Belize, Benque

Disclaimer: Views presented in this blog are those of Roger German.  They do not represent the views or opinions of the U.S. Peace Corps or the Government of the United States.

                The Western Highway coming in to Benque from San Ignacio crosses a concrete box culvert right at the entrance to town, where George Street goes straight to Town Hall and George Price Boulevard curves left and up the hill then back right toward the border with Guatemala.

                I’m leaning against yellow painted pipe railing beside the road over the culvert, looking at the Mopan River rushing by 8 or 9 feet higher than usual about 50 yards away, waiting to hitch a ride into Cayo.  Want to pick up a couple of dozen oranges to make some juice.  The Mopan, usually a liquid emerald green, runs the color of milk chocolate, carrying the results of clear-cut bush and jungle up in the Guatemalan highlands.

                This is how I can explain Benque, I think to myself, how I can explain Belize.

                I called Abedo Chacon to pick me up this morning at my house, as I just didn’t feel like walking the half-hour down to the bus station.  Abedo runs a beat-up early nineties somewhat red Ford Escort taxi with transmission problems, and in heavily accented Kriol, he informed me on the way into town that the government should NOT be charging people taxes for owning homes.  If they lease, yes.  But if you own your home, done; you paid, that’s it.  I gave him the usual $5 Belize for the ride and he gave me $2 back. 

                Yesterday, my landlord came into town, mostly because his wife, Francilia, wanted to look at the plants at the house.  She likes her plants, and the house I rent is surrounded by her handiwork, with flowers blooming year round, with lime trees, mangos, avocados and sour orange.  Godfrey has been trying to get approval for an addition to the back of the house just about since I started renting.  But the lands department here is Byzantine in the extreme, and a labyrinth besides.  I drew up some plans for him early on, to help move things along we thought, but to little avail.  We talked a bit about that process and he’s fairly sure he’s jumped through about all the hoops now.

                I had told him that since I would be leaving the middle of next month, we could meet and I could just pay him cash for half the $300BZ rent.  As we shook hands when we left he told me I didn’t owe him anything.  He thanked me for the plans and said we were even. 

                So I’m hoping to hitch a ride and save the bus fare, since I splurged on the cab, and I see Maria Hernandez come out of her house and wave to me as she gets in her old blue Datsun pickup.  She’s the president of Helpage Benque, and we worked together putting in the grant for the Adult Day Care now going up in the Hills of Promise Addition.  But she’s heading into town instead of into San Ignacio, so we just wave hello.

                I see the bus begin to load about a block back up George Street, and I figure I’d just jump on there for a buck and a half, when a cab-over GMC semi rounds the corner and the driver motions me in.  I can’t see all the way up into the cab, but I open the door and climb aboard.  It’s Salvadar, one of Imer Hernandez’s employees, taking the truck to San Ignacio to have an electrical problem repaired.  Seems that “when (he) mashes on the brakes, the taillights don’t come on.”  Imer and his wife Sharon were my host family when first I arrived in Benque, and I know many of his employees, and a good share of their large and rowdy extended family.  Where ever I go with them, I am family. When Imer found out my son and his wife were coming to visit, and I planned to meet them in Chetumal, Mexico, he offered to drive up there to pick them up. 

                I ride with Salvadar on into San Ignacio sitting high above the traffic as a person does in a cab-over, and we talk about families and friends, life in Benque, then he drops me off only a couple of blocks from where I need to go.

                A few of weeks ago, I was having my usual lunch of rice & beans at Rosita’s Family Corner restaurant.  When I went to pay, I discovered I had no money in my wallet.  Embarrassing.  I told Rosie I guess I’d have to wash some dishes, and she just laughed and told me to catch her next time.

                And that, I think, might be the best way to explain Benque, and Belize in general.

Comments

[thodson]

And THAT is what I miss about Belize...Belizeans look high and low for the opportunity to help, lend a hand, give a ride, or a free lunch...our job can be to bring that back home :)