UnBelizeable
In which Ben and I go on an adventure, see many amazing things, meet many wonderful people, and return with many thoughts (and COVID).
To Be Of Use
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
— Marge Piercy
Francisco: “I am a lucky man.”
“Oh?”
“Every morning I wake up and go spend the day doing something I love. I get to talk to people like you, and teach you about the history of my people. What could be better? I used to work in an office, with a button-down shirt and tie and I hated it. Now I am happy.”
Francisco told us this as I carefully steered our little car onto the hand-cranked ferry that would take us across the Mopan River to the Xunantunich Mayan ruins in Belize. Half-Mayan and highly educated on the topic of Mayan civilization, Francisco exuded joy in his work. For two hours he took us through the ruins, delivering an impressive lecture all the while on every aspect of Mayan life. He told us that he drove a cab to make extra money in the off season, but otherwise he was living his dream.
Don’t get me wrong: Belize is not a paradise for many people who live there. Over one third of the country is considered multidimensionally poor, and the living conditions that we observed in most places were disheartening (to say the least). But we made a point to visit multiple community initiatives, and over and over we met Belizeans who were doing meaningful work protecting and preserving their country’s natural resources and history. The present may be hard for Belize, but the future has beauty and light.
Brian was another remarkable teacher. Our guide through the Green Iguana Conservation Project, based at the San Ignacio Resort Hotel (because it is the owner’s passion project), he had spent the last six years caring for the iguanas and leading tours and educational programs. He told us that he had not come to the work naturally, and it was a full year before the iguanas let him near them, but his deep love for the animals in his care and his dedication to their protection shone through. Green iguanas are threatened in Belize because the pregnant females are considered a delicacy at Easter, but this program is pushing back on that tradition bit by bit, mainly by bringing in school groups and teaching children the importance of protecting these amazing animals.
Everywhere we went, we were met with humor and joy. At the AJAW Mayan Chocolate Company, our tour guide, Jackie, opened with a reassurance: “Don’t worry; we aren’t doing human sacrifices today.” Then she led us through the entire chocolate production process, laughing at our reactions as we sampled cacao beans fresh from the pod (slimy!), roasted beans (bitter, with the consistency of bark), the nibs (rich), the ground paste (astringent), and finally a hot delicious cup of Mayan chocolate, with spices. At the Belize Botanical Gardens (four miles down a terrifying road that I may never recover from driving), one of the employees called out, as we returned from our hike and headed to our car, “Did you see the toucans? They're right over there, making all that noise.” We shook our heads. He pointed, and there they were, amazing flashes of yellow hiding in plain sight. And at our hotel in San Ignacio, we puzzled along with Christiana and Kevin as they tried to identify each species of tree on the property, so that Kevin could label each one with one of his beautiful, handmade signs.
And then there was Robert, our guide through the Community Baboon Sanctuary on our last day in Belize (local folks call howler monkeys baboons). An older man with none of the polish or flair you might expect from a tour guide in an American city, he took us on a ramble through the sanctuary that left me awed. He explained how the sanctuary works: 170 landowners across seven villages all participate in the program, working together to protect the howler monkeys and provide a safe corridor for them. And over the 38 years of its remarkable existence, it has helped to increase the population of this threatened species by a whopping 450-500%. But more than that, Robert guided us down the path leading from the visitor center with the skill only a true naturalist possesses. “Do you see the rufous-tailed hummingbird on her nest?” he asked, looking at us coyly.
And of course we did not. She was hidden on a nest the size of a kiwi, amid a mound of foliage, with only the tip of her tail and head visible. And as we walked on, he named the birds calling in the trees or flashing past in a tiny blur of color, challenged us to identify what traveled inside the tiny mud tunnels transecting the path (termites), and helped us see the landscape through new eyes.
“Do you know I learned all of this?” he asked.
We shook our heads.
“I love coming out here and just spending time walking through the jungle. And when I am out here, I watch and I learn. I come out almost every day, even when I am not leading tours, and I just observe. Do you see how beautiful it is here? This place makes me happy.”
Of course we also got to hang out with a howler monkey family, and that was absolutely surreal, but it was spending time with Robert, who had as deep a sense of place as anyone I have ever met, that really stayed with me and will likely stay with me for a long time.
As an added layer of awe during our trip, I also got to travel back into my dad’s history as a biologist. He was lucky enough to have as his PhD mentor an extraordinary ecologist named Archie Carr. Archie took my dad down to Costa Rica where they worked to conserve and protect sea turtles, an effort that was so incredibly important that there are wildlife refuges named after Dr. Carr both in Costa Rica and Florida. My dad - while moving away from wildlife biology and into conservation biology after his time studying with Archie ended - has remained committed to sea turtle conservation through his whole professional life.
On the day of our anniversary, we booked a snorkeling trip off of Silk Caye, a protected whale shark habitat where rangers from the Southern Environmental Association gave us an orientation about the area before setting off with members of the Belizean Coast Guard to patrol the marine reserve, while our snorkeling guides, Oliver and Carat, took us into the water and taught us about the myriad of coral and animal species on the reef. And it truly felt like my dad was with me, as I spent what seemed like a beautiful eternity swimming just above an ancient loggerhead turtle, who slowly munched on the fish entrails discarded by the fishermen in their boats above, as nurse sharks and giant rays wove patterns through the sea around him. It was magical, hovering in the water, thinking about how much we all owe to scientists like Archie Carr and my dad.
And there was more! On our last full day in Belize, we drove six miles down an unpaved dirt road, into the Cockscomb Basin Wildlife Sanctuary and Jaguar Preserve. Imagine my surprise when I read the history of the preserve and came upon this paragraph:
In the early 1980’s, concern for the jaguars of Belize was raised from two different places. James Hyde, Permanent Secretary for the Ministry of Natural Resources had been approached by a concerned citrus farmer who had encountered jaguars in his orchard. At the same time, Archie Carr III, Assistant Director of the International Division of the New York Zoological Society, ran across references to jaguars in Belize in hunting magazines. He was in contact with Dora Weyer and asked if BAS would like a study of jaguars in Belize. Alan Rabinowitz, a graduate student at the time, was commissioned to determine the jaguar population.
(Also, Dr. Alan Rabinowitz was another legendary conservationist and you must stop everything and listen to this story he tells about how he came to be a wildlife biologist.)
When we got to the visitor center, we also discovered this fact, which came as no surprise given Archie’s incredible ability to convince pretty much anyone of pretty much anything (my dad used to tell a mind-blowing story about their dinner with the head of a major drug cartel, and how Archie convinced him to order a complete moratorium on his multinational gang poaching sea turtles):
It is amazing to me how much we did in six short days (we walked over 30 miles in that time, much of it vertical), but the wonder of it all was seeing all of these exceptional local initiatives, engaging Belizeans across the country in the effort to conserve natural resources and keep the country’s history alive, and amplifying their expertise and connection to the land.
I felt bad at times though, thinking about my own work, and the thousand layers of attenuation between the individuals whose civil rights I protect and the work itself, which is computer-based and technical. I do not hold fragile living beings in my hands, keeping them safe from harm. I do not teach anyone the vital history of my people. I do not inspire anyone to engage in efforts themselves that make the world a better place. I log in, I type, I log off. It is important work, to be sure, and I am happy to do it. But 99 days out of 100 it has no beating heart that I can feel, and there is a sadness to that.
I can shake the sadness somewhat away by imagining any of my girls growing up to do vital and necessary work, or by remembering that I (hopefully) have many years left to do work that feels urgent and connected to the world. In the meantime, I am happy to be able to funnel my tourist dollars to all of these amazing organizations, to leave them all 5-star reviews on Google Maps, and to spend my precious days of vacation immersed in the beauty of a hopeful world.
P.S. We got back and immediately both got COVID. Sigh. If any of this is incoherent, it is because I feel like death on a biscuit.