"Love is not a feeling; it is an action." I just caught the
end of Dan in Real Life as I changed from my morning to my afternoon swimsuit.
"Love is not a feeling; it is an action" is the catch phrase from that flick, and I like it. In the past three weeks,
it has been difficult for me to find time to process my tales with my sister, let
alone, my feelings and/or actions online. Here is what I know....a
partner in crime on the island resulted in more fun, more spending, more love
and less time.
When we first got here, it was a lovefest of introductions.
“This is my sister Jenn,” should have just been a t-shirt that I wore.
As a side note, for the past two days, every other person I run into – from the
Rastah guys on the beach to the taxi drivers on the corners to Thomas who owns
the hotel to numerous children ask, “Where is Ms. Jennie?” or “Where is your
friend?”
Jennie and I immediately introduce ourselves as sisters, because we have been mistaken as a lesbian couple numerous times. These stories used to crack our dad up. I blame Jenn’s hair and the fact that she drives a truck. In truth, we are both typically reading sports biographies poolside and, well, our shapes and take no prisoner energy lend to a stereotype. In short, it did not take long for my sister to need no introduction in this small community.
Jennie and I immediately introduce ourselves as sisters, because we have been mistaken as a lesbian couple numerous times. These stories used to crack our dad up. I blame Jenn’s hair and the fact that she drives a truck. In truth, we are both typically reading sports biographies poolside and, well, our shapes and take no prisoner energy lend to a stereotype. In short, it did not take long for my sister to need no introduction in this small community.
Not having the students in session for school was odd for
me. To assuage my mother’s fears that I would make a habit of Christmas in
Belize, I can confidently assure everyone that I missed my pattern of going to
school everyday. I do not come to Belize for the sun and Belikans; I come for
children and renewal of water. Many of the kids found us immediately, like heat
seeking missles looking for the warmth of hugs and attention. Seeing them “out
of uniform” of their assigned school dress code actually took away my ability
to see each of them specifically – a familiar facial expression or a favorite
smile became lost in the homogenied modern fashions taken from their culture of
the north.
Playing BINGO on Friday night’s at the Lion’s Den is one of
the high points of my week. The Lion’s Den is a facility in the middle of town
ran by mostly expiate Lion’s members; this place hosts everything from BINGO to
Sweet Fifteen parties. It is a great night to meet locals. I sit with my
regular posse of women who come with their mothers, children, dogs and sometimes even a husband
or two. The BINGO shark is Busy, who
just happens be the most popular and successful “girlfriend for hire” on the island. She is just one of the town’s colorful
personalities. Jen and I had luck only one Friday, winning just enough for pay
for the night’s expenses of playing.
I had heard that Santa was going to be at the Lion’s Den the
next day. So, Jenn and I rounded up our
usual suspects and headed into town. We sang carols the entire way. They prefer Rudolph and Santa Claus is Coming
to Town. Also, as we walked past the cemetery, I asked the boys, “Do you know
how many people are dead in the gravesite?” “No,” they said. “All of them,” was
the obvious answer. After that, every time we walked by Gloriel would say, “Do
you know how many dead in dere? All of
does!”It never got old.
We discovered that we were really early for Santa Claus.
Also, there are different rules about seeing Santa here. Turns out that families bring actual gifts
for their children in advance. Then,
when Santa calls their name, they come up, sit on his lap, get pics taken
and given the gift. It was then that Operation Lion’s Den went into
full love action. We sent the boys off
to play for a couple hours and we booked it back to the hotel. We both had brought Dollar Store and gently
used clothes and toys from home. Also,
while back at the hotel, I asked Carolina (the housekeeper) if her daughter
Emiline would like to accompany us when we returned. She came back asking if the babysitter and
her kids could come too. Sure - the more the merrier. Suddenly, finding shirts and toys for 3 boys
evolved into a gender mixed group of eight - ages nine and younger. We wrapped dresses
and toys making sure names were spelled correctly on the packages as Santa
never misspells your name!
Santa was on Beliezan time. The event was suppose to begin
at 3. At 4:30, he was just arriving. During the 90 minute wait, children were
coming in off the street asking, “Miss, does Santa know I am here?” Jenn and I would ask, “Were you nice all
year?” Of course all of them assured us
they had been. So, I would hitch a golf
cart ride back to the hotel and pull another used promotional frisbee that someone
had donated. Also, each kid that came in to see
Santa had to pay $2.50, which got them a paper bag full of treats and a
juice. After about the 4th
kid straggled in, I just looked at Jenn, we both just smiled and nodded. Yep,
whatever the cost, we were in. On
a couple occasions, Jenn had to step away as it just because too emotional. When these kids heard their names called they
sprinted to Santa. You have never seen
happier kids to receive a used Frisbee.
Had it been a new ipod, they couldn’t have been more excited! Jose told Jenn on the way home, it is the
first Christmas present that he had ever received. We thought that the day before where we stood
on the top of Lamini to say "Hello" to our father on anniversary of his death was
“the best day EVER.” We were wrong; this
one was.
