that overall these people seem to be much happier with their plot in life than many Americans I know. It begs the question, who then truly is the poor country?

After a few hours we left the school on our way to meet with yet another principal of a high school when suddenly we were distracted by a monkey. We stopped at a house where a young boy was digging a trench and got out. Zac, as with most people in Corazol, knew the boy and greeted him. As we got closer, we could clearly see the monkey was attached to a tree by a collar. We learned from the boy the monkey's name was Poncho and he was a one year old Spider Monkey. i was absolutely excited to get the chance to see a monkey up close in the wild as I have asked for one for Christmas ever since I could remember. As I got close enough to get into a picture with Poncho, but not getting but being careful not to get within reach of his leash, the boy said it was O.K. for him to climb on me. I reached my hand out and Poncho walked over and wrapped his little hand around my fingers and threw his tail around my neck. I was officially boarded and was amazed at how strong he truly was. He climbed all over me and grabbed my glasses off my head. I was so excited yet scared that I was going to be bitten at the same time. After about two minutes I walked away so the leash could pull Poncho free from me as there was definitely no way of "putting him down." Finally all of his limbs were pulled from me and I was free. It was one of the coolest things I've been able to do and I am a little embarrassed to admit how much I enjoyed the experience.

Later in the day we traveled back to town and to Tony's. This is the resort where the girls are staying and we have been eating most of our meals. While Zac and i ate lunch, a strange yet accurate metaphor for my first experience in Belize came to me. In the movie, "The Abyss," Ed Harris' character is going to dive off of a trench wall in the middle of the ocean thousands of feet deep. In order to do this he must use an unconventional breathing system. Fictional of course, this system requires him to breath in liquid oxygen that they demonstrate on a rat to prove it will indeed no drown him. In dramatic Hollywood fashion, they place a helmet on Ed's head and slowly fill it with a pink liquid resembling pink lemonade. As the helmet fills up, he begins to panic and doesn't want to breath in the liquid. As his options run out, he is forced to take in the fluid into his lungs. After a few panic filled breaths, his body relaxes and he begins to breath normally and on his own again. This reaction reminds me of the first twenty four hours I experienced in Belize. The culture and surroundings are so unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Nothing around me is common or familiar. My mind went into somewhat of a panic as I refused to accept this reality presented in front of me. But, once I was able to accept this reality and allow myself to experience it, I realized I could exist in it and survive. Even though, like breathing liquid instead of air, it was a little more difficult and uncomfortable, I was able to do it. I am truly grateful for God allowing me to uncomfortably experience this and allow me to open my eyes to a whole new perspective on a world I was unable to see or comprehend in it's entirety prior to today. I only hope that I will know how to proceed from this point forward.

1/18/09

This morning the 18th of January, I woke to the sounds of the North Highway cars going by as all of the windows in the apartment were open. It was actually quite cold in our room. I had retrieved my Vandy zip up hoodie a couple of hours earlier as there are no blankets, just the leopard sheets I brought with me. I went to the bathroom and spit in the sink only to discover my saliva had turned ink black. I stuck my tongue out and to my dismay, it appeared as if I had been sucking on a charcoal briquette all night. Thinking I had contracted the pl age of Belize, I somewhat panicked and ran to Zac for advice. He didn't know what was wrong with me either but found out later that if you take Pepto pills just before bed, they turn your tongue black. So, I wasn't suffering from any mysterious South American plague after all.

We left for church and i was absolutely uncertain of what we would find or even what church looked like in Belize. As we drove past the droves of dilapidated houses, I couldn't help but think how very different this Sunday was from every other I had ever experienced. At home, I would wake up and decide whether or not I really wanted to go to church that particular morning. If I decided I should, the I would make the long trek to the bathroom twenty feet from the comfort of my California King bed to the hot, clean shower. I'd pick and dress from an assortment of items in my walk in closet, grab a quick snack if I felt like taking the time to search the fully stocked cupboard, and hop into my car to hopefully make it to church somewhat on time. As we pulled up to the concrete building via a grass covered path, I realized this was like no church I had ever attended before.

The mega church I went to in high school had shuttles to take us from the mammoth parking lot filled with shiny new cars. We would then be dropped in front of the escalator that would then deliver us to the front door and into the lobby. Instead of a shuttle this day, we had our feet following a crude path through an overgrown field. In place of an escalator, burnt trash piles and a single pured concrete step greeted us. The service was already in progress when we arrived. The congregation of about 15 or so sat in roughly built pews facing a Belizean pastor speaking from a tile laden pulpit behind a plain wooden podium. He was speaking Spanish and as we sat down, he acknowledged our presence and welcomed us in English. He led the church in Spanish hymns accompanied by synthesized music from a CD player hooked to speakers. I later learned those speakers were donated by an American church in Nashville, TN. I did my best to keep up, reading the hymn words off of a photocopied sheet that had the words written in both English and Spanish. I now understand how those first reading the Rosetta Stone must have felt.

The pastor then informed us in English that this was the part of the service where they greeted each other and asked one of us to stand up and introduce the group. Charles, a freshman at the University of Tennessee who had already made a few trips to the church in years past, took the honors and listed off our names for the congregation. Some music began to play and I was swarmed and formally greeted with a smile, a handshake, and a broken English "welcome" from every person in the building. We then broke up and went to another part of the building that had two flights of very steep pured concrete stairs leading to a second floor with nothing but concrete walls, windows with steel louvered blinds and no glass, and a stack of plastic chairs. The feel of the room was that of a building still in construction when all that had been constructed was the foundation and concrete block walls.

We joined one of the two groups that had begun to gather in adjacent rooms. This group was constructed of 10-18 year olds and the other of preschool to third grade. They let us attend this group because the main congregation's Sunday school class would be entirely in Spanish. One of the Belizeans taught a lesson, mostly in Spanish, and then we all memorized a Bible verse in both English and Spanish. Genesis 1:2, "Man was created in the image of God, in the image of God He created them, Male and Female he created them." While this was going on, I could hear the younger children in the room next to us singing a familiar tune. The words were in Spanish but I recognized the song as "All in All" . I got goosebumps listening to them and it made me realize something I had been trying to understand but had been unable to up to this point in the U.S. Every Christian worships the same God across the world, and no one person's method is more recognized or blessed than others. This thought forced me to think and confront my own ideas about others in my own society. How we in the United States have a tendency to look down at illegal immigrants from Mexico or others who aren't American. Even if it is subconsciously, it is still there. How it must feel for the section of "English as a second language" who aren't quite like the rest of the 2000 plus congregation around them. Well here I was, role reversed, and I was welcomed openly and more readily than in most of the churches I had attended growing up. I was convicted. We returned to the main church building and stood by groups, one by one in front of the rest of the church and shared what we had learned in our Sunday school class. The pastor said a finally prayer in Spanish, and we were dismissed. I will never forget the kindness and genuine acceptance I felt from the people around me during that church service. This was truly an example of how Christ's love and acceptance is meant to be.

1/17/09

I am sitting in the Dallas terminal waiting for Zac to arrive where we will be boarding our plane to Belize. It seems like the weeks leading up to this point have been so busy dealing with work and family issues that I am only just now understanding what may lie ahead in the coming week. I am both nervous and excited to start this adventure. I have never left the country and the process allowing me to get here on the verge of realizing this, a life goal of mine, has been exciting.

While I am excited, going to a new place that I have heard is so beautiful, it is not lost on me the reason for my travel. I am going on a mission trip to help those who are less fortunate than myself and spread the message of Jesus Christ. This is not an undertaking I take lightly and have felt some feelings of conflict. Feelings that tell me I'm not good enough to share the gospel with others, that I'm sinful and should be ashamed to even step out and claim to be a Christian. And while these voices are present and somewhat true, I know that that is the very reason I am going. Why I know I must go, because I am flawed. I go because I am the personification of the gospel realized. I am a sinner and I have been saved from the clutches of darkness and it is my duty to go and share my story with others who are still wandering in the darkness. This is why I am going to Belize. This is why I go boldly into uncharted waters with confidence knowing my cause is a noble one, not because of anything I have done but rather what He has done for us all.
The flight from Dallas to Belize wasn't too long at all. Zac gave me a book to read about how to handle cultural differences that dealt with cold climate cultures and how they differ from hot climate ones. It was entertaining but also got me thinking and hoping I would not insult anyone inadvertently while visiting.

When we began our decent the ground looked to me at first, much like Alabama. Very green with some brown rivers. Then I saw palm trees and it reminded me of the Florida landscape when I used to fly into Gainesville in college before playing the Gators. The weather was great, overcast and about sixty degrees. In contrast to the low teens of Grand Junction, this was a pleasant surprise. I was expecting sweltering jungle heat like I had experienced in Birmingham. The airport was small and it was my first time to go through customs and use my brand new passport that had taken so much effort to receive. After retrieving our bags, we walked across a parking lot and spoke with my first Belizean, the rental lady. After an hour of negotiating and small talk, we hoped into our small blue Diahiatsu and headed out for Corazol where we were staying.

We took one of only two highways in the country, the North Highway. I use the term highway loosely as it reminded me more of a paved back woods road in a remote town in Alabama riddled with pot holes and faint divider lines. There were no police to enforce road laws, only large speed bumps every so often that were the same color as the street which made it extremely difficult to see before testing the Diahiatsu's already worn suspension. What amazed me most about the trip was the shanty houses that dotted the landscape.
These homes, made entirely of concreted usually without doors or windows, looked like crack houses that would have been condemned and abandoned in the States. There were people every so often mostly riding bicycles or standing in from of these homes and dogs that were ratty and wild looking. As we made our way through the countryside, we listened to the Belizean radio which consisted mostly of 80's and 90's music that was pretty cheesy. Lionel Richie, Bananarama, and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, whoever sings that (Cindy Lauper?) made the radio.

We passed through about four "cities" or villages where there was more of a concentration of these houses and people on bikes very close to traffic. We actually saw a vehicle passing us almost his a child on a bike before swerving and causing us to slam on the breaks. We finally arrived at the resort that the girls, Pam an accountant from Nashville, and Kimberly a teacher, were staying at. We got them checked in and then drove less than a quarter of a mile to our "hotel" which was the top level of a two story building. We took our things to the floor and entered the room. It was very plain. The cement walls were all white and no light fixtures. Just the necessities. Three beds in one room and two in the next. No air conditioning but very old triple bladed ceiling fans. The one in our room gyrated and looked unsafe when turned on. Luckily there was a newer floor fan and the temperature was relatively cool.
We unloaded and headed back to the girl's resort where there was an outdoor restaurant. The Y-Not Bar and grille was a thatched roof establishment on the bay. I got my first taste of Belizean food as well as service. The first entree came out about 45 minutes after ordering and subsequent entrees came out in about 15 -20 minute increments. By the time we had eaten it was about 9 O'clock and since my day had began at 4 A.M. mountain time, I was crashing fast. We headed back to the hotel Maya, I took my malaria pills and Pepto pills and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

My Belize Trip

It has been nearly a year since I have given up on trying to write in a blog as I have really had no reason to do so. Reading back on my previous posts I am somewhat reluctant to put this topic down in the same forum as they are in no way related and is much like watching Caddy Shack and then trying to sit down and digest Schindler's List. Never-the-less I have had a few requests from friends and family to share my trip to Belize and felt that rather than try and remember every detail and then rehash the story with diminishing enthusiasm each time, I would put it all down in writing in one easily accessable spot. A little background before I jump into the story, I have been supporting a non-profit called Sports Servants for the past 3 years that was started by one of my college roommates, Zac Hood. The aim of the project has been to set up soccer camps for elementry aged children who would be unable to do so otherwise and to share the gospel. Zac asked me to go with him to help set up the camps and speak with officials for the summer. I had somewhat selfish intensions when I accepted this opportunity to get out of the country for my first time. Zac encouraged me to keep a daily hand written journal of my encounters while on the trip. This is my first time to ever try and write down my thoughts for any length of time but hope it was adequate enough to capture the majority of what I experienced. Here is that journal.