Belizeans, as a rule, are a very strong people. I’m referring to the people who were born in Belize, not those that became Belizeans through naturalization. Let me change that, Belizeans who were born 40 years ago or earlier, are very strong people. From the above title, I’m guessing that you know where I’m going with this. The British, maybe because Belize City was mostly swampy, or because they didn’t respect the natives, which was majority black back then, enough, decided through engineering, to build a very unique sewer system. An open sewer system in the form of canals that ran the breadth of the city — 2 canals that emptied into the Belize River on the south side, and into the sea on the north side. You had Collet Canal, East and West Canal, and I can’t recall what they were called on the north side. There were latrines built for public use, where you could empty your bladder or your guts, and move on with your day. Of course, you had to have a Billboard newspaper, or a Belize Times in your grasp at that very urgent moment, or you were in trouble.

Now, for those who aren’t familiar with the way things were back then, most of the homes in the city didn’t have toilets that you could flush and forget it. You would use a bucket, and then at night you’d either pay someone, or make that long trip yourself to empty your bucket into the canal. This was mostly the responsibility of the mother of the house, or she would delegate the task to whichever child would do the honors, something I’m sure no one looked forward to. People lived on both sides of the “kinels”, like they always have. Can you imagine the constitution they had to develop in order to survive, in the midst of all the sewage? You became immune to the smell, and thrived and jived, grew healthy and strong and happy, and totally oblivious of all the harm, the diseases, that these crowded waterways could cause.

There are a lot of stories about the canals and their victims. I was one of those that took a swim in East Canal. I was about 15, and there was this girl, her name was Sherrett Morris, hope I spelt that right. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, and lived on the kinel side, and I would ride my bike, no hands on handlebars of course, showing off. I doubt she even noticed me. Anyhow, one day I turned the corner at full speed and there was Lindy Rogers, in his blue Dodge car, and to avoid being hit, I flew into the kinel. Needless to say, Sherrett was on her verandah and saw the whole thing. I was out of the water so fast my clothes seemed dry. And needless to say, that romance was over before it began, and I hated the PUP because of that, so I became NIP! Now all my family was PUP, except for me, because Lindy ran me into that murky, catfish-filled sewer. So, the canal decided what party I should belong to!

My reason for recognizing how strong we Belize City residents were, and still are, is because if we survived those feces-filled, and goodness only knows what other dead animals and garbage floated in them, canals, we can survive anything. I’m proud of Belize City, surprised by its rapid expansion, the changing faces of the city, and some of the imported aromas that have taken hold. But I’m proud of the strength and the resilience of the residents of that former swampland. And I still think the best smell ever, was that of Hood’s bakery and kinel water mix, early in the morning!

Glen