violence

Let me preface all of this by saying my thoughts are going to be everywhere. I haven’t really had time to process what is going on, so I am doing it through this. I apologize for the randomness and if I offend anyone.

Sometimes I have a really difficult time believing that God’s kingdom does reign here on Earth at this current moment. I have such a hard time believing that God loves us so much and unconditionally that He wanted to experience humanity for Himself. After last night (which is explained later), Brian and I had a great dialogue about this. I could discuss this for too long, so that is just something else that I have been thinking about. But for this blog, I am going to talk about something else.

Violence. There has been 5 shootings (in which either innocent children were hit walking home from school, or people died) in the last 30 hours within a block or two from our house. But for some reason, as scary as that is, I do not feel completely unsafe in the neighborhood.

The sad thing is these shootings are not the only ones that have been happening around here. The gangs present in Belize are very prevalent. You do not want to be caught wearing either blue or red in the wrong part of town, otherwise it is assumed you are from the other gang. You will be killed for it. According to The Economist Belize was recently ranked number one in murders per capita (I think that is what it was, otherwise it was murders total) in the entire world. For such a little country, that speaks volumes.

When I was told I was going to Belize, I was less than enthused. Why would I want to go to some place so close by and seems so much like America? They even speak English here! I wanted a challenge, not something similar. I wanted another India experience in which every day I was challenged and everything about the culture was opposite from what I had grown up with previous to that. But, being here, I realize that although Belize is close and they speak English, they have a very different culture. It is 3^rd world, but maybe just not so much in the stark in your face type of way that India was.

Back to violence…Two children from my school (in the same grades I teach…standard 3 and 4, so grades 5 and 6) were shot walking home from school yesterday. They were in broad daylight on a very busy street (similar to 101 for the MN Plymouth folk). It was 3:30, school had just gotten out, and they were just taking their typical route home. They were in the wrong place in the wrong time. People don’t know how to aim.

They watch the Hollywood movies where shooting people and gangs are cool. That is how gangs came to Belize. They saw the Crips and Bloods on movies and tried to emulate them. Gangs here are NOT like they are back home. But, they are still just as dangerous. They just watch the movies and watch how the actors and actresses shoot (which I have learned is not correctly) and do exactly that. Because some people don’t know how to shoot a gun properly, that is why people get hurt. Innocent bystanders, like the little boy and girl, are shot.

I used to find comfort in the fact that the people who are doing the murdering are killing other “bad guys.” But that isn’t true. They are killing any witness, no matter age, gender, race, or anything. I thought for sure there wouldn’t be shootings during daylight, only late at night and probably on the weekends when people get more drunk than usual (being a functional drunk is a way of life here). But when it happens in broad daylight on a Monday at 3:30, that disputes all my comforts.

The only way to be convicted of murder in Belize is to have a witness testify. 98% of the cases when there was a murderer and a witness, the witness will be killed in the next 24 hours. I wish that percentage was an exaggeration. So, if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, you better get yourself out of that place without being noticed, otherwise you may be next. It doesn’t matter what age you are, if you are a witness to a murder, there will be an attempt on your life within 24 hours. Such is the case with a boy from St. Martins Church.

The boy was 14, 14. He had just graduated from Martins last year and was starting form one (freshman year). He was a good kid. He was in St. Vincent de Paul, gave up every Saturday by handing out rice and beans around the city to those in need. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and experienced the punishment for that. He witnessed a murder that people didn’t want him to see. Because of that, he lost his life. He was beaten to death by a 2 x 4. His body was left at the bus station the next day for some unfortunate person to find.

Why? How could God’s kingdom have such hatred and evil in it? Children are growing up used to all the shootings and death. It doesn’t face them, it is another part of life. The children whose classmate was shot aren’t scared by that. They have all experienced family members who have been shot and killed by violence here. I have yet to meet a person who hasn’t lost a close friend or family member due to the violence. (I wrote those thoughts with the intention of going back to them at the end of the entry, but I did not get around to it and now I don’t remember what I was thinking or feeling). Sorry about the abrupt ending of that.

To see how the community is coming together and to still see the true love and happiness is beautiful. It brings tears my eyes to realize how much affection and love people have here. In the face of death, people still exude joy. That is God’s love coming through. That makes me believe in Him. But I also believe there is evil in this world, as is evidenced by the mass amounts of violence that has taken place.

Last night it started to absolutely pour at about 8:00. It was a perfect opportunity to run and play in the rain, so naturally that is what we did. We looked like the stupid white kids who are running around in the streets, soaking wet, having the time of our lives. Thinking back on it, it was a truly spiritual moment. We were all 100% happy and joyful. Nothing else was on our minds other than truly being present to that moment and experiencing it for what it was worth. I have had a very difficult time simply just being. I come from a place where you always go, go go, there are always things to be done. I don’t know how to be fully present to something and just be. At that moment, I felt such a sense of unity with my fellow community mates, gratitude for being where I am at this point in my life with the people I am with, and just overall joy. It was beautiful.

In a whim, we decided to walk to the back of Martins (which is not a safe area to be at night, or really during the day for that matter). John said to me, we should go to the back of Martins! The bad guys won’t be out tonight since it is pouring rain. So 5 white people, Brian only in his boxers, John and Pat without shoes on, Polly in her sports bra and shoeless, and I are walking down the street in the pouring rain overwhelmed with joy. Brian jokes about a car that is kind of creepily sitting at the end of our street, being like oh, we are going to get shot! (which we laughed about saying that isn’t funny). As we got to Martins, we said hi to our neighbors, who were just laughing at the site of us. (we did look absolutely hilarious).

The second we turned the corner, the truck pulls out like a bat out of hell and we begin hearing gunshots. So, obviously we duck and run as fast as we can back to the house. Everything was fine, the shots were not towards us, but we could tell they were extremely close. Within minutes, we learn (from the giant crowd that has formed) that less than a block away, some man was killed in his house.

We were right there. What if we hadn’t decided to take a picture, or we didn’t forget the keys to go back and get them? What if we didn’t wait that extra 30 seconds to tell Kristen something? We would have physically been at the house where it happened. I cannot believe how lucky we are. And the thing is, it isn’t like we let our guard down. It isn’t like there was anything we could have changed to have been more safe. Yes, we could have stayed in the house. But also, we can’t be cooped up in the house all the time. I would literally die (in the spiritual and emotional sense) if I had to stay in the house at all times. We go back and forth to the Church almost every night to check e-mails, to print something off, to pick something up, or whatever. What made last night so different?

Then I got to thinking besides being about 30 seconds away from a potential life threatening situation, if we were 30 seconds closer, we would all be considered witnesses. And like I said, witnesses do not survive the next 24 hours. Being the only white people who live here, everyone (and I mean everyone, because Belize City is a very small town), knows where we live. We are the only ones that live near Martins and really live here at all. There are a couple of Peace Corps volunteers, but they live on the North side, because the U.S. Government thinks it unsafe for them to live on the South side (where Martins is). What would have happened if we would have witnessed it? I try not to let my mind get into the “what ifs” because it didn’t happen. Why waste my time thinking about something that didn’t happen and won’t?

I can’t help but think how much God was present last night and how spiritual last night was as a whole: the beautiful moment of playing in the rain and simply being present to the moment, the gun shots of which we were close enough yet far enough away from, and then seeing the community react and come together. God was with us in the moments before the shooting. We all thought that car was shady, but thought he was probably looking at us like what are those stupid white folks doing walking down the street shoeless and in their underwear? That situation could have easily turned out a different way. As God was with us, watching over us, I begin to wonder why?

Why was I protected? Why was I not supposed to see, witness, or be a part of that shooting? What does that mean for me? Now that this has happened, how am I supposed to have this be a part of my life? How am I to use this experience for the better? What plan does God have for me that I was saved while that man was killed? I don’t believe this was luck. I full heartedly believe this was an intervention, and I just would like to know why and what I am to do with this experience. I know I will have much more like this and I know this issue is not just a Belize issue. This happens all over the States, but where I grew up, this didn’t happen. If someone was shot in Plymouth, that would be a big deal and we would all know about it. So, these violent experiences are new to me.

I just hope that I do not become like the children and community around me where I become numb to the violence and just accept it as another part of life. It shouldn’t have to be this way. Children shouldn’t have to live a life where they are used to gun shots and not be phased by the fact that their classmate was just shot in broad daylight on a busy street walking home from school.

I apologize this was so long and I rambled through all of it. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I needed to get my thoughts out there. I don’t really know how to explain everything that I am thinking (clearly), but that is what is taking up my time as of late. I hope you have a blessed day!

10/1/09

I know I wrote all of those thoughts and ideas yesterday morning in the morning session before recess. During lunch I had the unique opportunity to go to KHMH (the locals call it Kill Him, Murder Her since a lot of people who go to the hospital mysteriously die) to visit the little boy who was shot. I went with a friend of mine, as it was her cousin who was shot. When I went into the room, the boy seemed to recognize me and said “hi Miss Allana! Thanks for coming to visit me!” I was moved to tears from this.

Here is this little boy who was shot, has to spend a week in the hospital, and he is excited to see me. I recognized him, but I didn’t even know who the boy was. I couldn’t tell you his name if I tried, yet he was happy I was there. It made me realize for the first time that I may actually make a difference in a person’s life. They know who I am and am happy I am in their presence. It was such a bizarre feeling.

For the first time in my life, I feel like people may actually know me and know that I am here to work with them to bring about change. I have never in my life felt helpful or like my services were adequate. I always felt I could do better and I didn’t make any real difference. While I still completely feel that way about my job and situation now, this 5 second moment made me think that maybe, just maybe I had been a positive influence in this little boy’s life. Maybe a simple smile I gave him once helped him (or maybe I am too conceited in my thinking that I would be a presence in his life).

Anyway, I would write more, as I could, but it is almost dinner time. Yummy in the tummy. I don’t know when I will update this again, so until next time. Oh, wish me luck on the upcoming retreat! We leave tomorrow for a retreat I planned on social justice! Woot woot! (one of the many issues I am passionate about!)

10/5/09

I have been meaning to write more on this subject for a while, but since I was out of town for the weekend at a retreat (which brings up different sets of issues with simple living and being in solidarity with the people we are serving), I didn’t have an opportunity to write about my feelings online.

Thinking more about the violence issue, I wanted to stress the importance that yes, while I journaled about the emotions it rose in me, this issue doesn’t really concern me. What mobbed me more than anything was hearing our neighbor (who shall remain anonymous) come over and talk to us about the violence. He has been through a lot in life and done a lot of good and bad things throughout his time. Yet he is here and more pained and hurt to see the violence than many.

He has lived in his house for over 10 years. He has little children who are in the school right across the street from his house (St. Martins) and is an active person in the community. None of that is relevant, but oh well. I asked him how his little girls were reacting to the increase in violence and the closeness of it. He got this look on his face of pain and sadness. He admitted he did not really think about their reactions to it.

I know that if he could he would take his family out of this violent area. He wants his family to have a better life than they currently do. But, he can’t get out. This is his home, he has been here for a long time, and he can’t afford to go anywhere else.

While I can experience, reflect, and explain my emotions regarding violence around me, ultimately, I get to leave. If I feel 100% uncomfortable, I can leave. I get to pull the magic string that pulls me out of here and back into the safety I know and enjoy. He can’t do that. This is his life and he has to deal with it. His children grow up falling asleep to gunshots and are no longer phased by the continual increase in violence.

No matter how much I try to be in solidarity, to live simply to better be one with the people I am working with and for, I will never truly be able to live like a Belizean. That pains me to know I will never know their struggles, never understand their lifestyle, and never be able to truly connect with this place I call home. At the end of the day, I am an American. I do have safety nets in place that allow me to change my circumstances in a matter of days.

But, I can’t hate myself for that either. I didn’t choose to be born where I was, to the family I was, or the social-economical situation I was. What I can do is choose what to do with the blessings I have been given. I can try to use my American citizenship, family, and socio-economic status to bring about good and change oppressive institutions that are in place currently.

I will write more later about this past weekend’s retreat and my feelings towards it later. Time to go teach!

job

So I have never been good at writing. I always have such lofty ideas such as to keep a blog, a journal, write to people, work, have spirituality and community nights, while changing everything about my life. So to make a long story short, some of those (meaning the blog and journaling) have fallen by the wayside. I’m not sorry for it, it is just a bummer for the few people, meaning my parents, who would like to know what is going on and look to my blog for answers.

I would write about everything I have been doing, but that is very boring and mundane. Life is the same old same old. I wrote an e-mail to a couple of people describing my work situation, so I am just going to copy and paste the bulk of the e-mail, since it is all still relevant.

Things here are okay. They are going to say the least. I am the special education teacher for standards 3-6 (grades 5-8), the librarian after school, and the volleyball, softball, and football coach. Needless to say I definitely have my hands full. While sometimes it is good to always be busy and going, going, going, I feel like I am not able to fully serve anyone to my full potential because I don’t have the energy or resources to do so.

I hope you don’t mind if I tell you some things I have observed of special education and education as a whole being here thus far.

The first week I was here I spent the whole week trying to figure out how to run a library. I spent easily 50 + hours setting up the library, organizing it, going through every single book to make sure it had a library card, etc. I tried to find more recent books and put them in front, as 85% of the library is books written in the 60s and 70s, so the science, social studies, etc. information is very outdated. Within the first 30 minutes of library on the first Monday of school, students came running in, threw books, and knocked over a book shelf. All my hard work was put to shame within 30 minutes. That was a…learning experience.

Since then I have had easily over 200 books stolen from the library. Students won’t return their books and they don’t care that they no longer have privileges to check out other books. All students know it is $5 if you lose a book or don’t return it within a certain amount of time. But if the students can’t afford to eat (which I will get into later), there is no way they are worried about paying a $5 library fee.

The library is still a work in progress, but I am slowing learning what works and what does not work. I have made library cards for all students in the school (over 900) and that seems to be working for right now. We will see what happens in the future.

The second week of school I was really ambitious and wanted to start assessing my students to figure out who needed help, what they need, etc. When I asked who is in special education, I was given the response to go into the classroom, observe for 10 minutes, and figure out who cannot read. Well, I don’t know about you, but it is nearly impossible to figure out someone who has a learning disability by looks.

Having no resources and not having the slightest idea of what level the students would be performing at, I went to the “Special Education Unit” of Belize to get resources for assessments. After meeting with a gentleman there, I was told they have resources up to standard two (grade 4). They can administer assessments that are a day long, doctors have to come in, parents have a huge role (which is a whole different issue, since most children have a single parent household, or both are in jail, etc.).

To make a long story short I spent a good amount of time the second week trying to come up with what I thought would be the most comprehensive assessment for these students (having no idea their ability levels, culture, backgrounds, language, passions, or needs).

After the test results I decided I should focus on math and reading. Students in 5^th and 6^th grade don’t know how to add, what the letters of the alphabet are, or how to write numbers. But then I also have students who can read Dolch sight words at a 3^rd grade level (although I don’t know if they just know the sight words since that is what is taught in school or if they know all the words).

I allowed each teacher to recommend up to 3 students (when the teachers have 40 to 50 students each, they were not happy with the limit). There are 3 teachers per standard, so I could have up to 36 students I work with on a regular basis. It is difficult because there is SUCH a need here. I want to help everyone and I am not even serving the worst of the worst, because I just don’t have the time to. I need to continually remind myself I am one person. I simply cannot help anyone.

That is extremely difficult for me to do. While every other Belizean and all of my roommates come home every night to relax, I spend forever thinking and planning of how to better serve the students, how I could possibly some how reach out to more people and help them. I am learning there is a fine line in doing that though. How much of the always doing and trying to better things is my personality and how much of it is my American ways and viewpoints that I am putting on another culture? I haven’t figured it out yet.

The last thing I want to do is put my viewpoints of America on a culture. I am a guest in another place. I feel honored enough to be allowed to learn about the Belizean culture. I do NOT want to take advantage of the hospitality meanwhile put my own ideas of morality on it. But, it is difficult when I think there is a better way to serve others. It is for the good of others, not for myself. I can tell that is something I will continually struggle with my two years here.

So while the special education program has started very slowly, I am learning A LOT about special education and other Belizeans’ viewpoints of special education as a whole. First of all, I was astonished that the “Special Education Unit” had no resources for a special education teacher. That is the only governmental institution there is with resources for teachers. It is the education department for all of Belize. The fact that they didn’t have any resources or ideas of where I can turn to says a lot about education as a whole in Belize.

Also, during my teacher workshops the week before school we were learning how to make lesson plans. I know I shouldn’t judge other cultures and people for having 20 + years experience in teaching and not know how to make a lesson plan, but I find it very difficult not to on some level wonder how they have been teaching in the past. When it came time to discuss how to differentiate lessons, there was no discussion. It ended with the teachers saying they refuse to, they don’t have time. If students can’t learn, it is the students’ fault because they are “stupid or slow.” Comments like those broke my heart.

I am now supposed to go into a school where all staff think that and start a special education program. Needless to say, I don’t have the support I would like from my coworkers or administration. It is difficult trying to change a person’s viewpoint of special education. They think children are stupid, continually call students out for being stupid and not trying. The students also get harsh punishments for not understanding something (a couple of hits or beatings, depending on the severity and the attitude of the teacher at the time).

None of these things are necessarily wrong, but they are just completely different than anything I have ever come across (other than India). I don’t wish for a second that I was in a different placement, it just takes some getting used to. It is something I need to continually challenge myself on. Definitely a learning experience!

Completely different note all together: festivals! Love them! September is the month of celebrations. The Feast of St. George’s Key was last Thursday and this upcoming Monday is Independence Day. There are a lot of festivals, parades, etc. going on throughout the week in preparation for Monday. Having all of these holidays is a great way to bring me in to a new culture. I am learning first hand about it by all the celebrations. I would go more into detail about them, but this is a plenty long blog.

I am not making any promises for the next time I may possibly blog. So, sorry about that. When I think about it, I will blog. Until next time.

Summary

Round two of the blog. I have now written this blog three times over. The first time the internet access died and I lost it, the second time my computer froze, so third time is a charm, right? Anyway, this is going to be a lot shorter and different than the first two because I don’t have the patience to retype everything yet again.
I have been here for almost a month now. I can’t believe it has all happened so fast. I have been away from “home” for over a month. It is weird thinking that my home now is Belize City. When I say I want to go home, it means to Belize City, not back to school in Cincinnati or to Minnesota. The idea of home and how quickly it can change really baffles me. But, I don’t have time to get on that kick yet, so maybe I will save that for a different time.
So quick recap on things that have happened: I arrived in Belize City and we had a brief orientation (all 11 of us together), then the Punta Gorda volunteers (2 second years and 2 first years) left to go home. I went and did a family stay to see a more balanced view of Belize, not just the view I am getting as a white female living with 6 other Americans. After the homestays all 7 of us (2 second years and 5 first years) hopped on the bus to go to Punta Gorda.
The actual distance to Punta Gorda is not that far, as Belize as a whole is no larger than Massachusetts, but the school bus ride there takes over 6 hours. There are 4 paved highways in Belize and we took one most of the way there. Punta Gorda is beautiful and I know I will be back there, but the 6 hour bus ride with many Mayan children on your lap and fitting 3 to 5 people in a small bus seat is not my idea of fun.
I was in Punta Gorda having the last part of orientation for the past 10 days. While there we ran a summer “camp”, jumped off a couple of waterfalls, stayed in a couple different Mayan villages, and swam in the Caribbean Sea almost every day.
So now that the update of what I have been doing is over, let’s get to some different thoughts and ideas I have had over the past couple of weeks.
Wow have I been blessed with the opportunity of a lifetime. Many others are not lucky enough to be able to live and work in another country for two years. I have been fortunate enough to have family and friends that support me in my decision to get to know and appreciate another culture different than my own. Without the continual support of those close to me, I know I would not be able to do this experience. But, because of that, I am so blessed.
I have wondered lately why me? Why am I lucky enough to be given the opportunity to live in this beautiful place and be able to call it home? Many other people applied to JVI, why was I chosen over them? I am here and learning so many wonderful things about a magnificent Caribbean country, but what am I supposed to do with this information? Obviously me being here serves a greater purpose, which ties into why I am blessed to be able to do this and not someone else, but what is that? I know that means I’m getting into the meaning of my life and stuff, but I still can’t help but wonder why I am so lucky to be here and thinking about others who may not have this opportunity. But why am I so selfish to think other people would want this opportunity. This program and this lifestyle is definitely not for everyone. So why would people want to do this anyway?
Well now that I am talking in circles, I am going to move on. While in Punta Gorda, a Jesuit priest who will remain anonymous gave all of us solidarity rings. It is a brown ring made out of palm tree something or another. They symbolize solidarity with the poor. It means I am willing to give up my life of gold and silver jewelry to be more in unity with the community I am living with and serving. I absolutely love the meaning behind the rings. I completely agree with it and wear my ring all the time (although I have to be careful since it is a little too big and I don’t want it to fall off).
The issue with the rings is who makes them. There is a man in Punta Gorda who does not want the “white people” (ie Jesuit Volunteers) there. He has stolen many times from the JV house and done a lot of other inappropriate things. He has been supported by the Church though because at the end of the day, he is another child of God. Although this man has some issues and does harm, there is good in him. To help this man turn his life around, he makes the solidarity rings that are given to people. For me, and I know many of us, that causes a moral issue. We believe in solidarity and love the meaning of the rings, but to support the man behind them is supporting someone who you know robs from you. It is a very interesting issue. I find it very difficult to always be at peace and find the good in everyone, such as this man. I know that is not very “Christian” of me, but that is how I feel. It is difficult to be open and accepting of everyone.
I could type for a long time more about different things I have experienced, but I have my first staff meeting in 15 minutes. Eek, I am very nervous! I have yet to meet my boss or have any idea what I am doing. Wish me luck! (although by the time I post this, it will be way after the fact. Oh well, better late than never, right?).

health care

So I don't have a lot of time, since people are waiting for the computer, but I was officially able to enjoy my first Belizian health care. Not so great...

I guess they don't really believe in wearing gloves when taking blood or being fully trained (as they were asking my community mate for help when putting in my IV).

But don't worry, everything is fine and dandy now! I am alive and kicking. I was able to spend the night in air conditioning, which is a GREAT change from the heat!

Other news, I am living with 6 others and sharing a bathroom with 3 other guys! This will be an interesting two years. I made them promise the keep the bathroom clean though, so no worries :)

Gotta go!

Close to Leaving

I have about a week and a half before I leave for the biggest life changing experience to this point. I am very nervous and afraid. I know this is what I want to do and have prayed about it many times, but I am still so scared. Everything now is telling me I shouldn't do this, because this isn't what I am supposed to do. I think the reason why this is happening is mainly because I am scared and afraid of change.

I have no idea what to expect. I am leaving everything I know for things I don't know. I am leaving a comfortable life to live with people I do not know (although I will get to know them very quickly and I am sure we will be very close), a community of people whose culture and life style is completely different than my own, and a country that is different than mine.

People keep telling me I must be strong to be doing this program for TWO years. I disagree with that idea. I do not think I am strong, but rather the exact opposite. I am running away from reality and life to go live in another country and get to do things I love. How is that strong? That is instead selfish and taking the easy way out. I don't have to face the economic hardships of reality because I am off doing my own experiences.

I know I will love this program and it is the best option for me at this point in my life, but that doesn't make it any easier right now to leave everything to do something "fun." I just hope I am able to succeed, learn, and become a more aware, compassionate, and thankful person from this experience. Wish me luck!