Tuesday, February 4, 2025 at 5:15 PM
I was going to write about all the illegal and unbelievable garbage that President Trump and President Musk are trying to push through on an uninformed and misguided populace. But it is early into this dictatorship, and I’m sure they will supply us with more than enough cannon fodder for the next four years. Plus, after a while, people usually just turn off and tune out and don’t want to be reminded of the spectacle, the dangerous spectacle that is unfolding by the minute, live on television!
I want to go back to my childhood instead, a time that still gives me so much comfort, as age overwhelms me, my memory, and my optimism about the future.
When I first went to live in my beautiful San Estevan in the Orange Walk District, I was both confused and amazed by how ordered and organized the village was. There were blocks, instead of the haphazardly way in which villages like Crooked Tree and Burrell Boom, and most of the Kriol villages, were built. In those villages you couldn’t tell where one property began and where it ended, except if you owned that property. You could walk through your neighbors’ yards without giving it a thought. You could even pick mangoes or cashews or maami off their trees, and for the most part that was acceptable. I’m sure it’s a totally different scene today.
Coming back to San Estevan. First of all, it was a Maya village, with houses made of white marl, white clay, and thatched roofs. In the late 1950’s, looking back now as an adult, you could have been stepping into the past and future at the same time. The village was comprised of blocks, like towns anywhere. You had your house, your yard fenced off, your trees and animals confined to the yard, and of course, a well, for your water supply. As a child I read Country of the Blind by H. G. Wells, about a community where everyone was born blind, didn’t know that they were blind, and lived that way; everything was normal to them. I still am intrigued and still love that story.
After spending four years in San Estevan, I could navigate the village blindfolded because of the orderliness of this precious little hamlet, thus the reference to the book. The streets were actual streets, covered with the same white marl that they used to build their houses with, and their kitchens, which were separate. There was not a lot of privacy in those houses, coming to think of it. The furniture was comprised of a few stools, maybe a rocking chair, a bed, and a whole lot of hammocks! Every house had an altar with the saints and Jesus and Santa Maria and candles! Very Roman Catholic. And of course, a framed picture of Her Majesty, the Queen. Wat a ting!
Most of those people back then spoke Maya, not much Spanish, but they could also speak English, and I mean British English, perfectly! They had all the Mayan customs and cultures, including the “fajina”! Once a month, on Sundays, all the men of the village would come out with their machetes and trim the overgrowth on the, let’s call it sidewalks, more like side-ways. Then they would pick up the trash, and on Monday mornings it would feel the same way one feels after getting a haircut. They had that pride in their village, and it showed. The food was also incredible, especially that strained black beans; I never thought of legumes as being tasty, but that San Estevan black beans and tortilla and the side dish, was heavenly and healthy!
Colin Hyde wrote in his last column something about the Prime Minister wanting to make Spanish a second official language of Belize! After praising the PM and comparing him to George Washington a few columns ago, I wonder if I was too hasty in heaping praises upon him and his administration?
One of the most asked trivia questions on TV, and in trivia games is, “Which is the only English-speaking country in Central America?” As mentioned before in other columns, one of Belize’s best attractions is that English is the official language! English is the official worldwide language, English only, not Spanish or French or German!
Belize does not need a second official language. If the Mayas in the 1950s could speak and write English, our new inhabitants should be able to learn and live with English as the official language! We have lost enough of our identity in the last 40 years; let us not lose everything that makes us special, especially not our official language!
Espanol is our third language; that’s enough. Kriol is our second language, and if we were to have a second official language, it should be Kriol! Plus, when Guatemala makes us one of their departments, we can resist by claiming, “no hablo Espanol”. Why make it easy for them? We don’t need no second official language. Please don’t correct my English: we don’t need no second official language!
Glen