Since I have been living
in beautiful Belize for over three months now, I figured it was time to start
the crazy little blog I’ve been planning to write. As my high school English
classes taught me, organization is key in writing, so we must start at the
beginning.
When I first arrived in
Belize, all the way back in July, we immediately jumped into In-Country
Orientation (ICO). Now, ICO is full of many memorable moments from playing the
Garifuna drums, to making rice and beans (with and without plastic bags), to
cliff jumping.
I have always wanted to
go cliff jumping as it seems like a good idea in theory. It so happens that I
had the opportunity to partake during ICO. We were in the Toledo district,
visiting the second JV community in Punta Gorda (PG). While there, we went to
the incredible Rio Blanco which is filled with lush trees, dazzling waterfalls,
and ice-cold water (a welcome relief from the overbearing humidity and heat of
Belize). There is also a cliff that we all proceeded to jump off of. When they
ask, “Would you jump off a cliff if your friends do,” I apparently have to
answer, “Yes.”
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| Waterfalls at Rio Blanco |
Jumping
off a cliff is a perfect metaphor for joining JVC. When you finally commit to
jumping, it’s terrifying. You’re falling, and you have no control, and (in my
case) there’s a whole lot of screaming involved. Then suddenly you’re in the
water, and it’s over in a blink of an eye. You decide to jump, you fall, you
land—all so sudden.
Except stepping into
the decision to do post-graduate service in an international setting was not a
spur of the moment decision. It certainly was terrifying once I joined, and
there were several moments when I asked myself, “What the heck am I doing?” But
I didn’t show up on a random Tuesday and decide to leap.
This
decision has been building for a long time now, and if there’s any comfort I
can provide for the family and friends that I have left behind for two years,
it’s that I know it’s the right one. You see, this journey began all the way back
in middle school when I volunteered at a soup kitchen once a month. But, it
wasn’t so firmly cemented until my sophomore year of college. At the end of
that year, I traveled to Guatemala on an immersion trip. There, I met people
who experienced acts of genocide and yet were still fighting for their rights
and their homes.
While
in Guatemala we traveled to a small village called Rio Negro where a horrifying
massacre occurred during the 80’s. The country had dissolved into civil war
after the military committed a coup. The United States replaced the democratic
government with a dictatorship, which then proceeded to systematically kill the
indigenous Mayans in the country.
The
Guatemalan government had wanted to build a dam that would destroy many villages,
including Rio Negro. The people of the community were outspokenly anti-dam, so
the military silenced the village. The dam was built, the village destroyed,
and hundreds of lives were lost.
The
village has since rebuilt, although further up the mountains than before (the
original village is completely underwater now). I spent several days in Rio
Negro, talking with locals, and learning about their experiences the night
strangers came to their town and killed their families. Yet, when I remember
the people of Rio Negro, I remember their strength first. They had everything
taken from them, but they still held hope that their community could be
restored. They still worked for justice, for their dignity, and for the dignity
of those who had died. They refused to be silenced—their voice is their only
weapon against a great, big, powerful government, and they use it to the best
of their ability.
I
joined JVC to find that strength that I had witnessed on a warm May night in
Guatemala replicated throughout the world. I joined JVC to hear the voices of
people that are normally so silenced being used to uplift and renew
communities. I joined JVC to learn about this world I live in, and to recognize
that we are all connected. We are all one—brothers and sisters—and the dignity
and value of my brothers and sisters throughout this world are being trotted
upon. And that makes me angry. And that makes me act.
Being
here, I have come to realize that it all boils down to ignorance, and the fact
that I am not ignorant. I know what takes place in this world. I know there are
children who go to bed hungry, who will never learn how to read, who have
parents who are absent, abusive, or neglectful. And because I know, I have to
act. I have been blessed with the power and privilege to work for a better
world, and it seems like an awful waste of all my gifts to stand by and let it
burn.
So
I will act, and I will learn, and hopefully, the people of Belize and I will
find a little bit of strength in each other.
